#shout by tears for fears. fucking SHOUT. like dude this is supposed to be an alt 80s playlist do you know how many fucking times I’ve heard-

[an-absolute-trainwreck]

guys. guys how do i find good bands that arent just extremely popular. im too embarrassed to ask anyone.

[kpopluvrsblog]

Be Quiet

Pairing: dom!Jaehyun x fem!sub!reader

Genre: Smut + fluff (touch of angst)

Warnings: Dom/sub, semi public, no protection, breeding kink, choking, ROUGH n dirty, jealousy sex

You walk into the party, hoping to relax with your boyfriend at his dorm after a long busy week. As soon as you walk in, you make your way through the bodies of people in search for jaehyun, all the while pulling your skirt down every few seconds to keep from flashing the crowd of people.

“Y/n!!” you hear a shout from the kitchen, turning around you’re greeted by a grinning taesan.

“Hey tae, have you seen hyunnie?” You ask sweetly, finally happy to see someone you knew.

“Oh…he’s um… in the corner talking to someone.” He slowly says with a grimace on his face, now looking behind you.

You quickly turn to follow his view, heart beating rapidly. Your hyunnie wouldn’t do that to you…right?

No, you turn to be greeted by a bitch hanging off of your boyfriends arm. The bitch leans up to whisper something in his ear as he smiles down at her, she grabs his jaw before taesan quite rudely pulls you into the crowd of people.

“What the actual FUCK” You shout through the crowd, music so loud that people can’t hear. “Taesan he… No what…” you feel tears start to form while taesan holds you tight.

“No y/n he didn’t I swear. He pushed her away he really didn’t please.” He rants but you don’t believe him. You saw her lips touch his for the brief second before tae pulled you away. How could he hurt you like this? Why would he let her get so close?

You’re heart burns in your chest, confusion swirling when you feel another hand on your waist where tae was hugging you.

“Dude back the fuck off” Taesan says with a glare, pissed that this random man had the nerve to touch you while you were in his hold.

“No tae, its fine” you say with a scoff. If jaehyun wants to let girls so close to him why couldn’t you do the same? Taesan shoots a confused look your way before the stranger can lightly tug you to the center of the dance floor.

He grabs your hips as you sway to the music together, you didn’t drink too much before coming here but damn was he kinda good looking. “I’m sorry but what’s your name?” You say as you turn around in his hold.

“Heeseung, pretty thing are you single?” He says with a smirk. Your hands wrap around his neck while you send a nod his way.

————————————————————————

“dude, have you seen y/n? She was supposed to be here by now.” Jaehyun asks taesan a few minutes after you’d left with heeseung.

“I dont think she wants to see you.” He dryly responded, confused as to why jaehyun was so close to that girl.

“oh…oh no tae listen-“ Jae starts.

“You fucked up. Why would you hurt her like that?” Taesan cuts him off.

“No please listen- I didn’t… I would never… She was asking about sungho and then suddenly made a move on me. You have to understand bro I pushed her away as fast as I could.” He starts to ramble as his heart starts beating faster in fear.

“y/n saw. She saw the kiss” Tae says dryly again. “I believe you but she SAW it and didn’t see you push her away…”

“Oh my god are you fucking kidding me!!” Jaehyun shouts. “How the fuck is that even possible?! If she saw this kiss I pushed her away not even a second after that bitchs lips touched mine…” He finishes with a confused look on his face.

“I might’ve pulled her away before that… I’m sorry dude I thought you were cheating on her!!!” Taesan says in retaliation with his hands up before jaehyun could beat him for his stupidity.

“WHAT? You know i’m obsessed with her… I would NEVER ever hurt her like that.” Jae says in shock.

“Don’t punch me please. I’m just going to tell you now before anything happens but some guy took her away. They’re right over there and you might want to stop it like immediately.” Tae says in a rush, watching the stranger get impossibly close to you.

Jaehyun turns around to see heeseung kissing your neck. “Oh no he fucking doesn’t. No one touches what’s mine.” He angrily says to tae before storming through the crowd of people, reaching you in record time and pulling the man away from your body.

————————————————————————

His kisses feel feathery against your skin, cheating boyfriend long forgotten…that is before you feel heeseung quickly let go of you. Turning around to see what the problem was, you’re met with a fuming jaehyun, fists clenched around this poor boys shirt.

“I thought you said you didn’t have a boyfriend!!” Heeseung says in shock causing jaehyun to push him away as hard as he could.

“you said what.” Jaehyun lowly says, slowly walking towards you and wrapping his arm around your wrist.

“I’m…I… I don’t “ you stutter which pisses him off more.

“I said. What the fuck did you tell him y/n?! He repeats louder this time, grip tightening to the point it hurts.

“No, FUCK you. Don’t try to turn this on me, You’re the cheater.” You snap out of that mindset and speak up. Jaehyun’s mouth is agape.

“CHEATER?? ME? Are you fucking insane y/n??” He shouts back now pulling you through the crowd and within a minute, pushes you into his bedroom. He slams the door and locks it. Quickly pushing you against it and staring down at you with anger in his eyes.

“Tell me baby. Are you?? I’m fucking obsessed with you. Never call me that again. You understand?” He says, trapping you between his arms and lowering his face to be even with yours.

“I understand… I’m sorry for what I did, I didn’t see you push her away and-“ You’re cut off by jae roughly pushing his lips to yours. “Shut the fuck up” He mumbles, biting at your lips and grabbing your hips to push you onto the bed.

He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head. Roughly kissing at your neck where you’ve been tainted. He sucks hard to leave his marks, ignoring your whines and pleas. After a minute of this, he pulls away with his lips puffy, both of your chests heaving.

“Safe word is red.” Is all he says before pushing your miniskirt up, revealing your soaked lace panties. “Is this for me or for him?” he meanly says, playing with them hem of your panties before slapping your inner thigh. “Answer me when I ask you a question.”

“You hyunnie, It’s all for you I promise please.” You beg, watching as he takes off his pants and lowers his briefs, not taking the time to fully get undressed. His fully erect dick jumps out while he slowly strokes himself. He gets on his knees on top of the bed, pulling your legs and ripping your panties off. In fear you start to wiggle around causing him to press a hand to your tummy.

“Wait hyun, no prep I’m not ready I cant-“ your ramble is cut short when he presses the head of his dick to your pussy. “Be quiet and take it” is all he says before shoving himself into your walls, the resistance making him gasp as his eyes roll back.

You let out a yelp in pain as your pussy pulsates around his dick, he can barely make it all the way in but he forces it.

Tears fall from your eyes as he reaches your cervix before he completely pulls out and shoves himself back in.

“J-Jae I cant mmmh” You choke out before he cuts you off with a hand wrapped around your neck.

“I said be quiet.” Jae whispers, pulling your legs above his shoulders as he starts to relentlessly fuck into you. Slapping sounds from your skin fill the room and your body bounces uncontrollably. He fucks into you hard.

“Yeah you like it like this mmh- ah” He whines, leaning down to wrap his arms behind your waist, repeatedly slamming you down onto him.

You can only let out moans and tears as he uses you. The pain turning into pleasure, you feel like you can’t breathe properly by his strong thrusts.

“Fuck baby keep clenching like that. Gonna give you my cum. Oh- gonna fill you up.” He crys, tears falling from his eyes from how good you’re making him feel. He bring a hand down to rub at your clit, hard and slow, with his thrusts not letting up.

“Hyunnie cum please. Need to.” Is all you can stutter out, stomach about to burst.

“S’close, fuck m’ cumming baby” He moans loudly, letting the pleasure take over and releasing himself into your pulsating pussy. His eyes roll back as he gasps. Ropes of cum filling you and dripping out onto the sheets, mixing with your own release and making a mess. He whimpers as he pulls out of you slowly, rubbing your tummy in circles as an apology.

“How was it baby, too rough?” He questions, tears from his orgasm still in his eyes. He grabs onto your hips and hold’s you tightly.

“I can handle it love. I liked it.” You reply with a smirk and he lets out a giggle.

“I’ll run us a quick shower then we can cuddle and sleep, how’s that sound?” He smiles down at you when you sleepily agree before he lifts himself off of the bed and gets clothes for the both of you, thankful he has a connected bathroom to his room.

The shower doesn’t last long since he just wanted to clean you guys off before you sleep, massaging your body where he harshly gripped onto earlier.

He wraps you in one of his tshirts and leads you to bed. “I’m so sorry for earlier, I really want you to know I would never do that to you, mmm love you too much.” He says while wrapping you both under the covers and nuzzling your head into his neck. “She was asking about sungho and then all of the sudden that happened. She’s mental or something.” He says as you let out a tiny laugh.

“I know hyunnie. I’m sorry for how I acted too, I wasn’t thinking straight.” You mumble into his neck and leave a few kisses as an apology.

“It’s okay baby, he’ll never get to touch you like I can. You’re mine for life.” He finishes, rubbing your back as you fall asleep together, the party downstairs long forgotten.

[jensengirl83]

You'll Accompany Me-Chapter 14

Jensen x reader

Word Count-2046

Warnings- Angst, Jared trying to be funny at the wrong time 😄

A/N- Sorry, guys, but we're still on the angst train with this one. But there may be a sliver of hope for them 😉

“Hey, man. It’s going to be okay. Just keep taking deep breaths,” Jared coached Jensen trying to get him to calm down. 

“Didn’t you hear her? She said she didn’t know if she ever wanted to speak to me again. How am I supposed to calm down now? My whole world just told me she doesn’t want me anymore,” he croaked, his voice wavering with the tears he shed. 

“Jay, I don’t know what you want me to say. She’s hurting right now, and she has every right to. I love you, dude, but you really messed up this time.” 

“Damn, thanks for helping me out.” 

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do! You need to understand what you did and how much it affected her. She told you she was going to have your baby, and you walked out on her. How else did you expect her to react?” 

Jensen had nothing to say. Jared was right. He left her to fend for herself when she needed him the most, and he couldn’t blame her for leaving. But he had to fix it. He knew he couldn’t go on without her. What she didn’t know was that he had planned on asking her to marry him soon. Then she told him she was pregnant, and he let his fear and insecurities push her away. Maybe he was more like Dean Winchester than he cared to admit. 

“Hey. I can see the wheels turning. What’s going through that head of yours?” Jared knew that he was reeling, but he was trying to get him talking, hoping that it would help to calm him down. 

“I have to find her. I have to fix this,” Jay murmured more to himself than his friend, jumping to his feet. 

“Okay. How do you plan on doing that?” Jared asked.

Jensen opened his mouth to answer when Jared’s phone rang. He hoped that it was Y/N calling him back, but it wasn’t. It was Gen. He hung his head in disappointment while his friend answered the call. He could hear her yelling something through the phone, but it was unintelligible. The look on Jared’s face made him squirm. He knew something terrible was happening, but he didn’t know what. Jared hung up quickly and turned to him, a look of pity on his face. 

“Jay, I need you to sit down.” 

“What is it, Jared?” he asked, holding his breath. 

“Seriously, man. Sit down for a minute.” 

“I’m not fucking sitting down! Just tell me what the hell is going on!” he yelled, getting frustrated with not knowing what was happening. 

“It’s Y/N. Gen was talking to her, and she told Gen to call 911, and then she didn’t speak anymore. Gen called 911, and they're on their way. We need to meet them at the hospital,” he spoke softly, reaching out to put his hand on Jensen’s shoulder for comfort. 

The words didn’t sink into Jensen’s mind for a few seconds. When it registered what was going on in his mind, he felt like he would pass out. Not only had he left her when she told him they were going to have a baby, but now she was in trouble, and he wasn’t there to protect her like he had promised. He had let her down in every way possible, and he hated himself for it. With one more look at Jared, he ran for the bathroom, emptying the contents of his stomach. 

Gen sat in the hospital room, her eyes never leaving Y/N’s form as she lay there, not moving. She got a babysitter and rushed straight to the hospital after calling 911. Now, watching her friend hooked to all those machines and her not being able to help her made her feel so helpless. All she wanted to do was take away Y/N’s pain and make everything better for her and Jensen, but she had no clue where to even start. All she could do was wait and see what the doctors had to say and go from there. The door to the room opening startled her as she watched Jared and Jensen run into the room. 

“What’s wrong with her?! Why isn’t she awake?!” Jensen shouted as he rushed to Y/N’s side, taking her limp hand in his. 

“I don’t know. The doctor hasn’t been in yet,” Gen sighed, praying for good news when Y/N’s doctor did come to talk to them. 

“It’s going to be okay, baby. She’ll be fine,” Jared soothed his wife, sitting next to her and pulling her into his side. 

“What if she’s not?! What if something happens?! Oh God, I can’t lose her,” Jensen began to cry, laying his head down next to hers on her pillow. 

“Y/N, baby, please. Don’t leave me. I’m so sorry for everything, darlin’. I hurt you so bad, and I’ll never forgive myself,” he whispered into her ear so Jared and Gen couldn’t hear him, “I promise I’ll do anything to make this up to you, baby. You just have to wake up, okay? I need you to wake up. If not for me, then for our little peanut. Just….please wake up.” 

He continued to cry into her pillow, intermittently placing light kisses on the side of her head. Seeing her like this made him feel pain that he had never imagined he could ever feel. He knew he had a lot of proving to do to regain her trust, but he was willing to do whatever it took to show her he meant it if she made it through this.

Y/N couldn’t see anything, her eyes refusing to open. But, she knew something was wrong because she could hear Jensen’s voice in her ear begging her to wake up. The last thing she remembered was telling Gen to call 911, and then everything went black. So, she knew that she had to be dreaming. Jensen wouldn’t be there, and deep down, she could feel the sadness in her chest. She wanted him to be there, but he had made other choices. 

She started to hear what sounded like other voices, which made her want to wake up and see what was going on. Was she dreaming, or were there people around her? Did that mean that Jensen could possibly be there? Her mind knew she didn’t need to talk to him right now, that she needed to let him go, but her subconscious knew that she still loved him and wanted to see him. Her eyes began to flutter, the bright lights starting to infiltrate her senses. The more she came closer to the waking world, the more she could sense that someone was right beside her, kissing her. Once her eyes finally opened, she looked to her right, and there he was. Jensen was there, and he looked like he had been crying for days. 

“Y/N! Oh God, baby. You’re awake! I was so fucking scared,” Jensen exclaimed, choking on another sob that threatened to escape. 

“Y/N!” Jared and Gen shouted in unison, both on their feet and coming to her bedside. 

“What happened?” she asked meekly, her voice cracking. 

“We don’t know. We’re still waiting for the doctor to come back in,” Gen said, squeezing her hand. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked, looking over at Jensen. 

“You really think that I wouldn’t be here after discovering you collapsed?! Of course, I was going to come be with you.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” she groaned, trying to sit up straighter in the bed, “I meant, I told you I didn’t want to talk to you, and you still came to the hospital.” 

“I know what you said, but I love you, Y/N, and our baby. I know I didn’t show it when you told me, but I know that I messed up. I’ll forever regret how I acted.” 

“Let’s not talk about this right now. We’re not sure what’s wrong yet, and she doesn’t need the stress. None of us do,” Gen whispered, hoping to calm down the tension starting to build in the room. 

Y/N opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted when her doctor walked into the room, making everyone silent. 

“Hey, guys. I’m Dr. Williams, Y/N’s OBGYN. I’ve got all your results back and wanted to go over them with you.” 

“What’s wrong? What made her pass out? Is the baby okay? Is she going to be okay?” Jensen rattled out the questions in a hurry. He needed to know she and the baby were okay. 

“Slow down, slugger,” Dr. Williams laughed, “The baby is fine, and Y/N will be okay too.” 

“What’s the problem, then?” Y/N asked curiously. She knew that it had to be something to make her pass out. 

“Well, you have a condition called preeclampsia. It causes high blood pressure, and if it gets high enough, you can lose consciousness.” 

“What does she need to do?” Jensen asked worriedly. He didn’t want anything else to happen to her or their baby. 

“She’ll have to go on what we call modified bed rest. This means she has to take it easy and can’t do anything strenuous. She can still get up and move around for limited amounts of time, shower, and make very easy meals, but she needs to be on the couch or in bed most times throughout the day. That also means she needs to have someone around at all times to help her out.” 

“Well, that takes sex off the table,” Jared joked, trying to lighten the mood, but just got glares from his friends. 

“Actually, that depends. If sex is something that’s stressful for you, then I say refrain. But, if it’s enjoyable and has been a stress reliever before, then that’s fine. Just keep it easy. No acrobatics,” Dr. Williams chuckled. 

“Sex isn’t happening anymore, so what else?” Y/N mumbled, making Jensen tense at her tone. 

“Just make sure Jensen can be with you all the time, and you can go home.” 

“That’s not an option,” she stated bluntly, making the doctor look at her. 

“Well, I’m not sure what’s going on, but if you don’t have someone to stay with you, you’ll have to do your bed rest in the hospital for the rest of your pregnancy.” 

“What?! I don’t want to be in the hospital that long,” she whined. 

“Then I suggest that you figure out who can stay with you. I’ll come back after my rounds to see if you have anything worked out,” Dr. Williams informed her, walking out to see her other patients. 

“Y/N, maybe you should go back to Jensen’s,” Jared encouraged. 

“No, that’s not happening.” 

“Baby, please. Let me take care of you. I’ll even move to the guest room if that makes you more comfortable, but you need the help, and it should be me,” he pleaded. 

“Why should it be you?” she sassed. 

“Because I want to be able to keep an eye on you and our baby.” 

“You didn’t care about the baby and me before,” she quipped, making him feel guilty. 

“I always cared, Y/N. I was just scared when you told me we were having a baby.” 

“This is a conversation that you should have in private. It would be perfect to talk about while Jensen is taking care of you,” Gen interjected. 

“Not you too,” Y/N groaned in frustration. 

“I’m thinking of you and the baby. It’s what makes sense,” her friend smiled, trying to show her that she just had her best interest at heart. 

“Fine….Go tell Dr. Williams that I’m going to stay with him.” 

Y/N didn’t want to go back to that house. Not because she hated it, but because she knew that all the good memories there would outweigh the bad ones, and she was afraid that she would lose her resolve on not getting back with Jensen. It looked like she would have a big struggle between her head and her heart. She hoped that her head would win, but with a man like Jensen, who knew what would happen. Only the future would know. 

[koalaray]

“Your Stupid Face” pt.4

Loathsome Leonard x yokai!reader

pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4(here!), pt.5

Leonard’s feelings for you were starting to change. He didn’t know how to deal with it either. He’d never felt this way about anyone before. What the hell was he supposed to do?

Needless to say, this began to frustrate Leonard. He had been irritated and grumpy all week. Well, more than usual. Mickey said it was probably just his man period.

In addition to his bad attitude, Leonard had started ignoring you again. This confused you a lot, especially after how much the two of you had bonded over the past few months.

You were starting to worry about your best friend. So, at the end of the week, you decided to confront him.

You looked around the suite and found Leonard slouching on the sofa. He showed no sign of acknowledgement when you sat beside him.

“So…” you started. “What’s up dude?”

No response. Not a sound. What was up with him you wondered. You poked his arm once. Twice. And before you could do it a third time, Leonard slapped your hand away.

You smiled at him, finally having his attention. But that smile quickly disappeared when you saw how Leonard looked at you.

He hadn’t looked at you like that in months. He was looking at you as if he hated you. But no. Leonard didn’t hate you. Right?

Leonard looked away from you again, leaning back into the couch even more and crossing his arms over his chest. You looked down at your hands which were placed in your lap, letting out a sigh.

You occasionally snuck a few glances and Leonard, racking your brain for something to say. He seemed mad at you for some reason and you didn’t want to say anything that would make it worse.

Finally, you drew in a deep breath. You hoped you wouldn’t make him more upset.

“Hey-“

Well shit. Leonard had barely let you get a single word out before he stood up and started to walk away from you. Now this was just getting ridiculous. Why couldn’t he just talk you so you could fix whatever the problem was?

You stood up as well, clenching and unclenching your fists.

“Ok, come on dude, what’s wrong? If I did something to make you upset, just tell me!”

“Please just shut up,” Leonard said, barely loud enough for you to hear.

This ticked you off. He couldn’t talk to you like that. Especially if you didn’t know what was wrong.

“Alright, seriously, what is the problem here?”

“It’s you! You’re the problem!” Leonard shouted, spinning around to face you with the nastiest glare you had ever seen.

“What?“ Your voice shook slightly.

“Oh don’t ‘what’ me. Or better yet, don’t say anything! God, you are just so annoying! Every time I so much as hear your stupid voice I want to punch something!”

“Leonard-“

“Don’t! Don’t fucking say my name either! I hate the way you say it! In fact, I hate the way you do everything! You are such a pest! I can never get your stupid face out of my head!”

Leonard took a step closer, and another and another, until he had you backed up against the wall.

“And you know what else?” He seethed. “I. HATE. YOU. I wish I never met you, I wish you didn’t exist, I wish- I-“

Leonard stopped when he heard you sniffle. And when he looked at you, really looked at you, he swore he felt his heart shatter.

There your were, with fat tears rolling down your rosy cheeks, light sobs falling from your trembling lips.

What hurt Leonard even more was the fear he saw in your eyes. You were scared. Terrified even. Terrified of him.

What was he doing? What had he done? No, he knew exactly what. He had ruined everything. He had hurt you. And why? Because he couldn’t just man up and accept his stupid feelings. Fuck.

Danny and Mickey had obviously heard the commotion because the two came running into the room to see what had happened. And when they saw you were crying because of Leonard? They were furious.

Danny grabbed Leonard by the shoulder, shoving him out of the way, meanwhile Mickey ran straight towards you and pulled you close to him protectively.

Leonard was frozen in place, still trying to process everything that was happening in front of him. He was pulled from his thoughts when he felt a sharp sting on the side of his face. Someone had just slapped him.

It was Danny. And he was pissed off.

“What the hell Leonard?! What the fuck did you do?!”

“I- I don’t- I didn’t mean-“

“You know what, I don’t even care. Just shut up and leave y/n alone!”

Leonard nodded and quickly ran towards the door. He risked sparing one last glance at you.

You were huddled between Danny and Mickey, the two hugging you and doing their best to console you.

With a final glare from Danny, Leonard hurried out. He ran. He didn’t know where he was going, but he need to think.

Why did he say all that? Why did he lie to you?

Why was it so hard for him to just say he loved your stupid face?

You were sitting on your bed, still trying to put together any reasons Leonard would say the things he did. Nothing made sense and that made his words hurt even more.

You looked up when you heard your door open and saw Danny. He gave you a small sympathetic smile.

“Can I come sit with you?” He asked politely.

You gave him a nod, smiling at him as he sat beside you. You leaned against him, to which he responded by wrapping an arm around you pulling you closer. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence.

Aside from Leonard, you were the closest to Danny. He was a great friend, and a very good listener as well. You would talk to him about you little crush on Leonard and he would give you advice.

Danny’s soft voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“How are you feeling?”

You shrugged.

“I dunno. Hurt? Confused mostly.”

“Yeah. I’ll admit, I’m a bit confused as well. I never thought Leonard was this stupid, but he proved me wrong.”

The two of you laughed together, making a few more jokes here and there.

“Leonard really cares about you y’know,” Danny spoke suddenly.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I think he’s just confused. Maybe a little scared? What a coward huh,” Danny chuckled.

He pulled you a bit closer so you couldn’t look at his face. He didn’t want you to see his frown.

“Seriously though. Leonard really likes you. A lot.” Danny spoke softly, rubbing your back every now and then. “Mickey spoke to him earlier. Leonard feels really bad. Maybe the two of you can talk things out tomorrow.”

“What if he yells at me again?”

“Then I’ll just beat him up for you.”

You giggled, making Danny smile just a bit.

“I’ll try and talk to him in the morning then,” you decided.

Then you hugged Danny tighter, burying your face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and held you as close as he could.

“Thank you Danny. You’re the best.”

“Anytime y/n. I’ll always be here for you. No matter what.”

When the two of you parted, Danny helped you get tucked in to bed. He went to leave but stopped at the door and turned to face you with a soft smile.

“Goodnight y/n.”

“Goodnight Danny.”

Danny closed the door behind him and went to his own room, collapsing onto his bed.

“Don’t be selfish Danny. You’re doing this for them,” he whispered to himself.

Danny rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He whimpered a bit, quickly covering his mouth to quiet himself.

Danny was doing this for you and Leonard. He knew you both loved each other. But it hurt. It hurt more than he wanted it to.

Why couldn’t it be him instead?

But that’s the thing about life. You can’t always have what you want.

At least Danny would still have you in his life. He’d still have you and your stupid face.

[sabineelectricheart]

Shootout at Candee

Summary: Tati and Pierce are on a night out. Something terrible happens.

Rating: M - Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language.

Non-explicit depictions of violence. Reader discretion is advised.

Words: 1000

Notes: So, v6 is out... Not for me, though.

It is utter chaos.

I cannot distinguish a single sound in the cacophony that Candee had become, just as a firepower blast is heard over the music and the dramatic shout of a young man from the front door of the club.

“Someone got shot outside! He’s dead! He’s fucking dead!”

The only thing I can think about in the moment is, Shit. I really should have peed earlier.

Sirens are screeching in the street and the blue lights from the police cars are blinding. Security is pushing someone to the floor and people are screaming. A mass of bodies seems to be moving without sense or direction, roaring against reinforced walls like a beast stuck in a cage. It is a stampede towards any open doors and mass of bodies pile, all trying to leave at once.

Pierce grabs my wrist and pulls me to the side so hard, with such force, that I fear my arm has come out of the socket. His arm snakes around my waist and pulls me close to him, his hand grips my hair comfortingly and he tucks my head beneath his chin as he towers over me protectively.

“What’s happening? I can’t see.” I cry out, not really knowing what to do.

My eyes are everywhere, trying to take in the scene that is unfolding, as I’m sure he is too. One moment everyone was drinking, dancing, laughing and having a good time. The next, two guys were throwing punches and smashing pint glasses on the table next to us. Shards had flown in every direction, insults had been thrown. Pierce had momentarily lost me when the two of them had knocked into our table and slammed into me.

“I don’t know.” My boyfriend replies.

I can feel his body shifting as he tries to get a better view. We stop running and he begins to think, but I immediately panic. I have never been in an active shooter situation, but I went to public school. I had deep-seeded trauma of the many, many drills they did with us and all the survival tactics they wanted us to remember.

Mighty good it did me. I have no clue what I am supposed to do.

“Let’s get out of here!” I shout, pulling him along.

We race up a set of stairs through an emergency door. It was hidden behind a curtain at the VIP lounge, so it was the least busy option available, even though we would be just cornering ourselves, if it so happened that the shooter entered the club.

It led us to the roof. It was raining and there was nowhere to take cover. I only stop running when I get to the fire exit. I motion to use it, but Pierce stops me with a rather rough pull to my wrist.

“No. Let’s stay here, Tati. The dude is probably hiding down there.” He says, in a low voice.

I nod, tersely and sit down, leaning over the brick railing off the old building. I wonder how this death trap ever managed to get approved in the first place

A tense silence hangs between us, as we probably should try to be silent and not attract attention. If the guy is in the alley beneath us and we could, theoretically, get down there, he could also use the fire escape and come to us. It is getting harder, though. Tears gather in my eyes and panic grips on my throat. I wanted to scream, make a scene, just so I could breathe again.

Pierce notices I am growing panicked, so he wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me to his chest. He does not say anything for a moment, he just rubs circles on my back, keeping his breath even.

“How long until the press comes out? I think my ass is going to be handed to me tomorrow though when this gets out.” He tries to make a joke but the reality was exactly that. “Mom’s going to be pissed with me. The house’s going to get shit online.”

“You didn’t know this was going to happen. It’s not your fault. If anything, you’re the victim here.” I try to offer a more positive outlook on the situation.

I mean what I said, but I also know that he is probably right. His situation is not looking too good, in an economic point of view.

He was just internet famous enough to be actually famous, at least around New Hampshire, and he had an image of a party animal. It was part of the whole VidTok persona, even if it is relatively rare that he went out clubbing and actually did that. Alas, the one time he does, there is an open shooter situation, police in attendance and naturally the press are there after catching the news that he was out with his not too known girlfriend.

This was going to make one hot story, and brands do not like to associate themselves with these sorts of events. It feels something so shallow to be concerned about, but I am thankful that he came up with this. I could use some petty grievances to worry right about now, instead of my own survival.

I hold onto him whilst snuggling into his chest and breathe in his aftershave.

“Thank you.” I say, tilting my head upwards, kissing his jaw.

He peers down at me with a smile. “You? Thankful? That’s rare. What for?”

I elbow him lightly. “Don’t be an ass, Pierce. I’m trying to be nice. Thank you for bringing me over tonight, even if it didn’t pan out all that well, and thanks for looking out for me. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

He beamed like a billboard. “I’m your boyfriend, Tati. It’s what I do. I’m going to keep you safe. Always.”

Pierce rubs his nose on my neck and we stay there, huddled together, until the police come.

*_*_*_*_*

College Craze Masterlist

[soothinglee]

I'M TIRED..

summary: what if it was you that found rue instead of gia? (black reader)

description: black coffee, red eye (confused? look at pinned on my page!)

listen to the song 'Tired' by Labrinith (unreleased)

warnings: overdose, language, overall trigger warning.

(don’t forget to tell me how I did! I love the feedback!)

m.list - ask - who am i?

THE DAY FELT somewhat melancholy despite the sun shinning high in the sky, lighting up on goers who started the day, the sky clear of clouds that once covered its baby blue structure.

hey lord you know i'm tired of tears

Gia was in her room getting ready for a day out with friends, this was the first time in weeks since summer started that she last saw them and y/n thought it would be good for her to get out the house while the good weather stood still.

Their mother was out at work, working double shifts to be able to provide for the family meaning that they were home alone. Originally Rue was supposed to watch over the three but she decided that y/n would be a better fit. Rue was, mentally unstable to put it in lack of better words so the outcomes of her watching them wouldn't be good.

Something in the air was foul but the trash was taken out, dishes were clean, and the floor was moped, it always was.

y/n waltzed out of their room with a pep in their step. They danced throughout the hall, careful not to tangle their fingers in the new headphones rue bought for them. The song was I'm Tired by Labrinth. Although the song was sad something about it was beautiful and graceful, it was like walking on memory foam.

They go up to Gias' door, swaying their hips as the walk. Before their fist could hit the door it swung open revealing Gia with a bag in her hand, giving them a teasing smile.

She motions for them to turn down the music, "They're outside, I was just about to go."

Y/n nods and moves out of the way so she could pass by, they takes out a earbud noticing Gias outfit, they whistles at her as Gia does a little spin. "Damn, okay! That's nice. Who got that for you again?"

Gia rolls her eyes and flips them off "You did."

Y/n exclaims and walks towards her. "damn right I did!" They adjust the jacket that rested on her shoulders and leaned in, "Okay, you be safe you hear? No drugs, No sex, No drinking, No-"

Gia cuts them off, turning around to head to the door "Yes mom."

"Phone?"

Gia raises her hand, in it was her phone that was cracked on the back.

"Pepper spray?"

She shakes her bag.

"Money-?"

"I gotta goo," She laughs opening the door and walking out, she leaves it open and y/n steps forward and stands in it. Watching as she runs down the walkway giggling as her friends usher her over.

"I love you!" y/n shouts playing with the hem of her tank top, their eyebrows crease with worry. They know she'll be alright but the fear still sets within.

The sound of the cars engine roars to life and the driver puts the car in drive. As they roll away Gia yells back a muffled "Love you too!" the car slowly goes down the road and y/n sits there watching them leave.

Sighing, they lock the door up and closes the blinds. The dust practical in the air float around as the only light now was the one in the hallway leading to rues room.

where is Rue? She hadn't been out of her room all day, not even to use the bathroom or get something to eat.

"that's not healthy," They go to the kitchen and grab a poptart not bothering to warm it up, but, they do put it on a plastic plate. The move their iPod in their left hand.

"Rue?" They call out, closing the cabinet. They don't get a response back and rolls their eyes.

"Rue!" They call out again making their way to the hallway that leads to her room. Once again no response, "dude what the fuck?" Either Rue wasn't actually responding or they just couldn't hear over the volume of the repeating song. They nudge one of the earbuds out of their ear.

They walk closer to the door, muffled gargles come from inside and a loud thump shakes the floor.

"rue?" everything stills as y/n slowly opens the door, their blood runs cold, the sound of the music fades away as the grunting gets louder. "oh dear god."

Please don't say you need me

rue lays on the floor convulsing, vomit soaks her top and trails down the side of her neck and piles up at the corner of her mouth. She was bent backwards letting all her weight onto her legs. Two needles and several bottles are knocked over next to her. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as her arms fall from her body.

Release me, Believe me

Y/n is frozen in fear, the sound of Rues cries get drowned out by their own as they scream out in pain, "RUE!" they run into the room leaving the poptart discarded in the hallway, they bump into the door frame, knocking the ipod out of their hands.

One day you will see me

their body shakes as they sob, tears build up clouding their vision, they lean out hands trying to still rues body but the fear of hurting her lingers and their hands hover over it. "fuck, shit, rue oh my god, what did you do?!"

they quickly pick up the bottles that lay next to her, Fentanyl, it reads. The entire bottle was empty, "fuck."

Believe me, Believe me

They pick up the ipod and stand up, the smell of bile is pungent. "I'm calling for help rue, don't worry baby, I got you."

9-1-1, they dial, it slips out of their shaking hands and almost lands onto the floor.

One day you will see me

It takes a few seconds to get right but sooner or later the dial sound rings out and a monotone voice echoes back from behind the screen.

Believe me, Believe me~

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?"

[godshira]

ONLY HIM.

your stepbrother shirabu kenjirō is always a meanie to you— so then why does he want to keep you solely for himself only?

-> warning : stepcest, degradation, humiliation, dubcon, face slapping, dumbification, manipulation, mindbreak

kenjirō nii chan is the biggest bully! he ignores you & acts as if you don’t even exist. but you want to try to get closer to your new nii-chan— he’s your family now & you actually do look up to him. so to try to get on his good side you join the volleyball team as a manager to attempt to get closer to your nii-chan.

“what the fuck are you doing? first you fucking come into my family, trying to act as if you belong here. now volleyball too? just stay out of my life, bitch” hearing kenjirō spit such harsh remarks was a slap to the face. but you won’t give up just yet, not for your nii-chan! you’ll keep trying & trying— one day he’ll warm up to you, you just know it!

the rest of the boys treat you so well— would kenjirō really die just to act like them for a day? they’re just so kind and gentle with you— always looking out for their pretty little manager. but something is boiling up inside kenjirō & it’s consuming him— hatred? disgust? jealousy? hah as if.

“wow shirabu, your little sister really is the nicest! i would kill to have a pretty & sweet little sister just like her, dude” tendō remarks during their break at practice. kenjirō’s jaw tenses up as he grinds his teeth. pretty & sweet?— you’re just a pain. a fucking headache. a burden. a fucking dumb bitch. so then why does he hate the idea of his dumb bitch of sister being someone else’s?

that same night kenjirō asks you to meet him in his room after dinner to talk— with the tone of his voice & expression it had to be serious. maybe he finally wants to step up & be the big brother that you hoped he would be. so there you were— fiddling with your thumbs & staring down at the ground as kenjirō went to lock his door. you felt him get closer & closer to you— his presence overwhelming you. the sound of his hand striking your face broke the silence of the room. you looked at kenjirō with your scared tear filled eyes as your face stung from the slap.

“you just wanted to join the team so you can whore yourself out to them, isn’t that right? i wasn’t giving you any attention so you just had to get some. fucking attention whore,”

“no that isn’t true-“ your words got stuck in your throat as you suddenly felt kenjirō pull you close to his chest, his hand softly petting your head— contrasting his behaviour not even a few seconds ago.

“it’s okay lil’ sis. you don’t have to lie to me, because i know you,” he finally called you his sister. you looked up to him from his chest & saw a smile graced on his lips. “your nii-chan wasn’t looking after you so you wanted other people to take care of you, isn’t that right hm?” his eyes were as if they were filled with so much sincerity & love, so different from he usually was with you— cold, harsh, vile & hateful. you were in daze— mind foggy & blurred from everything that has happened— so you couldn’t help yourself from agreeing to whatever kenjirō-nii is saying.

“what a sad little thing you are. gosh, what will you do if you found out about the things the other boys are calling you,”

“wh-what?” oh you looked so scared & terrified— exactly like how kenjirō wants you to be. “yeah, they’ve been talking about you. calling you a desperate slut, an airhead bitch & all other kinds of names,” kenjirō absolutely adores the sight of fear gleaming in your eyes.

“n-no, they wo-wouldn’t say that-“

“so you’re calling your nii-chan a liar,”

“no i’m not! i’m j-just-“ and there you go— tears streaming & full on sobbing into kenjirō’s chest, dampening his shirt with your salty tears. he did it, he finally broke you. “shhh it’s okay, lil’ sis. you don’t need them, you only need me right? you’ll only need your nii-chan now,”

he’s right, you finally have him now. he at long last opened up to you so you really shouldn’t be caring about those other boys and what they thought about you— not when you have your big brother now. so you don’t question any of it. you don’t question kenjirō is leaning in closer until his lips harshly kisses yours & travel down to leave purple marks into the skin of your neck. you don’t question it when he starts fondling your breasts through your shirt. you don’t question it when he starts to pull down his sweatpants to ‘show you how much he really loves you.’

but the voice in your head is screaming and yelling at you— saying that big brothers aren’t supposed to touch their little sisters like this. but what do you know? you’ve never had one until kenjirō came into your life, so maybe you could be wrong. but the voice just won’t stop shouting at you— that you aren’t supposed to be enjoying the way your big brother is feeling your sensitive cunt through your wet & dampened panties. but fuck, does it feel so good.

“you want your big brother to shove his cock in this cunny of yours, hm?” it was an automatic response for you to nod your head to whatever he was asking for. you didn’t care at all about what he was saying— all you knew is that you were feeling so fucking good and you needed more of it. and with a single thrust you felt kenjirō’s cock splitting your tight cunny open— cries & whines leaving your lips.

“fuck- loosen up a bit will ya? you’re so goddamn tight i can’t even move,” kenjirō hisses out through a grunt as he attempts to move in your tight cunt. as much it felt good for you, it felt just as fucking amazing for kenjirō. especially with the fact that you’ve gone completely braindead on him & just so pliant and obedient for him— just like how little sisters are supposed to treat their big brothers.

“o-oh i’m so-sorry nii-chan,” he smiles. you’re really the perfect little sister he could ever ask for, not even questioning it when he shoves his cock into you.

“it’s fine, little girl. you know why? because i only will ever get to fuck this tight cunt of yours. because only your nii-chan is ever allowed to touch you like— to fuck you like this, okay?”

“yes kenjirō-nii, only you!” that’s right, only him. forever.

[homerforsure]

Whumptober No. 5

betrayal / misunderstanding / broken nose

(Hockey AU)

***

He’d always thought the night Jay took the picture would be the worst of it.

Buck’s hands were clutching the rails of Jay’s iron headboard, where Jay had wanted them, where Jay had placed them after stripping Buck of his clothes, saying “Don’t let go.” His slow, sexy, predatory smile was the last thing Buck saw before the silky black blindfold was tied in place. Jay was gone after that, climbing off the bed, telling Buck how good he looked and what he thought he might do and Buck had arched into the words until he was begging to be touched.

“Be patient,” Jay had purred, appeasing Buck with a single finger drawn shiveringly down his thigh. Buck could feel that he’d climbed back onto the bed, but Jay was too far away and he wasn’t teasing; he just wasn’t there. Stretching out longer on the mattress, trying to find him, he’d said, “What’s going on up there?”

Then the flash went off, the bright light cutting through the thin fabric of the blindfold. Jay swore, “Shit. Fuck,” and when Buck let go of the bed with one hand (one hand because maybe he misunderstood, maybe it was fine, maybe he’d laugh and put his hand back and they’d-)to push the tie away, he’d seen Jay, crouched above him with his phone in his hand.

If he’d asked, Buck might even have agreed. He liked posing. He liked having his body appreciated. But Jay’s expression was the alarm of being caught red-handed and Buck knew, knew with a sinking feeling of dread and betrayal, that Jay wasn’t just taking a memento to savor later. He was taking a picture of Rangers center Evan Buckley, naked, smirking, and vulnerable, to use exactly the way those kinds of pictures get used.

Buck forced Jay to delete the photo, made him prove that he’d done it, and then had somehow managed to get himself dressed and down to the street to get a ride without throwing up. His face burned the whole drive home and for half of the night.

And that was the worst of it until five years later. In a new city. When Buck was finally playing the way he’d always known he could. When he was finally earning the respect of his team and the hockey world at large. When he started thinking he might stay. That was when the anonymously authored post was retweeted and reblogged and shared and gleefully discussed on all corners of the hockey internet.

MY WILD NIGHT WITH AN NHL ALL STAR

The Good, the Bad, and the Kinky

His agent’s was the first text he saw when he got done with practice: “Do NOT respond yet. Call me first.”

It had taken another couple messages before Buck realized what he wasn’t supposed to respond to and in the meantime, the texts kept rolling in. Half of them from numbers he didn’t even have saved in his contacts.

“Dude, is that shit true?”

“Are you okay?”

“Do you know who it is?”

“You dog 😜”

“You never told me you were into that 👀”

“Ignore it, Buck.”

“We’re all with you.”

“Fuck that guy.”

“Hey if you need something to take your mind off of it💋💋💋”

“Evan, Mike from the Tribune. If you want to set the record straight, please give me a call.”

From the looks on the faces of his teammates as they tried to pretend they weren’t stealing glances at him, they were getting messages of their own. Hen was the first one to start to approach him with a look of concern, but Buck avoided her, grabbing his bag and sneaking out the door without bothering to hit the stationary bike like usual.

“What the hell did you do to piss this guy off?” Geoff said as soon as he answered Buck’s call. “More importantly, what else does he have on you?”

“Nothing!” Buck answered, nearly merging directly into another car as his hands shook on the steering wheel. “What do I do? How do I fix this?”

“I don’t know, Buckley. None of my other clients get up to shit like this. You need to get yourself a publicist. I’m going to get in touch with Grant and make sure they’re not already shopping you.”

His agent hung up and Buck’s phone continued to buzz and chime all the way back to his apartment.

There were cameras outside which there almost never were. Mostly only hockey fans cared about pictures of hockey players and the press was limited to the arena and their official events. Maybe one or two regular guys who Buck knew by name. It was just his luck that he lived in LA where there were almost more cameras than there were disasters to photograph.

“Buck! Do you know who the author is?”

“Have your teammates seen the post?”

“Are you worried about other former partners coming out with similar stories?”

Buck pushed past them, but the questions followed him inside. His phone didn’t stop. His mentions were a nightmare on every platform. He shut Twitter as soon as he opened it and saw his name in the trending topics. The statements put out by the Kings and Buck’s agent condemning the piece and the interest in it were drowned out by outlet after outlet picking up the post and sharing it out wider and wider.

Can you guess this NHL player by his sexcapades? (Hint: It’s exactly who you think)

Hockey players used to be the humble, hard working gentleman of sports. What happened?

Should the Kings trade Evan Buckley? Can they?

Nash should make Buckley sit for embarrassing the team like this.

Aw, man, don’t do that. Sitting’s a little tough for Buckley right now

🤣

And I thought it couldn’t get worse than the time he fucked that mascot in Carolina

{This post may contain explicit content}

😵‍💫

🤮

Excuse you, Gritty has standards

[98 more posts]

Whether from a latent masochistic streak or just because he didn’t want to look away and find that the story had gotten bigger while he was gone, Buck couldn’t stop refreshing the pages. He read Jay’s words over and over again as his stomach roiled. If it had all been lies, Buck wouldn’t have spent the morning pressed into the corner of his couch, hoodie pulled up over his head like armor. If it had all been lies, he could have made a fiery statement, condemning the mystery author and condemning everyone who thought they had a right to consume and critique another person’s sex life.

There were some lies, of course, but it was true enough that Buck’s heart clenched with it. True enough that he could remember how he felt when it was happening, during the three times they’d been together before the photo. Soft and desired and joyful. There was a part of him that was still exposed to Jay, that always would be, this man with the sharp wit and the sharp smile who got Buck bare, begging and biddable all to make him a joke. As he read the smug asides in the unforgiving narrative, he could hear Jay’s voice in his ear.

The sixth time he read it, there was an addition.

Edit: Ha ha wow this really blew up. Doing an AMA at 6 eastern if you’re looking for more dirty details.

And for the first time, Buck felt the burn of tears in his eyes. Furious. Powerless.

The buzz of his phone started making his skin crawl so he shoved it between the couch cushions and tried not to think about it. He sat with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around, rocking just a little as he felt panic creeping in.

What else could Jay possibly have to say? Would he make up more and more audacious lies as long as he had an audience? Would an NHL team want to touch Buck when he was done?

Were there more pictures?

It was the fourth night, the night that Buck caught Jay. Not the first night with the blindfold. What if? Buck shuddered, sinking lower, deeper into the couch, folding himself tighter and smaller, trying to crush the mounting, hopeless fear. He was there for a long time.

When the gentle knock hit his door, Buck jumped and then crouched tighter into his ball. He didn’t answer. There was no one he could face right now.

The knock came again.

Then the door opened.

Buck was up like a shot, nearly falling over the coffee table as he whirled around toward the intruder. Eddie stood in the doorway, holding up one empty hand and pulling his key out of the door with the other.

“Just me.”

“What are you doing here?” Buck asked, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie to hide the fact that he’d been digging his nails into his palms for the last hour.

“Well, you took off. And you weren’t answering your phone.”

Hot shame flushed across Buck’s skin. Eddie knew. Eddie had seen the article and the articles about the article and the tweets about the articles and been shouted at by the cameras outside and Buck wanted to sink into the floor.

“Notice you didn’t take the hint.”

The attitude in Buck’s response didn’t faze Eddie at all, “Do I ever?”

And that almost made Buck feel like smiling, because no, no he didn’t. He said, “No. But there’s always a first time.”

Eddie came a little further into the apartment and Buck felt crowded. Eddie always seemed to take up so much space around him. Maybe it was just that Buck felt his presence most strongly than anyone else’s. Especially when he was like this: arms crossed, focused, not letting Buck wiggle out of a conversation that he didn’t want to have.

This time was no exception. When Buck turned and went back to the couch, compulsively refreshing the comments on Jay’s post again as he went, Eddie followed right after him.

“I came by to make sure you were okay,” he said and Buck flinched again, hating that Eddie knew. Hating that the team knew.

“I’m fine,” he answered, keeping his eyes down and away from Eddie. “Coach is going to rip me a new one tomorrow, but my agent hasn’t called me to tell me I’m being traded so yet so I guess that’s-”

“Who the fuck said you were being traded?” His voice was loud enough that Buck looked up, surprised to see the intensity of anger in Eddie’s face.

“THN. NHL Network did a round table on it too, but they didn’t think anyone would take me. Oh, then Kirk Davis did a radio interview.”

Everyone had picked up those soundbites. Even through the heavily bleeped broadcast, the future hall-of-famer’s opinion on Buck had been crystal clear. At least that wasn’t new information for Buck. Davis had all but refused to shake Buck’s hand when he first joined the Predators and was a big part of why his tenure there had only lasted until the trade deadline.

“Kirk Davis is a fucking asshole. There’s a reason they never made him captain.”

“He’s not the only one who said it.”

“Then he’s not the only fucking asshole out there.” When he didn’t respond, Eddie came around the couch to stand face to face with him, noticing the open comments page as he did. “Christ, have you been reading that shit all day?”

Somehow it made Buck laugh. “It’s the same shit I’ve been reading for 8 years. Since I got drafted. Buckley’s a distraction to his team. Buckley’s an embarrassment to the game of hockey. Buckley cares more about getting laid and partying than he does about winning. It’s guys like Buckley that hurt the NHL.”

His voice pitched up as he recited the familiar accusations, staring somewhere over Eddie’s shoulder because Eddie already knew all this about him. Eddie was the opposite of Buck in every way. He would never make himself the center of attention. He’d never do anything to make his teammates ashamed to play with him. He’d never be so stupid as to go home with a guy like Jay.

“Buckley’s finally getting what he deserves.” Buck whispered.

“Look at me,” Eddie said. When Buck couldn’t, Eddie reached out, setting a light hand on his shoulder that got tighter when Buck tried to shrug out of the hold. “Hey. Look at me.”

He moved his head into the space where Buck was staring into the middle distance and waited. Until Buck couldn’t help but flick his gaze to meet Eddie’s. Once he did, he found a furious compassion that startled him.

“You don’t deserve this, Buck. You did nothing to deserve this. It is not your fault. Nobody in our room thinks it is. Bobby doesn’t think it is.”

Buck shuddered under the weight of the words. He wanted to pull himself free and he wanted to step in closer, “My agent told me I should own it. Post a couple thirst traps and a middle finger on instagram and just wave it off like another classic Evan Buckley weekend.”

There was a time when he would have. Times when he had. But this wasn’t a ridiculous paparazzi photo outside a bar, it was… It was private. It hurt.

As if reading his mind, Eddie said, “That’s not what this is. Fire him if he wants to make you pretend this is okay.”

“I just keep thinking if I was anyone else. If I was someone good, they’d all go after him and not me. I didn’t even do anything to him, Eddie. I didn’t-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Eddie tugged him forward and his arms were tight around his back. Buck should have tried to fight it, but he couldn’t help but fall against his chest and cling on. “You are someone good,” Eddie said, making Buck’s breath hitch. “And if you weren’t, it wouldn’t matter. It’s wrong. They’re wrong.”

“I shouldn’t have trusted him,” Buck confessed into the soft fabric of Eddie’s shirt. “I was so stupid back then. I just wanted- I wanted him to like me. And I’m still- It still hurts that he didn’t. How fucked up is that? He did this. And I still just wish he liked me.”

One of Eddie’s hands moved up to cradle the back of Buck’s head. They were swaying, just a little, Eddie rocking them gently. “I know,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

He managed to keep from crying, but Buck couldn’t stop his breath from coming out in soft, stuttering gasps. Couldn’t keep his fingers from digging into Eddie’s back. If he thought about it, he could imagine this post too (Evan Buckley cried like a baby on my shoulder AMA), but Eddie would never do that. The warm heat of him against Buck’s chest was like a blanket hiding him from the world. It was the most vulnerable he’d been all day and the most sheltered.

Eddie didn’t let go until Buck pulled back and even then he didn’t go far, “Have you eaten since practice?”

“I didn’t think I’d be able to without throwing up,” Buck said honestly.

“Do you want to order something from-”

The timer on Buck’s laptop shrieked and they both jumped. Eddie recovered quickly, but Buck’s heart leapt into his throat. He’d almost forgotten. How could he have forgotten? Pulling away from Eddie, he turned off the timer and refreshed the post, looking for the link he knew would be there.

“Come on, Buck, really?”

Eddie reached out to slam the laptop closed, but Buck shoved his hand in the way. “I have to, Eddie. He’s doing an AMA. I have to-”

“I’m not going to let you torture yourself reading what a bunch of sick assholes have to say, Buck. No way.”

“I have to.”

“No, you-”

“Yes, I do!” He shouted it, standing up to look Eddie in the eye. “I have to read it. I have to see it now because if- if- if I wait and it gets reposted- I have to know if he has- I have to-”

“Buck,” Eddie said, putting his hands on Buck’s arms, trying to rub calmness back into him even as Buck’s heart-rate accelerated. “What does he have? What could be worse than what he already-”

“Pictures,” Buck yelled. “I have to know if he has pictures.”

A dark, dark look came over Eddie’s face and he stopped rubbing Buck’s arms to squeeze instead. “You think he has pictures?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Buck whimpered. He saw himself as if from above, stretched out long and lewd against Jay’s sheets. He imagined ten thousand other people seeing it. “He took- I caught him taking one. Once. But I don't know if it was the only one. I don’t- I can’t let them get out. If he has them, I have to know. I have to report the post. I have to-”

“No,” Eddie said.

“Yes, Eddie. I have-”

“I hear you. Okay? I hear you, but I’m not letting you do that. I’m not letting you put any more of that garbage in your head.”

“Eddie.”

“I’ll do it. I’ll report every goddamn post.” Lifting one hand, Eddie stroked a thumb softly along Buck’s hairline. “Let me do it. Let me protect you.”

Buck swallowed hard, fear and relief and longing fighting for control of the tears that were building up again. He didn’t want Eddie to see any of that. He didn’t want Jay’s words in Eddie’s head. But Buck really really didn’t want them in his own. He wanted someone to protect him. “Thank you,” he said, falling forward again to rest his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” Eddie replied, rubbing his hands firmly up Buck’s back.

Eddie wouldn’t let Buck sit on the couch while he monitored the thread. He fished Buck’s phone out of the couch and made him answer the important messages. From Maddie. From Bobby. From Hen and Chimney. Then he’d told him to order food from the Lebanese place they always ordered from when Eddie came over, asking for extra of the pickled turnips. All the while, Eddie’s fingers slammed onto the keyboard, that sound the only reaction he gave to any of the posts.

It should have been unbearable, letting Eddie comb through the messages. Even without seeing them, Buck knew what they were like. He blocked people every week for the same kind of thing. But Eddie had a defense against them that Buck never had: he didn’t believe they were true. Not even a little bit. He didn’t believe there was a chance that Buck was getting what he deserved for being a show off, for never being a points leader, for being open and soft hearted, for being himself. Eddie believed Buck deserved to be protected and he was ruthless about it.

“No pictures,” he said, a while later, when Jay had finally stopped replying to every comment on the page. “And the rest of it is… well. It’s nothing new.”

“Really?”

“Really. I think it’s done.”

Eddie closed the laptop as if by making that gesture of finality, he could make the words true. Buck, allowed back on his own couch, let himself believe it too. Let himself lean into the safety of Eddie’s arm over his shoulders, breathing in a deep sigh of relief as they caught the Canucks game.

The next morning, Jay’s story was hardly anywhere to be seen. It was replaced. By an essay in The Players’ Tribune. It excoriated Jay. It called out Kirk Davis by name and hundreds of online posters by their bad intentions. It praised Buck’s grace, tenacity, and backhand shot and it demanded respect and compassion and privacy from anyone who called themselves a hockey fan. And it wasn’t anonymous.

[princecameronlovedacommoner]

all i can think of right now is topper finding out about rafe and barry being fuck buddies and him getting all protective and rafe trying to convince him barry’s chill

Okay so this turned out pretty fluffy hehe Or at least it’s a super fluffy ending. I hope you like it and thank you for your prompt!!! :)

(Warnings: Mentions of suicidal thoughts, hospitalization, and rehab for an addiction)

A few tough topics in the characters’ pasts but I swear it’s a nice happy ending for everyone!

“Sooo, this is the new place, huh?” Topper eyed each corner of the screened in patio carefully, as if he were expecting a terrible surprise if he sat down in the wrong place.

Rafe couldn’t exactly blame him for that. He had found a few needles in the couch cushions once upon a time, before he’d moved in permanently and cleaned the place up. But Barry didn’t deal with the hardcore shit anymore and customers weren’t always lingering all over the place now that there was a legal storefront where they could pick up their weed then take it home to smoke.

“Home sweet home.” Rafe confirmed, tossing Topper a beer when he finally settled on a place to sit down. “Like what I did with the furniture out here? Now these couches match the one in the living room.”

Topper nodded with a thoughtful hum. “Sugar Daddy let you splurge a little on the remodeling?” He questioned and Rafe rolled his eyes.

“Shut up. He’s not my sugar daddy. We’re getting married.”

Topper hadn’t opened his drink yet, even as Rafe was downing his own, perched contently on the armrest next to his best friend and just looking like he was at ease with the world.

That was a look Topper had never seen on Rafe, but still, he wasn’t going to just give this guy his blessing without making him work a little first. He’d heard some troubling stories about Rafe’s knight in not so shiny armor, and he felt it was his responsibility to look out for his buddy, since Ward Cameron obviously wouldn’t.

“You look…happy?” Topper tried to sound convincing, like he actually bought the idea already that Rafe was making the right call with this guy.

“You sound surprised.” Rafe raised a brow, setting his beer aside and wiping a line of foam from his mouth. “Look, man, I know it’s not figure eight worthy or anything but it’ll grow on you.”

“Rafe.” Topper ran his hands over his face.

“It’s not the scum on the siding is it?” Rafe asked. “Barry’s uncle’s supposed to come and power wash that before the wedding.”

“No, no, the house isn’t the problem, man.” Topper met Rafe’s eyes again, gathering the courage to ask him some harder questions. “I’m worried about you being with this dude.” He confessed. “I know he sells pot in town now, but he used to be a coke dealer right?”

Rafe scrunched up his nose. “Used to be doesn’t mean he is now.” He huffed defensively. “I used to be an addict. Now I’m not. And Barry changed a lot for me…”

“Didn’t he get you addicted in the first place?”

“So fucking what?” Rafe growled, doing his best to remember the breathing techniques that were supposed to help him settle in moments of frustration and anger. “He got clean when I did.” He told Topper, fists slowly beginning to unclench at his sides. “And if it wasn’t for him, I’d still be a mess in the head. You know he was the one who finally took me to talk to somebody, right? Ward didn’t do shit besides throw a few checks to the rehab place…Barry was there for me, man. When I went in, when I got home. He really got me through everything. Even now he always keeps up with my appointments, reminds me to take my pills and all that.”

Topper felt a bit guilty now. He’d just assumed that it had been Ward who finally caved and started paying attention to Rafe’s problems.

That is what a father would do, after all. Eventually. Hopefully. But in Rafe’s case, apparently his “father” hadn’t come through. His fiancé had.

“Did he uh…Did he take you to the hospital that one night?” Topper inquired. He tried to keep the memories of that particular evening to a minimum. It scared him even now, thinking of Rafe in the worst state he’d ever been in, storming out of his house with a gun and shouting about putting himself out of his own misery. He’d claimed it would be the best thing for them all.

It wouldn’t have been and Topper knew it even then, but while his words hadn’t been enough to stop Rafe that night, this new guy’s supposedly had.

Topper called Rafe’s phone a million times after he’d left and finally the next morning he’d gotten a text back.

“Rafe’s fine. Took him to ER. They keepin him for a few days.”

Topper had this confirmed himself, hurrying to the hospital and asking after his best friend, almost sobbing and tears ready to pour down his face as he panicked to the nurse at the front desk of the psychiatric ward.

“Mr. Cameron is safe and that is all I can tell you for now.”

Normally Topper would argue for more information but the knowledge alone that Rafe was still breathing was plenty to put his mind at ease.

At least it was until Rafe disappeared for a long time after that.

Topper had gotten one phone call and this time it was Rafe himself, just after getting out of the hospital three days after the incident.

“Listen, I’m going away for a bit.” He’d told Topper. “If Dad asks, tell him I’m fine. I’ve got a um…a friend…with me. He’s gonna take me to Dallas. There’s a rehab program there that’s supposed to be good.”

Topper remembers feeling relieved and fearful at the same time, happy for his friend that he was finally getting some help but wondering who on earth he’d gotten mixed up with that was taking him all the way to Texas.

“Tell your friend to take care of you, alright, man?” He’d pleaded with Rafe. “Stay safe, bud. We’ll celebrate when you come back.”

“For sure.” Rafe hadn’t sounded very hopeful then but now, Topper saw a completely different person when he looked at his best friend.

He was happy, peaceful, finally able to live his life without fear of Ward’s tyranny…and he was getting married soon. To a guy that Topper still hadn’t met, but that had done a lot for Rafe.

When the front door to the trailer opened and shut and footsteps could be heard walking through the living room, Topper wasn’t sure whether he wanted to try to be as thankful or as intimidating as possible.

“Yo, baby!” A thickly accented voice called once the man it belonged to reached the kitchen to grab a drink for himself out of the fridge. “You home? Where’s your little friend, huh? Thought we was grabbin’ somethin’ to eat!”

“Out here!” Rafe answered, smiling even before his fiancé came to stand in the doorway of the patio.

He looked like quite a rough character, and in fact…Topper recognized him.

“You!?” He let the demand for an explanation fall straight from his dropped jaw.

“Yeah, me.” Barry snorted, setting the beer he was carrying aside and holding his arms out for Rafe. “Where’s my welcome home kisses, sweet thang. Come here and let me squeeze you a little.” He pulled Rafe into his arms and held him tight, kissing against his neck and then pressing one gentle peck to his lips. “Thought I told you not to go gettin any prettier while I was gone.” He grinned, and Rafe just looked so…in love? Topper couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Hey tone it down in front of Top, babe. Alright?” Rafe was blushing and unable to hide the fond little grin he wore once Barry sat him back down. “He’s a little squirmy about this kinda thing.”

Barry turned to look at Topper, eyes scanning the younger man up and down before he nodded his approval. “You the one that calls in to check on Country Club all the time, ain’t ya?” He asked.

Topper nodded. “He’s my best friend.” He confirmed to Barry. “Just wanna be sure he’s doing alright still.”

Barry gave Topper a friendly smile then and whacked him on the back in a brotherly manner. “You alright, man. We’ll get along just fine…Baby Cakes? You take your medicine this mornin’ after I left?” His full attention was back on Rafe, sitting back on the nearest couch and pulling his fiancé down onto his lap to hug on him.

Alright. This was good. Topper was convinced that he could be friends with Barry.

Maybe Rafe had better taste in men than he’d once thought.

[trilliastra]

[*drops a sterek fic after two years and runs away to hide*]

-

It’s all Cora’s fault and Derek will remain of the opinion that his life only went downhill the moment his little sister was born.

It starts with Sara, his sister’s friend, whose boyfriend turned out to be a jerk and would not let her inside his apartment to collect her things unless she took him back. And Cora volunteered Derek to help.

Derek didn’t really mind it at first, Sara only needed a guy to look strong (which he is), angry (which he was) and able to carry her stuff from place a to place b (which he did). But some weeks later Sara met a friend with an equally stupid boyfriend and said friend had another friend and then Laura heard about it and it suddenly became a thing.

Georgia, Nelly, Carmen, Lola.

Isaac.

“I could help, you know?” Derek had said after the fifth time he noticed the blossoming purple bruises on the back of Isaac’s neck, his scrapped knuckles. “If you need to get rid of your –” he lowered his voice, “boyfriend.”

Isaac had looked at him, wide eyed, before he confessed he isn’t gay and the problem was actually his dad. “Oh,” Derek had said, thinking for a moment before adding, “I could help with that, too.”

Turns out Derek’s intimidation skills were lacking when compared to his own father’s.

-

“You’re doing a really nice thing, Derek.” Isaac says one night, helping him with his hand. Asshole boyfriend of the night thought he could bag a few punches before letting Phill grab his laptop back. Derek was faster, and stronger.

Isaac moved in with him and Boyd two weeks after his dad was sentenced. He didn’t want to, at first, was still incredibly shy and scared of everything, including Derek, but he opened up to Boyd pretty quickly. Despite his built (and the fact he can bench press three times his own weight), Boyd is the softest person Derek has ever met.

“Sure.” Derek sighs.

“But?” He asks and Derek sighs again, looks away when Boyd walks into the room.

“I had a date.” Derek confesses and Boyd whistles in sympathy.

“How many times has it been, again?”

“Three.” Derek winces when Isaac presses the antiseptic over the cut. “I’m – I really like him.”

“You could just tell him.” Isaac says. “He’s a cool guy, I guess.” He shrugs, smiling. “Sometimes he’s an asshole. But not in a bad way.”

Derek huffs out a laugh. “Yeah.”

Stiles is an asshole, he likes teasing Derek when they are discussing ethics in the workplace and every way capitalism is stepping over immigrants, they banter and they quote books back and forth and while some people (his sisters) roll their eyes when Derek brings up some history fact, Stiles nods along, brings up another history fact that Derek didn’t know (or sometimes pretends not to know, just to hear Stiles talking about it), hands moving around as he explains his point or badmouths a historic figure that owned so much money ‘their great-great-grandkids are still swimming in the gold they stole from the natives’.

Derek is in love.

“What did you tell him this time?” Boyd asks, munching on his chips. He shakes the bag in front of them and while Derek takes a couple, Isaac shakes his head, still not used to being allowed good things.

Some memories are hard to forget.

“That my mom had stopped by to visit.” Derek says. He hates lying, he is not even good at it. The first time he tried to tell Stiles he looked like a wet cat after he got caught up in the rain, white shirt sticking to his chest, Derek’s cheeks had gotten so red, Stiles asked him if he was okay.

“Dude.” Isaac says, shaking his head in disappointment as he finishes bandaging Derek’s hand.

“I know.” Derek gives back, collapsing on his bed with a groan.

This is all Cora’s fault.

-

Okay. Stiles texts back when Derek has to postpone their date again. Derek can feel the disappointment through the message, mirroring his own feelings.

How about tomorrow night? Derek tries, stares at his phone for minutes until he realizes Stiles probably won’t text him back.

-

“Please.” Maria says, holding her cat with a bright smile as they talk in front of a coffee shop. She is trying to convince him to accept a coffee and Derek is trying to convince her he doesn’t need it. “How can I thank you?”

Derek sighs. “I didn’t do anything.” And it is true, her boyfriend wasn’t working when they arrived at the coffee shop and when they opened the door of the apartment upstairs, it was empty save for the cat that Maria is currently hugging.

“You were there for me.” She smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear and Derek already knows what’s coming.

It’s not the first time, probably won’t be the last. He has been invited for ‘thank you’ coffees, dinners, sex. It never felt right, though. Not with the guys, and especially not with the girls.

Sorry. He always says. Some of them are attractive, he supposes, but he was, and still is, very much gay.

“I’m—” he starts, but Maria’s eyes widen and when Derek turns around, a guy is stalking towards them, eyebrows furrowed in anger.

“You bitch!” He shouts, startling most of the costumers inside and the shop and the people walking around the street. “What are you doing?”

“Taking my cat back!” She yells back and Derek steps closer, eyeing the guy’s fists as he starts to shake with anger.

The guy notices his move and turns his glare to him. “And who the fuck are you?”

Before Derek can answer, Maria chimes in. “My boyfriend.”

“What the fuck?” It takes Derek a second to realize the words didn’t come from him, but from someone in the crowd, one of the onlookers that gathered around them to watch the scene unfold.

Two seconds after that, Derek realizes the person talking was Stiles.

-

That explains a lot. It’s the last message Stiles sends him before blocking his number.

Derek tries to call, talk to him after class, but his friends keep him away, Lydia going as far as brandishing a can of pepper spray in front of him, eyes shining with an unspoken threat.

“You should follow him to his dorm.” Isaac offers, weakly.

“Creeps do that.” Derek says. “I don’t want to be more of an asshole than I already am.”

“You’re not an asshole.” Isaac says, clasping his shoulder in sympathy. “I could – talk to him? If you want?” The offer makes Derek smile, touched. Isaac is still extremely shy in front of strangers, but just the fact that he considered doing it for him is enough.

“It’s fine.” Derek says. It isn’t fine, and they both know it, but he will pull through. Eventually. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

-

It’s harder that Derek anticipated, seeing Stiles during classes and not being able to talk to him, to tease him when Mrs. Schilder glares at him for using a pun that makes the entire room burst out laughing from second-hand embarrassment.

He is beautiful, Derek thinks at least ten times a day, and smart and kind and funny and Derek could see them being together for a long time, falling deeper in love as the time passes.

He should be used to not having good things. He grew up as a middle child, as a gay teenager in a small town where some boys were so far deep in the closet, they couldn’t find their way out, he should be used to not keeping the things he likes.

So why does it hurt so much?

-

“Derek—”

“No.”

“She needs—”

“Call someone else.”

“You are really going to leave her—”

Derek slams his book shut, kicks his chair back as he stands up. Cora’s eyes widen when someone tells him to be quiet and Derek simply ignores them. “I need to study for a test. Call someone else.”

Helping someone should feel good, it should make him happy, not feel like a burden. He is more than an angry guy with a strong body. He doesn’t even like confrontation. He started working out to burn his energy, to let out some of this anger that he’s been constantly carrying inside and he kept working out because he enjoyed it and now – now even that is ruined.

“Why are you being so selfish?” She asks and Derek knows, deep inside, that she doesn’t mean it like that, that she’s just as angry as him, humiliated by the fact he’s calling her out in the middle of the library. Still, that doesn’t matter now. Now, Derek is angry and sad and done.

“Fuck you.” He says and walks away.

-

His initial plan was to make it to his apartment, bury himself under the covers and not leave his room until his mother comes to give him an earful. Because she will, undoubtedly, when Cora tells her about it.

But Derek doesn’t make it to his apartment, he doesn’t even make it outside the library, simply makes a u-turn and heads for the dark zone, a space under the stairs leading to the storeroom where couples usually go to make out. There, he collapses on the ground, taking deep breaths, and buries his face in his hands.

This has been a long time coming, he thinks. He’s been on the edge for a while. This entire experience has made him remember how awful it was to pretend to be someone he wasn’t, to be only liked for his body or for his ability to pass the answers to the test without the teacher seeing him.

Some memories are hard to forget.

“Are you okay?” Derek flinches, surprised to hear Stiles’ voice. “Oh,” Stiles whispers, noticing Derek’s red eyes, the tears streaming down his face, “bad day, huh?”

“She was not my girlfriend.” Derek blurts out, head a mess of emotions: fear, anger, loneliness, regret.

“Dude,” Stiles frowns, confused, “I know Cora is your sister.”

“No.” Derek shakes his head, frantic. “The other day, at the coffee shop. I was helping her with her ex-boyfriend, I do that sometimes. He— he was an asshole and she needed help getting her cat back and I look strong and I know how to –”

“Woah, woah, slow down.” Stiles raises his hands, alarmed, and Derek realizes his own hands are shaking and he can’t breathe. “In and out,” Stiles whispers, “can I—can I touch you?”

Derek shakes his head, focusing on his breath. Panic attack, he remembers, suffocating. No touching. “Okay,” Stiles agrees, easily, “should I keep talking?” Derek shakes his head again, keeps his eyes on his hands. Talking is too much, listening is too much, breathing is too much. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No.” Derek manages to gasp. He doesn’t want to be alone.

Stiles nods, leans against the wall next to Derek and starts fiddling with his shoelaces, twirling them around wordlessly. Derek doesn’t know how much time it passes, but he keeps watching Stiles’ fingers moving distractedly, patiently waiting for him. With him.

“I’m sorry.” Derek manages to say, eventually.

Stiles sighs. “I know.” He closes his own eyes before turning to Derek. “You don’t have to explain.”

“I—” Derek swallows heavily, “have to.” He answers, before shaking his head. No, that doesn’t sound right, “no, I—I want to.”

-

They leave the library together, Stiles standing up first and offering his hand to help Derek up. Stiles doesn’t let go as they walk towards Derek’s apartment, squeezes his hand from time to time as Derek tells him about everything.

“You could have told me.” Stiles notes.

“I don’t know why I didn’t.” Derek confesses. “I guess I didn’t want you to see me as that guy too. Beefy Derek.” He laughs, humorless. “That’s the nickname my sister came up with a few months ago.”

Stiles groans, stops walking, forcing Derek to stop as well. “You are so much more than that.” He assures, touching Derek’s face softly though his eyes shine with certainty. “I love your brain, your cute jokes, the fact that you get my stupid history facts because you like history just as much as I do, and especially the way you care so much. College, people, the world.” He pulls him in for a quick, assertive kiss, and Derek immediately feels so light he could fly. But he won’t, because Stiles is keeping him grounded by the softest touch, the smallest smile.

“Cute jokes?” He manages to ask, arching an eyebrow. When Stiles laughs, he smiles.

“They are.” He insists.

“Okay.” Derek accepts the words easily, because everything seems easy when it comes to Stiles. “If I ask you out on a new date,” he says, “will Lydia pepper spray me?”

“I will stop her.” Stiles reassures, squeezing his hand again. “But before,” he adds and Derek feels his stomach turning with anticipation, “you have to know that I kind of hate your sister right now.”

“Oh.” Derek says. “Okay, I can—I can see that.”

“I’m sorry.” Stiles says, though he doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“Me too.” Derek agrees.

-

When Derek tells him about Cora’s apology and the earful his sister got from their mom, Stiles excuses himself to go laugh in the bathroom while Derek shrugs and goes back to eating his share of the pizza.

By the time they get married, Stiles and Cora have become best friends. Derek hates it (he doesn’t).

[willadisastercry]

Lance ignores his asthma and Coran is not willing to be an accomplice pt. 2

It’s a race against the clock as Lance’s lungs worsen and his team scrambles to come up with a remedy before it’s too late. And though this whole mess certainly could’ve been avoided had he been upfront about his situation to begin with, his team will have to save the scolding for when Lance can focus on something other than the pain of trying to force air into his rapidly constricting airways. Altean technology works fast, but what if fast isn’t fast enough?

Part 1 / Part 2

“D’you check these yet?” Hunk asked as he threw open the topmost drawer of the in-wall storage space in Lance’s cabin.

“No, and it’s not in here either... I don’t understand wh—shit!” Keith cursed as he knocked over the trash can beside Lance’s nightstand and began scooping the contents back up.

“I don’t know where it could possibly be if—“

“—found it...” Keith interrupted as he held up the inhaler that had fallen out with the rest of the trash.

“Did you just get that from the... don’t you dare tell me it’s... oh, quiznak!”

“We’ve gotta tell Shiro...”

Keith was scared that Hunk would actually cry with the way his body tensed and his eyes glossed over.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Coran will know what to do,” Keith offered as he forwent cleaning up the rest of the mess he made for the sake of time.

“Bring that with you, maybe it can help him figure something out,” Hunk said after a second of staring blankly before he turned on his heel and joined Keith in a mad dash back to the training deck.

When they finally made it back they wished they’d never left.

Lance was collapsed onto his forearms with a very distraught Shiro rubbing circles on his back as he struggled to take in heaving breaths. He hadn’t even realized they’d returned until Shiro spoke up.

“Thank god you guys are back, just toss it—”

“It’s empty, this was his last inhaler...” Keith offered for the look of utter despair on Shiro’s face as Hunk sunk down next to them and placed one hand beside Shiro’s on his back and wrapped the other around Lance’s, receiving a weak squeeze in thanks for the small comfort.

“You’re gonna be fine dude... Coran and Allura are going to help, they can fix this. Just keep breathing as deep as you can,” he repeated over and over as Lance’s chest continued to hitch, the wheezes so loud and guttural now as his lungs worsened and his body grew more exhausted.

Understanding washed over Shiro all at once and then he was moving, maneuvering Lance’s struggling body despite the unwillingness of his lax limbs.

He was too exhausted to do much of anything aside from keep his chest rising and follow whatever direction his pliant frame was guided, letting himself be pushed back onto his heels as hands clasped his forearms and settled on his back to keep him from tipping over.

Every muscle in his abdomen was screaming. A similar tension burning up his neck and seeping into the sinews between his shoulder blades that made his head feel way too heavy to sit atop his shoulders. After not even thirty ticks of trying to summon the strength to keep it up he let it hang forward, the hands on him tightening their grips when he did.

He was extremely grateful they couldn’t see his face anymore because tears were beginning to form quicker than they could fall and he was sure he would have been fully sobbing at that point if he’d had any energy to spare.

“We’re meeting everyone at the infirmary then, you guys run ahead and let Coran know,” Shiro ordered as he motioned for Hunk to take hold of Lance while he turned away and crouched.

With some help he rose on shaking legs, Keith rushing to support his other side when his oxygen deprived legs protested the action.

“Woah, we’ve got you... thanks Keith...”

Their hands under his armpits kept him standing long enough to collapse onto Shiro’s back.

He literally only had the energy after that to throw his arms over Shiro’s shoulders and nestle his chin securely in the space between his own bicep and Shiro’s neck before his body sagged against his leader like dead weight.

“Go! I’m right behind you,” he shouted, his voice dark and fearful.

He could feel Lance straining against him as he followed after them, could hear the way his congested airways sputtered each time he tried to breathe.

Shiro made his way with steady urgency, not exactly jogging but not walking either, the anxiety bubbling in his stomach only forcing his legs to pump quicker as Lance got worse.

Keith and Hunk made it to the medbaby in record time though, both boys panting after sputtering to a halt once they made it through the whooshing doors.

The paladins knew today’s workout would be a doozy, but none of them expected to be doing this much running, especially under these circumstances.

Pidge was on the floor sorting through boxes of medicine and supplies carrying on an in-depth conversation regarding the compositional makeup of altean pharmaceuticals with Coran and Allura.

“Hey guys—wait why do you have...?”

“Empty...”

Keith answered a bit breathlessly as he waved the tube of navy and teal plastic in the air before gesturing to toss it to Coran who nodded and raised his hands in anticipation.

“...figured you’d want to take a look at the ingredients or whatever before Shiro got here with him.”

The air in the room seemed to thin as worry descended upon everyone.

“Christ, Lance!” Pidge exclaimed and sat back on her heels.

“Yeah, he’s not doing too hot,” Hunk said as he joined them, stealing the box of tubes and gadgets from Pidge to rifle through it himself.

Coran’s frown somehow deepened and Allura looked increasingly more distraught as he began filling them in.

“What level of dangerous is his breathing at?” Pidge asked hesitantly, like she didn’t want to hear the answer.

“He’s panicking and already really exhausted, so pretty dangerous. It’s one of the worst attacks I think he’s had in a while...”

Allura worried at her lip and kept glancing between the jumble of medical supplies and the medbay doors while she worked absently to ready a bed, the mice smoothing out wrinkles in the sheets and pulling down corners for her.

“Well, it was smart of number four to think of bringing this. I am synthesizing several medicines in likeness but none of them are exactly complete yet—”

“That’s—fuck, that’s not gonna be good enough...”

Everyone stilled at Hunk’s harsh interruption, his hands shaking in loose fists at his sides while he stared fixedly at the boxes of miscellaneous medical equipment in front of him.

“Lance can’t breathe, he can’t just wait for something to finish synthesizing, he might not be breathing at all when it’s done!”

Pidge scooted across the floor and laid her tiny hands on top of Hunk’s trembling ones.

“I think what Hunk means to say is that Lance’s condition is, erm, kinda dire and requires something that works as fast as possible.”

“Hmmm, I see. That is why the blue wilgam bark salve is strictly for prevention... this is indeed a rather tricky—ah, though I suppose I can try to extract and aerosolize whatever might remain of his earth remedy for a temporary solution,” Coran noted as he braved his stern concentration face and began separating the metal canister from the outer plastic to compare the words on it to the words on the bottles of medicine in front of him.

“And we can always place him in a pod for however long it takes to create an accurate remedy... he is truly in the best hands Hunk, do not fret so much,” Allura finished with a tight smile that was warm and assuring all the same.

It was strange how well she could do that, squash so much worry with such a simple act.

Coran hurried over to a station with lots of tools and canisters and turned on several machines that made various clicking and whirring noises.

Keith’s nose wrinkled at the new sounds but he couldn’t find it in him to feel angry about it. Not when they were going to help Lance when was in such bad shape.

“Okay, okay... those are good ideas,” Hunk agreed with a gasp, he hadn’t realized he’d been withholding air as he lost himself in his panic.

“Deep breaths, big guy,” Pidge urged, the weight of her hands bringing him back down from the brink of panic as his mind raced.

“Yeah, don’t forget that you’re the one who can actually breathe,” Keith chided gently with a hesitant hand on Hunk’s shoulder.

“Right... sorry. It’s just that these can get ugly really quick if—“

The doors whooshed open with an unsettling burst of air as Shiro emerged and crossed the room in a matter of seconds, a flurry of concerned exclamations filling the silence in between pauses of commotion that should have been hurried gasps for air.

But weren’t.

There wasn’t time to make sense of the lack of color in Lance’s face or the absence of movement in his chest as Shiro slid him off of his back, human hand trembling as he moved to support his middle and the base of his neck as he lowered his lifeless body onto the bed.

It was a grim enough sight to have even Allura’s mice crying out.

“Lance!”

“Holy fuck...”

Pidge was acting on autopilot as she pinched the altean breathing mask Coran had pulled out over the bridge of his nose and cupped it under his chin to secure the seal, Keith moving in eerie similarity to connect the tubing and flip the right switches on the machine when it became apparent that Hunk wouldn’t be spurred from his horror any time soon.

It wasn’t prepped because they hadn’t realized they’d be needing it so soon.

“No... nonononono—“

They aren’t sure how they heard it through the muddle of commotion and devastating silence but it stopped them all in their tracks, the faintest whisper of air passing his lips.

His very blue lips, go figure.

“He’s breathing, Hunk. Just barely, though...”

Lance’s eyes were open still and staring at nothing as his neck strained for air that was there now but still not accessible with how severely inflamed his lungs had become, the only sounds leaving his lips at all just rapid exhales where he couldn’t expel enough before his aching lungs screamed for more of what the mask was providing

“It doesn’t look like it’s helping...” Hunk all but sobbed as he gripped the base board of the bed so tightly his fingers blanched.

Lance’s eyes bobbed at that, struggling to locate who out of his friends was distressed through the tears welling at their brims.

They were puffy and bloodshot as silent tears spilled in a continuous stream, his eyebrows drawn together with pain and desperation.

“That’s because it’s not,” Shiro deadpanned, his hands working to soothe over Lance’s stuttering chest as his rasping breaths caught in his throat on their way out.

“Wh-how is it not working... it’s oxygen?!”

It was almost pitiful how helpless Keith looked as he stated the very blatant fact, his expression sharp and his tone prickly, like he didn’t know who or what to be mad at.

“His airways,” Pidge started weakly, her voice wavering, “they must be too tight for the air to get through...”

Shiro’s hand gripped Lance’s fiercely. It was ice cold.

The gravity of the situation dawned on his friends like a literal blow then, all eyes turning to Allura.

“Coran... he-he’s working on something, but...”

It wasn’t often that the paladins saw the princess hesitate. Her usual order of proceeding during a crisis was to do something brave or noble first and think about it later, but her impulse instinct was uncharacteristically absent as she stared at Lance’s greying face.

Her hands rose slowly, long fingers uncurling from where they’d been pressed tightly in her palms to reveal a subtle pink glow.

“Princess...”

“I know, Shiro... it’s just—I am scared it might cause him greater discomfort...”

“I don’t think we have time to worry about that, Allura,” Keith noted gravely from the foot of the bed where Lance’s eyes were half focused and darting between him and Hunk.

A status update from Coran made the tension in the room skyrocket further as he estimated another twenty or so dobashes before anything was viable.

It only took one more particularly worrisome sound of distress from Lance for Allura’s hands to descend on his chest with certainty, the pink furls leaving her fingers and settling on his body for not even a second before his back arched off the bed with a strangled gasp.

Allura grimaced as she called upon several energy reserves to ease the vice constricting Lance’s lungs as fast as she could.

A phantom tightness bloomed in her own chest as she visualized the pressure leaving his while she forced each passage back open, the channel she had opened between them by using her powers allowing her to feel the gridlock for herself.

She didn’t let up until Lance was sinking back into the pile of pillows and by then she was so lightheaded that her vision was spotting, but Keith was at her side and gripping her elbow securely before she could even stumble when the strength in her legs wavered.

“I am quite alright, just feeling a bit weak.”

“Are you sure? Why don’t you take a seat for a few anyway?”

Lance couldn’t really make sense of the conversations going on around him while he collected himself after being released from the pulls of Allura’s magic.

“It’ll pass, Keith.”

“Allura...”

Not that he was known for having stellar listening skills, but he was just usually able to follow along with the general flow of things even when otherwise preoccupied.

“Coran you said only eighteen minutes, right?”

The voices of his friends filtered back in slowly though, his skull throbbing still after the horrible pressure had lifted.

“Can you lift his head for a sec so I can secure the strap?”

He hadn’t been coherent of much of anything before, fixing what remained of his energy on the miserable stalemate in his chest.

“It’s only seventeen dobashes and forty three tics now...”

And then the twisted relief of Allura’s magic.

But after that his hearing seemed to flatline, zeroing in on a high pitched hiss that was either static or the oxygen flow of which droned on and dribbled into his present when the tension that had yanked every muscle in his body taught alleviated all at once.

It was so disorientating it almost nauseated him and brought a distinct rush of blood to his eardrums, the oxygen flooding his deprived bloodstream like a dam had broken and left him feeling utterly weightless.

Shiro was the first one to break through the barrier of cotton that muffled his brain.

“Easy, Lance,” he instructed when he didn’t start breathing normally right sway, too stunned by the sudden levity to remember how.

“Take it slow hermano, you’re okay now...”

Everything was still uncomfortably tight and restricted, but air was at least accessible even as his body struggled to acclimate to the change, his heaves greedy and crackling.

“I was able reduce the inflammation for now but there is a substantial amount of fluid that remains in his lungs.”

“Fluid? What like blood?”

“No, Keith, not blood. Phlegm.”

“Oh, gross.”

Lance let out an indignant huff at that and despite the restriction of the mask managed to return the look of disgust the mullet had given him.

“Why is that so bad if it’s just phlegm?”

“Because anything in your lungs besides air is bad, Keith. It’s your lungs!”

“Precisely, Pidge. And it will only keep irritating Lance’s but we cannot risk him progressing back to such a state before Coran has derived his medicine when my powers are not indefatigable.”

“Yep...” Lance winced.

In order to speak he had to battle against the congestion in his chest which made his already wrecked voice sound downright abrasive.

“Shhh, no talking!” Pidge hissed with a warning glare.

But when was Lance ever known to take good advice when it’s given?

“Think... I can feel th’fluid... s’not very—“

He didn’t have to elaborate any more than that to get his point across because the rapping of his own vocal cords against each other had him launching into a harsh fit of coughing that rocked his entire frame. The accumulated cloud of condensation in the mask never allowed to chance to dissipate fully as he hacked.

It sort of felt like he was drowning since he didn’t have the strength to get his arms underneath him while all of the crap that his stupid respiratory system produced to counteract the strain in his lungs only worked to suffocate him and his freshly reduced air passages.

“Shit someone help me get him up, it’ll be easier to breathe if he’s vertical...”

Hunk surged to grab the arm that was closest to him as Shiro slotted his own beneath Lance’s back and hefted him into what only partially passed as a sitting position. But the motion made his head spin and his stomach clench and then Hunk’s hands planted on either of his shaking shoulders to keep him from tilting over as Shiro slid behind him.

The others looked on with horror.

“You’re okay,” Shiro assured as he pulled Lance towards himself.

He was grateful for the solidity of Shiro’s chest, his hold firm enough that Lance didn’t have to work anymore to keep himself up as he slumped into it, but the tears started back up anyway when he continued to actively choke on what felt like nothing despite being upright.

But there wasn’t anything in his throat to actually choke on.

“Just gotta work through it...”

He was starting to get really tired of the exhaustion and malaise that came with being deprived of oxygen for an extended period of time.

“Paladins! Only fourteen—er, minutes remaining.”

“Hear that bud? You’re gonna be okay.”

He did hear but he’s shaking his head in the crook of Shiro’s arm where his head had lolled because he can’t wait that long. He can’t.

“Yeah, you’ll feel better real soon,” Hunk affirmed.

But Lance was verging on a hysteria that he couldn’t summon the strength to express when every muscle that can be strained in his body felt like it most definitely was. And with how acutely his ribcage ached he was also certain he’d displaced a couple of those false ribs made up of just cartilage too.

“Hey, no don’t get upset, you’re gonna be fine!”

He’s never been more exhausted in his life and he can’t communicate that he can’t wait that long because he hasn’t stopped coughing.

His eyes are burning from the amount of crying he’s done so he relies on touch alone when a hand cups his chin and turns it, deducing it must be Allura.

“Lance, can you hear me?”

A shakey jerk seems to be good enough for her.

“I know you aren’t the biggest fan of the healing pods, but I understand that you are in a great deal of distress still and I believe you have endured enough...”

“What are you—oh, yeah! We could totally just put him in stasis like you and Coran were for thousands of years and bring him out when the medicine is ready.”

“Yes, just as Pidge puts it. There is no need to extend the suffering of one of my paladins.”

Shiro set his jaw as he regarded Allura sternly, it didn’t matter what she believed if Lance didn’t agree and he knew how wary he was of returning to the pods after the harrowing experience that landed him in one for the first time.

“Is that something you want to do? It’s alright if you aren’t comf—“

“Please.”

His voice was small, hard even a rasp, but it didn’t need to be loud for Shiro to accept it as his answer.

“Okay...”

Lance checked out after that, allowing himself to save the energy it took to focus on what was happening around him.

So when he started registering Shiro’s voice in his ear he wasn’t exactly sure how both him and the respirator came to be at the foot of a cryochamber but he made a desperate noise at the realization.

“I know, bud. You’re almost there but we need to take the mask off.”

No one missed the fear that flashed across his face before it softened into resignation, or otherwise known as I don’t care, please put me in that stupid thing right now.

Shiro was still holding him and seemed to sense the urgency in it.

“I’m gonna stand up with you...”

It was so surprise when Lance’s knees hardly held any of his own weight before wobbling and giving out as Shiro stood with him still flush against his chest.

He regarded Hunk with a lazy roll through lidded eyes as he tipped his head forward and worked the strap off but held the mask in place.

Distantly aware of the burst of air from the pod opening and a renewed flurry of commotion around him, Lance tried to work with Shiro as he ushered him forward but his legs were too heavy and he couldn’t coordinate his movements well.

Someone else’s hands were on him, bending his knee so they could set one leg down in the pod and send the rest of his body with it. He thinks it might’ve been Keith.

The various sets of hands on him stay even after he’s securely in place, probably scared he would crumple if they did.

They were probably right.

“-nce. Hey, Lance? There you are, this is gonna suck but only for a second. I promise. Ready?”

You would’ve missed the brief hum from his somewhere deep in his sore chest if you weren’t practically inside the pod with him like Shiro seemed to be.

“Okay, now Hunk.”

The crackling heave that erupted from hims mouth was something a dying thing made, but he couldn’t hear himself or the horrible sound he made as consciousness began to swiftly melt away in stages.

First with the initial pressure everywhere after the removal of the mask.

And then pain because holy shit he couldn’t breathe.

But the cold creeped into his bones at light speed and the darkness wasn’t too far behind.

[lucyjay]

Finally  (I.ck)

You and Changkyun have been fuck buddies for a while now but all it takes for both of you to realise your true feelings is a make out session with Lee Taeyong.

Pairing: I.M ( Changkyun) x fem. reader ft. Lee Taeyong x reader 

Genre: smut, fluff

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: kissing, sexual touching, unprotected sex (wrap it up fellahs), swearing, slight degradation, mentions of hate sex, possessiveness

Being a Starship Ent backup dancer meant not only following their groups in award shows and live performances, but most of the times even enjoying a couple after parties. And that’s how you found yourself trapped between a wall and Lee Taeyong’s mouth, gasping for air while he is devouring with all the strength he can master after rocking a live stage for 30′ straight.

“Every single fucking time I see you, I’m trying to control myself not to take you right there and then on stage”, he states between moans while his tongue trails down your jawline only to cease at your neck. 

You can feel yourself getting wet already but you know making out with Taeyong at a party held by the industry’s biggest companies is risky and irresponsible to say the least. Have you been craving for his touch since you saw him performing a couple hours ago? Yes. Have you always wondered how he would feel like buried balls deep inside you while you scream his name? Hell yeah. You don’t wanna pass on sex with Taeyong but you need to take it somewhere safer. 

“Tae, let’s go back to your hotel”, you manage to let out and you feel his smile against your skin when he nods positively. He grabs your hand but before you get to take a single step, you hear a voice calling your name causing you to freeze in your spot. A voice you would recognise amongst hundreds of screaming voices. 

You both turn to face the man standing a couple meters behind you, resting his weight against the wall you were pinned against only moments ago.

“How about this scenario”, he starts and waves his hand in the air like a maestro leading an orchestra,”...Taeyong fucks off back to his hotel and cuddles with one of his 327 members, and you stay your ass exactly where you are? Sounds better to me”, his dark tone sends shivers down your spine.

You can feel Taeyong’s confused eyes on your frame and you wish the earth could swallow you whole right there and then. But then again why? You and Changkyun aren’t a couple. He has no business telling you what or what not to do.

“Kyunah, am I missing something? I’m sure Y/N wants to join me back at mine so, if you don’t mind”, the older chuckles and turns to leave when Changkyun’s voice stops you once again.

“That’s the thing Taeyong. You are missing something and Y/N isn’t going anywhere with anyone but me. It’s not your fault, it’s between me and her so please”, the younger one was cut off mid sentence.

“Ah, I see you even dropped your honorifics”, Taeyong turns to you his hand still holding yours, “... I think he is mad at you Y/N.”, he teases and you take a deep breath preparing for the shit to hit the fan because you know that the last thing one should do when Changhyuk gets like this, would be to tease him. Tae turns his gaze back unto the slightly taller man’s frame. “ I think It should be her who decides what she wants to do. Don’t you?.”, he pauses, “...Changkyunah”, the name leaving his lips dipped in irony and you know this is it. 

Changkyun takes a step towards your direction and his frame is towering above yours and Taeyong’s body at this point. He chuckles allowing his gaze to drop on the floor while taking a deep breath possibly to end the lot of you, you think to yourself.

“Taeyongah, how about you let her hand go. Unless you want your group’s dance line to be 2 legs short”, his tone now serious with no room for games and tease. Taeyong lets out a breath and focuses his attention back on your face. Before he manages to allow any words to leave his mouth you interrupt him, placing a hand on his chest.

“Oppa, let me sort out this misunderstanding with Changkyun and I’ll join you later on. Is that ok? I know there’s gonna be a party at your hotel anyway so, you’ll see me there. Is that ok?”, you use the sweetest tone you can master while batting your eyelashes at him and you have him melting under your stare. 

“Sure thing baby. See you later”, he agrees and lets your hand go. After placing a soft kiss on your cheek he turns to Changkyun. “..have a good one man. See you around”, and with a chuckle he turns to leave, leaving you and the dark haired man standing next to you staring at each other and you swear you would be able to cut the tension with a knife at this point. 

You don’t get to even think of something to say, when his grip is on your arm literally dragging you up the staircase near the entrance of the space the event is being held at. You try to keep up with his step, pushing yourself to run when you realise that there is no way he will loosen his hold on you till you reach whichever destination he is guiding you towards. When you get to a couple floors above the one you were at a few moments ago, you realise that he is taking you where the group’s rooms are. 

“I didn’t know you had rooms in this hotel as well. Why are the dancer’s at a different hotel t-..”, he cuts you off by placing his finger on your lips. You hold a breath and for the first time get to stare straight at him. His eyes are dark and they hold something unknown to you. Something you haven’t seen before; it’s not lust, it’s not anger...

“Stop trying to read me for fuck’s sake”, he spits and opens the door in front of you, pushing you inside, locking it once he gets in the room as well. He lets out a breath, his back leaning against the door, his head tilted back and his eyes glued at the ceiling as he is trying to calm himself down.

You don’t know what to do. You don’t understand his behaviour and you know he isn’t planning on helping you to do so. You turn and walk towards the large window nonchalantly roaming your gaze at the city that spreads before you. The view is breathtaking and for a fraction of a second you allow yourself to think of the beauty of the view instead of the raging man behind you. This however doesn’t last long. Moments after, you feel two arms caging you in a hug. You can feel his body glued to yours and his chin resting on the crook of your neck.

“Distress and fear”. he whispers against your neck and the feeling of his warm breath against your skin has your eyes rolling back inside your head. “what?”, you ask and your voice comes out so quiet that you’re surprised he heard you.

“You were trying to understand what I was feeling. Distress and fear. Distress because i saw Lee fucking Taeyong eating your face like a fucking animal and fear because I was scared you would actually chose to go with him”, his tone isn’t weak anymore and you can sense him sliding back into character. His usual character. The annoying, bratty, aggressive, spoiled motherfucker you know. You shake him off and take a step away from him, walking up and down the space between the bed and the sofa trying to gather your thoughts just so that you won’t slap him right there and then.

“Let me get this straight because I assume you are mistakenly under the impression that you get to boss me around”, you take a short breath, “...you got mad because I, a single, free woman, chose to make out with a hot dude and then you were scared that I would chose him over you? First of all, what I do with my mouth and my pussy is none of your business and second of all. I don’t remember being given an option back there. All I remember was me being forced to agree with a 25 year old brat only because I knew that you would throw a fucking tantrum as you always do whenever you don’t get what you want.”, you finally stop and stare at him only to find his eyes already on you, wide open in shock. You can feel a dryness in your throat and you get a hint that you might have been actually screaming, but you don’t care, you have had enough of this behaviour.

“Whenever I don’t get what I want?”, he speaks and his voice though strong, carries an undertone of hurt. “ I throw a tantrum whenever I don’t get what I want?”, he continues louder and takes a step towards your direction. You take a step back only to feel the edge of the bed meeting the back of your knee. 

“Let me tell you how I see it then, because I feel like you are mistakenly under the impression that your behaviour is acceptable without realising that you’re being a bitch. You wanna fuck? You come to me. You wanna disappear for a week? You disappear for a week-” 

“That happened once”, you cut him off understanding what incident he is talking about.

“And i found you at a club, climbed up on a motherfucker’s lap.”, he shouts and his voice makes you jolt. “ I throw a tantrum whenever i don’t get what i want? The only time you saw me talking, TALKING’, he emphasises, “ to another girl you started flirting with Kihyun. Are you for fucking real? Who goes crazy when they don’t get things their way? You are the spoiled brat here not me.’, he brushes his fingers through his hair in an attempt to calm himself down.

“I don’t know what you feel. I can never tell what you’re thinking. How am I supposed to act?”, you say and your voice is now soft. You don’t want to push him because you find truth in his words and even though it hurts, you want to make it right.

“Why would I? Why would I let you understand? Why would I open up to someone who cares about me only when she wants a good fuck? You think it’s easy for me, holding back?”, he is standing right in front of you, not even a meter in between you, ducking slowly so that his face would be on the same level as yours. You lift your gaze to look at him and you see tears pooling in his eyes. 

Your chest feels heavy and you have to fight back your own tears from falling, not even knowing what they’re for. It’s getting harder to breathe yet all you want to do is hug the man in front of you. Not knowing why, or how that would help the mess unraveling between the two fo you, but all you can think about is offering him some comfort the only way you know how; physical contact. 

And that’s what you do, throwing your hands around his neck, your chest flashed against his and your chin resting on his shoulder. Your actions catch him off guard, you can tell, because it takes him a couple seconds to return the hug. But his does, his hands now toying with your hair while he pushes his entire body against yours. 

Your fingers are drawing meaningless shapes on his back, slowly traveling down to his lower body eventually resting on his ass and you push your lower part against his. He groans and quickly pushes you away.

“Are you for real right now? You’re doing it again. You’re using sex again. You are un-fucking-believable”, an ironic laugh slips his lips and he throws you a glare that makes you feel both stupid and small. 

“That’s what we do Chan. We fight and we have make up sex or hate sex or whatever. Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it. And if that’s the case then I’m sorry if I ever pushed you to do something you didn’t feel comfortable doing. As the older person here I should be the one-”

“Oh shut up, will you.”, he snaps, eyes locked with yours. “Don’t patronise me Y/N”.

“I see you have completely given up on your honorifics today, Taeyong was right”, you throw and you regret the snarky comment the moment it leaves your mouth.

“I always use titles that match one’s actions. There are times that I call you noona and that i’m being polite. Then there’s moments when you’re acting like a bitch. So today, that’ll be the title I’m going with. Bitch.”, he growls and you know that your pussy  shouldn’t be throbbing like that at his words. Your palms shouldn’t be sweaty and the only thing you want to do now shouldn’t be to let him take you on every single surface inside this bloody hotel room. 

You push your legs together in a useless attempt to calm the muscles dancing in your core. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him and he lets out a light chuckle while shaking his head in dispute. 

“Clothes off”, his voice comes out so calm and you feel bewitched. Staring at him you do as he says, getting rid of every piece of clothing hugging your body and move on to lay down on the bed. His stare is dancing on your figure, lingering a second or two more on your breasts, your curves. God, he has never seen a more perfect human being but he can’t let you know that. His pride won’t allow him to admit it. 

Following your actions, he takes off his clothes throwing them on a pile next to yours on the floor, and move up on the bed, his body now hovering above yours, his waist resting between your thighs.  

His hand plays with your breast, harshly pinching the sensitive bud before capturing it in his mouth causing the first loud moan to escape your lips. He teases with his tongue a bit more and then focuses his attention back on your face. You throw your hands around his neck and push him onto you, crashing your lips together. You kiss him softly, tenderly and it shocks you how much emotion you let out on a simple kiss. 

That’s not your usual self. You never show him your true emotions when you kiss or fuck. How pathetic? You think to yourself. The backup dancer who fell in love with a famous idol. The realisation of how dangerous this all is hits you like a truck and you halt all your movements, detaching your lips from his.

Changkyun gives you a confused look as you gently push him off of you, but he refuses to move an inch, trying to catch your eyes, looking for any sort of hint, feeling or explanation. 

“What’s wrong”, he asks softly and he places a hand on your cheek, slowly caressing your skin.

“Chan, I-i can’t. I need to go”, you let out and your eyes are now scanning the room trying to locate your clothes when he grabs your jaw in his hand, forcing you to look at him. 

“You can and you won’t go anywhere. You want me? Tell me Y/N, do you want me?”, he radiates so much tension and you understand that this must be hard for him as well. Fuck it, it’s now or never.

“I’m in love with you. I know I shouldn’t, you can’t even date for fuck’s sake. It’s so stupid of me, I’ve been so stupid Chan, thinking that I wouldn’t get attached if I just acted like I didn’t, but I can’t do it anymore.”, you plead and you can feel tears rolling down your cheeks. “ Please end this. End this between us because I don’t have the strength to do it”, you hide your face inside your palms trying to not burst into a full sob. 

He takes your hands in his and moves them from your face. There’s a smile jeweling his beautiful lips and you can’t help but feel a wave of heat spreading in your chest. Next thing you can feel is his hard member pushing slowly into you, filling you up so good and all you can do is moan out his name. 

He sets a slow, steady pace that has you seeing stars. His lips kissing your mouth, cheeks, neck, softly biting the skin on your shoulder. You feel so close to him, you can feel the heat his body radiates, his heartbeat and suddenly it’s too much yet perfect. You allow yourself to get drown in this emotion, get swallowed by this man’s aura.

“Will you be my girlfriend? Be mine baby, please”, he whispers next to your ear before he gently bites on your lob. You moan out his name feeling closer to your high with every thrust, every word, every move. He doesn’t stop, he keeps fucking into you slowly but more harshly than before causing his pelvic area to slam against your oversensitive clit with every push.

“Chan, please I-I’m close-”, your whine gets lost in your own moans.

��Answer me first. Will you..”, he thrusts so deep inside you that you can feel him touching that soft spot that has your body going numb. “...be”, he says and thrusts again, with the same speed and strength and you can feel your release approaching. “...my girlfriend?”, he pushes inside you for the last time and you can only scream out your answer not caring about anyone else hearing you.

“Yes, yes. Please”, you plead and you know you won’t last more than a few more second. You stare at him and you can feel his dick twitching inside you causing your pussy to clench around the member. He is not moving, he stays still, balls deep inside you, staring at you lovingly and in all honesty you don’t need much more in order to cum.

“Cum for me baby, let it go”, he whispers while leaving soft kisses on your face and your body obeys, releasing around his member, clenching tighter again and again as you moan out his name. You can feel him spilling inside you, as he drops his entire body weight on yours, your hands playing with a couple strands of his hair.

It takes you a couple minutes for both of you to calm your breathings when you decide to break the silence.

“Changkyun, you can’t date”, you state and your tone melts like chocolate giving him goosebumps. He raises his head to take a look at your fucked out face and he knows that if he wasn’t already so head over heals for you, he would for sure fall in love right at this moment.

“I can do whatever I want”, he smiles.”I’m not some kind of pretty face that fills a gap in a group. What I write, what I sing and who I date are my decision.”, he continues and you can’t help but admit that you love this confident side of him. How he knows what his worth is and how not to take shit from anyone. 

“Ok. I trust you.”, you smile and leave a shy peck on his lips.

“Finally for fuck’s sake”, he shouts and throws his head back laughing like a kid who won their first grand prize. You can’t help but laugh back at him when you realise that he is still buried inside you and you can feel him getting hard again.

“Babe, I think-”

“Round two?”, he asks with a devilish smile on his lips.

[gleefrankenfic]

(missed an earlier chapter? prefer to read it on Ao3? click here.)

Chapter 5 by @justgleekout

The ground quakes again, but fainter this time. The noise seems farther away than before as well. As if it had traveled over them, looking for a new target. “Oh my god, Kurt!” Blaine shouts as he throws himself to the ground at the edge of the hole. He looks back at Sam and shouts, “Sam, we have to help him!” Desperate for a reaction, he calls out to the seemingly lifeless figure at the bottom of the hole, “Kurt!” Blaine’s voice is shaking as he cries out. He crawls closer and leans over the edge of the hole, but Sam grabs him by the shoulder.

“Dude! You are not getting into that hole! What if you can’t get out again?” Sam peers over the edge. The hole is deep. Deep enough that Sam doubts he could reach the ground from down there “We need to go back and ask for help. Find Sue and the others and make sure the kids are okay”

“You cannot possibly be suggesting we leave him here?” Blaine’s eyes are wide as he looks at his friend. “He could be dead, Sam!”

“We can’t carry him out with just the two of us!” Sam looks at Blaine whose eyes are desperate and pleading. “Fuck. Okay… ehm...” Sam spins around shining his flashlight at the trees as if trying to find a solution in them. “Okay. Then… you stay here and I’m gonna find help. We should not be too far from the camp grounds. Just- just stay here and please, for the love of god, don’t get into that hole!” he says and starts walking in the general direction of the campsite. Or what he hopes is the direction of the campsite, the trees don’t look familiar anymore. He swallows.

“Please hurry,” Blaine begs after him. And then Sam is off, leaving Blaine alone with an unconscious Kurt.

_

Sam almost starts crying with relief when he finally reaches the edge of the forest and sees Kurt and Finn’s cabin. In front of the cabin are Puck, Mike, Rachel, Mercedes, Tina, and Quinn. Sam breaks out into a run and bolts towards them.

“Dude, what took you guys so long!” Puck calls at him when he notices Sam.

Sam dubbles over when he reaches his friends, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. He looks up at Puck, tears in his eyes.

Puck frowns at him. “Wait…” He looks behind Sam and notices that he is alone. “Where’re Finn, Kurt, and Blaine?”

“Finn’s gone.” Sam chokes out, “Kurt- Kurt is… he wasn’t moving a-and I- Blaine is with him. Kurt was so pale, and I needed to get help and-”

AIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHH

The sound echoes over the campsite again. 

Rachel shrieks. “What the hell is happening?” she cries. 

“What do you mean Kurt wasn’t moving??” Quinn asks Sam, trying to stay on topic and keep her fear at bay.

Sam looks up at her with a defeated expression and shakes his head. 

“Sam, what happened?” Mercedes asks and walks over to him, laying a kind, reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Sam takes a deep breath and starts to explain what happened.

After he finishes, everyone is quiet and exchanges worried looks. 

Tina is the one to break the silence; “What are we gonna do?” she says in a small voice. 

_   

Blaine is laying on his back at the edge of the pit. He doesn’t know how long he has been laying there, waiting for Sam to get back with help, but it feels like hours. When Sam had first left, Blaine had continued to look for his flashlight. He eventually found it, but alas, broken. Now, he finds himself staring up at the night sky. This is not how he pictured the night to go. After they had put the kids to bed, he was supposed to ask Kurt if he wanted to watch the meteor shower with him the next day. After Kurt had said yes, Blaine was supposed to tell Kurt how he felt, Kurt was supposed to look at him with adoring eyes and tell him he felt the same way, and then they would kiss. Instead, Blaine is lying in the dirt, alone in the forest, freezing cold in his tank top, next to an unconscious Kurt who may or may not be dead for fucks sake. He sees a falling star and he squeezes his eyes shut. A tear rolls down his cheek. “Kurt,” Blaine whispers, “I know you probably can’t hear me, but I still want you to know…” He takes a deep breath before he sighs out, “...that I like you.” He swallows. “I feel so stupid now. I should’ve told you sooner. I- I like you so much, Kurt. I like your kind smile, I like your beautiful blue eyes, I like your witty sense of humor, I like your hair, and your butt.” Blaine chokes out a laugh despite himself. The whole situation feels crazy. “Please, just… be okay,”

Then, a soft groan emerges from the hole.

Blaine’s eyes shoot open. “Kurt!” He scrambles up as quickly as he can and looks down over the edge. In the pale moonlight, he sees Kurt move his head ever so slightly.

Kurt opens his eyes for a second before dropping his eyelids again. “hngg, b- blai n e.” His voice is barely audible.  

“I’m here, Kurt! Don’t move!” Blaine says. “Help is on the way!”

“Blaine… it hurts,” Kurt cries softly.

“Keep talking to me.” Blaine looks around hurriedly wishing for Sam to just get back already. “Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere,” Kurt whines. His face is screwed with pain. “Blaine, I- I can’t move.”

Blaine shoots a hopeless look at the sky. Fuck. He then throws all caution to the wind and proceeds to make his way down the steep side of the pit. “Hold on, I’m coming down.”

[emilia3546]

Shadowsinger Part 21 - Gwynriel

ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter*

Masterlist with all previous chapters

*****

Gwyn shuffled on her feet, readjusting her skirt, and silently cursed it for being in the way, she could still fight, but not as well as usual, and she'd lose precious seconds reaching for the dagger sheathed at her thigh. Azriel stood beside her, his shadows nowhere to be seen, either spread out around them to be unnoticeable, or hidden in the cloak around Gwyn's shoulders, her protests that she didn't need them having fallen on deaf ears.

"You okay?" He murmured, and she nodded,

"Just a bit nervous, I'll be alright once this first contact is over," because she could still fall at the first hurdle, Evanna had warned them that they would be scrutinized before being allowed in, even if they claimed to support the Illyrian rebellion. She stifled a smile when Azriel squeezed her fingers, their joined hands hidden beneath her cloak, but it was still a risk, they weren't supposed to be in love, she was supposed to be what the Illyrian would expect of a traditional warrior's wife, and a traditional warrior would never display affection so casually, possession yes, but not affection. If he were in love with his wife, which was rare, he'd still only display affection in private, just to maintain his image, it was one of the more ridiculous customs, Gwyn never thought more of someone than when they allowed others to see their heart. The palace doors opened and Gwyn squeezed Azriel's hand back before letting go and reluctantly dropping her gaze to the floor.

"Gavin was it, of the Skybreath Illyrian camp?" A rather young-looking man shouted from the open door,

"Indeed," Azriel replied, not shouting, but clearly making himself heard, "And my wife, Amirah," Gwyn suppressed a smile at the sound of the name that Azriel's mother had chosen, what she would have named him had he been a girl.

"We have no records of others from your supposed camp," the man's tone was low, dangerous,

"That's probably because they're all pathetic cowards who fear the repercussions of standing up for our people, ask anyone you want, I can wait, I've waited long enough for this chance, don't be the reason I lose it," Azriel matched the man's tone, but without shouting, he sounded altogether more dangerous, and Gwyn almost looked up at the feel of the man's gaze on her, fighting to keep her eyes lowered, her attention on observing the guards, the way their protocols were carried out.

"Fine. If we find out that you're lying, you're dead,"

"Good luck with that," Azriel's hand warmed her lower back, "Come on, I'll see who's made it here, then I want to find a bedchamber readied for us," Gwyn forced herself to start forwards, her bones screaming out at her for pretending to be afraid of him when she nodded, but stayed beside him when a guard moved towards them, pressing into his side at the first attempt to grab at her, "What?" Gwyn kept her frightened gaze on the guard, "Get your filthy hands off my wife," he snarled, an arm wrapping around her waist, reassuring for Gwyn, she was doing well, but to anyone else it was a display of possessiveness at a threat. "She stays with me until we reach our bedchamber, I like to know where she is, who she's with." He didn't even bother to veil the threat in his eyes when Gwyn looked up, keeping the guise of fear as she pressed against him, shying away from the guards, and allowed her gaze to dart around, marking who they were, how many of them there were, where they were posted, how alert they were. She ducked her head, following Azriel as they were led through the palace. It was just as they'd expected, with no-one taking notice of Gwyn, except to occasionally ask Azriel who she was, and then to ignore her and speak only to him, allowing her to memorize the palace, its routes, its staff, all while pretending to be quiet and unassuming.

She didn't want to watch Azriel walk away once they'd reached an empty bedchamber, didn't want to see him walking towards the enemy, all it took was one Illyrian who was high enough rank to have seen him, all it took was one recognition, and they'd try and kill him. Still, she couldn't tear her gaze away, only just remembering to make it appear that she was scared for herself, and wanted his protection, not that she was worried for him. Once he'd vanished from sight, Gwyn shot one more frightened look at the guards in the corridor and bolted herself inside the room.

Right, she did have to get the room set up, no-one was coming to do that for her, but that would take maximum half an hour, it wasn't like they exactly had luggage to unload, and then, it was a little after midday now, she'd have a few hours before dinner could be expected. Still, she was stuck in this room for now at least, she could make the most of it.

The notebook tucked into her gown wasn't big enough for every detail, not if she wanted it to last long enough, but she noted down all she'd picked up on guard movements, positions, who was alert, who was bored. It wasn't enough, she'd make a point to have Azriel find some other females to 'keep her from boredom' who she could help with palace tasks, laundry, cleaning, the Illyrians made their females do the chores at home, why not here? She'd be all over the palace that way, easily able to pick up information, it'd hopefully make their stay shorter, hopefully help with preventing a full-on civil war.

*****

Azriel couldn't dare glance over his shoulder to Gwyn, where she was undoubtedly waiting by the door to their bedchamber, even with every part of him screaming not to leave her with those people, to go back to her. He listened to what the male beside him was saying, he'd seen him before at Ironcrest, from a distance, and he was probably the highest-ranking males here, being involved in training and organisation of Ironcrest's warriors, he could be a headache later.

"Where did you find her?"

"Find who?"

"That pretty little wife of yours, I must say you're a lucky male with that one, I'd love to know what she'd feel like on my-" the male didn't get a chance to finish his sentence, breaking off with a choked gasp as Azriel slammed him against the wall, a hand curling around his throat, pure death shining in his eyes. "Whoa, calm down, I'm sorry, I wasn't gonna do anything,"

"I sure as fuck hope not," Azriel snarled, still not releasing him, fighting the urge to end him then and there, unable to shake the image of the last male who'd thought such things about Gwyn. "Touch her and it'll be last thing you ever do," the smaller male paled at the threat,

"I swear, I won't, I was saying she's beautiful," she was beautiful, but the way he'd said it, it wasn't a compliment, if Azriel hadn't reacted, maybe he would have tried something, gods, maybe someone else would. He wasn't supposed to care to like that,

"She's mine, understand?" He added, covering his tracks, the reaction was supposed to just be possessiveness, not him actually caring for her wellbeing, he wasn't supposed to be worried about that.

"Yeah, I got it," the other male was still panting when Azriel released him, "Sorry, dude, I didn't mean it like that,"

"Yes, you did, but I'm a merciful male, if you never speak of her like that again, I'll let it slide, she is beautiful, but she's mine." The male nodded,

"Noted," and took a deep breath before continuing to explain the set-up, "You're the only one from Skybreath, bunch of cowards, so we'll probably attach you to another camp, for numbers' sake, those bastards do have the advantage in that department, and they have the High Lord, and 'High Lady'," he snorted at the mention of Feyre, "But we can trust the humans to help with that,"

"How? They're fucking powerful,"

"Yeah, but they're just as susceptible to ash and faebane as the rest of us, I'd wager that they're not still taking that damned antidote. Then again, the higher-ups think we could simply kidnap their son and use him to get them to give in, but I'd like a good fight anyway, and y'know someone might end up just killing the brat, then we'd be in deep shit." Oh yes, if they harmed one hair on Nyx's head, Rhys alone was likely to simply mist the entirety of their armies before any battle, and that was if he were safety returned, at the latest, the day after he was taken, if it were longer, or if Nyx were harmed, there would be no safe place in this world for those responsible.

"Probably a bad idea that," Azriel mused,

"I'd reckon you're right, the bleeding hearts want to regain our loyalty, they'll just try and obliterate us if we hurt the boy," Azriel grunted in agreement, dropping the conversation when they turned a corner, the corridor opening into a wide chamber, filled with brawling Illyrians, a temporary training ring, not bad. He ran his gaze across the crowd, there was no-one likely to recognize him, but he still wouldn't draw attention to himself, even if wearing two siphons might do just that, but he couldn't risk it with only one, not with Gwyn here as well. He nodded a quick greeting to anyone who bothered to acknowledge him, his mind still racing. He'd have to find a way to make sure that Gwyn wasn't ever left completely on her own, if just one other male had a similar thought to the one beside him, and if he wasn't there, if she couldn't get her dagger drawn in time, he didn't want to finish that thought.

The Illyrians were well organised, not to the same degree as the loyal armies back home, but they could present a threat, especially if it was true that they were to be armed with ash and faebane. The leaders eventually decided to attach 'Gavin' to one of the smaller camps, where he'd be able to adjust more easily, where, Azriel noted with a hint of satisfaction, it would be easy to gain their trust. He made his way across the room to where his new 'comrades' were taking a break,

"Hey look, looks like they've given us the latecomer," Azriel's attention snapped to the male who'd spoken, dark hair cropped close to his skull, blue eyes, that was rare for an Illyrian, he smiled and offered his hand, "Nathan," Azriel took the proffered hand,

"Gavin, from Skybreath,"

"Oh, I was wondering if anyone would bother coming from Skybreath," Nathan chuckled, "Braver than the rest then?"

"Or more stupid," Azriel chuckled, "I've been waiting a long time for this,"

"As have we all, brother," Azriel resisted the urge to snap at him not to call him that, but forced himself to smile, to join in the conversation, and to not beat the shit out of all of them when they reclaimed a spot in the training ring. "How the fuck did you get your hands on a second siphon?" Nathan's observational skills left much to be desired, but it was wishful thinking to hope that he wouldn't notice at all, especially when Azriel had just pinned him to the mats.

"I needed it,"

"Fuck. We got a powerful one here, boys," chuckles surrounded them, and Nathan rolled his eyes as one of the others drawled,

"We know, idiot! That's why you're the only one stupid enough to fight him," another male laughed,

"He's probably some high born lord, or something,"

"Are you?" Nathan's eyes were shining with curiosity, something fairly rare for Illyrians, but he did seem young, untested, perhaps he had no idea what he was getting into, but Azriel had learned the hard way not to bother with the benefit of the doubt,

"Not really, my mother died a while back, and my father was your bog-standard warrior, nothing special really, he got killed in a border dispute a few decades ago, guess I just got lucky, the Mother likes me maybe," he shrugged, "It certainly helped on the way over here, since no one else came with us, it was just me and my wife, and she's not much help with fighting, y'know," chuckled from everyone, including Nathan,

"She clipped?"

"Who do you think I am? Of course," Azriel's temper flared up again at the approving nods from around him, only Nathan looked uncomfortable,

"You did it?"

"What? No, when she was young, like everyone else, but it did mean that I had to carry her here, which was a pain,"

"Still, bet you found a good one, being all powerful and shit,"

"Yeah, I'll have to go fetch her before we leave for dinner, I left her in our bedchamber, she'll want food," each word hit him in the core, even if none of it was true, the idea that this was normal to these people made him want to scream, but he guided the conversation back to the war, to what he needed to hear, even with his mind continually drifting back to Gwyn.

*****

Footsteps outside had Gwyn shoving the notebook back into her dress,

"Amirah!" She rushed to the door, keeping her eyes down in case Azriel wasn't alone, he wasn't, and someone let out a huff,

"Shit, how the fuck did you leave her all day?" One of the males beside him chuckled, "We'll see you in a bit," Azriel nodded and stepped past Gwyn into the room,

"You okay?" She mumbled, just loud enough for him to hear, and he nodded,

"I hate this, I have to pretend that I'm not hopelessly in love with you," Gwyn's stupid, faithless heart fluttered in her chest at those words, ignoring the way Azriel's eyes were dark, tired,

"Hey," she muttered, "It's okay, I know it's not true," Azriel's head snapped towards the door,

"Shit," he muttered, "They're still there, they're listening in, they won't have heard, but," Gwyn narrowed her eyes, and her eyes widened at the realization,

"They want to listen?"

"Moan, now, or they'll think something's up," he was right,

"I don't know what to do," she whispered, a feeling of true fear descending upon her, they'd gotten in, gotten embedded and he stupid, foolish fears were going to get them discovered, gods she was really useless,

"Hey, Gwyn," Azriel tipped her chin upwards, swiping his thumb across her cheek, "Just make any sound, you can't do it wrong, we don't actually need to do anything, just make them think we are,"

"But why? I don't get it,"

"They're all horny shits, and they've seen how fucking gorgeous you are. I've been away from you all day, they'll expect me to want certain things upon reuniting with you," oh, she knew what he meant, but just one day? That was surely excessive, but she nodded, and kissed him gently,

"I don't think I can just do it on command, kiss me, and then we'll see," she looped her arms around his neck, and did moan at the first brush of his lips against her neck, her head falling backwards so that Azriel had to hold her up, she moaned again, and he groaned at the feel of her lips against his, deliberately chucking his jacket aside so it made a loud thunk on the floor. Gwyn pressed her fingers against Azriel's lips, waiting, footsteps, they were really alone now,

"I'm sorry about that," Azriel muttered,

"What are you talking about? Kissing you is wonderful,"

"But I don't want you to think that you have to, even if it's for keeping our cover,"

"I didn't, it was just a chance to kiss you, and it was helpful to convince those others, but if I didn't want to I wouldn't have," she chuckled, "Are you sure you're okay?" Azriel collapsed onto the bed, dragging her with him with a yelp,

"I'm okay, just worried,"

"Worried?"

"About you. One of the males who showed me around made a comment that I didn't appreciate, and I doubt you would have done,"

"Did he seem like he wanted to act on that comment?" Gwyn stomach churned, and she glanced around the room, marking the locked door and windows. Azriel stiffened, realizing that she immediately knew what he was referring to,

"Not once I'd dealt with him, but all takes is one, I don't want you to have to deal with that, especially when I can't be with you, you might be on your own and," he took in a deep breath, "I just worry about what could happen if someone tries somehting,"

"I'm never on my own, Az," a shadow danced around her, "If I need to, I can fight with or without my dagger, and I want to find out what the other Illyrian females are doing here, there must be others,"

"There are," Azriel admitted, "They do the chores and stuff, help making and adjusting leathers and armor,"

"I can do that," Gwyn said, "It'll give me a chance to speak to them, to learn things that the males might overlook, and to simply be in the palace, invisible. I can 'get lost' and find my way to restricted areas, the queens' offices perhaps," Azriel pursed his lips together, but she was right, she knew he was, and no matter how much he wanted her to be safe, he knew that too,

"You're right, I know that, I just wish you didn't have to do it by yourself,"

"I know, but that's going to be how we have to work here, now," she twisted in his lap, "Tell me everything you found out today."

[goopyartiste]

Love Lost

Prompt: loosely inspired by “just a boy” by Alaina Castillo

Pairing: Bakugo x Reader

Warnings: 15+, swearing, drinking and alcohol, implied sexual acts

Word Count: 2.1k words

A/N: this one was super fun to make actually! this was the first time i had properly written for Bakugo, so hopefully it turned out well! i really just thought of this while listening to my angsty playlist, so it just grew from there! thanks to @peach-pops and @sugas-sweetheart both for beta reading this and helping me actually finish this in time. now on to the story! enjoy <3

You were never supposed to find out, especially not through Denki. Spending the evening with Sero and Denki at his house was supposed to be your escape from the reality that was your failing relationship with Bakugo. Tonight was not supposed to bring you more stress.

“I’m telling you Y/N,” Denki slurred, clearly inebriated, “he told us that at that bar, you know, the one he always goes to, he met a girl and hooked up with her!”

Sero, also drunk, took this opportunity to jump in, “Dude! You’re right! I completely forgot he told us!”

While the two continued their conversation, you remained seated on the couch, absolutely at a loss for words. Of course you were no idiot. You were painfully aware of the struggles you and your partner were facing. You just never expected him to cheat on you, especially since he had promised to begin to fix your relationship. Now you were wondering, how long has he been keeping this from you? 

And thus, thanks to Kaminari, your mind fell into a downward emotional spiral. Where did they go? Was it in your shared bed? In hers? Were you just not good enough? Did he continue to see her? Was it a one night stand? Thoughts like these circled your mind for at least a week after Kaminari’s slip up, and as much as you wanted to tell someone, anyone, about what was going on through your mind, you were stuck. Finally, you decided to not stoop down to Bakugo’s level and give him the opportunity to confess. Surely, he would, right?

Unfortunately, Bakugo just had to prove you wrong once again. Even with your constant hints to confess, he remained stoic to your advances. You carefully tried to incite a conversation with him about anything, but you were always shut down. Either he still didn’t understand that you knew, or he frankly didn’t want to talk about it with you. All this back and forth, tip toeing around an invisible line, drove you absolutely insane.

So, you did something about it.

One day, you managed to both be in the house at the same time. Seeing this you snatched the opportunity fate had thrown your way. You had just about enough of his stubbornness. Walking to the kitchen, you found him sitting on the couch. Quickly, you approached him.

“Bakugo, I have a question for you.” 

The usually loud and abrasive man only stared you down with a twinge of fear in his crimson eyes. He was aware that you knew, that much as obvious solely by the fact that you addressed him by his last name. Although he knew what he did, the man in front of you only wished to delay the inevitable. Of course, Bakugo still had to put up a front.

Glaring at you, he took his time responding to you, “Go ahead dumbass, I’m listening.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the nickname. Whether it was from anger or embarrassment, you were unsure. Deciding to ignore the searing warmth present, you continued.

“Do you trust me?”

Bakugo tensed slightly at your question, already knowing where this conversation could go. It was time to face the problem at hand.

“Yeah, I do,” he responded, anticipating the end of your inquiries.

“Well, that’s good to know. Now tell me, would you like it if i held secrets from you? Some potentially shocking news?”

“Well, no-”

You cut him off, “Ah! That’s good to know. You don’t mind if I ask another question do you?”

The atmosphere around the both of you was heavy with tension and anger, both of you wanting to say something, but repressing it in hopes of escalating the simmering situation.

Bakugo begins, clearly holding back his anger, “Go ahead smartass, you already asked two anyways.”

This ticked you off. How did he have the gall  to call you a smartass when he was sitting there so nonchalantly answering your questions as if this wasn’t serious. Thus, you had had just about enough of him and his attitude.

“So, Bakugo,” you spat out lacing your voice with as much venom as you could while feigning innocence, “you know I trust you whenever you’re with me. That’s just obvious. But when you leave, I don't know what to think. I mean, what if let's say some girl come up to you and suddenly you lose all control?” 

You stared at him once more, “How could I trust you then?”

“What are you implying, Y/N? Are you sure this shit isn’t you mind at work again or are you trying to make me mad?” Bakugo answered, clearly trying to avoid answering the question. You were right after all. 

You couldn’t trust him then.

“Oh I’m sure I'm not crazy. I also know that this isn’t all in my head.”

“Really?” He looked at you dubiously. “And how would you know that?”

You took a step towards him, looking at his enchanting vermillion eyes. God how you wished the relationship with him didn’t have to end like this. As soon as you were close enough, you slowly began to sneer at him as you spat out your answer.

“Denki told me.” He stopped glaring, fear flashed in his carnelian eyes before it vanished. You continued, “yeah it’s funny, he told me you hooked up with a girl at a bar at least a month ago.”

“So, dunce face spilled huh? Doesn't matter anyway its in the past,” Bakugo retorted quickly, hoping that this would be the end of this conversation. But his attempt to change the conversation failed.

For you, this was the final straw. His constant ignorance towards your plight and his attempts to change the subject pissed you off.

“I thought you were over this from high school,” you spat. “Don't insult one of your friends! The only reason he even told me was because he was drunk! And, if you don't mind, I would very much like to discuss this ‘past event’ since, ya’ know it impacts me too.”

You stared at him, taking a shaky breath before continuing, “be honest with me, were you ever gonna tell me?”

“y/n-”

“No! I need you to be honest. Were you ever gonna tell me?” You shouted, trying to get him to listen to you for once.

Bakugo tensed. His response would either diffuse or inflame the situation. Sadly, he knew where his next words would take him.

“No, I wasn’t gonna tell you. Are you happy now?”

You scoffed. “So I'm not good enough to be told when my boyfriend fucks someone else?” Tears began to well up in your eyes.

No, you refused to let him see you cry.

“I can't believe you were going to let me love a lie.”

Bakugo felt himself start to become riled up. He felt his breathing rapidly increase. To him, you weren’t understanding. This moment marked the tipping of the scale, frustration and anger overtaking tension.

“Oh please! Quit exaggerating will you?! What were you gonna do if I told you? Were you gonna yell? Scream? Cry? Were you gonna question me or just pack your bags and leave? What would you have done?”

You flinched at his gruff tone, clearly caught off guard. In a silent defeat, you responded, “I don't know..”

“What was that? Speak louder.”

“I said I DON'T KNOW WHAT I WOULD HAVE DONE!” You knew you shouldn’t have let your feelings overtake you, but his brash pestering began to whittle you down. “I don't know if we could have worked things out or not but all I know is that we are here now and it's up to you to explain to me why and how.”

Bakugo was startled at this. He never expected for you to ask for his own side of the story. His whole body was begging for him to just let go, tell you everything and be vulnerable. But his own inhibitions stopped him. “Explain what to you? What is there to explain?”

“I don't know! How about you start with the whole situation and why you thought it best to cheat in the first place!”

“Well then picture this, hm?” Bakugo began, gesturing with his pointer finger. “We got into one of our usual fights. I left here like always and went to a bar. There, a woman took me to her place while I was drunk. But I wasn’t going to leave you for her, but because of all of our fights until you decided to try to work things out!”

You and Bakugo looked into each other’s eyes, and indescribable emptiness and brokenness being the only emotions you both saw. He had said too much, and you heard the one thing you didn't want to hear. He was planning on leaving you from the start.

The tears that had threatened to fall earlier now trailed down from your eyes as you slowly made your own feelings known. “You know what Bakugo, I’ve had just about enough of you. All my life I thought we could actually be together. You know one of those cute couples that love each other. Ever since our first year at U.A. I’ve pined after you, but now? I live in constant fear that I’m not good enough. I live in a state of mind where I fear that one day you’ll wake up and leave me. And now? You tell me you wouldn't even tell me if you've been loyal or not. Hell! You don’t even want to be with me!”

Bakugo froze, pain evident in his eyes. He knew he had gone too far.

“Y/N-”

“Don't,” you took a step back, “come near me please. The only thing I know right now is that I can't be near you. I don’t want to be near you. I thought we could work this out or maybe find a solution, but I can't. At least not now.”

Bakugo started at your cowering figure. He had done this to you, the person he had finally learned to love. How could you just ask him to let you go now?

“Y/N, please. You've shown me how much you love me. I’m not the same person I was a few months ago. That woman was in the past. You are my now,” Bakugo was practically begging at this point, his walls crumbling down too late to change your mind.

You managed to look up, finding his eyes. Both of you were hurt, too much to continue this conversation. You carefully took a step towards him, almost as if floating on air.

Gently caressing his cheek, you struck one final blow to his heart, “I’m sorry Katsuki, but I don't think we were the right fit together. We didn’t work and that's okay. Right now, I need some space.”

Bakugo watched as you gracefully turned from his view. It took him too long for your words to finally sink in, leaving him frozen. No, you couldn’t leave him. Not with the way you tenderly said his name. Not after you softly held his cheek after he spent months ignoring your touch. Your figure drifted across the room, grabbing a small bag and filling it with some of your belongings while making your way over to the entrance to the abode that you both shared.

“I'll be back in a few days once I've cleared my head and come up with a decision. You turned to face him, making sure to lock eyes with him as you said your final goodbyes. “I love you, Katsuki, I really do.”

These were your final words as you left your apartment. With the sound of the door closing, Bakugo felt his knees collapse as he hit the floor with a thud. He felt as if he had just been dropped into the arctic, frozen from shock, almost dumbfounded by what he had just done. He slowly felt a tear roll down his face, followed by another. It wasn't long until sobs wracked his body as he knelt on the floor. The hot and heavy tears flowed endlessly until he felt his lungs ache. His breathing became erratic, no clear pattern or rhythm as he struggled to catch his breath. His whole body was shaking as he sobbed hunched over, holding his body to keep himself grounded. 

Katsuki Bakugo has just lost the best thing in his life, and there was no getting them back.

Taglist (OPEN!)

@peach-pops @kirislut @deephasoceanmagic @katsushimaa @hannahalanib1 @estridries @art0saurus @yee-harr @shoutamajiki @spookykiri @animatedarchives @meliorist-midoriya @sugas-sweetheart @suggiebabe @justamultifandomfan16 @ohno-grapes​

[sylvain-writes]

Unbroken (Mikey x Reader)

Rated: T Gender Neutral Reader, pre-relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, Mikey whump, brothers not coping well with stress/fear, victim blaming, affection, love confessions, friendship/love

Mikey's been injured beyond anything his family has experienced before, leaving his brothers terrified. While Donatello, Raphael, and Leonardo struggle with their own guilt and fear, you take over your dearest friend's medical care. for @brightlotusmoon

Tension pours from the Lair into the tunnels. You move quickly. 

Something had told you to bring your delivery of medical supplies early, but what you had chocked up to a gut-feeling now feels much more likely to have been a call from the energies that connect you to Michelangelo and his Father. That psychic pull flares as you draw near and there's no longer room for doubt.

Your messenger bag slips down your arm as you increase your pace. It catches on your elbow awkwardly as you carry the heavy cooler of sundry medicine vials, but you don’t let that slow you down. There’s panic in the air - anger and fear. Casey’s and Raphael’s voices echo through the space - another call for your attention. 

Casey urges Raphael to stop raving before he says something he’s going to regret. But his pleas are ignored. 

Raphael shouts over Casey’s shoulder from the tunnel into the infirmary. He spits accusations and threats at someone unseen. 

In plain clothes, but with all the authority of a Detective, Casey gives Raphael a final warning before pushing past his raging friend and stepping up to you.  He grabs the cooler and leads you into the infirmary, thanking god for your arrival.

“Donnie will be so glad you’re here.”

You would have come sooner had someone sent word. You’re about to say as much when Casey steps out of the way and the sight of Mikey laid up on a hospital bed leaves you speechless. Frozen. Donnie gives you a frightened look before his eyes drift to his quarreling brothers, then draws the curtain to block them out.

Raphael’s bellows behind your back, shocking you out of your stupor. “Ya shoulda been there!” 

Your heart leaps, thundering against your ribs. You turn around, breath caught in your throat wondering how on earth you could have prevented such a thing. But Raphael is rounding on Leo, not you, shoving his older brother square in the chest as he brings his face too close. 

“Ya shouldn’ta sent him away!"

Tension ripples up Raph's arms from his fists to his shoulders as he crowds Leo into a corner. "This is on you, Leo. If he don’t wake up- If he don’t... “ 

When words fail him, Raphael launches himself at his brother with a growl. 

Casey’s face twists into horror as Leo, outwardly stoic and calm, takes his brother on. 

In a quick series of grabs, Leo has Raphael twisted and pinned against the wall in seconds. Leo eyes him with a look of impatience and disappointment. “Walk it off, Raph.”

“Try’na get rid of me too, huh?” With his face pressed against the cement, Raphael grinds out his words through clenched teeth. 

Leo turns to Casey, as if he doesn’t have time for such an inconvenience as this. “Get him out of here. He’s making Don nervous." His grip on Raph lets up as he turns to face the curtain once more. "We’ve been hurt before. We heal. Everything is going to be fine.”

You've only caught a glimpse of Mikey's condition. But you've never seen Donatello so scared. You wonder who Leo is trying to convince.

Raphael seethes as Casey takes him by the arm, but he isn't forced out of the room. "Ain't been this bad. Never this fuckin' bad."  Raph's voice is hoarse from shouting and crying, but his words don’t seem directed at Leo anymore. As his disbelief turns from swears to prayers, you think you hear him making deals with god and the devil.

“Swear to god, bro,” Raph says, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor, “if you don’t wake up, man…” With his elbows on his knees, Raphael buries his face in his hands. 

Casey lays a hand on his friend's shoulder before the radio at his belt urges him topside. "I'm sorry," he says to the room. "I gotta..."

Raphael's head hangs lower, but he nods. 

Leo stands stoic - arms resting at his sides, ignoring Casey's words of departure, watching the drawn curtain. Blinking but not seeing. His breath is even enough for him to be attempting some form of meditation, and you think that’s for the best. But you wonder how long the quiet will last.

Casey tips his head toward the hospital bed. A small jerky movement that grabs your attention. You look at him, head spinning. “You gonna be OK with this?”

You glance over your shoulder to where the curtain hides Donnie and Mikey from view.  Slowly, you nod. Even before med school you were proficient at compartmentalizing. You can help Mikey without becoming overwhelmed by seeing your best friend in whatever condition he’s in. You just need to get in there, see what you’re working with.

“I’ll be alright,” you tell Casey and remind yourself.

You wave him off, draw back the curtain, and take a fortifying breath. 

At the head of the hospital bed, Donnie moves as if on autopilot. He's set a PICC line just under Mikey's shoulder and is starting a transfusion. He's talking himself through the steps, laying out his plans for what to do next. Even as you approach, he remains completely focused on his tasks.

His hands shake as he lifts a fresh bag of fluids to the IV stand. Careful as he tries to be, the bag slips from the hook and lands with a wet slap on the floor. 

You crouch down to help and lay a hand on his arm as he apologizes for this little hiccup in Mikey's care. 

Unshed tears cloud his vision.  He looks almost as pale as his brother lying on the bed. It's obvious he's doing the best he can, and you couldn't ask for more.

Donnie watches you easily hang the bag and open the line. He holds his breath as you properly take in the scene. “He shouldn’t have been out there alone,” he says quietly. It sounds like another apology.

From the edge of the curtained area, Leo parrots the same words. The way he says them, however, sounds like an accusation. 

“He knows better,” Leo continues, coming closer to Mikey's bedside. The more Leo speaks, the more life returns to his eyes. Fire heats Leo’s words. You suppose anger is easier to feel than fear. “What was he thinking?” 

From the floor, Raphael chokes on a sob. “You knew better. The fuck were you thinkin’, huh?” 

Leo widens his stance and rolls his shoulders back, ignoring his younger brother's latest outburst.

The monitor at Mikey’s bedside beeps, Mikey starts to convulse, and it’s easy to tune out everything else.

You and Leo struggle to hold Mikey still as Donnie checks the equipment.

Donnie adjusts the speed of the morphine drip, scanning Mikey's body and the monitor displays. His mouth is set in a hard line. His jaw ticks with how hard he's clenching his teeth to keep his lip from trembling. 

He wipes his eyes on the back of his wrist and pretends he's not close to tears seeing his only little brother injured beyond what any of them have ever faced. 

Even as their eldest brother works to restrain Mikey from further aggravating his injuries, Leo asks if it's really a good idea to increase the narcotics. "We don't want him dependent on that stuff." 

It was the last straw for Donatello. His resolve falters. He faces Leo with color high on his cheeks and opens his mouth to argue. But he sputters and fails to string together an explanation fit for Leo’s approval. Too much of his energy has been depleted by Mikey's care for Donnie to dumb down his course of treatment into terms Leo can understand. 

You place a hand on Donnie's shoulder and offer him a knowing look. 

"One thing at a time," you tell Leo with the calm authority of your medical expertise. "We get Mikey through this, first. We'll titrate him off the meds when he no longer needs them." 

Exhausted and exasperated, Donnie ducks his head and steps aside to let you take over. He watches you assess the work he's done. He holds his breath as you review the scans and x-rays he provides. 

There’s nothing for him to be ashamed of. His stitches are hasty, but they'll hold. The broken bones have been set properly. 

There's a pain in your chest as your brain switches the images in front of you from patient to Mikey to patient again. You know that unbiased detachment will serve you best in your decision making tonight, but the crease between your eyebrows twitches as you spend a second too long watching Mikey's eyelids flutter, hoping for them to open.

Mikey is barely conscious, groaning with every squirming movement but seemingly unable to keep still. 

The file Donnie's prepared lists a concussion on top of deep tissue bruising, stab wounds, broken bones, a dislocated knee, and a cracked plastron. Mikey's head is wrapped. Thick gauze pads the left side of his skull and dark bruises color his swollen face. With each injury your interest in the case, in the patient before you, grows more clinical. 

You mutter, more to yourself than to Donnie or anyone else, your review of what's been done and what still needs doing. Donatello nods along, keeping up and eager to learn even in the midst of the crisis. Perhaps especially due to the nature of this one. 

And after a few more minutes of tweaking the medications, your dear patient eases more deeply into sedation. 

You smooth your hand over the gauze above Mikey’s ear and allow yourself a breath of relief. His glassy eyes blink up at you, unfocused until you run the back of your fingers down the side of his face. 

Memories of all the times he’s called you ‘Angel’, the times it felt less like a place holder for ‘Dude’ and more like a pet name chosen specifically for you, poke and prod the edges of your mind until one memory rushes through.

You and Mikey sitting on the rooftops together. His feet dangling over the edge of the building, kicking out a rhythm as he percusses with his hands upon his thighs. You rocking forward and back as he listens with rapt attention to you talking about Med school: your residency, your hopes and dreams for advancing the field of neurobiology, and the sundry inbetween stuff that never feels like tangents when you're speaking with him. 

You’re lost in the memory of the night, of you and Mikey and endless possibilities, when Donatello gives your shoulder three taps and pulls you back to the present.

The hairs on your arms rise when Master Splinter arrives to check on Mikey's progress. You wish you could say it was his raw psionic power that gives you chills, or his virtuous presence that tears your attention from your patient. There's no compassion or concern flowing from him right now. And it's neither respect nor admiration you feel for him in this moment. 

Though Splinter approaches the bed, his energies remain rather distant. Cool. Complacent. He reaches out to Mikey through their psychic bond and nods in approval. "He will learn from this,” Sprinter says, voice a low, monotonous hum. “Grow stronger." He turns from his youngest with a clipped, "Humph," and moves to the corner of the room without offering a word of comfort to any of his sons. He sits to meditate, unperturbed by the scene.

As if taking a cue from their father's indifference, Leo and Raphael start up their squabble again. 

It's too loud. Too much. Reading Splinter's energy and watching Mikey's shrink from it like a kitten being scolded for mistaking wicker furniture for their scratch post tests your nerve, grates on your mind, and burrows under your skin. 

A year into your residency, and twice as long helping the Hamatos, you think you'd be able to handle anything. But you begin to get shaky. How Donatello worked so long with his brothers looking over his shoulder and arguing behind his back, you'll never know. 

Every now and then Splinter comments on the strength of Mikey's chi. He seems oblivious to the fact that his son was literally writhing in pain on this hospital bed moments ago. The harder Splinter insists on Mikey’s resilience and tenacity, the more you feel Mikey pulling in on himself, frightened to show his Father the truth of his condition. Protecting his family from his frailty and pain even as he lay nearly unconscious.

Meanwhile, Leonardo insists that this all could have been avoided if Mikey would have exercised some patience and common sense by not going up to the surface alone. 

“Where were you, anyway, Raph?" The unending feud cycles around and around. "You’re supposed to look out for him.”

When Leo starts apologizing on behalf of Raph's and Donnie's negligence, you think his younger brothers are going to snap. You make the call to get them all out, so you can focus on Mikey without worrying about playing referee.

Leo catches Splinter on the way out, making plans to meditate together through the night.

Before Donatello leaves, he pops by for a goodnight. “Get well quick, little bro,” he pleads, squeezing his arm and dropping a kiss upon the crown of his brother’s head.

Raphael does similarly, adding that they’re bedroom won't be the same tonight. Without Mikey's headphones hanging off the side of the bed, still playing music while his snores somehow ride the beat of each song, Raph won't get a wink of sleep. “Won’t sleep til you’re there buggin’ me again.”

Mikey responds with quiet murmurs that his brothers all but ignore. They're more accustomed to and comfortable with hearing their own voices than listening to their brother's pain.

With the room clear, it’s easier to hear Mikey’s mutterings for what they are. Though speaking through a fog of pain and anaesthetic, he’s not incoherent. 

Your heart sinks to realize he understands what's happening to him, that he’s likely heard everything that’s been said in the room. The shouting, the crying. The selfish demands on his suffering body. The detached sureness of his Father. 

So confident that all will be fine, Splinter hadn’t even laid a hand on Mikey or spared a shred of empathy before he had gone. 

You pay close attention to Mikey’s words, letting them inform your care. 

Mikey’s eyes peek through heavy lids, trying to follow you around the room. But when you’re at his side again, and your hand strokes his face, his eyes close.  He leans into your palm despite his bruised and fractured jaw. 

For a few minutes you remain just like this - cradling his face in your hands, watching him drift in the haze of sedation, feeling his energies ebb and flow from their hiding place in their search for the safety he’s always found with you.

“I’m here,” you assure him gently. “It’s only me.”

Your promise is enough for his energies to move free. 

Hushed sounds and quiet clicks of your tongue fill the space between you as you put Mikey’s mind at ease. Your fingers pitter-patter over his cheek bones and down the sides of his neck as you palpate for further injuries. They pass over his clavicle and shoulders as Mikey stutters a breath.  

A sling traps his arm against his chest, where his fingers tap the scute over his heart. It’s a small movement, perhaps one of the only movements he can safely make in his condition, and even then, it must be a challenge. For someone you’ve only seen lying this still during his most depressive episodes, you think being incapacitated thusly must be torture.

His bandaged hand is heavy as you lift it. His fingers are cool under the press of your lips. They curl reflexively around yours and you kiss his hand again. 

“My best days are the ones I spend with you,” you whisper. It hurts to be burdening him with such a thing right now, but you also think it’s a truth he should hear sooner rather than later. 

Mikey’s chest rises and falls with staggered, labored breaths as you pet his chest. You talk and Mikey lets your voice wash over him. He leans his head back, relaxed and floaty, feeling like he's in a dream. And as he has so many times before, in dreams, Mikey tells you he loves you.

You bite your lips together as tears fill your eyes. For the first time tonight you think they’ll truly spill over. “Love you, too,” you say, and it doesn’t matter to you whether he means it romantically or as friends because the relationship you share and the love you’ve fostered for each other doesn’t need labels or constraints. 

When Mikey seems to be falling asleep you try to give him some space, but he doesn’t want you gone. His mind is quieter when you’re at his side. 

You rub his leg as you stand by his bed. Though your back is aching and your feet protest the constant bustle, you still haven’t been able to sit. 

“Tell me if you need anything,” you say in earnest. 

Despite your efforts to keep Mikey hydrated, his words are but a croak. “Just you.”

“Hm?” 

“You here. Could you-” Mikey’s eyes close and his hand turns palm up on the bed. Though he can’t muster the strength to lift his arm, his fingers curl and release inviting you back. You slide your hand into his and give it a light squeeze. 

“Stay,” he whispers weakly.

Sleepy, and still in pain despite the heavy opiate cocktail you and Donatello created for him, Mikey gives a weak tug on your hand and whimpers, begging you to understand what he needs.

You climb up, thankful for the extra wide bed, and rest against his wrapped plastron carefully. He buries his face into the top of your head. He nuzzles the hand you’ve raised to cup his cheek. The soft, sleepy sounds he makes drift in and out, sometimes words and sometimes just a hum. 

“...M no good,” Mikey mumbles into your hair, and you feel his breath hitch. “Not good enough.”

“Oh… no, baby,” you say, bracing yourself on the mattress and pushing up to look him in the eye. You stroke the lines of his brow ridge above his eyes, left and right, until his eyes flutter open. They shine with tears threatening to fall. “You’re always enough. Always been enough.”

He gives the slightest turn of his head, but his eyes stay locked on yours as if desperate to believe your words. His lip trembles. His tears slide down his cheeks.

“You’re perfect, sweetheart.” You continue to pet his face, but you let his tears fall freely, letting him know it’s alright to cry.

“For you?” Mikey asks, bordering on inaudible. But you hear him. The question rises from the depths of his being, calling out to you, and you answer the call with the truth of your soul.

“Always. Perfect for me. Forever perfect for me.”