#SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP DYING SOBBING LAUGHING GAGGING

[cozy-the-overlord]

Miles To Go Before I Sleep

Part 3 of Cozy’s Fluff-To-Angst Fun and Games

@fablesrose said:

Alright, break my heart.

A lover softly combing their fingers through your hair as your head lays in their lap, quietly drifting to sleep with a hum.

Summary: She could accept this fate, did accept this fate, if it meant that he would escape safe and sound. But Loki could never let her fall alone.

Word Count: 1,663

Pairing: Loki x Sigyn

A/N: So this is based on a dream I had a while ago ... it’s weird. I know it might not make any sense, but my dreams never make any sense lol, so I was kind of trying to channel that a bit. The title is from Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”-- I debated about that for a while, because I know this story doesn’t really fit that poem thematically (like ... at all), but the atmosphere it creates is sort of what I was going for? Kind of? Idk this story is a trash fire. 

Also please let me know what you think of the ending! I’m genuinely curious to see how people interpret it ...

Thanks for reading!

Warnings: Drowning? (but no death)

Tags:  @lucywrites02 @silver-lupines @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian @imnotrevealingmyname @electroma89 @lokislittlesigyn @moumouton4 @theredrenard @justdontmindmetm​

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)

Read it on Ao3!

At first, she thought she was dead. That moment when she first hit the water, the icy crack that shattered her vision as millions of tiny needles pierced every sliver of skin and cut straight to her bones—surely, she must be dead. No body could survive such raw cold.

But she wasn’t. She was alive for now, alive enough to scream as freezing water rushed down her throat, up her nostrils, through her ears, ripping her apart from the inside until there was nothing left but ice.

Can’t breathe—

The surface sparkled above her with a mocking glow. She knew how to swim, but when she tried to kick her legs only dangled in the water, useless chunks of lead pulling her deeper and deeper with each failed flail. Her arms weren’t working properly. Her fingers had turned to icicles.

No, she wasn’t dead, but she was dying.

The thought electrified her, and she tried another half-hearted thrash for the surface even as her chest swelled with water. She didn’t want to die. Not like this. Somewhere, deep down, she was ashamed of her fear. She hadn’t fought the drop. She had given herself up to death’s eternal slumber. Why was she panicking now?

But this was different. She had made peace with the fall, yes, but the water did not hold the same mercy. Please. She gasped for the surface, not even sure who she was pleading with.

Please, not like this.

She wasn’t expecting an answer.

And yet one came.

In one moment, she was spiraling down into the blackness, in another, the light was flying towards her in a halo of bubbles, a familiar arm tight and firm around her waist.

Somehow, the air she heaved into her lungs was even colder than the water below, the frigid wind that whipped across her cheeks threatening to take her skin with it. She coughed out a waterfall, the panic that had been frozen in her throat finally freed from its floodgates as she sobbed and shook against his chest.

His.

Sigyn gagged on the realization.

“You—you—” But her voice only burned, too raw for speech. When she attempted to twist around to see his face, he only held her more tightly against him as he pulled her to the embankment. She pulled at his collar with numb fingers.

“You were supposed to run,” she choked. “Loki, you were supposed to run.”

Loki said nothing. He scooped her up like she weighed no more than a feather, his ruby eyes staring off at something only he could see as they trudged through the snow. She realized suddenly that she was shivering, teeth chattering like a pair of castanets, and she gulped as she tried in vain to hold her frostbitten hands still. Loki’s grip around her tightened.

“We need to get you warm,” he said. “You’ll freeze like this.”

What he needed to do was drop her and get as far away from her as possible, but Sigyn’s voice wasn’t working properly. Really, very little was working properly. Her vision was going fuzzy in the corners, the steady sound of his wet boots crunching against the ice was starting to fade into an indistinguishable buzz.

She only noticed they had stopped when the fire crackled to life—a vibrant, vigorous warmth that washed all over her, and she found herself bathing in the glow of dancing flames despite her better judgment.

“Loki!” she whispered weakly, fighting to cling to her last dregs of reason. “The smoke— he’ll find you—”

Loki lay behind her, holding her to his chest with a touch so gentle she barely felt it. His fingertips danced across her temples, stroking clumps of wet hair from her face as they went.

“You’re so beautiful.” His voice was soft and safe, a warm blanket wrapping her up and sheltering her from the world.

She inhaled. Her chest felt numb. “What’s going to happen?” She hated that she sounded so small, like a frightened child cowering at a storm. But surely what they were facing was a storm of its own? Sigyn knew very well who it was pursuing them. She knew he would stop at nothing to retrieve what he wanted.

It could only be a matter of time …

But Loki was unconcerned. “Don’t worry, darling,” he soothed. “Don’t worry. It’s all going to turn out right.”

“The tesseract—”

He hushed her gently. “Everything’s going to be just fine.” He hummed as he combed through her hair, a tune that Sigyn almost recognized, something innocent and nostalgic. It was something from a lifetime far away, dancing on the edge of her memory. She found her eyelids slipping closed, even as she fought to remain awake.

Can’t sleep now. Can’t leave him …

“It’s all right, my love,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “You can go. I promise I’ll be all right.”

And so, she gave into his words, and the world faded to black.

…

When they found him, the fire had gone out. Loki was hunched alone in the snow, watching little flecks of ice crystalize on his blue skin. He didn’t bother to stand as they surrounded his makeshift camp. Why should he? He was weary, and besides— it didn’t matter now.

The Mad-Titan loomed over him, his golden armor sparkling with frost as he regarded Loki with a kind of patronizing amusement.

“And so the Jotun blesses us with his true colors.”

Loki fixed him with a heavy-lidded stare, breath whistling through his lips in a silver vapor. He was too exhausted for words. Besides, what was there to say? Everyone here knew how this was going to end.

At least, they thought they did.

“I’m surprised at your choice,” Thanos grinned. It was a spider’s smile, one that said he wasn’t surprised at all. Loki pressed his nails into the palms of his hands. “I thought for sure you had chosen to run.”

Yes. Sigyn had thought so too, had wanted him to flee. He had seen in her eyes, that peaceful resignation as she accepted her fate.

As if he could ever let her fall alone.

Thanos knew it. That was the frustrating part. He knew Loki would jump in to save her or die trying. He knew he’d give up his life, give up the tesseract, give up every living creature in the universe if it meant keeping her safe …

It didn’t matter now. Sigyn was free from harm, far outside the Titan’s reach, and the tesseract …

“Hand it over, princeling.”

Loki only smirked. History may call him Silvertongue, but oh, sometimes silence tasted so sweet.

Thanos’ eyes narrowed.

They dragged him to his feet in an instant. Loki didn’t fight it. It was only a matter of seconds before the realization would strike, and he for one was enjoying the anticipation.

The Titan towered over him. Loki fought the urge to laugh. He clearly thought himself intimidating, but his tiny eyes glaring out from beneath his helmet only made Loki think of an overgrown cockroach wearing armor.

Still, he bit his tongue.

“I’ll ask only once more,” Thanos leaned towards him, practically spitting in his face. “The tesseract. Hand it over.”

Loki didn’t flinch.

“My lord—” It was one of his Children, hunched over a datapad with a molded tension in his shoulders.

Here we go.

“What?”

“It’s not here.”

“What do you mean it’s not here?” Thanos snapped. “He has it!”

The man inhaled a shaky breath. “Forgive me sir, but he doesn’t. Here—” He held the tablet to the Titan with trembling hands in frantic supplication. “It’s not on his person. It’s not even on this planet. There’s not even the slightest trace of its gamma signature on this side of the galaxy!”

Loki grinned.

…

She awoke in her bed, cocooned in the snug embrace of her favorite fuzzy blanket. The rain pattered on the roof outside, a soft hum that almost soothed her back into slumber. Still, she pulled herself from sleep’s clutches and yawned, stretching as she sat up.

Such a strange dream.

It seemed so distant now, all wrapped up in warmth. She could only barely recall the last dregs of icy panic, floundering in a frozen river. And the man who had pulled her out …

She chuckled to herself. If only every nightmare ended with a tall, dark stranger rushing to her rescue. Although memory of his face eluded her, she couldn’t forget the feeling of his arm around her waist, so strong yet so gentle at the same time, clutching her to his chest like it was his sole purpose in life to hold her close. She sighed. Her subconscious had been kind to her last night.

A loud yowling from down the hall startled her from her reverie—the cat, demanding his breakfast. She frowned at the clock and jumped when she realized how late it was. Oh well. Can’t spend all morning fantasizing about handsome dream-men. Time to get up.

There was a song stuck in her head, she realized suddenly. It took her a moment to place it. Some silly jump rope chant from elementary school that she hadn’t thought of in years.

She giggled. How obscure is that?

Another meow reverberated through the apartment, an impatient edge to the cry. She groaned, throwing back the covers.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming!” One of her slippers was missing from its usual spot. She frowned. “Tigger, did you steal my slipper?”

Tigger only let out another screech, and she huffed. That damn cat was always snatching everything she left out and stashing them under something—he was a veritable hoarder.

“Fine,” she yelled, making her way to the kitchen slipperless. “Be like that, you little thief—”

So distracted was she by the cat, she didn’t notice the faint blue glow emanating from the tangled mess of her bedsheets.

[amazingmaeve]

Tolerate it ↠ Fred Weasley

Fred Weasley Masterlist // Harry Potter Masterlist

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N and Fred had an amazing love story throughout Hogwarts. But things start to go sour after the 2nd wizarding war.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Swearing, Pregnancy, Mentions of sex, panic attacks

AN: Hope this works out ok!

While at Hogwarts Y/N and Fred’s relationship was better than ever. They did everything together. Well not everything since George was with Fred as well.

Y/N would help him and George with their pranks and all of them would serve detention together as well.

Even though they hung around George a lot he had a life of his own which gave Y/N and Fred to spend sometime alone together. Which the two lovers appreciated.

Y/N and Fred got together in their 4th year when Fred finally gained the confidence to ask Y/N out. The three of them have been best friends ever since their 1st year when she got put her into Gryffindor.

Then when the Yule ball came around a couple years later Fred made a big deal on how he asked her out. There were fireworks that spelled out ‘Will you go to the ball with’.

As the words painted the sky Y/N accepted with tears in the corner in her eyes and then went to hug Fred.

In their 7th year Umbridge came to the school to ruin there lives.

Fred and Y/N couldn’t even hug without Umbridge splitting the two up. When they got the detentions Y/N would comfort Fred laying down with his head in the crook of her neck.

Y/N would stroke his back comforting him.

When Y/N got her first detention with the blood quil Y/N had avoided Fred not wanting him to be angry. He already cut her out of pranks not wanting her to get hurt.

Then Y/N finally decided to talk to Fred and he was livid when he found out. But with Y/N crying on the couch in the common room he pushed his anger aside to hug her trying to get he sobs to calm down.

Y/N eventually fell asleep on his chest and Fred took her to her dorm room and laid the girl down who was fast asleep.

Y/N had always supported the twins and their joke shop.

She told him “follow your dreams Fred,” which he did.

When Fred and George decided to leave Y/N was the first one to know. She offered to go with them but Fred knew how much her education meant to her and decided against.

Y/N was angry at first but slowly came around. There wasn’t that much of school left so she would be leaving soon.

The night before Fred and George left Y/N finally gained enough confidence to tell Fred she loved him. It was the first time she has ever said that to him.

Fred immediately kissed her and after he told her he loved her as well. That was the night the two lost their virginity’s.

Then the school year was over in what a felt like a whole year to Y/N.

For the next full year Y/N moved in with Fred and George and started working with them. Their relationship was growing stronger and stronger everyday.

“I love you,” Y/N whispered one night to Fred whole they were in bed. Her head was laid on his shoulder. The two loved birds were just finished from the 2nd time they’ve had sex that night. The two were extremely tired.

“Love you too darling,” Fred kissed her forehead and brushed some of her hair out of her face. “Will always love you forever,” He promised.

“Forever,” Y/N repeated nuzzling her head into his chest started to feel that tiredness come back. “Good night love,” she whispered.

“Good night darling,” Y/N could hear Fred just before she slipped into deep sleep.

Fred could feel a smirk on his face as he heard her snoring slightly. Fred knew this was the woman he was going to get married have kids. Fred couldn’t wait for the day.

Whenever they did something lovey dovey George would gag at his brother and girlfriend in a jokingly manor. The truth was that George loved having his best friend around and that his best friend and brother were hopelessly in love.

The whole year was like a fairytale for the both of them.

But sometimes fairytales don’t have good endings, and the 2nd wizarding war was going to be come crashing in on their little bubble they loved so much.

The wizarding war was the hardest things Y/N had to go through. With the fighting and death and the worst part was that Fred almost died.

Luckily he didn’t but it was a close call.

Y/N was the first one to find him passed out on the ground rubble all around him. Y/N immediately ran towards him grabbing his face while tears rolled down her cheeks.

“No no no,” Y/N whispered as she put her fingers on his neck to see if he had a pulse.

Y/N let out a sigh of relief when he did have and when he suddenly woke up.

“What happened why’re you crying love,” Fred groaned as he tried to get up and when he did Y/N wrapped her arms around him violently sobbing into his chest.

“I thought you were dead,” Y/N’s voice was muffled as she pressed her face into his chest not wanting to let him go.

“Can’t get rid of me love,” Fred jokes pulling Y/N up to stand. He wrapped his arms around the girl who’s sobs were dying down.

“Don’t joke around about this,” Y/N sniffed finally removing herself from his chest looking up at the red head who gave her a sad smile.

“Sorry but I’m right here and I’m fine,” Fred reassured Y/N wiping the tears from under her eyes.

Y/N didn’t know weather to believe him or not but right Fred was okay and that’s all that matters. He wrapped his arms around her once more and kissed the top of her head in a comforting manor.

In that moment nothing mattered Fred was alive and that’s everything.

Y/N and Fred were taking a few days off from work and she didn’t want to get special treatment and Fred thought the same. So she got a job at a book store.

For the next few everything was ok. Y/N and Fred got a flat for themselves and everything was settling in.

Fred was a little off though. Just little things at the time. He wouldn’t ask her about her day, he wouldn’t tell her he loved her before he left for work.

Y/N didn’t mention it to him thinking it was her just being clingy. And plus she didn’t want to add to his plate since the war just ended.

And he was getting nightmares to the point where he woke up screaming. On those nights Y/ would have get him out of sleep and let him sob into her chest as Y/N strokes the back of his neck comforting him.

Y/N’s tried bringing it up but he avoided the conversation. She just wanted to know what was going on in his head.

She didn’t bring it up because Y/N didn’t want to make things worse for him.

They talked less and less each day and Y/N thought Fred was like this all the time. That was until she went to go and visit him and saw him laughs with George.

Her heart swelled knowing he’s happy but her brain wondered why he wasn’t doing that with her. Y/N shook her head trying to get rid of the thoughts and was just happy he was happy.

The days went on and Y/N could feel her heart break and break even more. Fred barely smiled when he was at the flat.

At first Y/N thought Fred just needed space from her and she didn’t blame him for that. In relationships sometimes the two people needed to talk and be around friends, family.

Y/N felt like she couldn’t even feel his love and he was just tolerating hers.

But this has been going on for a couple months and Y/N could feel herself start to feel like she had no one to talk to. George was always around Fred and would feel bad if he knew she was talking to his brothers/family.

Like with her job Y/N’s boss was being a bit rude and she didn’t know who talk too.

Sometimes the loneliness got hard. With the effects of the war Y/N often get panic attacks where Y/N could feel the walls close in on her. She could feel her breathing start her faster and faster.

Then Y/N found a place where she could calm down. A beach where she would just listen to waves crashing and the animals making there noises.

But it didn’t solve her problems with Fred.

At the 3 month mark Y/N kept throwing up in the morning for 2 weeks straight. It was easy to hide it from Fred since the two barely talked and he left from work early.

Then she noticed she missed her period. Y/N and Fred rarely have sex since the war but one drunk night they had together must of been it.

Y/N wanted to be sure so she got a test from the wizarding world that would tell her if she was pregnant 100%.

As Y/N paced in her and Fred’s shared bathroom she began to think about how Fred was gonna take it. Fred always told Y/N he wanted kids but now she doesn’t know.

Would bringing a baby into the mix make things worse? Would Fred be mad at her?

When it was time to look at the test Y/N took a deep breath before picking up the test and let out a sad sigh.

Positive.

Y/N put her hand on her belly and smiled. She was already love her/him. This was something her and Fred created together.

Maybe this will help Y/N’s and Fred’s relationship.

Y/N looked at the time and noticed it was only 1. It was her day off. Y/N wanted to tell Fred immediately.

Y/N grabbed her coat with bubbling excitement as she strolled to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes with a smile on her face. Even though the past months haven’t been good for her this was a good thing to happen to Y/N.

The shop was filled with loads and loads of customers when Y/N entered the shop. As her eyes roamed the store Y/N could see Fred talking with someone with a smile on his face.

Angelina Johnson.

Y/N didn’t hate the girl they were friends in school. But when Fred and Y/N were just friends he told her he had a crush on Angelina which made Y/N jealous.

But she could never hate Angelina. She was so sweet and Angelina even reassured Y/N that she didn’t like Fred.

But now Y/N could feel her stomach turn as Fred laughed at something Angelina said. Did he still have feelings for her? Is that why he was around as much?

Y/N felt tears brim her eyes as Fred looked so happy. And it hurt her so much to see that he wasn’t happy with her.

She bit her lip to stop herself from sobbing and breaking down.

Y/N rushed out of the shop with tears staining her cheeks as she ran home getting looks from strangers.

Once Y/N reached the flat Y/N took her jacket off and let out a sob as she laid down her and Fred’s bed.

Y/N curled up into a ball trying to get herself to calm down. She didn’t understand why Fred was treating herself this way.

Y/N thought she would be happy with him.

Y/N put her hand on her stomach where there would be a bump in months. She didn’t know what to do now.

Y/N must’ve cried for hours when she heard Fred yell “I’m home.”

Y/N looked at the clock and noticed it was 5 with a surprised look on her face. Y/N could hear Fred enter the bed room with a confused look on his face.

“What’s wrong love,” Fred asked and he sounded concerned. This was the first time she heard Fred sound like he cared for her in a while.

“Nothing,” Y/N scoffed rolling her eyes at the red haired boy.

“Odiously something’s,” Fred sat down on the foot of the bed by the side of the bed she was. He put his hand on her leg and gave it a squeeze to get her attention.

“What,” Y/N snapped sitting up to look up at him.

“Why’re you crying love,” Fred asked concern lacing his words as he cupped Y/N’s cheek wiping the tears away.

“Why do you care,” Y/N could feel more tears coming and with her being pregnant didn’t help her.

“Because you’re my girlfriend and I love you,” Fred softly replied.

“Why now?” Y/N questioned as he gave her a confused look. “Huh. For the last few months you have been avoiding me not talking to me and now you want to know how I feel,” She could feel anger fume in her as Fred looked at her.

“I don’t know what your talking about,” Fred avoided eye contact.

“Just stop lying you’re happy with everyone but me. Hell you’re even more happy with other girls than me,” Y/N huffed looking at the boy.

“I haven’t been talking to other girls,” Fred snapped.

“I saw you with Angelina laughing and smiling and talking,” Y/N whispered angrily.

“We were just talking and why were you at the shop,” Fred asked annoyance in his eyes.

He knows he’s being unreasonable and he knows he’s been distance. Fred didn’t mean to be but when other people asked how he was he could lie but not to Y/N.

“I wanted to tell you I was pregnant but you looked pretty busy,” Y/N had irritation in her voice as she shouted.

“What,” Fred asked flabbergasted with his eyes wide and his face full of shock.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Y/N huffed and went to lay down even thought it’s only 5:20.

But Fred doesn’t let her as he grabs her hand to pull her up into a hug. He hides his face in the crook of her neck missing the smell of her shampoo.

“I can’t believe it,” Fred smiled.

“Fred we’ve barely talked the last months and now you just won’t leave me alone,” Y/N snapped pushing him away.

“I’m so sorry love,” Fred looked at Y/N with tears coating his eyes.

“I just want to know why,” Y/N desperately asked feeling out of ideas.

“I couldn’t lie to you,” Fred blurted out.

“What,” Y/N asked as she scrunched her face up with confusion.

“When you ask me if I was fine I can’t say yes like with everyone else,” Fred whispered. Y/N looks up at him with sorrow in her eyes. “Ever since the war it feels like I can’t breathe sometimes and I wake up with nightmares bothering you.”

“Fred,” Y/N whispered reaching towards to touch his face. “You could’ve just talked to me,” She smiles at him.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Fred rolled his eyes at himself feeling horrible for the way he treated the love of his life.

“You could never bother me with your problems,” Y/N removed her hand from his face grabbing his hand.

“Will you forgive me,” Fred asked hoping he could get another chance.

“Yes,” Y/N sighed and she loved the way his eyes brightened. “But we have to talk more often please,” She pleaded.

“Of course of course,” Fred rushed out and grabbed Y/N’s face to kiss her.

“I love you so much darling.”

“I love you too Freddie.”

[utascumdump]

Gagged Up ~ M. Fushiguro & Reader NSFW - 18+

It’s my first request and oddly enough my first write on Tumblr since I joined.

I want to say first that I’m sorry if it turns out shitty as fuck. Also, if you enjoyed it could you let others know about it so I can get more opinions on my writing style.

Cw: Characters are aged up 20+. Gagging, Daddy Kink, Spitting, Bratty! Reader, Degradation, Spanking, Oral (F. receiving), Slight bondage, Rough Sex, Breeding, Praise Kink, Aftercare..Let me know if I miss anything as you read.

Minors please *inhales* DO NOT FUCKING INTERACT OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED *exhales* with that be said let’s continue.🥰

4 Page count with 2,394 words

It started out as a regular day for most people. However, a group of four decided to go out and meet up at the park. Two coming from the same destination holding hands and walking quietly.

They’ve all decided to take a break from fighting curses for a day. They are and talked about things they missed over the years from being apart. Megumi sitting away from the group off to the side. Everything was going relatively normal...(For the most part).

“O-Oi Itadori stop it ri-right now,” Nobora stated laughing in between her sentences. He was laughing away almost sounding like a hyena. They were telling each other of the funniest things they’ve seen happened.

However, the next laugh that came in was obnoxiously loud. The sound of a loud cackle reached Megumi’s ears from afar.

Megumi looked up from his spot under the tree shade and looked across the park at the trio dying of laughter. He was already annoyed from Gojo-sensei’s annoying antics from early that morning.

Watching the trio while lost in thought thinking of how annoying his sensei is in the morning. He recalls Gojo banging obnoxiously on his apartment door at 4:00 a.m. to tell him about something in which Fushiguro thought it was honestly the stupidest thing ever.

He was quickly brought out of his thoughts because of the loud cackling from Y/N. He furrowed his brows looking at her with a frown on his face. He began to get more annoyed with her antics. This has been going on for an hour and a half. He asked Y/N about 5 times already if she could tone down their volume. However, he can’t help but feel that she were doing it on purpose.

He clenched his fist tightly and clenches his jaw. He slowly got up and made his way to the trio with a calm expression on his face. But on the inside?? He was furious and done with Y/N’s bratty antics. He knew she was doing this to get under his skin. He caught her glancing at him each time she let out a loud cackle.

When he got to them finally he got straight to the point instead of beating around the bush. “Come on Y/N we’re leaving and it’s not a choice, it’s an order.” He didn’t wait for her to get up instead he turned his back walking away.

Y/N glanced at the others and told them she would see them some time later. However, she didn’t realized what was coming. Yeah, she’ll admit she was trying to get under his skin, but she never saw him acted like this. While in her thoughts she didn’t realized that Megumi stopped walking with his hands clenched in his pockets. Looking up she realized that he was looking back her over his shoulder with a look she couldn’t describe.

“Tch” he turned his head back around and kept walking back to their shared apartment. He was thinking of the things he wanted to do. But one thought really stuck with him for the duration of the walk back to the expensive looking apartment building. He wanted to gag Y/N so he could teach her how to be quiet like the good slut she was behind closed doors.

Making their way to the entrance of their apartment, Megumi unlocked the door and grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her inside. He slammed her against the door causing the door to shut from the pure force. He looked down at her and watched how she slightly squirmed from the intense stare and the cold door.

“Why must you act out and be a brat in front of others?” he spoke with a sultry honey toned voice. When she didn’t answer he grabbed her by the neck and squeezed to the point it sent waves down to Y/N’s heat. “I believe that I did asked a question unless I’m talking to myself and you know what I said about that.” he spoke with the same tone voice.

She breathed in shuddering when he pressed his body against her making her body pressed harder against the door. “I-I don’t know m’sorry daddy.” she replied feeling her legs shaking. Megumi, who disliked her answer, reached his other hand down and softly rubbed on her clit from under her skirt. “You know I hate lying so why do it when you can just tell the truth and avoid a harsh punishment, hmm.” he told her and moved his hand away and reached out to lock the door.

He picked her up and carried her to their bedroom over his shoulder. Once he reached the bedroom he closed the door and threw her down on the bed. He reached into the side drawer and brought out an item she couldn’t see. He made sure to hide it from her. He looked down at her from where he was standing.

He looked her up and down with a scowl on his face thinking of the things she did. He clicked his tongue and took off his shirt. “Take my pants off and don’t make me wait,” he told her and tilted his head to show authority. She looked him up and down and bites her lip. “No,” she simply stated and looked at the ceiling.

He rose a brow and stared at her and stepped closer to the bed. “What was that, say that again I don’t think I heard you correctly,” he leaned down a bit and stared at her intensely. Y/N’s breaths had now became broken gasps now becoming slightly fearful of the dominant side of Megumi she only witnesses when acting out.

“I-I said no, you t-take them off yourself,” she suddenly felt him grip her jaw harshly and made her look at him. She could tell by the look on his face that the ending outcome was not going to be good for her. He grips her skirt and rips it off and throws it somewhere in the room to be forgotten about. He teasingly rubbed on the wet spot that was visible in her panties.

She grabs his wrist and grinds on his fingers. He pulls his hand back and backs up to go to the closet. She started whining from the lack of touch and was beginning to get horny and needier. He grabbed a red silk cloth and a rope and brought them over to the bed. When she saw said items she began to plead with fear. “N-no daddy please I’ll be good I promise,” she backed away but not getting far. He gripped her ankles and pulled her to the edge of the bed.

He grabbed the ball gag out of his pocket and strapped it gagging her in the process. “You made too much noise all day so it’s time to be quiet. Isn’t that right my filthy slut,” he taunted knowing she can no longer speak clearly. She responded yes but it was muffled by the gag, drool immediately dripping down the corners of her mouth. He chuckled at the pathetic sight in front of him and grabbed her by the arm.

He turned her around and made her top half bend over the bed. He took in the sight before him feeling himself tighten in his sweats. “Now bratty little girls like you deserved to be punished right,” he questioned and rubbed her right cheek. He heard her try to muffle out replies but she couldn’t so instead she frantically shook her head in agreement. He harshly smacked her right ass cheek and she let out muffled cries. He did the same to the other each smack on a different cheek. He finally let up when both cheeks were bright red with hands prints on both. 

He grabbed the rope off of the floor and tied her hands behind her back. All while Y/N is in the background a sobbing mess from the spanking she just received. He sat her up and laid her on her back with his face hovering over her heat. He flatten his tongue out and licked her folds through her laced panties. She bucked her hips up to get more friction. He pulled back and took her panties off, a string of her arousal can be seen as he pulls them down her legs fully taking them off. He spits on her folds and sucks on her clit. He brings a hand up and rubs a finger against her nearing the entrance. He quickly sunk a finger in making her let out a muffled cry.

“Aww what my little cock warmer thought that I would let her cum. Now why would I do that when you acted out today. Be a good slut a turn over for daddy,” he cooed slightly and took off his sweats and boxers in one go. He fisted his length two times before grabbing the blindfold. Y/N turns on her stomach slowly, her thighs shaking from the denial of her orgasm, and arched her back deeply. He groaned at the sight and tied the blindfold around her eyes, making her see nothing but the darkness that greeted her. 

Megumi pushed his cock against her folds coating it in her arousal and his spit. He tapped against her twice before quickly thrusting in and bottoming out making her let out a muffled scream. He thrusted his hips back and forth slowly and rubbed his hand down her back. He leaned over her frame slightly going slightly deeper than before and snapped into her hips. Going at a ruthless pace he grabbed a fist full of her hair and pulled her back so her back was against his chest.

“You wanna cum slut, huh, wanna cum on daddy’s cock don’t you,” he questioned as he wrapped his hand around her neck as she whimpered out a yes. He unclipped the ball gag and threw it on the bed. He yanked her head back and looked at her cloth covered face. “Open your mouth,” he said in a demanding way. She obediently opened her mouth and he spit in her mouth telling her to swallow. He watched as she swallowed and let out a low moan directly in her ear. “Fu-fuck baby you take daddy’s cock so well,” he let her go making her body hit the bed.

He had a vice grip on her hips bringing her back to meet his harsh thrusts. “D-daddy yes, f-fuck fuck, I’m gonna cum. He slowed his thrusts down and pulled out denying her yet of another orgasm and laid on the bed on his back. “Ride me and I’ll let you cum on daddy’s dick,” he replied catching his breath and watched as she climbed atop him. Grabbing at his cock she positioned it at her entrance and slid down him taking all of his length. She started bouncing up and down on him making her ass clap against his thighs. He gripped her hips again and threw his head back from the feeling of her cunt gripping his cock. 

“Y-yeah fu-fuck, just like that baby daddy’s gonna fill that little cunt with his cum, you want that don’t you my little cock sleeve,” he groaned and thrust his hips to meet her bounces. She threw her head back and scratched at his chest feeling the familiar feeling of the two denied orgasms creeping back up. “Y-yes daddy, fuck I-i want your cum in me please please please daddy,” she begged ready to feel his cum in her and to finally release her orgasm after being denied twice. He held her hips down and piston his hips into hers making her let out a loud moan and finally letting her release for the night. His hips later stilled and he let out his hot spurts of cum into her, making her bite her lip and moaned at the feeling. 

She breathlessly leaned down and meet him into a kiss full of love and passion for each other. He slowly lifted her up off of him and untied the blindfold. He got up and went to the bathroom and ran some hot bath water for them to wash in. He came back and carried her into the bathroom and sat her against the counter. He put in her favorite body wash in the tub, the smell of vanilla began to fill up the bathroom. He went back in the bedroom and collected all the things he used on her and sat them in the corner of the room to be cleaned the next day. He walked back in the bathroom and stopped the tub water, grabbing her and sitting her down in the hot water.

He brought over towels for them to use and got in the tub immediately working to scrub her clean and wash her hair in the process. He kissed her temple gently whispering in her ear “You did so good baby I’m proud of you,” and continued to wash her off later rinsing her off. He did the same process with himself and got up out of the bath, turning to help Y/N out and wrapping her towel around her and giving her a kiss. She walked in the bedroom and put on a pair of his shirt and waited for him. He walked out and grabbed a pair of black sweats and out them on and went to change their sheets. 

He grabbed her and pulled her down on the bed softly and kissed her gently.

“I love you Y/N,” he said soft and sweet. 

“I love you too Megumi,” she replied smiling gently and dosing off.

So this is the end of my first I hope you guys enjoy it and please give me some feedback. It’ll be really appreciated. (I didn’t read over it to check for mistakes, so please don’t mind them if you see any.)

@noritoshiikamo @fushigurocockslut @megumifushi​

[marvelous-writer]

i’ll chase away your nightmares and keep you safe

Summary:

Tony looks at him with a worried frown as he hands him a plate with a sandwich and a side of chips. He reaches a hand up and brushes a few stray curls off of Peter’s aching forehead. “You don’t look too good, Pete,” he says.

“I don’t feel that great,” Peter admits, not having the energy to pretend that he is.

“How’s your head feeling?”

“Hurts,” Peter mumbles miserably.

“Hmm,” Tony hums, as he braces his hand against Peter’s forehead.

Peter lets his eyes slip shut as he leans into his cool hand, bringing only a small amount of relief to his pounding head. He almost wants to cry when Tony takes his hand away.

“You do feel a little warm. I wouldn’t have had you slaving away out there in the sun if I’d known you didn’t feel good, Pete.”

“It wasn’t this bad earlier. I think I’m just tired or my brain is fried,”

OR

Peter experiences a bad migraine while he’s staying up at the cabin and Tony helps him through it.

Word count: 3,159

Genre: whump, angst, hurt/comfort

Link to read on Ao3:

A/N: Part 3 of @webpril

Peter squints against the harsh sunlight as he wipes sweat off his forehead, trying to ignore the pain pounding away in his head. 

“Hand me that wrench, will you?” Tony asks from his position kneeling on the grass in front of the pressure washer that had broken down as they started to power wash the house.

Peter nods as he reaches into the red toolbox and grabs said wrench and hands it to Tony. “What do you think? Is it going to make it?” He asks with a hint of sarcasm. 

“Well,” Tony says with a grunt as he tightens a bolt on the machine. “I think she has a few more good years left in her.” He says, shooting a smile over his shoulder at Peter. 

Peter smiles in return, trying not to wince when his head lets off a particularly sharp throb. He’s had this killer headache since he woke up this morning but it hasn’t been this bad until now. Sitting out here in the middle of a heatwave in the sun probably isn’t a wise decision on his part. He’d rather be inside where the cool AC is, sprawled out on his bed in the dark, sleeping this off. But he’d never say no to spending time with Tony, even if it involves a mundane task of fixing a pressure washer. 

“So… I was thinking—” Tony says as he hands Peter the wrench back when he’s done using it. 

“That can be dangerous,” Peter says. 

Tony huffs out a laugh as he shoots a grin over his shoulder at Peter. “Like son like father, I guess.” He says. 

A warm and fuzzy feeling bubbles up in Peter’s chest at his words as he smiles, ducking his head down as he puts the wrench back in the toolbox. “What were you thinking?”  

“I was thinking… what if I made some fettuccine Alfredo for dinner tonight, get some ice cream at your favorite place down the street, and we can have a nice, relaxing family movie night?” Tony asks as he wipes his oily hands on a hand towel, standing up from the ground with a small grunt when his knees click in protest. 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Peter says with a smile as he pushes himself up from the ground, only to pause when his head gives off a particularly sharp throb from the new position. He reaches up and rubs at his forehead, hissing slightly though gritted teeth. 

This always happens when he tries to work through the pain of a headache, which hopefully isn’t upgrading to a migraine but with Peter’s luck, it probably is. 

And of course, Tony’s dad senses tingle. 

“You okay?” Tony asks, looking at Peter with his brows pulled together in concern. 

“Yeah… just a headache.”

Tony’s still frowning as he looks down at his watch to check the time. “It’s a little after noontime, so how about we head on inside and I’ll whip you up a sandwich for lunch.” 

“Sure.” Peter agrees easily, letting Tony guide him inside the blissfully cool house and out of the intense sun and heat. 

They find Morgan sitting on the couch in front of the tv watching one of her cartoons, one that Peter doesn’t know because it came out sometime in those five years during the Blip. 

“How about you sit with Morgan while I get lunch started?” Tony suggests. 

“Okay,” 

Peter slips his shoes off at the front door before he walks over to the couch, wincing at the sunlight pouring in from the windows, mixed with the obnoxiously bright colors from the cartoon on the tv. He plops down on the chaise section of the couch next to Morgan and throws a pillow over his face to shield himself from the light. 

“Are you okay, Petey?” Morgan questions. 

“Yup…” Peter mumbles beneath the pillows. “M’ all good, Morgs.” 

“Why are you hiding?”

“M’ not hiding. Just trying to sleep and the light’s bothering my eyes.” He tells her. 

“Does your head hurt like Daddy’s does sometimes?” She asks. 

“A little.” 

“Oh! I’m sorry.” Morgan whispers.

“S’okay.” Peter mumbles. 

 It takes only a few minutes before Peter feels himself drifting off to the soft murmurs coming from the tv, but he can’t quite fall asleep with his head pounding away. It almost makes him want to cry at the unfairness of it all—why his brain just won’t shut off and let him fall into a pit of painless nothingness.

He’s taken out of his almost-asleep state by a hand gently shaking his shoulder. “Pete, you awake? Lunch is all ready.” Tony says in a soft voice. 

“Mhmm…” Peter hums as he slowly sits up, letting the pillows fall away from his face, finding the room’s curtains to be drawn with the tv off, settling the space in a soothing semi-darkness. 

Tony looks at him with a worried frown as he hands him a plate with a sandwich and a side of chips. He reaches a hand up and brushes a few stray curls off of Peter’s aching forehead. “You don’t look too good, Pete,” he says. 

“I don’t feel that great,” Peter admits, not having the energy to pretend that he is. 

“How’s your head feeling?” 

“Hurts,” Peter mumbles miserably.  

“Hmm,” Tony hums, as he braces his hand against Peter’s forehead. 

Peter lets his eyes slip shut as he leans into his cool hand, bringing only a small amount of relief to his pounding head. He almost wants to cry when Tony takes his hand away. 

“You do feel a little warm. I wouldn’t have had you slaving away out there in the sun if I’d known you didn’t feel good, Pete.”

“It wasn’t this bad earlier. I think I’m just tired or my brain is fried,” 

Tony huffs out a small laugh. “Your brain isn’t fried, Pete. You’re just tired and you’ve been overworking yourself lately. How about you eat what you can and you can nap until dinner?” 

Sleep. That sounds pretty nice right about now. 

“Okay.” Peter agrees easily. 

…

After lunch, Tony helps Peter upstairs to his bedroom and draws the black-out curtains, engulfing the room into darkness, much to Peter’s relief. 

Peter is about to lie down but Tony stops him by handing him one of his pain meds. 

“But they make me feel weird and loopy,” Peter argues weakly. 

“I know you don’t like taking them, but it’ll help with the pain,” Tony says. 

Peter sighs but takes the pill anyways just to please him, swallowing it down with a few sips of water from the cup Tony gives him. 

When Peter is lying down on his side with his eyes closed, he hears Tony walk out of the room and down the hallway to the bathroom before the sink turns on, until footsteps approach his room. 

Peter breathes out a relieved sigh when he feels a cool, wet washcloth being placed over his eyes and forehead. 

“Better?” Tony asks as Peter feels the bed dip down next to his hip. 

“Mhmm…” Peter hums, feeling the coolness take the edge off his headache so it no longer feels like his head is at risk of exploding from the pressure. “You gonna stay?” He asks hopefully. 

“Sure thing, kiddo,” Tony says, hearing him get up again before the bed dips down beside him until he feels the man’s hand card through his curls. 

The feeling soothes Peter as he breathes out another sigh of relief as he allows himself to relax, feeling the tension leave his body. 

It only takes a few moments before Peter finds himself drifting off to sleep, feeling the pain grows duller as his consciousness fades away. 

…

Peter can’t breathe as dust begins to fill his lungs. 

He looks up with wide, tear-filled eyes at Tony, who’s standing several feet away from him, looking equally as scared as Peter.

“I don’t wanna go,” he pleads, voice wobbling as he takes a few stumbling steps towards him. “P-Please—P-Please, I don’t wanna go. I don’t wanna go.” 

Tony opens his arms as Peter falls forward, but instead of falling into Tony’s arms, he falls right through him as Tony suddenly crumbles to nothing but a pile of ashes. 

“N-No!” Peter screams as catches himself on his shaking arms, saving himself from face-planting on the orange, dirt-covered ground… which is now covered in Tony’s ashes. “N-No…. p-please,” Peter sobs as he carefully picks up a handful of it, only to break out into a harsh cough that has him doubled over, finding that he’s coughing up dust. 

Ashes. 

That’s all he sees. 

Ashes. 

Peter blinks away the tears in his eyes as he looks around himself, seeing figures of ashes floating in the air where the Guardians and Dr. Strange once stood. 

He’s all alone. 

Peter takes in a shuddering breath as he looks back down at himself, only to see that his hands are now disappearing, dust falling from his fingertips, joining Tony’s on the ground. It quickly travels up his hands, then his forearms, climbing up his entire body. 

Peter sucks in a gasp, feeling like his insides are now full with his own ashes, suffocating him. 

He’s dying. 

He’s all alone. 

Ashes. 

Ashes. 

They all fall down. 

Ashes. 

Ashes. 

Ashes. 

They all… fall… down. 

Peter’s eyes snap open, only to be met with a horrible, pulsating pain radiating through his skull, feeling like it’s about to explode as something hot shoots up his throat. 

Peter shoots up into a sitting position as he gags, only for more waves of sharp pain to stab at his head as he tries to get up. But the moment that he manages to swing his legs over the bed, he gags again and hot, liquidy vomit spews out of his mouth, landing all over his lap and the floor. 

But the only thing he can see is ashes. 

Peter gasps in the middle of a gag, only to break out into a harsh round of coughing but it only brings back the memory of him coughing up dust in his nightmare… or was it real? Is he already dead and this is a dream? Or his worst nightmare that he’ll have to live again and again in a constant, torturous loop?

His head and ears are pounding too much, Peter doesn’t hear the pair of footsteps running up the stairs towards his bedroom. 

Peter slams his eyes shut as he coughs up more bile—more ashes. 

His ashes. 

It’s happening again. 

Thanos snapped.

Half the universe is gone. 

Thanos won and they lost. 

“Peter! Peter—look at me, kid!” A voice filters its way through the sheer panic racing through him, mixing with all the pain. “Pete—open your eyes for me!” 

Peter snaps his eyes open, only to find Tony’s worried face in front of him—but it’s just like before, except Tony turned to ashes right in front of him. 

“T-Tony p-please,” Peter hoarsely says, feeling something cold slide down his cheeks. “P-Please—I-I don’t wanna go. P-Please,” he begs as he slams his eyes shut, unable to get the image of Tony crumbling to nothing in front of him. 

His breathing comes in quick gasps now, and it feels like his insides are filling up again—oh God. It’s happening again. He’s going to die and there isn’t anything or anyone that can stop it. Thanos won again—he’s always going to win. He’s never going to stop coming. 

Peter’s dying all over again. 

“Pete—you’re okay. Peter! You’re not dying—kiddo, please listen to me!” 

He’s going to die. 

Ashes. 

Ashes. 

Peter lets out a choked sob, only to throw up more bile. “I-I can’t-” he sucks in a sharp, choked breath. “Can’t breathe-”

Black dots dance around in his vision as he opens his eyes, finding a blurry figure in front of him, feeling cold hands on his face. 

“Pete you’ve gotta listen to me, bud. You have to breathe.” 

“I c-can’t,” Peter chokes out around a sob, squeezing his eyes shut again. “I-I can’t—I c-can’t!” 

“Yes, you can. You can breathe. You’re not going anywhere. I promise you, Pete. Please. Come back to me. Try to take in a deep breath, okay? Think you can do that for me, kiddo?” 

Peter sucks in a gasping breath, feeling horribly lightheaded now, but he tries. 

“That’s it, Pete. That’s it, kiddo. In and out.” Tony soothes. 

It feels like forever until Peter’s lungs give in, letting air in and allowing him to breathe. He sucks in a shaky breath that triggers a harsh round of coughing, before he opens his eyes and blinks a few times to clear his blurry vision. 

“T-Tony?” Peter asks, seeing the man kneeling in front of him with a worried expression on his face. 

“I’m right here, Pete,” Tony tells him in a soft voice. “You back with me?” 

Peter blinks, his brows pulling together as he shakily nods. He closes his eyes against the pounding behind them, mixed with horrible nausea churning away in his stomach. “I don’t feel good,” he mumbles. 

“I know you don’t kiddo. I’m so sorry,” Tony says, feeling a hand brush away a strand of damp curls that are stuck to his sweaty forehead. “How about you take a minute to catch your breath and we’ll get you all cleaned up and back into bed, okay?”

Peter blinks hard as he looks down at his lap again, but closes his eyes at the disgusting state of his lap. He opens them back up again and looks at Tony, brows pulled together. “I-Is this… is this real?” He asks. 

Tony’s face falls as he reaches up and gently wipes a trail of tears from Peter’s cheeks with a calloused thumb. “Of course it is, bud,” he softly says. “This is real, I’m real and you’re at the cabin with me, Pepper and Morgan.” 

Peter sniffs wetly. “B-But… it just felt s-so real.” He whispers. 

Tony nods as he runs a hand through Peter’s hair. “I know, Pete but I promise you it wasn’t. It was just a nightmare.” He says in a soft voice as he places the back of his hand on Peter’s forehead, frowning. “You’re burning up, kiddo. It looks like this is more than just a migraine.” 

Peter breathes out a sigh at that. “‘Course it’s not.” He mumbles miserably. Good ol’ Parker Luck. 

“How about we get you cleaned up, hmm?” 

Peter wordlessly nods as Tony helps him stand up, grabbing him a change of clothes from the dresser before slowly leading him out of his room and down the hallway to the bathroom. Tony is practically carrying him with how wobbly his legs are, but they manage to make it to the bathroom and Tony helps him sit on the closed toilet seat. 

Peter closes his eyes against the painful throbbing going on behind them, letting himself slowly slump against the wall next to him. He’s barely aware of Tony wiping his face with a warm washcloth until he’s gently shaken. 

“Pete, you gotta open your eyes for me, bud,” Tony says softly. 

Peter lets out a low, hoarse groan as he blinks open his eyes, squinting against the LED lighting in the bathroom. 

“Arms up,” Tony instructs as he helps him out of his ruined t-shirt and into a clean one. “Think you can stand up on your own so you can change your pants?” 

Peter binks slowly. “M’ kinda dizzy,” he admits.

Tony frowns at that as he goes back to the task at hand and helps Peter slide his ruined pajama pants off, grateful to have a pair of boxers on to save him any further embarrassment. Tony helps him stand up on shaky legs to pull on the clean pair of sweatpants he grabbed, helping Peter pull them up to his waist.

“I think you’re good to go, bud,” Tony says, offering him a small smile.

Peter tries to smile but he thinks it comes out more of a grimace. Tony wraps an arm around his waist and helps him out of the bathroom and back down the hall towards his room at a slow pace. When they walk back into the room, Pepper is throwing a white duvet over his bed and she looks up at them, offering Peter a warm, sympathetic smile.

“How are you feeling, honey?” She asks.

Peter makes a weak sound at the back of his throat as he blinks sluggishly, too tired to form words anymore.

“He’s feeling pretty crappy,” Tony answers for him as he guides him over to the bed and helps him lie down on the clean sheets, which Peter suspects Pepper changed while they were gone.

Despite how out of it he is, Peter feels guilty that she cleaned up after him.

“M’ sorry,” Peter mumbles as he blinks open his eyes as Tony pulls the covers up to his chin. “M’ such a problem.”

Tony frowns as he exchanges a look Peter doesn’t catch with Pepper before he looks back down at him as he sits on the edge of the bed. “No, you’re not,”

Peter shakes his head, feeling tears pricking at his eyes. “I am,” He argues weakly. “Y-You shouldn’t have to deal with me.”

“Peter,” Pepper says as she sits down on the edge of the bed on the other side. “You’re not a problem, honey. You’re sick and you’re tired. We want to help you, okay?”

“Yeah,” Tony agrees. “Besides, it’s part of the job description.” He says with a small smile.

Peter honestly doesn’t know what he’s done in life to deserve such an amazing and caring family.

“Why don’t you try to get some more sleep?” Tony says as he fixes the blanket around Peter and tucks him in.

“Okay,” Peter mumbles as he blinks up at him with half-lidded eyes.

“Feel better, honey,” Pepper says softly as she smoothes a hand over his hair before she stands up and walks out into the hallway.

A spark of fear shoots through Peter as Tony stands up and he thinks he’s about to leave too. “Can you stay?” Peter slurs tiredly.

“Of course I can,” Tony says, the corners of his lips turning up in a small smile as he walks to the other side of the bed and settles against the headrest.

Peter slowly rolls on his side so he’s facing him and wiggles himself up so his head is resting against Tony’s chest, earning a chuckle from him in response.

“Feeling a little cuddly are we?”

“Mhmm…” Peter hums as he closes his eyes, feeling Tony’s hand settle in his hair, hearing the faint, comforting thumping of Tony’s heart against his ear. “T’hnks for taking care of me,” he mumbles sleepily.

“That’s what I’m here for, Pete,” Tony tells him, warmness in his voice as he cards his fingers through Peter’s curls.

[sadistgalore]

Chapter 13: Let's Try This One On For Size

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Alright, this one is rough. Similar to Chapter 7, but not as bad. But still, be warned and read the tags.

Taglist: @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams, @whumptakesthecake

Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the taglist.

CW: referenced burning/branding, denied care, dehumanization, defiant whumpee, derogatory language, shock collar, guilt tripping, forced submission, caretaking whumpees, bound to a chair, freeze response, noncon stripping, noncon touching, forced to watch, fade to black/implied noncon

Forty-five minutes.

That’s the most Killian hadn’t moved today. He just remained laying still on the ground. Unmoving. For forty-five minutes.

Harper tapped her finger against the counter anxiously. She had been checking the time non stop, seeing if he had switched positions at all. This was the longest he’s been without moving. Guilt filled her stomach.

God, this is all my fault. I should’ve just kept my head down and he wouldn’t have gotten hurt!

She grimaced thinking about the night before with Killian, and the sobs he tried so desperately to hide as they laid together in the dirt. She pleaded with Luther to take him inside and at least wash his boiled face and arms, but the bastard simply kicked the boy and dragged her inside, saying he would be fine.

Had he been through worse?

She wished she could go out there and bring him in, but-

“Kitty.”

Speak of the devil.

Harper turned around, using all of her power to glare at the man who branded her arm- which still hurt by the way, she wasn’t allowed any burn cream, either.

Luther was leaning against the doorway, giving her a smug grin. “Something is bothering you. You’ve been slow with your chores.”

“That boy you tortured is bothering me,” the girl spat.

Luther laughed. “Torture? That’s a bit extreme, I was just teaching him a lesson.”

“Is that what you say to yourself in bed every night?”

The man’s smile faded as his face quickly became cold. “I’m getting real tired of this, Harper.”

The girl swallowed and tried not to lose face as the man came near her. “You’re supposed to respect me. Edward put you into my care and I do not deserve to be treated with this attitude of yours.”

Harper rolled her eyes, knowing she was going to regret what she was going to say next. “You can shove it.”

Slap.

Luther sighed. “I swear, either Edward is going soft on his fucktoys or I have a fucking donut on my head because you aren’t taking me seriously. What do you need me to do to get you to bow at my feet? Fucking shove my dick up your cunt like Ed does?”

Harper scoffed. “You’re fucking disgusting. I will never respect you, and you’re stupid if you think Dark has broken me. I ain’t bowing to no one.”

He grabbed her chin. “You will be.” Luther’s eyes moved toward the window, smiling once he saw his dog and the realization that came with it. “You like him, don’t you?”

Harper’s eyes widened. “W-What?”

“Kitty has a crush on Puppy,” he singsonged.

“I do not, psycho. I’m concerned for an innocent being tortured.”

Luther rolled his eyes. “Oh right, you’re a cop aren’t you?” He stopped and thought for a moment, then looked back up. “And I just figured out how to break you.”

Harper didn’t get time to ask how before the man walked out of the door and unlocked the cuffs around the dog’s ankle. He dragged Killian inside, throwing him to the ground and barking a “Stay” order, then retrieving a shock collar from his bag. He latched the collar to the boy’s neck, who was half awake and clearly scared, before finally going back towards Harper.

“Kneel.”

“No.”

Luther pulled out a remote, and Harper heard a scream come from Killian on the floor. The cruel bastard smiled as he threw the remote between his hands. “What was that?”

The familiar feeling of guilt came once again in her stomach, and Harper dropped down to her knees.

“Good kitty,” Luther praised. “This is going to be a fun day.”

It was hell. It wasn’t fun, it was fucking hell. Killian was nothing more than a bargaining tool for Luther to do whatever he wanted to Harper. Make him lunch? Yes, or the shock. Read the newspaper to him? Yes, or the shock. Kiss his shoes? Initially, no, but yes after Killian almost tore his throat out from screaming. Harper was nothing more than a slave.

Haven’t I always been before Luther?

No, you were just complying with Dark to survive and not be hurt. Now you’re complying to not get Killian hurt. He hasn't taken your mind.

Harper looked over from where she was scrubbing the floor, hearing quiet gasps of pain and sniffles. Killian was curled up in a ball in front of Luther, the former using him as a footrest as he watched TV. She looked closer and could tell that his arms were a painful red and definitely swollen. He needed medical attention immediately, not doing anything could lead to an infection.

“Luther-” The familiar scream of the boy was heard along with a faint crackle. “Sir! I mean, Sir, I’m sorry, please stop-”

“What do you want, kitty?”

“Please let me treat his arm,” Harper said, slowly making her way over to the two. She carefully grabbed Killian’s head into her hands and stared up at Luther. “Can’t you see how swollen his arms are? If the burns get infected he could die!”

Luther didn’t even look away from the TV. “Well, hopefully they won’t get infected. It’s not a huge deal.”

“It’s a third degree burn! On both of his arms! And his face!”

Luther finally looked away, nudging the boy with his foot so he could see his face. “Eh, it’s not that bad.”

“But it could be! Please, just let me treat him. You can do anything you want to me, not him.” Harper stopped, trying not to think about the endless amount of possibilities that could come with her proposal.

The man looked down at her, then at his dog, and looked back at her with a smile. “Fine, strip.”

Harper didn’t process the command for a moment, mind going blank as she stared at the man in front of her. She only saw his cruel grin and his evil eyes, she only felt the quiet breathing of the boy laying beside her. She just heard white noise.

“Harper.” With that, she snapped out of her trance, stomach dropping as she now realized the command she was given. Strip. She slowly nodded her head, arms reaching back towards her neck to unlatch the-

“Wait,” came a voice, which had not been spoken yet in this conversation. Harper looked down at Killian, who pushed himself up to a kneeling position in front of his master. “Don’t...don’t make her undress.”

“Oh really?” Luther hummed as he crossed his legs. “What offer are you going to give me in return?”

Harper’s breath stilled as she waited for the boy to respond. Don't offer yourself. Don’t offer yourself. Please, Ian, don’t offer yourself for me.

“Me. You can have me instead.”

“Ian, don’t-”

“Silent, kitty; sidenote, cute nickname. But I don’t accept your offer, Kill. I’m in the mood for cunt, not ass.”

Harper could’ve gagged. She and Killian were seen as nothing more than their objects to this man.

Luther pulled out the remote, causing both his captives to freeze. “Besides, you said you were allowed to speak?”

Killian screamed as the voltage was turned up to max, hands flying up to the collar. Harper grabbed onto the boy, screaming for Luther to turn it off. Luther did, eventually, before kicking the girl away and grabbing the boy. The two made their way to the bedroom, and Luther pushed the shaking boy into a chair. He grabbed some rope from a drawer, and tied it tightly around the figure.

Killian sat there sobbing, scolding himself for being so stupid. He wasn’t given permission to talk, now he’s going to get punished. It was all for nothing, Harper is still going to be-

Luther returned with a defiant Harper, who was using all of her strength to unlatch his hand from her wrist. The man pushed her onto the bed, and backhanded her hard against her face for good measure. Harper saw stars for a moment, then her body went still.

Luther laughed to himself, relishing the joy of seeing his doggy’s petrified face as he stared at his new friend, knowing she was about to be raped right in front of him.

“Jealous, doggy?” He asked as he began unbuttoning his shirt. “I’ve known you for years, Kill. I can see it in your eyes, you want to fuck her so bad. Too bad, this bitch is mine.”

Killian, not doggy, screamed out of frustration. He fought against his bonds, mind filled with rage. “You don’t know me at all you sick bastard! I’ve never wanted to!-”

“Hush,” Luther said in a colder tone. “I was planning on giving her lube, even going easy on her, but if you keep this up I’ll be pounding her with no mercy. You want that?”

The boy was quiet, but he still glared furiously at Luther.

“Huh? Answer me, mutt.”

The boy shook his head, rage dying down as he looked down to the floor.

“Ah, ah, ah,” His shirt was off now, and he began to climb on top of the girl with his pants unbuttoned. “You’re going to watch every fucking second of this, Killian. You know how hard I go on you, don’t make me do the same to her.”

Killian looked back up, tears beginning to drop down his cheeks. He looked at Harper, who was now slowly regaining more control, but yet at the same time stilled once she came into full focus of the man in front of her.

Luther chuckled as he knelt on the bed and began removing her clothes. “I love that look in his pets’ eyes. All of them have it; completely fucking petrified once I’m pinning them down to a bed. I bet you tried to fight it once, didn’t you? After Edward's teachings now you know to just lay down and take it.”

Harper’s lips trembled as she struggled not to cry, almost letting out a sob once her chest was fully exposed. The man’s hands caressed her torso, squeezing her breasts, before moving back down to her pants.

“Let’s see how tight you really are, hm?” Luther said once he was aligned. He turned towards the bound boy. “Pay attention, Kill. Let me show you how a real man takes a woman.”

And he did. The entire night he watched the gruesome, disgusting scene before him. He saw everything, he heard everything. He was forced to his captor’s familiar grunts and moans and his new friends' cries. He barely registered the tears falling down his cheeks. He barely felt the throbbing pain on his arms and face. He only felt deep sorrow and hopelessness. But he never looked away.

[the11tailed]

Fandom: The Magnus Archives, Star Wars The Clone Wars (2008), vague Dead by Daylight

Tags: @crc-general-orin, @crc-commodore-sana9

Reblogs are love ^-^

-

[Recorder click]

Statement of Tup Fett regarding an incident that occurred in a Junkyard when he was a child.

Audio recording by Tech Fett, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institution, London.

Statement begins

I never blamed my brothers for what happened, it was my fault in a way. I never should have gone to that junkyard. It was a dare. Just a dare. It was harmless. 

I was 7 at the time. My brother’s Fives and Echo had dared me to go into the weird junkyard out by our old house. It's not a bad junkyard. It's just a dump a few meters back of the houses. Someone started a rumor that dead bodies were found there, but many members of my family is in law enforcement and they stated that no bodies were ever found, so I never believed those tales. Fives and Echo had been charged with taking care of myself and my twin, Dogma as all other members of my family were busy. Fives and Echo are good brothers, don't misread this, but they were not babysitters.

It was obvious early on they did not know what they were doing. They took us to the Junkyard, as they went there for fun a lot. It was a short walk, and sooner than I'd like, we were at the entrance. I was a bit scared, but Dogma was petrified. He clung to Echo and refused to go in. He said the "shadow people" didn't like this place. The shadow people were Dogma's imaginary friends (yet on some days I wondered if they were really imaginary) and he had them since, well, he was four after our uncle...did some disgusting things to him. I won't go into detail, but you can guess what our uncle did. He started seeing these "shadow people" everywhere. Anyway, I'm getting off track.

Fives only laughed when Dogma mentioned the shadow people. He dared us to go in

"It'll be fun!" he had said this with such glee.

I wanted to prove to my big brother that I was brave. So I went in. It was like any junkyard I've ever seen. It was just stuff piled high with no real order to it. I wandered for a bit, not long. It was when I turned a corner did I see the gate. At first, I couldn't figure out why it put me on edge. It was pitch black, with vines from some plant coiling around it so tight it warped the metal. I could see strange flowers bloomed on various and random places on the gate. I was curious so I got closer. I wish I hadn't. I wished I had turned and walked back to Fives and Echo and didn't go through the gate. But I did.

I stepped through the gate and the world around me warped. I don't really know how to describe it. The world almost folded around me and I felt really hot and really cold at the same time. Then it unfolded and refolding again and again. When it stopped I was standing in a junkyard but it was different from the one I had been in. This one had broken down cars everywhere. The next thing I realized was that the sky had taken a red tint, casting the whole area in a red glow that sent shivers down my spine. I turned, wanting to go back, only to find the gate slammed shut. I ran to it, but it had no handle. I saw a lever, but when I pulled it, nothing happened. I was scared and so utterly alone. I reached into my pocket for my phone, I need to call for help, but found my pocket empty of any phone, lost I looked around. I spotted the generator. It was an old thing, just sitting there. It wasn't on and I got the odd feeling that I needed to fix it. I walked over to it. I didn't know what I hoped to do, I was 7 and sure as hell didn't know how to fix a generator, and yet I did. I worked on it for 2 and a half minutes and fixed it. I still have no idea how. When it clicked on I got this odd sense of dread. I got up and walked to one of the red lockers that was sitting near the generator as the sense of dread grew into terror. I opened it and climbed in, closing the door. The terror I felt made my heart hammer in my chest. And then I heard it. The thump thump of something heavy walking near. The smell of rotting flesh was so strong I nearly gagged. I knew the smell of rotting flesh anywhere. My Grandpappy Jaster owned a farm, and one time I had found a dead cow that had been missing for days. She had wandered up into a wooded area and died. I found her and vaguely remember losing my lunch and crying into my older brother, Fox's, shoulder. Grandpappy did feel real bad about that, even though it was not his fault.

I heard a snarl of rage before the heavy footfalls got quieter and quieter. The sense of fear and dread went with it. Once I could no longer feel the dread, I climbed out of the locker and hurried off in the opposite direction of the footfalls.

I have no idea how long I ran. It was a while before I ran into anyone. I mean literally, I ran right into someone. A man in his 20's wearing a suit, now torn, ripped, muddy, and bloody. He had black hair and green eyes and I would later learn his name was Anthony. Anthony looked horrified to see me. I was confused back then, but I know why now. He was scared because I was a seven-year-old kid put in a demented game with a ruthless killer, but I'm getting ahead of my self. Anthony helped me up and hurried me along. I was went with him, too scared not to. He led me to another generator.

"I'm guessing you got the 3rd generator," he said and I just nodded.

"We just need two more and then we are free," he said that with such a hopeful tone.

There was another person with us, a young woman named Sarah. She was a young woman, maybe 19 or 20 with short, dyed pink hair and a few piercings. Her clothes were tattered and bloody and I noted she had a bandaged wrapped around her shoulder, yet I could see no wound. She was already working on the gen. Myself and Anthony knelt and helped her. Soon, with a rumbling click, the gen turned on. Then the dread crept in. I looked around desperately for a locker, but found none. Anthony grabbed me and dragged me behind a stone wall. There was a tree near us and I had to hold in a gag at the scent of rotten meat wafted from the crow slung up on the bark of the tree, stomach open. Anthony put his finger to his lips and we sat there crouched. The dread turned into terror and I heard the footsteps. thump thump. Loud and commanding. I was scared, far more scared than I had ever been in my life. I was shaking and Anthony knew that. He placed a hand on my shoulder, trying to console me. Then I saw Sarah run and I got the first look at the monster. It was humanoid, an arm covered in strange, boil like spots. I think the most horrifying part was it's face. It's flesh there was pulled, I have no idea how else to explain it. There were staples on various parts of it's body. It was terrifying. It held a chainsaw in one hand and a hammer in the other and it ran after Sarah. It activated it's chainsaw and I heard it whir and then the squelch of it hitting flesh. I heard Sarah scream, a sound so raw and so painful I wanted to cry. I think I was. I watched as it threw Sarah over it's shoulder. It carried her to a hook standing in the field. It was nothing special, but I found it odd that the hook was just there, swaying ever so slightly in the wind. Then, it threw Sarah onto the hook and she screamed again. He watched her gag for a second before limping off and vanishing into the tall grass. I tugged at Anthony's sleeve

"Shouldn't we help her?" I had asked through tears but Anthony shook his head

"Death hook" was all he said

Sure enough, long spider like limps emerged from the hook and impaled her. I watched in horror as they lifted Sarah's body up as more spider-like limbs descended down and grabbed her body and lifted her up into the void above. Once her body was gone, the limbs emerging from the hook, knocked the hook off and onto the ground. I let out a chocked sob as the realization hit me. I had just watched a person die.

"C'mon kid," Anthony had said and ushered me along.

I followed numbly, I was in shock, but the gravity of our situation shook me out of it quick. We found the last gen quick. We worked on it fast, but slow enough as to not make mistakes.

"I have a kid around your age," said Anthony, smiling at me, "Once I get out of here I plan to hug them and remind them how much I love them. You got any family,"

I nodded,

"Lot's of big brothers, a dad," I sniffled, "How does time pass?"

"I've been here a few minutes, what's the date,"

"the first of august, 2009," I responded and he looked pale

"No, it's-it's the second of January," I shook my head at that and we lapsed into silence. The dread came just as the gen clicked on. We both shot up, but by that time the dread was terror. It was here. Anthony ran at it and tried to draw it away from me, but it didn't work. I ran as it chased me, fear surging through my limbs, but I was seven, I wasn't fast enough. Do you know what it feels like to be slammed in the back with a chainsaw? I can't even begin to describe the pain. It hurt worse than any injury I had ever gotten and I screamed. Next thing I knew, I was being carried over it's shoulder. It was taking me to an open field. There were two hooks. Both faced each other. He threw me on one. The pain from that was worse than the chainsaw as the metal hook ripped through soft flesh and muscles and threw bone and I screamed a blood curdling scream. I was only there for a moment when I heard a strange noise. The gate had been opened. A sense of panic hit me. Had Anthony left me to die. But then I heard the whir of a chainsaw and a cry. It hooked Anthony right in front of me. He gave me a small smile as the creature ambled off.

"Listen," he had said, "Gates open, straight ahead, hurl yourself off the hook and run, don't stop, don't try to get me, I'm on death hook, Just run,"

"How?" I cried in desperation.

"Throw yourself off the hook," he said before the limbs stabbed him and dragged him away.

I wanted to cry, but it would have to wait. I took a deep breath and threw myself forward and off the hook. There was an explosion of pain, but I didn't register it. I ran. Ran as fast as I could. I saw the gate, wide open and tore forward. The whir of the chainsaw came from behind me and I got the idea to bob and weave. I did and it worked. I knocked over a pallet with strength I didn't even know I had and tore to the gate. I ran threw the gate out without stopping. Like before, the world folded in on me and repeated until, it stopped. I was back in the junkyard, no broken cars in sight and a soft blue of the sky almost made me sob. Warm blood trickled down and, to my horror, I realized I was still hurt. I reached into my pocket and was greeted with my phone. I called the first number I could think of. 911. I just said I was hurt in the Junkyard, fell and hurt my shoulder and that I need help and fast. The operator was a nice lady, helped keep me calm. The fire and rescue arrived fast and I felt happiness when the words 212 came into view along with squad car 1010. I wanted to cry as I ran towards them. I watched Helix run and catch me and I collapsed into my cousin's arms.

"Tup?" he had sounded so horrified and I guess he had the right to.

Fox rushed over and froze when he saw me. Helix was treating me as fast as he could as Fox knelt beside me and cupped by face with his hand. He told me it was all okay now, and that I was safe. I knew I was.

I woke up in the hospital three days later. I learned that I had been missing for almost an entire month. Fives and Echo felt so guilty, blamed themselves, but I could never blame them. Never.

-

Statement ends.

Another victim of the Entity's twisted games, and my own cousin. I remember the scramble for search parties when Tup went missing, but I still lived with my abusive mom, so my brother's and I were unable to search for Tup, who had been a close friend in high school for me. After this, Tup went through a lot of therapy, but he still struggles. He informed me one day, years ago, that he too now sees the shadow people. I've seen the shadow people too. All my brother's have. They are always there, just watching us.

As for follow up, there is not much we can do. The entity exists in a realm outside of ours and we have no way of stopping it or telling who it's next victim will be.

So another dead end, but not matter. Unfortunately, most of the files in the archives have statements made by members of my family. A lot mention a horrible tragedy and the sudden appearance of these shadow people. I wish to look into them, but my own shadow people have grow restless, usually that means-

[Static on recorder]

Yes, I know

[Static]

Yes

[Static]

Fine

End recording

[Recorder click]

[damn-behzinga]

Heart Pains

Ethan Payne Centric

summary - Ethan has a lot of things that he wanted to do before he hit thirty, having a heart attack and almost dying was not one of them.

warnings - heart attack, talks of death, hospitals, angst

request? - heyy if you don’t mind could you please do more angsty ethan centric fics with the boys please thank youuu i love your writing toooooo much

     -Can u do an angsty ethan imagine with the rest of the sidemen, it can be about anything x

     - the way you write for ethan has me FERAL pls do more for him !!!!!

Ethan had been feeling off all day but brushed it off, instead putting on a smile as they shot another Sidemen football video. They were all grouped round for a two hour shoot that would work out to three videos. He had been tossing and turning all night, too uncomfortable to sleep so he was overwhelmed with fatigue.

The shoot had to go over their original time and Ethan was shaking the last of his adrenaline finally wearing down. They were packing away as JJ suggested they go drinking. Ethan wanted to throw up. Suddenly, something was very wrong.

Ethan had stopped as the guys walked across the field. He reached and gripped his chest as his breath suddenly left him. He was wheezing, breath escaping as he tried to suck breaths in. Pain rain from his back, spreading across his shoulders. He let out a groan, loud enough that it caught attention from one of their cameramen.

“Ethan?” Kon called and everyone turned to see Ethan fall to his knees, clutching his chest.

“Help!” Ethan whined out in pain as the group ran over.

“Someone call an ambulance!” Josh called and their producer pulled out her phone.

“Ethan, what’s going on?” Josh asked and Ethan just let out a wheeze as a response. “Okay, okay, let’s lay you down.” Josh and JJ helped Ethan lie down.

“Can someone get some water?” Tobi yelled as Ethan groaned in pain. One of their friends started looking through one of the bags and pulled out a bottle.

“Ethan, we need to get fluids in you.” Vik instructed, holding the bottle to Ethan’s mouth.

Ethan shook his head, his jaw going slick. “No, jaw, stop.” “What-?” Vik asked before Ethan started gagging. “Hey, Ethan we’re going to roll you over so you can throw up.” The pain bubbled through him as he was rolled over. He threw up as his friends moved back, giving him space to get everything out of the system.

“The person says he might be having a heart attack, an ambulance is on the way.” Simon explained.

“A heart attack? He’s twenty five not sixty!” JJ exclaimed. “Ethan!” Harry suddenly screamed and they all looked and found Ethan had fallen unconscious. It was like everyone had just been slapped because immediately Josh and Tobi were checking for a pulse as Vik tried to see if Ethan was breathing.

“Fuck, he’s not breathing.” Vik yelled.

“I can’t feel a pulse! Tobi?” Josh looked up and Tobi just shook his head.

“Someone perform CPR!” Their producer yelled.

Simon pushed the guys out the way and started performing CPR, thankful for the training he had to do for football.

“Come on you son of a bitch. We were supposed to film tomorrow for my main channel. You can’t be blowing me off now!” Simon was continuing the chest compressions as much as he could, ignoring the tears running down his face. He reached thirty compressions and pulled back as JJ got ready to take over whilst Vik blew deep breaths into Ethan’s mouth.

JJ swiftly took over, muttering the lyrics to ‘Stayin’ Alive’. “Mate, you got this. Come on. You are one stubborn man, you could at least be stubborn about this. Fuck you, Ethan, you never make this shit easy for me, huh?” He let out a chuckle but it was thick with clear tears. Josh blew breaths in as Tobi took over, Harry preparing to breathe into Ethan by holding his head.

He was pressing deeply, desperately trying to see his friend laugh or cry or just blink. Two paramedics were running over and skidded beside Ethan, pulling out a defib and an oxygen mask. They wiped down his chest before placing the pads on his chest.

Harry was crying, small sobs escaping him as the medics performed CPR before the shock was ready. Suddenly, the defib called for everyone to stand back and the medics backed of as Ethan jolted, the shocks trembling through him. The medics continued CPR for another minute when Ethan started jerking, his arm shooting out. The medic stopped the CPR and started checking over him.

“Ethan? Hello, can you hear us?” One of the medics asked and Ethan let out a groan, voice muffled by the mask. The medics were immediately on call with the second ambulance who were going to come and collect Ethan to send to a cardiologist.

When the second pair of medics arrived, Ethan was breathing on his own, his breaths still wheezy. The friends backed up as they loaded Ethan onto the stretcher and carried him into the ambulance. Josh spoke to them, explaining everything to them as they attended to Ethan in the ambulance.

After a minute or two of the medics providing basic first aid to Ethan when they drove to the hospital. The group followed in their own cars, someone was on the phone to Ruth but with the chaos it was hard to identify who was doing what.

Ethan was rushed into the emergency room a few minutes before the guys managed to get to the waiting room. After ten minutes of waiting, the camera crew and producer packed up and left, asking for a call when they heard anything about Ethan.

They sat in silence as they waited for news on Ethan. They didn’t have anything to say. Ethan was young and yet had a heart attack, why? Sure, Ethan had been overweight and had his addictions in the past but he had quit. So, why now?

“Family of Ethan Payne?” The doctor asked, her voice making them jump up. “How is he?” Josh asked, wringing his hands together.

“He’s in a very fragile condition but he will be okay. The next 48 hours are very crucial in his recovery. He did have a heart attack as we initially thought. He’s going to be forgetful and probably ask you many questions without taking anything in.” The doctor noted. “But you have to wait until after twenty four hours to see him so we can monitor his heart. You say his mum is on her way?” “Yes, she lives an hour train ride away-” Harry stuttered out.

“You were there when his heart stopped for approximately three minuets which means he was dead, but within time and some therapy with a cardiologist, he will recover fully.” The doctor explained and Tobi let out a sob of relief. “You can see him but only for a couple minutes but in twenty four hours, you can see him for longer than thirty minutes. Do you have any questions?” “Yes, um, we were giving him CPR before the medics, did we hurt him?” JJ asked.

“He has a bruised rib but I advise you not to feel guilty. Without that CPR, your friend would have died. You did what you needed to do.” The doctor smiled softly. “You saved him.” The men all sighed with relief.

“Is in room 4, he’s hooked up and it looks scary but it’s saving him.” The doctor said. “I’ll leave you alone with him.” “Thank you.” Josh whispered as they all moved into the room.

Their breaths were taken as they saw Ethan attached to many machines, his breaths laboured as a nurse wrote his vitals down.

“You only get half an hour, okay? And then I’ll have to make you leave.” The men nodded and stood in silence when Ruth burst in, mascara running down her face.

“Oh my-” She sobbed. “My boy, my poor boy. You’re okay, mummy’s here now.” She kissed his cheek and ran her fingers through his hair.

“Ruth, we-” Tobi started and Ruth shook his head.

“It’s okay. You saved him.” Ruth let out a small sob. “You saved my boo.” It went quiet, the only noise being from the machine and the cries from Ruth.

“You know.” She whispered, causing each man to look at her. “Ethan never really had more family than me. My parents died when he was a toddler, his fake dad left, it was just us. But he’s not alone anymore, he has brothers now. He has a bigger family than he ever would have believed.” She let out a small smile and wiped away her tears.

“You have raised an amazing son.” Vik said softly and Ruth chuckled.

“Please, you guys have made him a man.” She smiled.

They began talking about Ethan and whatever stories they could remember about him. After thirty minutes they had to leave, walking out the hospital they started parting ways when JJ stopped.

“Did you want to stay with us tonight, Ruth? We can give you a lift in the morning.” He asked and Ruth smiled.

“I can’t impose, JJ.” She smiled.

“Please, we want you to.” He said. “You don’t have to waste money on a hotel or anything.” “If you insist.” Ruth said and Simon booked them an Uber.

The next morning, the group met up at the same time the next day. They let Ruth go in first and after a half an hour she came out and told them to go in. As they walked in, they were met with Ethan’s beaming but tired and pale face.

“Hey, fellas.” Ethan grinned tiredly.

“How are you feeling, mate?” Harry asked.

“Like I had a heart attack.” Ethan responded as the guys chuckled.

“What did they tell you about it?” Josh asked.

“I had like a block in my artery or some shit.” Ethan chuckled. “Hurt like a bitch you know.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Simon commented and Ethan started laughing before stopping to let in a wheezy breath.

“Are you okay?” Vik asked, moving to the door as if he was going to get the doctor.

“Yeah, just - fucking breathless. It’ll get better but for now it’s just annoying.” Ethan explained. “Six weeks of rest for you.” Josh chuckled. “That’s so long.” Ethan groaned.

“And then you have to go to weekly appointments!” JJ smirked sarcastically.

“Oh my- you have to be joking!” Ethan groaned louder.

“It will make your recovery quicker, mate.” Tobi scolded lightly. “Jide, stop being a dickhead.”

“I heard you guys did some CPR, saved my arse.” Ethan winked.

“Yeah, and with this attitude, I’m regretting it already, lad!” Harry laughed loudly.

“Oh you can fuck right off.” Ethan flipped him off, blinking slowly as he grew tired.

[angstyaches]

Let Yourself Out

Seriously, will this day ever end for these two?!

CW: nightmares, sleep paralysis, panic, trauma, repressed memories, demonic possession, emeto, fear of/danger of drowning (abstract)

Swallow the World: The Ouija Board, Pt. 8

Charlie was watching the waves again, or at least, his mind was. He always found he wasn’t fully asleep when this happened; it happened somewhere on the edge of consciousness, where he went most deeply into his thoughts. It was dark at the edges of his vision, and it made him dizzy to turn his head too much. He was stuck staring out at the harsh pale blue of the sky, and the line it made with the sea. He sensed the eyes that were close to him, but he couldn’t meet them. Or didn’t want to.

Why didn’t you tell him?

Well, I – he was hurting so much, and it wasn’t what he needed to hear.

He doesn’t think he’s worthy of love. Seems to me it was exactly what he needed to hear.

No. No, it wouldn’t have been fair, I – I want him to know he’s worthy of love, but not just mine - 

There’s another reason you didn’t tell him.

Charlie tried to swallow, but it felt like his throat had caved in with rocks and rubble. Water sloshed around his ankles and his hips where he sat huddled up, clinging to his ankles.

I suppose I’m a bit scared that he won’t say it back.

Liar.

Charlie shivered at a creeping coldness that lapped at his feet and hips.

You’re afraid he’ll say it, and you won’t believe him.

Charlie tried to turn his head again, to look away from the increasing power of the waves, but he couldn’t get a good look at his surroundings. Every time his gaze wandered past his feet or his shoulders, it snapped back forward. He couldn’t even tell what time of day it was, no matter how hard he tried. All he could see was endless blue.

Let me out.

I didn’t put you here, Charlie.

This time, he was able to follow the sound of the voice. He looked down, into the water gathering around his body; by now, it had risen up to his waist. His own eyes were nowhere to be seen in the black chasms that stared back at him.

Let me out, please!

You’re the one with the brain. Let yourself out.

The water turned black with spreading shadows, and Charlie began to scream. It started off as a childish wailing, the sobs of an infant clawing for the simple embrace of a parent; it ended deep and hollow, a lament for things that couldn’t be changed, couldn’t be saved, couldn’t be understood. It ripped at his lungs and made his throat feel like it was bleeding. 

The cold began to spread through his body like fire, locking up his bones and crumbling his nerves until it felt like he was dying, he was dying, he was dying, and nobody cared, nobody wanted to save him, nobody cared –

I do. I always have.

Charlie’s eyes opened on his bed in Mulberry house, and he listened our for that voice again, but he was alone. No Shayne, no Charlie Two. He didn’t even feel like he counted as a presence in the room.

Hello? he wanted to ask, but he was frozen. His limbs felt like tree branches scattered across a forest floor, unable to move of their own volition, ready to be trampled by the next feet or hooves that came by, indiscernible from the rest of the twigs and fallen foliage.

Where did you go?

Charlie closed his eyes, trembling lips prying themselves apart to let out a harrowing moan, something that seemed to come right out of his bones, skipping his throat and his mouth altogether. It snaked out of him and loosened his jaw, and finally, finally, he could scream again, and he did, he screamed and he screamed, not only because he was terrified, but because he could.

He didn’t know how long it was before that feeling of being pulled underwater eased up, and he was able to curl into himself and cry, but eventually he felt arms pull him close, body heat trapping him against the rocks – no, the mattress; there was a mattress and a blanket, and he was safe, he was here, all of him was –

“Charlie.”

His crying tapered down to a pitiful squeak.

See? You did it. You’re alright.

“Charlie? Charlie, talk to me, please.”

Charlie scrambled upright, finding that he wasn’t alone after all. He must have been dreaming that Shayne had left, because there he was, sitting upright in bed next to him and staring at him like he’d seen a ghost come out of his mouth.

“Shayne,” Charlie gasped, and he threw himself towards him, scrambling until he was basically straddling him. Shayne gasped as he took his weight, but slowly pulled him close with trembling arms.

“What the hell?” Shayne choked out softly. “You were screaming, and I – I couldn’t wake you. What happened?”

“I was s-so…” Charlie’s heart and stomach felt like they were causing a traffic jam in his throat as he buried his face in Shayne’s shoulder. He couldn’t get out any of the sobs that had come so vigorously in the dream. “Scared.”

“Of what, of what?”

Charlie shook his head, just once, before it was lanced through with pain from his left temple. He winced loudly. “I – I-I can’t – can’t remember.”

“Was it Charlie Two?”

Charlie could have sworn he heard, or sensed, Charlie Two chuckling at that.

“No, no, Charlie Two was there, but…” Guilt fluttered in Charlie’s ribcage, like he was telling tales about someone when they hadn’t done anything wrong. “It was something else. It was – it was dark, but – but bright at the same time, and –”

Charlie scrunched up his face against Shayne’s shoulder, trying to stifle a gag before it could set in. The fuzzy black edges and cold tidal pull from the dream seemed to seep back towards him. The pain in his temple had crept down to his eye, and his stomach was swirling like the water had swirled against his legs in the dream. 

He felt a gurgle in his throat. “Shayne?”

“Mmm?”

“I feel sick.”

He had forgotten that he’d taken a plastic bowl from downstairs in case Shayne had needed it, until he felt Shayne shift his weight and lean across to get it. Charlie sat back a bit so the bowl would fit between them, still basically sitting in Shayne’s lap like a trembling child.

“Thanks,” Charlie muttered, clinging to the bowl with one hand, and squeezing Shayne’s shoulder with the other so he could remain upright. “So, there was – there was water, and it kept getting higher and higher, and – god, I thought I was g-going to –”

He was cut off by a violent heave from his diaphragm, lowering his head in time to let sticky yellow fluid drip into the plastic bowl. He felt Shayne tip his head against the top of Charlie’s, felt a hand snaking across his back. Charlie puked again with a guttural moan that reminded him of the sensation of trying to scream while not being able to move a muscle. He’d suffered from occasional sleep paralysis for as long as he could remember, but he’d never tried to scream in his sleep before. He gasped for breath as another wave of sick hit the bowl.

“I th-thought I was g-going to die…” Charlie blinked dizzily as he looked at his vomit sitting in the bowl that he’d positioned right under his own face and Shayne’s. He gagged, pressing one hand to his mouth to block out the smell, freeing the other hand so he could pick up the bowl.

“I’ve got it,” Shayne mumbled, taking the bowl and reaching out to put it on the bedside locker. He had also moved a fist to cover his mouth, and he closed his eyes as soon as he wasn’t in danger of knocking the bowl over.

Charlie’s heart dropped when he saw that nauseated expression. “Th-that was disgusting, I’m –”

“Sshh.” Shayne shook his head, probably in annoyance. “Here, lie back down.”

“Am I h-hurting your legs?”

“No, but you’re shaking and I’m worried you’re going to fall off the bed.”

Charlie carefully slid back onto his side of the mattress, though his legs stayed somewhat entangled with Shayne’s as they both laid their heads on the pillow. Charlie’s heart felt like it was going to break his ribs if it pounded any harder.

“Think you can sleep again?” Shayne asked uncertainly. “It’s getting bright, but you can probably get another hour or so.”

“Maybe,” Charlie sighed. His head throbbed ominously, and he buried his face a little harder against the pillow, creeping closer to Shayne’s shoulder. “I just really don’t want to have any more dreams like that.”

“You won’t. I’ll eat them if they come close.”

Charlie let out a laugh that was more like a sigh after it made it past the mess in his chest and throat, the aftermath of screaming and throwing up.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice sincere despite knowing it was a joke. He breathed deeply, lungs spasming as they recovered from the panic. “Shayne, this – this is a bit weird, but if you’re feeling okay, can I put my head on your stomach?”

“Um. Okay?” Shayne paused a second before starting to adjust the blanket. “Only if you promise not to wake up screaming again.”

Charlie let out a small moan of self-pity and contentment as he curled up with his head against the wide front pocket of the hoodie that he’d let Shayne borrow. His eyes fluttered shut as Shayne’s hand smoothed over his hair, fingertips lingering softly over the ache in the left side of his skull. 

[ask-them-bois]

Letters, pt 4: Finale

pt.1 pt.2  vf.pt.1 pt.3 vf.pt.2

(Trigger Warning: traumatic flashbacks and death.) (Settle in folks, this is quite possibly the longest one I’ve ever written)

Musrio stumbled wearily up the porch steps of his small, cozy hive that he shared with Drayco, only to stop on the porch landing and stare at the door. The sun was rising behind him, he should really go inside, he thought.

But he really, really didn’t want to go in there. It made his chest ache to think it, but it was true. He could feel his bilesack clenching with anxiety already. He didn’t want to face Drayco... Or whatever it was that looked like Drayco.

The troll he shared a hive with was not the troll he’d become black for. They were not the person who’d put a ring on his finger, or stayed up studying with him late into the day. The silver engagement band burned against his finger, and he resisted the urge to pull it off.

Not for the first time, Musrio contemplated leaving. He could turn around, right that second, and walk away. He could go back to the bookhive and look up hives that were available, far away from here. Maybe in East Alternia. Hell, he could stow away on a Fleet ship and get dropped off on another planet.

But even as he thought it, he knew he wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t. Drayco was sick, and they needed him. They’d been diagnosed with Malum Langoreum less than two sweeps ago, and were only getting worse with each night. Although... that wasn’t completely the ML’s fault. If Musrio left, and Drayco started coughing up blood again, then no one would be around to help them.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Musrio took a deep breath and opened the door. The hive was dark when he entered. That wasn’t uncommon, Drayco liked it dark, as their current medication gave them migraines.

What made Musrio pause was the silence.

The hive was dead quiet. Not even the frogs in Musrio’s aquarium in the main room were croaking. The air was still and tense. Musrio edged out of the foyer, his footsteps like thunder in his ears.

“Deedee?” He called out softly, worried. Were they taking a nap? They couldn’t be, they liked falling asleep to music. So where...? He paused in the middle of the living room, straining to hear. Drayco’s combat boots were still by the coat rack, and their leather vest still hung over a hook, so they hadn’t stepped out. Maybe they were in the backyard? With the sun beginning to peak over the horizon, it wasn’t likely.

A soft scuffle behind him was the only warning he had.

Musrio whirled around, just in time to avoid the fucking knife swinging for him.

He leaped back with a cry of shock, his legs slamming into the coffee table. His knees buckled and, unbalanced, he fell over the low table, sprawling on his back. His head slammed onto the floor and he groaned, fireworks exploding behind his eyes.

He blinked rapidly to clear them and sat up in time to see Drayco grab the coffee table, lifting it with more strength than they should have had, and throw it across the room. It slammed into the TV, shattering the screen and knocking it over. Both objects hit the floor with a deafening crash, making Musrio cringe away in fear. He scrambled backwards on his hands and feet, staring up at the bronzeblood as they turned back to look at him, the knife still gripped in their hand.

“Dr- Drxyco? I- whxt did I do?” Musrio whispered shakily, terror robbing him of his voice. The thing that was once his kissmassis didn’t reply.

Musrio’s breath caught in his throat when he saw their eyes; their eyes were black where they used to be yellow, and glowing green where they used to be brilliant amber. Musrio’s gaze flickered to the black skeletal hand tattoo emblazoned on their shoulder; it, too, was glowing a viridescent shade.

Drayco seemed to pause when they heard their name, and for the smallest, tiniest moment, Musrio saw recognition in their eyes. But then it was gone, and they were scowling, their lips peeling back to bare their fangs. They dove forward, knife at the ready to stab.

Musrio shrieked and rolled out of the way, kicking away from them and scrambling to his feet. He leaped backwards as Drayco stood and lunged again, a snarl ripped from their throat as they swung. Musrio lashed out, panicked, catching the other troll’s wrists.

“Drxyco, stop it!! Plexse! It’s me! It’s Mushy, your Mushy, don’t you- don’t you recognize me?!” He cried desperately, tears pricking the corner of his eyes. A growl rolled in Drayco’s chest as they tried to jerk their hands out of Musrio’s grip. Terrified, the rustblood hung on; he was stronger than Drayco, who’d become somewhat frail from the ML, but Drayco was still bigger than him.

The bronzeblood wrenched their wrists to the sides, effectively tearing them out of Musrio’s grip, before they swung their leg around.

Musrio bellowed in pain as he was roundhouse kicked in the stomach, sending him falling back against the wall and doubling over as he coughed, trying not to heave up his lunch. While he was distracted, Drayco flipped their grip around on the knife and rushed him again.

The rustblood looked up quickly, trying to see through the tears pouring down his face, and reached out blindly to try and stop them. His flailing hand collided with Drayco’s elbow, propelling their arm to the side and sending the blade slashing sideways instead of stabbing.

Musrio screamed this time as blood sprayed from where the knife connected. He released his grip on Drayco and clutched his face, knocking his glasses askew, as agony tore through him. From his right cheek, over the bridge of his nose, and to his left cheek, Drayco’s blade had cut a deep, jagged wound that was bleeding profusely. His legs would have given out if he hadn’t been pressed against the wall.

A snarl above him made him jerk his head back up. A fist seized him by the horn, dragging his head upwards as he wailed in pain, his face hot and fingers sticky with blood.

“Drxy-” He sobbed, but whatever he’d been going to say was cut off as the knife was violently ripped across his throat, a little messier than intended because of his struggling.

Another spray of blood, and Musrio was choking, struggling to breathe as his sweater turned rusty crimson. The fist on his horn released and he fell to the floor, gagging on the blood that pumped from his severed arteries.

He struggled to speak, to move, as his vision began to become static, like he was peering through a snow storm. Panic was filling him as fast as blood was leaving him; he was dying. A hand fisted his hair, jerking his head back up.

Through the haze, he saw the gleam of Drayco’s knife; they intended to finish the job, he thought. With a rush of adrenaline and fear, Musrio somehow got his legs under him. In a desperate ploy, he lunged for the knife.

His vision kept going black for mere seconds. He couldn’t feel his limbs. His neck and chest were soaked and hot, and his head was full of his own voice, pleading for his body to hold on.

When the darkness cleared again, Musrio found himself pinning Drayco to the ground, his knee pressed into their stomach and one hand on their face. He was confused on how he overpowered them. His other hand was raised in the air, the sticky, blood covered blade gripped in his hand. He didn’t know when he’d gotten the knife, either. His palm was bleeding from where Drayco had bitten him. He wasn’t sure how they’d gotten there; he couldn’t remember moving besides going for the knife.

His vision clouded again, but not with darkness. Tears were pouring from his eyes, and a gurgling sob rattled in his throat.

“I... I’m s- so s- sor- rry.” He croaked, before he plunged his hand downward.

The blade sliced through flesh and muscle and bone, right into his lover’s heart. Drayco moaned in pain, their struggling stopping as their body seized. Musrio coughed and choked, feeling blood splatter into the back of his throat and mouth. With a jerk, he pulled the blade back out and collapsed, falling on top of Drayco before rolling off of him.

He collapsed to the floor, staring up at the ceiling. He was dying, he thought. That was certainly annoying. He didn’t want to die yet. He coughed, gurgling out a laugh, before he shut his eyes.

Beside him, Drayco’s eyes had returned to normal, and they’d managed to turn their head to see the love of their life, dying at their side. They didn’t know how that had happened, but they knew they were dying, too. They whimpered, shaky fingers reaching for his hand. Their fingers brushed his, before their hand went limp and the lights went out behind their eyes, a final rattling, gurgling breath leaving them.

Musrio, loyal to the last,  grasped their fingers with his last bit of strength, before his heart stopped beating.

At 7:06 that evening, Drayco died.

At 7:07 that evening, Musrio died.

.

.

.

.

.

.

At 7:18 that evening, Musrio woke up.

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

Musrio tossed the letter onto the table, leaning forward and burying his head in his hands.

He was sat at the table with Drayco, their cups of coffee abandoned to the side as the two of them contemplated the piece of paper. The dark green envelope they’d pulled it from had fluttered to the floor, the golden wax seal- with an imprint of a sun with eight, wiggling rays and eight bubbles- broken.

“He’s bxck.” Musrio whispered as Drayco watched him anxiously. “He’s bxck, Dee. I thought he’d lexve us xlone xfter whxt hxppened, but...” He reached for his coffee, sitting up and taking a deep gulp of the scalding drink. Drayco reached for the letter, but Musrio’s hand shot out and caught their wrist. Drayco froze as Musrio put his mug down, gasping. “Don’t, Dee. Just... don’t. It’ll torture you more thxn it does me. Ribbit.” He croaked.

Drayco hesitated, but nodded, withdrawing their hand. “What dooes it say?” They asked. Musrio reached up, grasping his amulet and playing with it anxiously as he stared at the paper.

“They... they wxnt to meet us. They wxnt to see “whxt we’ve become”. They... they know xbout you. They know you’re bxck.” He said softly, his shoulders drawing up. “I- Dee, we cxn’t- we cxn’t go see them. We- whxt if they try to-?”

Drayco reached out and took Musrio’s free hand in both of their own, squeezing it comfortingly. “She’s noot gooing too doo that, Mushy. I woon’t let her. I have noo intentioon oof gooing back too the Black Hand, not even if their leader herself begs me back.” They soothed, rubbing the back of Musrio’s hand with their thumb.

“But... the txttoo... Whxt if they mxke you...?” Musrio mumbled, unable to look at his mate.

“Mush, I’ve toold yoou. If I coould get the tattoooo remooved, I woould. But every time I’ve tried, it coomes back. She has claim oon me, foorever, but that dooesn’t mean I have too listen too her.” They explained patiently, “He can’t toouch me anymoore. I woon’t let them. Besides, yoou put wards oon it, didn’t yoou?”

Musrio hesitated, before he nodded begrudgingly.

“Then we’re fine. They can’t toouch me if I’m with yoou. He gooes after the meek and scared, and when I’m with yoou, I feel like the bravest trooll oon Alternia.” Drayco purred. They reached up and pulled their oxygen mask down, before lifting Musrio’s hand. They raised it to their lips, kissing his knuckles softly.

Musrio looked at them, then looked away again with a huff. “Thxt’s incredibly cheesy.” He muttered, feeling his ears burn. Drayco snickered, replacing their mask and setting Musrio’s hand down.

“Babe, I’m a fucking quesoo dip when it coomes too bad lines foor yoou.” They hummed. Musrio shook his head, amused, before his small smile faultered.

“Whxt xre we going to do, Dee? He obviously knows where we live... Xnd I doubt even my strongest spells will keep him xt bxy for long. Ribbit.”

Drayco laid their chin on their palm, thinking. “... Hoonestly, I kind oof want too goo see her.” They admitted. Musrio jerked his head up, incredulous, and they hurried on, “Just because... I want too see what they’ve becoome, toooo. Last I heard of him, he was oon the rise too stardoom. I’ve seen their face oon magazines and in the news. And... I dunnoo, maybe we can reasoon with them. Secoond chances exist, yoou knoow? We coould throow her a boone.”

Musrio’s expression hardened, his eyes suddenly cold. “I don’t throw bones in front of mxd bxrk-bexsts, Drxyco.” He said, pushing away from the table and standing up. He turned away, one hand still rubbing the face of his amulet. Drayco sat up, startled, suddenly afraid they’d upset him.

“Mus-”

“Fine.” Musrio interupted with a sigh, the tension in his shoulders suddenly releasing, “We cxn go see her. But under one condition: Under no circumstxnces do you show off your other form. I don’t wxnt them to know xbout it. Ribbit.”

Drayco hesitated, before they nodded. “Deal.”

“Then go get rexdy. I’ll meet you xt the door in thirty minutes.” Musrio turned back to the table, snatching up the letter before marching towards the stairs.

While Drayco headed to their room, Musrio went up to his lab. He quietly shut the door behind himself and calmly sat down on the loungeplank, before burying his face in his hands and finally letting out the whimper he’d been bottling up.

It’s not true, it can’t be true, he couldn’t really be... could he? His heart was hammering, his organs twisting themselves into knots. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs, so there was no way he...

Lurching to his feet, Musrio stumbled to his work table. Laying the letter out flat, he glanced over it once more: 

“To my most loathsome and detested Musrio Almawt~,

I know what you are~. I know who you’ve become~. You only know hal7 o7 that, don’t you~? Lenachra~. Such an intimidating word, is it not~? And yet you are a pathetic whelp who cowers behind a god that cares 7or you not~.

The Abyssal Ravager loves only me~. They care only 7or me~. You are bound to them in a way you should not be~. You take their power, but you do not use it wisely~. You wound them with each spell you cast, you wicked beast~. Lenachras are not meant to be cruel, and yet.... look at you~.

I know what the Unspeakable Monstrosity wants~. I serve them with my whole being, as do the others o7 my band~. My Black Hands... they reach out and spread the darkness, so that all may 7ind salvation in the dark~. You work against us, but with the same god~. You don’t know what you’re doing though, do you~? No, they would not privy you to such in7ormation~. You seek, unknowingly, to bring about their end~. The power they have given you is not meant to assist you~. Were your tomb not empty, I would spit upon it~.

Speaking of empty tombs... Drayco walks again, do they not~? My sweet sibling o7 darkened 7ingers... I miss them~. They were so close to impurity, be7ore you ruined it~. They could have been the one, Musrio Almawt~. They could have brought the Slaughtering Scapegrace to us~. They could have lead the divine revolution~.

How cruel o7 you, to hold them back~. To hide them away~. They have touched our god where I could never~. I want to 7eel my lord in Drayco’s hands~. Hm~. Could we not call a truce this night~? So I may bask in my sibling’s tainted grace once more~? We can meet where you sel7ishly took them away~. I want to know what you’ve both become~.

“See” you, or not~.

Never yours, through the hell7ire o7 the Apocalyptic Blight, The Blind Phoenix~.”

Bile rising in his throat, he turned and grabbed one of the smaller grimoire that was stacked next to him on his work table. He flipped it open, rifling urgently through the pages to find what he needed. Eventually, he came across the page he was looking for. He read it over, a cold sensation creeping over him as his eyes scanned the page:

Lenachra A spirit who died a violent death with an incomplete task, or a great regret. The spirit refuses death and repossesses their own body- or another host- without ever knowing they left it. Their determination to finish their task fuels the body into working again; i.e, the heart beats and the lenachra needs to breathe. However, a lenachra cannot get sick, and their wounds close inexplicably fast.

In folklore, a lenachra becomes somewhat of a guardian, or a shepherd, to other lost souls. As they walk both life and death, other spirits will flock to them in hopes of assistance with crossing over or repentance. There are recorded cases of lenachras supposedly being able to speak to actual gods.

Many lenachras find a capability for magic that may not have been there in their first life. There are a handful of recorded incidents where lenachras find themselves drawn to jobs such as priesthood, sainthood, sorcery, and necromancy.

“Lenxchrx.” Musrio whispered, his voice trembling. His whole body was trembling, actually, and he leaned heavily on the table to hold himself up. He... he was undead. He was a corporeal spirit- how could he not know that?! How could he not sense it?!

Jerking straight up, he whipped around, grabbing his amulet again. He shouted, and shadows bled into being before him, regarding him with glowing eyes.

“Did you know?!” He demanded of the shadows, “Did you know what I xm?! Why would you not tell me!?” The spirits whispered to him, their voices overlapping a hundredfold in his mind. He clasped his hands over his ears. “Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up! Begone!” He snarled. He stomped his foot, and with a shock wave of brilliant light, the shadows vanished.

Musrio crumbled to the floor, grasping at his own hair and clawing at his face. His claws caught on his skin, sending little bursts of stinging pain through his skin. “It hurts!” He shouted at no one, “It hurts, I cxn’t be dexd! I’m not dexd! I- I cxn’t... c- cxn’t...” His words turned to mush in his mouth as he hiccuped, before a sob burst from his voice box.

As he shut his eyes tightly, memories flooded unbidden through his mind.

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

He felt like he was suffocating, like there were hands around his throat that were squeezing, squeezing, squeezing- bright bursts of light popped behind his eyes, like stars or fireworks. When he woke, everything was pain.

He couldn’t see anything but darkness. He couldn’t hear anything, the silence more deafening than a bullet train blaring by. It was terrifying, being void of sensation. He couldn’t even tell if he moved an arm or leg. All there was was pain and... nothingness. He tried to speak, but he couldn’t feel his tongue, his teeth, his lips- so he thought it instead.

"I need your help." 

"And to what concern is that of ours?" A voice spoke from the darkness. Although it whispered, it nearly burst his eardrums. It was like a million voices, every voice that ever uttered a sound since the dawn of time, spoke in unison. They folded over each other, the sound rolling like the waves of an ocean as it needled into his ears and threatened to rip his sanity like paper.

"I wxnt to mxke x dexl."

"We do not deal with mortal worms."

"Then mxke me immortxl if thxt's whxt it'll txke for you to listen, dxmmit! I don't cxre, I wxnt your power!"

"... Our power?" He felt something shift in the air- water? space?- around him, and he got the sense he'd caught their attention.

"Yes. Give me power over life xnd dexth, over the dexd xnd living, over elements xnd nxture."

"What do you offer in return?"

"My body. My soul. Whxtever’s left. My plxce in the xfterlife. Use me xs x vessel. Xnd when I die, you get the rest of me. Ribbit."

".... Interesting. And you do this for the one that tore you apart. You would break yourself, burst from your old flesh like a cocoon, and become an entity that not even the simulacrum of mentality can rival, for the one that would never do the same for you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Whxt do you cxre for the whys?"

"We know and see all, but the minds of mortals are a buzzing chaos that we cannot touch without great distress to the host and to our wavering being. We know what will happen, but we do not know what meager thought will spark the tar that bubbles over your fates, scorching your presence from our conscious and from the clustering lights you cling to as signs of hope."

"You sure txlk x lot, with x bunch of fxncy words. Doesn't thxt get boring?"

"It is the way we are. We are everything and nothing, both at once and not at all. We are the minds of the dark remnants, the reaching, grasping claws of burned out stars, the hunger of black holes, and the singularity of being. Our belly is the night sky upon your home world, but we cannot be touched by your ships.

We are the thing that first crawled from the primordial ooze, and the last to ever leave, for we are still emerging. We are your cosmos and your universe, your very reality and fragility of mental capacity. We are the symphony that plays upon the arrival of meager gods, and the choir that sings them back to oblivion."

“Do we hxve x dexl or not?"

"You amuse us, Musrio Almawt. We have a deal. Your soul and flesh, for our power.”  To hear his name uttered by the being was indescribable feeling; like a thousand fingers touched every inch of his nervous system, all at once. Like a weight was thrust into his gut, bursting him open from the inside until he was nothing but a mist of remains and blood. Like he simultaneously died in every way, both conceivable and not, only to be wrenched back into his skin by a pair of giant claws.

Pain, more agonizing than a gunshot, more than a bath in acid, suddenly shot through his body from the top of his head down to his toes. He felt his body- was it his body? Maybe it was his brain- contort, and then it felt like he had no body at all.

He looked down at his hands; they were black. Stars swirled in his palms. Whole galaxies danced and spun on his body. He breathed, just to see if he could. When he exhaled, stars spun from his breath and swirled around him. The stars and planets and everything on his skin seemed to slide off like water, joining the swirls around him. He could no longer tell between his body and the darkness of space. The universe around him spun faster and faster until it was a blaze of white that hurt his eyes, but he couldn't close them.

“Stop thxt!” He commanded in his head. The stars stilled, resuming their gentle spins. He reached out and touched one. It was warm, like cupping a mug of coffee. Everything inside him and around him felt… Right. He felt powerful, yet content and sleepy. His mind was filled with every whispered secret the universe held, yet it was beautifully blank as showers of stars raced behind his eyes. A clarity he could never achieve in his own skin had filled him.

"This is our gift to you. You have been washed in our blood, and so you become of us. Waste this gift not, for you are the harbinger of a story that must be told, and never forgotten."

"I'm whxt?"

"Goodbye, Musrio Almawt."

He was suddenly hurled through space and time, stretched and compressed, twisted and smoothed back into his skin, until he sat up with a cry. He looked around, to see his dead matesprit at his side. A shudder of revulsion went up his back; he’d killed them. They’d attacked, and he killed them. They would have killed you, his mind argued.

The smell of blood was thick in the air. He must have passed out after stabbing them, he tried to reason with his panicking thinkpan. He shakily got to his feet and stumbled away from the scene. He lurched for the door, before he ripped it open and took off into the sunrise, grief and shame overwhelming him and spurring him on. His amulet bounced against his chest; he was too blinded by the sunrise and tears to notice the eyes were glowing.

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

“Mushy? Mushy!”

Musrio gasped, snapping back to the present as he felt Drayco’s arms envelop him. He pitched forward, clinging to his mate like a frightened wriggler.

“Mush, what- what happened? are yoou ookay? Are yoou hurt?” Drayco asked anxiously, but Musrio couldn’t speak past the tightness in his throat. He hiccuped and groaned, tightening his grip on them. Drayco, thankfully, understood. They clutched him close, petting the back of his head soothingly, like he was a child in need of consolation.

After several minutes, he managed to wrangle himself together enough to pull away. Drayco pulled back, gently cupping his face and wiping the red, wet stains from his cheek with their thumbs. Musrio reached up and clutched their hand, blinking rapidly. Drayco’s eyes searched his face, their brows creased with worry.

“What happened, Mush?” They whispered. Musrio opened his mouth, then shut it again, struggling to push the words off his tongue. After several attempts, he gave up and just pointed at the table. Drayco glanced at it, then released him, standing up. Musrio stayed where he was, slumped on his knees on the floor as Drayco gingerly stepped around him to look at the table. After a long, painful two minutes, he heard Drayco whisper, “Ooh.”

“D- D- Drxyco- I’m- I-” Musrio rasped, looking up as Drayco walked back around him and knelt before him. Drayco cupped his face gently, shooshing him softly and papping his cheek; a gross breach of their quadrantal status, but Musrio couldn’t care less. He needed the comfort now more than ever.

“Breathe, Mus.” They soothed. Musrio forced himself to take a deep, rattling breath.

“I... Drxyco, wh- whxt do I- whxt xm I- I- I thought-?” He asked brokenly, unsure what he was trying to say as he clutched his mate’s arm.

“Yoou’re Musrioo.” Drayco said firmly, their eyes boring into Musrio’s, “Yoou’re my matesprit. Yoou’re a necroomancer. Yoou’re a doork whoo likes froogs and pizza and bad moovies.”

“But I’m- I’m dexd. I died, Drayco!”

The bronzeblood raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “And? I died, toooo, Mush. Remember?” They grabbed their shirt collar and pulled it down, showing off the scar on their chest, before releasing it. “Noow looook at me. I’m back, I’m fine. ...Mostly. Yoou get used too it.” They smiled softly. Musrio paused, brought up short by that, before he giggled inexplicably.

“Oh, right.”

“We’re dead, booth oof us.” Drayco nodded.

“Yexh?”

Drayco pursed their lips, before they grinned. “Soo... I guess we’re in heaven, since I can’t imagine being anywhere else with yoou.” They said cheekily. Musrio actually laughed that time, slumping against their shoulder.

“That was even worse than your other joke.” He mumbled; but he did feel better, he admitted silently. Drayco laughed, too, pressing their mask to Musrio’s head in a mock kiss.

“Yoou’re welcoome.” They murmured. They held their mate a minute more, before they sighed. “Yoou ready too goo see him?”

Musrio tried to repress the sense of dread attempting to crawl up his spine.

“Yexh.”

........

Every instinct in Musrio was screaming at him to turn back. Every step he took was a struggle; his feet felt heavier each time he lifted them up. Still, he made his way forward with Drayco at his side, until, at last, they stood before their old hive.

The hive he’d bought with Drayco just after their engagement, a cozy little den, all their own, on the edge of the city. Musrio could recall being so excited about it, delighted to have a place, an escape, away from the rest of the world. But now, as he stared at it, all he felt was hard, heavy apprehension.

The lawn was overgrown, covered in choking weeds and sprawling brambles. The roof was caving in, and the front windows were busted. Graffiti covered the wall, above the rotting porch. The door was hanging on by a single hinge, creaking softly in the breeze as it hung open like a broken jaw, revealing a dark interior.

“... Are you here, Phooenix?” Drayco finally called.

A lilting, merry laugh rang out from inside the hive. “Oh, yes, my sweet sibling~. I am here~.” A voice answered. A tapping sound, and a troll emerged from the dark, gracefully and carefully stepping over the rotten boards in the porch, guided by the ivory cane they wielded. They descended the steps carefully and stood before them as they turned their head in the direction of the other two. “No need to call me such a 7ormal title, Drayco A7asia~. You are one of mine~. You may call me by my real name~.” They hummed, before sighing wistfully. “It’s been too long since I beheld your presence~.”

Drayco growled lowly in their throat. “Noot loong enoough...

Oliver Maddel.”

Oliver arched an eyebrow. “Oh, indeed~?” He murmured, his fingers drumming on the top of his cane, before he laughed. He turned his head in Musrio’s direction. “Hello again, lenachra~. The last time you stood before me-”

“Drxyco hxd just died, xnd you were trying to get me to join your little squxd.” Musrio spat, “I remember. Ribbit.”

Oliver chuckled. “Indeed~.” She repeated, rubbing her thumb over the head of her cane; it was shaped like a bird with its wings spread, and her thumb was rubbing the beak.

“Why did yoou call us here, Ooliver? What doo yoou want?” Drayco asked, narrowing their eyes warily.

“Can I not call on an old 7riend~? Can I not greet my sibling as I’ve done be7ore~? I only wanted to remind you o7 who you belong to~.” Oliver cooed, smiling in their direction.

“I doon’t beloong too yoou, oor anyoone!” Drayco snapped, “I’m noot yoour sibling! Noot anymoore!”

Oliver laughed again. “Oh, my sweet, sweet Drayco... you do belong to someone~. All three o7 us are bound to the same god.” She stepped forward, her smile widening with glee.

“Neviserrath Apocriyna~.” He whispered, letting the name hang heavy in the air, “The god that binds the three o7 us~. Truly, they do not love you, or you would know their name~. They gave all three o7 us our powers, so that we may be the opposing sides in a divine war~.”

“There is no wxr, Oliver. I xm not plxying your little gxme. I-” Musrio began, before Oliver shook his head, tisking.

“Oh no no no no, my dear, sweet, stupid lenachra~. It is not my game you play~. When you accepted the powers our god gave you, you added your piece to the board, joining a game I was already winning~. Your powers are but a meager, weaker copy of my own~. This game is rigged in my 7avor, Almawt~.”

Musrio narrowed his eyes. “Whxt hxve you done with your powers, other thxn fuck up people’s lives xnd ruin literxlly everything? Ribbit?” He hissed.

Oliver’s smile, somehow, got bigger. “I made someone a gi7t~!” He cried, “I brought back someone very, very special~. Oh, yes, my little spirit, you’re not the only one who can do that~.” She added, laughing. “I didn’t think it would go so well, since it was my 7irst time~. I’ve been much too busy, juggling my stardom, career, and my Black Hand, but I 7ound the time to do it.~”

“Soo... whoo did yoou bring back?” Drayco asked, suddenly worried they were heading into round two with their ancestor, Forsaken. Their grip tightened on Musrio’s hand, and Musrio could see them beginning to tremble.

“Who else~? My own ancestor, o7 course~! Oh, he’s a hardened man, who doesn’t care 7or me, but that’s fine~. The Deadscar Wanderer has another person who is much, much more important to him~. I gave him the directions, and o77 he went~!” He shook his head, before turning it towards Drayco, “Ah, but that does not matter now~. I wanted to see you again, my sweet sibling, and ask if you would not come back to me~? Your brothers and sisters of the dark miss you~.”

Drayco’s throat rumbled with a growl again. “Fuck noo. I’m never cooming back too yoou, Ooliver, noot even if my life was oon the line. I’m doone with yoou, with the cult, and with your “Good.”” They turned away, “Yoou wanted too be “in my presence”, and yoou have been. I’m gooing hoome.”

They released Musrio’s hand and spun on their heel, marching away. Musrio was relieved Oliver was blind, so they couldn’t see how badly Drayco was shaking; they’d reached their limit of being near the oliveblood. He turned to follow, completely fine with not saying a courteous goodbye, before he glanced back to Oliver, who’d turned their head in his direction.

“Who... did you send him to?” Musrio asked.

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

Innocent looked up from his book, surprised by the sound of a knock on the front door. He glanced around; he was alone at the hive tonight. Incoding was on a date with Decaying, and Ruthless had gone to visit Survivor.

Apprehensive, he set the book to the side and pulled his mask up, quietly moving to the door. He paused, listening, but heard nothing on the other side. After a moment, there was another polite, brief knock. Innocent hesitated, before he unlocked the several bolts and latches and opened the door.

He froze stiff at the sight of the troll before him.

“I... Ishran...?” He whispered, barely daring to believe this was real.

“o|==> Nice to see you, too, Amadri. You’ve grown.” Ishran rumbled.

Innocent felt a tremor rock up his spine from hearing his own name. “... How are you... where... how did this...?” He stammered, pulling his mask down again. Ishran shrugged.

“o|==> I do not question it. My descendant says he did it. I only cared to find you again. ... May I come in?”  Although his face was expressionless, the limeblood knew that was the equivalent of the oliveblood throwing his arms around him and gleefully announcing he’d missed him.

“Wh- oh, yes, of course, please!” Innocent- Amadri- said quickly, flustered, pulling the door open wider and waving the other man in.

The Deadscar Wanderer stepped into the small hive and looked around, although his expression gave away nothing of what he was thinking. He spotted a photo on the bookshelf, of Amadri and his morails.

He stared at it, as Amadri stared at him. The man who’d protected him since a grub, who looked over him until he was six sweeps old, who died protecting him after they’d been separated, whose final letters were still tucked at the bottom of his quiver... was standing in his living room. He’d resigned himself to the fate of never seeing his pseudo-lusus again, his thinkpan was having a hard time grasping that he was back.

“o|==> Seems we have a lot to catch up on.” Ishran said at last, making Amadri jump as he turned to him, “When do I get to meet the family?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

EVERYONE PLEASE WELCOME OLIVER AND ISHRAN MADDEL!!!

[lucas-lowe]

TASK 2: IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER

July 2010.

Luke idly glared at the retreating dark of the dawn. His stomach let out a pathetic growl, or more accurately, a dying squeak. There comes a point in starvation where you can’t even sleep because of the hunger, and Luke was far too familiar with that pang.

The earth beneath his back was stiff and cold like a cadaver, and he could not think of a reason to get up. His head knew he should go look for food, something to eat-- like one of those small rat like creatures he saw in the woods, a fish swimming in the stream, the berries he ate a few days ago that made him threw up all night. Anything. If he couldn’t find anything to eat, he at least needed to get water. But no, his body didn’t want to move.

Luke coughed off a weak laughter, wheezing at this madness. He was stranded in some kind of an island, like that guy Crusoe in the book, with a group of lunatics who were probably in some cult-- something about elements and the First and not aging. As soon as his ankle healed, he slipped out of the camp and made his way to the west edge of the land. 

The trouble was, Luke didn’t know a thing about surviving in the nature. He was a city boy through and through. Even when he was without a home, he could have dumpster-dived and scavenged for food in the city. No such option on this godforsaken island. He didn’t know how to hunt or fish, didn’t know what berries are edible or not. He couldn’t even start fire for fuck’s sake.

Perhaps he should have stayed with the cultists, learn a thing or two about the island living. But no, his tendency to isolate himself got to him again, and he would probably die out here.

December 1997.

The night descended on the open road, breathing down the chilled air on his neck. The cold crept up to his blistered feet, seeped into his shivering bones, and he feared that he was marked for life. The ghost of a white breath danced before his eyes before vanishing without a trace. A raggedy backpack, a half-empty water bottle and a few pieces of clothing were all he had.

Empty-handed and alone, yet he had persisted for almost a year on his own. But for how long? He ran out of his saving months ago. He doubted that his family was looking for him-- if they ever bothered to, that is-- but he couldn’t be too careful with the Lopes. He couldn’t live on the streets forever, either. That’s why he was bound westward, to find a better life for himself. Start anew.

No car had passed by for hours, so he had given up any hope of hitchhiking to the closest town, and had started walking. He was under no illusion that he would get anywhere like this. It was just that he had nothing but his own two legs, and walking was all he could do.

He stopped to catch his breath as his bad leg started to ache. “What the fuck...” he said out loud just to remember his own voice. What the fuck am I doing? Since he couldn’t afford a bus ticket, he reasoned his options were either hitchhiking or walking. But this was his only pair of shoes and it had already started to show wear and tear. He didn’t even own a map so he just had a vague idea that he was heading west. He was, absolutely and completely, un-fucking-prepared for this journey.

A shaky sigh escaped from his cold, empty stomach as he dropped his backpack and flopped down next to the empty road. Up above his head was the cruelly brilliant sky full of stars, and the vast wilderness stretched as far as he could see, but his eyes lingered on the cracks of the asphalt. He knew there was nothing for him out there-- no star watched over him, no light guided his path, and no one was coming to save him.

He had nowhere else to turn but himself.

He should feel sad, or scared, but all he could do was laughing at himself. The truth of the matter was, he was far too talented at isolating himself in a self-destructive way. He knew that. He could have easily asked for a help, but he didn’t. He could have picked a safer, less strenuous journey, but he didn’t. He simply didn’t know how to exist any other way.

The stars burned bright above. He just didn’t look up. There were lights in the distance. He just closed his eyes. Maybe, and just maybe, someone was out there waiting for him-- he just refused to believe that. That very thought scared the life out of him. It was so much easier to hide alone in the dark, not found, not missed, not needed and wanted and loved. No one could hurt him if they couldn’t found him.

So how could he not laugh at himself? This was his own fault, no one else’s.

He breathed in the frigid, forlorn air, let it filled his lungs, and got back up to his own two feet. He stretched his creaking legs, cracked his neck, and turned his eyes forward.

He dug himself into this grave and laid himself down. So it was his job to claw his own way out.

May 1995.

[tw: gun, death]

The sun came up nevertheless, even after a sinful night.

Almost everyday, he watched the frozen colors of daybreak painting the sky. Waking up in the morning, on his way to the training or on the track, he had seen it until it became a part of his routine. But until today, he didn’t realize how painstakingly beautiful it was.

A man just died by the hands of another, yet the dawn was terribly radiant.

“You okay there, kid?” asked Pablo as he lit a cigarette. Pablo was a tall guy with the unkempt, bushy beard, and always smelled like a mix of smoke and horribly musky cologne. He was one of Father’s henchmen, the trusted kind.

Leaning against the hood of the car, he fixed his dry eyes on the sunrise without words. He didn’t know how he was, to be honest. He could still taste the last night’s dinner in his throat after throwing it all up. His body was sore and he could use a shower or ten. So no, he wasn’t okay. 

They had arrived at this riverbank a few hours ago as three. Now they were only two. ‘Take care of it’. That was Father’s order. 

He quietly ran a thumb on his blistered, dirt-covered palm.

-----

“You know how to use this?” Pablo asked, holding out a grip of a loaded gun. They stood over the brand new grave in the field, both of them covered in sweat and dirt. He never liked guns. Having the weight that could end someone’s life in his hands wasn’t exactly pleasant.

And then Pablo dragged out the third man from the trunk of the car. Blindfolded, tied and gagged. Pablo forced them down on them knees. Their bloodied head and shoulders were shaking uncontrollably. They reeked of desperation and piss, squeezing out a muffled, incomprehensible plead.

He unlocked the safety and cocked the gun just like his brother taught him. ‘Man, your aim’s terrible.’ He remembered Leandro’s crooked laughter when he had managed to hit none of the beer bottles set up as practice targets. He brought the gunpoint up to the back of the captive’s skull. The shudder crawled up the barrel and grasped at his hand like barbed vines.

The cry morphed into a terrible howl, held back only by the spit-soaked gag. It begged and begged and begged for mercy, while spewing fear and rage and curse.

And he wondered, do any other animal beg for their life? Do they experience the same primal hatred that burns in your chest, the ashy black smoke of grudge you exhale at the one who holds your noose? Not just the instinct of self-preservation expressed in aggression, but the acute malice humans carry like a venom.

Because he wished he couldn’t understand what was buried underneath the scream.

Please, I’ll do anything.

He wished he couldn’t feel a thing.

I don’t wanna die.

His finger wrapped around that trigger and--

He lowered the gun, only to realize that he was covered in cold sweat. He couldn’t pull it. It wouldn’t take much force to squeeze that trigger. Just a tiny movement of the finger, and the gun would roar, and all this would be over. That was the impossibly thin line he couldn’t cross, the infinitesimal difference between a man and a killer.

He fumbled at the safety, shivering. His hand was locked in place and couldn’t let go of the gun.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay,” said Pablo, approaching him gingerly. A much bigger hand gently peeled his off the gun.

He stumbled backward as his knees gave in. The captive was now sobbing. From relief or panic, he couldn’t tell. But before he could process it, he heard the mechanical click, followed by a gunshot. With his ears ringing, he stared blankly as the headless body fell into the grave with a thud.

-----

“For what it’s worth,” Pablo started, polluting the fresh morning air with his cloud of smoke. “I thought this whole thing was fucked up.”

He didn’t reply, staring at the sunlight shattering against the surface of the murky river. No speck of cloud wandered in the sky above, and it would be the perfect sunny day of May. The air smelled of cigarette and late night rain. Three or so ducks swam about in the water, quacking without a care in the world. No care at all.

“Hey, don’t worry about your father,” Pablo blurted out. “I’m not gonna rat you out.”

“...okay.” He wasn’t particularly worried about Father. He thought whatever would happen would happen. What he didn’t understand was why would Pablo take a risk like that. He was just too tired to question it. “Thanks.”

The weight shifted as Pablo walked over to his side and sat down on the hood of the car. “Want some?” He extended a stick of cigarette.

He stared at the wrinkled packet in Pablo’s big hand, and then back toward the river. “I can’t.”

“What? You’re old enough.”

“No,” he said, “I run tracks. Can’t fuck up my lungs with that cancer sticks.”

“Oh,” Pablo thought for a second before putting out the cigarette. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

Pablo fished out a pack of gum instead. Without asking, the older man handed one over to him. Instead of unwrapping it, he just stared at it in silence. It was mint. 

Disgustingly, his empty stomach demanded food with a grumbling. He recognized in a sick sense of detachment, that nothing had changed. The morning still came. The sky didn’t collapse. They could still talk about insignificant things. He still wanted a breakfast. Maybe no red meat, not at least for a few days, but he was still hungry.

And that moment, he realized that absolutely nothing would change if he were to die. The world would continue regardless.

July 2010.

Luke jolted out of his sleep. Groaning, he forced himself to sit up and rubbed his forehead. He couldn’t have been out longer than a few minutes. The sun was still rising toward the east, and the sky was ablaze with cold amber. He rose to his feet and dragged himself toward the western cliff of the island. Might as well watch the sunrise, he thought. 

Just when he reached the end of the land, it occurred to him that he should have gone toward the east for the sunrise. His brain must have gone on a hunger strike or something. 

Standing by the edge, he looked down into the mouth of the ocean, its jagged teeth and dark depth. That’s a long way down, he thought. The ocean collided into the land and shattered, crying out in the cacophony of waves. The light was yet to reach this side of the world, but gradually and surely, the boundless firmament was waking up. From the fading darkness emerged thin whisks of clouds. He sat down by the cliff, and aimlessly watched the clouds traveling westward, toward the horizon and beyond.

Even on this god-knows-where island, the world was as always infuriatingly and unabashedly beautiful. It taunted him, a tiny, meaningless blob of existence compared to its marvel, that it didn’t give a damn.

“Fuck my life,” he sighed to himself, laying back down and promptly finding the cliff to be the worst place to lie down. More clouds rushed by him toward the ocean, carried by the salty, lukewarm wind.

Death didn’t scare him-- not in the way it should, anyway. He knew it didn’t matter if he died here or not. He could starve himself to death, eat a poisonous berry, get eaten by a... whatever the fuck that lived in the Jungle, or jump off the cliff-- and the world would not care.

It’s just that, to him, death felt like admitting defeat.

Luke shot his final glare at the audaciously bright sky. He survived his family. He survived the streets-- hell, he was thrown into the ocean with bricks tied to his leg, and that didn’t kill him. Surely, it would take more than an island away from the civilization (and with possible cultists) to kill him.

So he got back up to his feet, as he always did, ready for another day of hunger.

[juicylivy]

Comfort

Pairings: Yang Jeongin x Bang Chan

Genre: fluff, angst.

Words: 2.4k

Summary

Jeongin has a horrible nightmare, luckily his boyfriend and members are there him.

────────•°•❀•°•─────────

Sleep. It was something that Jeongin liked a lot. Falling into that deep state of mind, where you entered your own alternate universe. It's as if, you've left your own body, but you're still breathing. It's an escape from everything and a thing that calms the mind. Though at that moment it wasn't to him.

He was standing in the middle of a big empty house, filled with furniturs, picture frames hanging on the walls, and different types of plants placed all around the facility. It was a place that should've been filled with the laughter and joy from a sweet family, but it was deserted - not a single sound was heard in that spacious mansion. This was weird. Why was it so silent? Jeongin turned around several times, trying to look for his members. Tried to look for Minho, HyunJin, and Jisung in the living room playing video games, find his boyfriend Chan in his studio working on a track with Changbin, ran towards the kitchen to perhaps see Seungmin looking through the fridge for what could be edible, and Felix who always sat at the table in the dining room, either playing on his phone or writing lyrics. But none of them were to be seen - where were they? Everything was a sad grey color and  A note sat on the kitchen aisle, Chan's neat handwriting scribbled across the white piece of paper. He sighed in relief, thinking that they had gone shopping for groceries, or snacks that they had almost run out off. He also thought that his sweet boyfriend could've found some sort of prank to pull on him. But when he began reading the note, he saw that, that wasn't the case.

"Innie, dearest Jeongin. This is a goodbye letter. JYP-nim couldn't see you fit for the task as the 8th member of Stray Kids anymore due to your lack of enthusiasm and hardwork and honestly, we thought the same. We couldn't picture you in this group anymore because of it. And... This is gonna be heartbreaking and I'm so sorry, but Innie, this is also a goodbye to our 2 years long relationship. It just doesn't feel right anymore for me - you must've felt it too. The spark has died down and trying to keep us together would be a waste of both of our times... I'm sorry Innie, but this is goodbye."

A great shot of shock and immense surprise ran through his body all at once. Thoughts left his mind and he stared into distance. He knew he was lacking in the new comeback, he knew he had some trouble remembering the new dances and with the recording of their new tracks too m, but was that really something he could be thrown out of the group for? Was this a good enough reason for his members, whom he saw as brothers, to agree and leave him without a notice? And most importantly, how was it that Chan suddenly decided to also abandon him? As his leader, lover, and best friend, it was kind of his job to try and find some way to keep him in the group. He knew how much he valued them all and his career.

It had to be a dream. Something as shallow as this couldn't be anything other than a bad dream. He shook off the shock, determined to try and escape this reality. Pain was said to be a good way to break out from a dream, so he tried pinching his arm as hard as he could, and winced as the pain filled his lower left arm. It didn't work. He tried once more, but with biting instead, but that wasn’t helping either. He tried repeatedly with various forms of ways to inflict injuries, but to no avail. He couldn't wake up.

At last he gave up and sat down on the floor up against the wall that connected the living room and the kitchen. Could this be real? Did everyone actually leave him alone? At this point it seemed to be true. He was indeed all by himself.

Slowly the discovery settled in his heart and it broke into tiny puzzle pieces scattered on the floor, not able to be put back together. His body began to shake softly as the tears started running down his face. How had it come to this? After those two years of being a group, after the struggle they all had to go through to debut, they'd seriously get him out of the group, and their lives, just like that? Soon the grief got too great and he couldn't handle it anymore, resulting in him beginning to sob uncontrollably. He wished he could turn everything around and been more into the dance practices and shown more enthusiasm with recording. He wished he could've saved his and Chan's relationship, and seen that the spark was dying. What was he supposed to do now? He was all by himself in that huge empty place with no sounds and-

“Jeongin!”

Someone was yelling for him... What? Gradually the scenery faded, morphing into a blur.

"Innie!" Chan screamed for him, shaking his body vigorously.

Jeongin shot up in bed, tears streaming down his face and little sobs leaving his mouth. He frantically tossed and turned trying to see if he had finally escaped the horror that was his dream.

He had.

Everyone was sat around his bed in his and Jisung's room, worry plastered on their faces. Chan was right in front of him, tears in his eyes. He let out a loud cry and flew forward to cling onto his lover in such a harsh way, Chan ended up coughing.

"Channie!" He cried out. Never in his life had he been so glad to see him.

"Shh, Innie. I'm right here, love," Chan soothed and rubbed his back comfortingly. His was voice groggy from seeing his boyfriend cry out so loudly in his sleep. The others chimed in sitting all around him in his bed, hugging him and telling him reassuring and loving words. Little by little, his crying died down, and he could breath now without hiccuping. Inhaling Chan's sweet cologne helped him calm down entirely and he was at last back to normal. His boyfriend released him from the embrace slowly and stared into his red eyes, a little soft smile displaying on his face.

"Baby, what happened?" He asked with a honey like tone to his voice and caressed Jeongin's cheek.

"Yeah: You got us all terrified there," Changbin said sounding distressed from the left, being one to hug him from behind.

"I almost lost it when I saw you crying here, and not being able to wake you up," Jisung explained, his voice equally as groggy as Chan's, but also saddened. His face dropped a bit, hearing what they felt - he had made them all wake up in the middle of the night, because he had a nightmare. Sure there was nothing he could do about it, but it didn’t feel nice.

Jeongin sighed and gathered up his strength and courage to talk about his horrifying dream. While explaining the dream slowly the room was completely silent, everybody listening thoroughly and patiently to his stammering story of his nightmare. He was feeling awkward talking about it so soon after, but he'd have to tell his brothers this eventually and the fastest way to get over something was to talk it out with someone.

When he finished speaking he looked down at his legs, fidgeting with his fingers. He felt a little uncomfortable with everyone being so quiet and looking at him, but it didn't last long until everybody began to aggressively show him love and affection, giving him all sorts of comforting words and reassurances.

"That's absurd! Stray Kids isn't whole without you! And throwing you out of the group just because you didn't show too much enthusiasm is dumb and shallow." Minho looked angry and perplexed, but his voice was emitting reason and care towards him as he sat in front of him with his feet in his lap. Jeongin was a little taken aback by his exclamation, but ended up smiling, because he knew that Minho didn't intend to invalidate his feelings. He was only sad and hurt by the dream Jeongin had and it was only reasonable he felt that way. 

"Yeah, and Jeongin, we would never agree to such stupid logic. You're one of us and that's how it'll be. We all know that you love us, so if you had difficulties, we would at least try to help you out of it, since we love you too." Seungmin explained, sitting down beside his right hip on the floor, smiling sweetly up at him. He grinned shyly at his words; it was unusual for Seungmin to be that soft. Though he was affectionate around him and a person he could lean on.

"Exactly. You're our maknae, our bean worm, and as your big brothers, who love you, we will always protect you and support you." Felix tightened his arms around his waist, leaning his chin on his shoulder. Jeongin laughed wholeheartedly at the nickname and his worries began fading.

"Baby." Jeongin immediately turned his attention to Chan sitting in front of him, his hands holding his hips. He turned bright red at the adorning look his boyfriend's face held, his deep brown eyes filled with love only for him. "You know I love you more than anything, right?" He carefully nodded while holding eye contact. "Then you know, I wouldn’t leave you. I don't want to be without you, so if you should go away, I would go with you. I'll always be yours and by your side, my love."

Jeongin grinned, being filled with happiness. He knew that, but after what happened just minutes ago, this was what he needed to hear. He leaned forward, pulling Felix and Changbin with him, and pressed his forehead against Chan’s. Both of them were smiling, also when they shared a loving kiss, getting gag sounds and applauds.

“Does this mean we’ll have a sleepover in the living room?” HyunJin asked hopefully, looking around at the boys. Laughter erupted among them at his cute question, but all sprang up and began gathering mattresses, duvets, and pillows. Chan and Jeongin waited with joining them and stood up in each other’s arms. Jeongin’s head was leaned against Chan’s shoulder, arms around his torso. He was getting lost in his embrace until he spoke up.

“I love you, baby. Remember that, if you get another dream about me leaving you, or whatever the situation should be. Just know, that it won’t happen. I won’t leave you.” Jeongin looked up and smiled at him.

“I love you too, Channie. Always. And I’ll try to remember it,” he replied and Chan planted his lips firmly on his again. The kiss was more passionate than any other they had shared, and Jeobgin could feel it all over his body. When they finally broke apart, they took each other’s hands and walked out to the others in the living room.

Chan never left his side. Not even while preparing the sleeping area in the room. When he had to go get more pillows, because they lacked a few, he’d go with him, when he’d get some snacks from the kitchen to cozying up with before bed, Chan was right behind him. He was like his little puppy, and Jeongin loved it. He loved being cared for this much. It filled him with security and joy to know this talented, caring, and loving man was his and his alone.

Settling down into the large fluffy bed that was made in the living room was heavenly. He felt so safe lying in between his brothers and with Chan hugging him from behind. The others were having small talks while eating the chips and candies.

“Thanks guys...” Jeongin spoke up weakly from under the blankets. The members shut up immediately upon hearing his voice and turned to him looking shocked. “Thanks for doing this for me. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime man, we love you!” HyunJin giggled, showing him his famous eye smile and Jeongin couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight.

“No need to thank us. We did this because we wanted to help you and make you feel comfortable, but you’re welcome our sweet Maknae!” Jisung replied patting his legs.

“And honestly this also gave us the opportunity to have this sleepover here. I’ve really missed this; all of us being together this close,” Changbin said thoughtfully, making people snicker. “Not that we need you to have more nightmares for us to sleep here, but you know!” He quickly saved and everybody began laughing loudly. They started teasing him, making him whine.

“Thanks Changbin,” Jeongin said after they’ve calmed down. Changbin smiled warmly at him and nodded.

“Always here for you, bro.” He pulled out his fist and he bumped it, making the explosion afterwards.

They all decided to sleep to get ready for tomorrow’s work and everyone settled closely together, no one left uncuddled. Jeongin turned around in Chan’s embrace and placed his head on his chest.

“Goodnight Innie,” Chan huskily said, the others tuning in.

“Goodnight everyone.”

This turned out to be the best night he’d had in a while, despite the horrible dream he had.

——

Stray Kids’ manager was walking up the stairs towards the front door of their dorm, early in the morning, making sure the Kids got up and ready for the day. He sighed as he turned the key in the lock and opened the door. It had been a rough night for him and waking up today was hard.

As he was about to yell out a good morning throughout the dorm, he was met with an endearing sight, he hadn’t seen in a long time; the boys had gathered around in the living room, on a huge self-made bed, all sprawled up on each other’s bodies. Warmth spread out in his heart at the view which resulted in an equally warm smile to appear on his face. Something must’ve happened last night to make this happen, because they hadn’t done this in a long time.

Thinking this thought he figured he’d give them the sleep they needed, and he could also use a little rest, leading to him taking a pillow that had been thrown out from the bed and a blanket and lay on the couch above them.

He whispered a small: “sleep well.” and went to sleep alongside them                 

[tuffdwightwest]

A Story by the Same Name Pt. 1

Dwight just stared at the hatch. Sitting down in front of it. He knew eventually it would happen. Everyone was becoming desensitized to the trials. So that meant they liked doing other stuff.

Namely having some fun.

The first one to do it was Nea and for some reason Dwight was the perfect target. When the Oni came around the corner, they both ran the same way. Towards the pallet. They would have both made it, Dwight getting ready to throw it down only to suddenly feel the pallet collide with him. Crying out he stumbled back before taking a blade in the back. Turning to run past the Oni, he swore he heard Nea laughing.

He didn't confront her on it after the trial.

The next time was definitely a moment of fear but it still hurt none the less. Even if Ace apologized for it. They were both working on a generator when Ghostface came around the corner. He went after Ace giving Dwight enough time to hop in a locker. Instead of leaving the area though and leading him away. Ace came around the corner. Spotted the locker and pointed. "Hes in there!" He had called.

Dwight's breath hitched and before he could attempt to get out. Ghostface had slammed the locker open, a chuckle coming from the killer. "Oh that's got to hurt." Was the last thing Dwight heard before he was roughly picked up and dragged to the hook.

This happened a few times. Dwight being caught in a trap right near the door. Feng having enough time to save him and herself. Instead she ran out and he had spent a good two minutes attempting to free himself before Trapper had arrived.

She could have helped.

Or the next match, where Quentin kept dragging him off of the hook right in front of the killer. Till Dwight died not even a few minutes into the match. When he confronted the boy on it, he just showed off a better medkit. Stating it had been worth it and not to take it so personally.

Dwight had let it go.

And now, he sat in front of the open hatch. After watching his friends disappear within it and leaving him behind. They all could have escaped. But instead they left. Dwight could see the killer patrolling the doors obviously looking for him but he didn't feel bothered. No, he felt numb. He didn't want to return to the fire he didn't want to see them.

He felt, angry. Frustrated, hurt, helpless. So many emotions all at once and none of them good. He'd sit here for as long as he could. Knowing soon the Entity would burst out of the ground and crush him. He honestly didn't mind dying at this point.

Tears streamed down his face as more of the world turned red, cracking and dissipating. A sense of urgency in his body that begged him to try to run but he didn't. And just when he knew it was going to hit he squeezed his eyes shut. Braced for the pain.

Instead the sound of the hatch opening in front of him. Caused him to look up. "No." He said.

Scrambling away from the door he shook his head. "No, kill me." He demanded. A nearby hook started to form the Entity so he walked over to that. He didn't want to survive this match. Least if he had to revive after being killed it meant longer away from them.

Standing practically on the hook, he watched the claws form. Expecting them to reach out and stab him but instead one reached down, scratching along his cheek. Wiping off a tear. Feeling self cautious, he wiped at his face. Looking down and leaning against the hook.

He didn't know why but he suddenly started to sob, "Why does everyone do this? Is it something I did?" He questioned before remembering his old boss. "Maybe it is, maybe that's my punishment? Is that it.." he mumbled. To his surprise though he suddenly saw something in black and white.

His coworker being degraded, the cruelty of his boss. His coworker lying to him about what was in it. Shaking his head though he denied it, "I should have known better. I'm stupid. I trust to easily. I try to help." He whimpered.

"Just... kill me. I don't care do it over and over. I'm done trying to escape.." he said softly. Sitting down against the hook. The Entity's claws following him down, also appearing from the ground. He kept his eyes open this time as the claws wrapped around his body. Holding him, surprisingly feeling quite warm. Considering how cold the trial was.

He wasn't stabbed this time but he suddenly felt himself lifted off the ground. Heading towards the light. He tensed at first, but then relaxed. It didn't matter.

Closing his eyes, he reached out before holding onto one of the claws. Pulling it against his chest, the sharpened tip easily able to pierce him but it never did. Instead he just nuzzled against it as the light got brighter.

When his eyes reopened he found himself in an endless wasteland. Skeletons and decomposing bodies everywhere. Upon looking closer though Dwight found himself resisting the urge to gag. The bodies were that of his friends, of him, even a few killer bodies lay amongst the carnage.

Shocked and a bit horrified, through the bodies grew a form. Blighted out as skin from the fallen bodies wrapped around it. Giving the creature it's own mixmatched form, as it took a slightly human like form. Dwight watched transfixed as it happened.

He knew what was in front of him, the claws still behind the Entity even as he reformed as a Frankenstein mixup of a human. Once completed they both just stared at him. Before the Entity attempted a smile that was more unsettling then calming. "D.w.i.g.h.t." it said slowly, voice a bit unnatural. Gargled.

His name was unmistakable though, and the Entity seemed pleased at succeeding with it. Talking must still be new though cause reaching out a hand, it did the familiar gesture to follow. A mimicked motion, something it must have observed them doing many times. It then turned and started walking through the bodies.

Dwight hesitated for a moment but finally followed. Keeping his gaze on the Entity and not on the bodies around him. The ground around them started to glow, strange markings on the ground appearing as they approached a cave. He didn't know if he wanted to go down there but the Entity stopping and gesturing for him again to follow caused him to move once more.

The cave was bright and as they moved deeper in it seemed to change a little. Becoming a mismatch of... worlds, a forest, meadow, city, Dwight even saw the swish of the waves as they seemed to be walking over an ocean. "What is this place?" He questioned. He almost screamed when the Entity suddenly grabbed his wrist. Pulling him into a small Victorian cabin.

As they arrived a small armchair formed and a gesture from the Entity made him sit. "Um what..." Dwight started only to be surprised when a piece of bread was given to him. Taking it, he awkwardly took a bite. Surprised when it didn't taste at all like what he expected. Namely it mostly tasted like dirt but with a hint of what bread should taste like. Focusing on the hint of the taste, made it a bit easier. Considering despite everything he actually was hungry and the food they found here usually wasn't anything special anyway. So bread dirt was a treat.

The more he ate it though the better it got. He hardly noticed when it was all gone till he looked up. Spotting the unnatural smile on the Entity's face. Getting another piece of bread he handed it to Dwight. Confused, Dwight still took it but this time kept his gaze on the Entity. Biting into the bread, he seemed surprised, it actually tasted like... a piece of toast. "How."

"M.e.m.o.r.y." The Entity supplied staring at Dwight before getting to its feet. Dwight frowned but finished the piece of bread. It tasted way to good for him to just ignore. Still he found himself standing, afraid the Entity was leaving.

"Wait. Where are you going?" He questioned. It turned towards him before looking out at the endless wasteland.

"P.u.n.i.s.h.m.e.n.t." It said before turning and leaving. The door shutting behind Dwight and the telltale sound of a lock clicking.

[prodigalsonheadcanons]

25 & 28 & 37 (separately or together) for the whump promp thingie. ;D

I’ll start off by doing 28, if that’s okay! This line just screamed this specific trope that I’ve never actually wrote before but I’ve heard so many times so I thought I’d take my hand at it! It got to be much longer than I expected, but I hope you like it anyway! ♡

28. “You’re gonna be okay, alright? Just stay on the line with me, you’ll be okay.”

Three words. He’d been asked to repeat them, to hopefully cement them in his head.

Call for backup.

But they hadn’t cemented. Even though it should have. Even though if they had, he wouldn’t be in this situation. Like he’d been in so many others.

One part of himself was trying to offer up some sort of defense. What was he supposed to do? They’d been trying to chase this guy for ages…now that he stumbled across his location, he was supposed to wait for Gil and the others? He had no other choice but to follow him…right? Probably not, and yet in moments like this, that side was seen as the side that only spoke the unquestionable truth. The other part of himself was persuaded without any fact or explanation. It took that side’s word as law.

So he followed.

He tried to tail him, keeping a safe distance. If he knew where he lived, then he could stop and call Gil. But he lost track of him at some point. The second he began to realize it, Malcolm started running, to try and catch up to him, but he was gone. He doubled back and turned into an alleyway, wondering if he’d caught wind of him following and had ducked in there to try and hide. But the alley was empty, too. He came to a stop, staring dismally at the brick wall, his breathing in worn, little pants. Disappointment yawned in his stomach. He muttered a curse and shook his head, turning to go back.

But the second he turned, he was freezing. His eyes were widening.

Their suspect was standing at the end of the alleyway. Blocking him in.

Malcolm’s mouth ran dry. For what seemed like ages, they just stared at one another. The man’s eyes were cold. There was no question that he knew exactly who Malcolm was. Still, Malcolm tried to raise his hands up in surrender. “I…” He tried to get something out, but before he could, the suspect was suddenly whipping out a gun, seemingly from nowhere. Malcolm tensed, ducking his head and staring at the ground with huge eyes. His hands began to shake. He heard Gil’s voice in the back of his head.

Call. For. Backup.

Silence reigned for some time, Malcolm frantically wracking his brain for anything he could get out. The man spoke before he could. “Should have kept your nose where it belonged,” he hissed. Malcolm tried to take a tiny step closer. But the man wrapped his finger tighter around the trigger, stopping him in his tracks. He flinched, hot fear rushing through him.

He closed his eyes, but forced himself to speak, fighting to keep his voice level and controlled. “You…don’t have to do this,” he whispered eventually. “You don’t have to…dig your hole deeper. You’re desperate…I get that…but you’re only going to get more desperate.” He looked up, his chest constricting. When the man only took steadier aim, he weakened, adding on faster: “I don’t know anything! I don’t know where you live, or where you were going! If you leave now, you’ll have lost nothing. But if you— if you kill me…you’ll have lost everything. Trust me.”

The man scowled at him. He was silent.

For a second, Malcolm began to hope his words found home. That they would be enough.

No sooner did the thought cross his mind, did the man fire.

White-hot pain sliced through Malcolm in less than an instant, snatching away his breath and wringing his throat. It felt like an entire brick wall was slamming into him. He staggered backward, his hands flying instinctively to his chest, where the bullet had buried itself. He felt his hands bathe with hot, sticky blood. He looked down, horror enveloping him when he saw how much was already gushing out, staining his crisp white shirt nearly black. He looked back up in just enough time to see their suspect fleeing. He staggered again, like he was wanting to take after him. But instead, his legs gave out. He collapsed, hitting the ground hard but not feeling the collision at all.

He could barely breathe against the pain; he had to struggle and choke for a couple seconds before he could figure out how to make his lungs work, again. He started to gasp raggedly, squeaks of agony sharpening every single inhale and exhale. For a couple long, horrible seconds, he could only lay there, paralyzed with terror and blinding pain. But then his mind managed to kick into gear. He looked down at himself, choking back on yet another shriek as he saw all the blood.

The pain was centered right over his chest. That was where all the blood was. Gasping, he let his head fall back, his eyes wide and hollow as he tried to think. Upper left chest…his heart— his lungs. It was one of the most lethal places to be shot, probably third to the brain and the pelvis. It depended on where he was shot, on what happened next. If he’d hit the aorta, he would be dead within the next two minutes. If he hit the vena cava, that might buy him four. That wasn’t enough time for…anything. Not enough time for an ambulance to arrive, where he was, all the way out here. He would bleed out, before they got there. His heart would stop, and with a severed vein or artery, there wasn’t much room for revival.

The thoughts were fast and blurred together in their panic, but he registered each and every one of them.

Malcolm was never an optimist. Oftentimes, people said he was a pessimist. 

He would say he was a realist.

And, realistically, he knew he was going to die.

He got his arm into motion, to reach into his pocket. He choked and gagged on horrible pain as he unlocked it. His hands were coated with blood— it was smearing all over his screen. It was having a hard time registering his touch. He cringed, pausing for a moment to shriek out as another lash of agony whipped him in the chest. When it passed, he was trembling and weaker. He was cold…the more blood he lost, the colder he began to feel. He was trying to hang onto the shock as best he could, but all the physical sensations were beginning to break through. He was beginning to feel all the pain, which just increased with every rapid heartbeat. His teeth were beginning to chatter. Every single shiver that lanced down his spine was another tug of gut-wrenching pain.

Eventually, he couldn’t do it. He just held down the home button. The instant he heard the little chirp that showed the phone was listening, he wheezed out as loud as he could: “Call…Gil…”

He closed his eyes in relief, when his phone returned: “Calling Gil.”

He found it within himself to reach out and tap the speakerphone button, before his arm went numb and fell again. It began to ring, and while it did, he fought to get his breathing under control. He was trying to figure out what he was going to say, when Gil answered. He sounded tired. Malcolm had no idea what time it was, but they’d had a long day in general. If he knew him, he was just beginning to settle in for the night. Probably with a glass of whiskey.

The thought made him smile, for some reason.

“Malcolm?” he asked. Malcolm didn’t answer right away; he had to clamp his teeth closed tight, to hold back another scream. Gil sounded even more concerned when he prompted: “Malcolm? You there?”

He thought of what would happen if he told him. If he told him he got shot…he would be furious. He would throw those words back in his face again. Lecture him about never calling for backup. And he would be right…but…Malcolm was dying. He was dying. He had a couple more minutes at the most…he didn’t want to spend them getting yelled at.

He wanted to spend his last few minutes with Gil. Normally. Like always.

“Hi.” His voice came out stiff, and pinched. He just hoped Gil didn’t notice. He reached up, trying to press against the wound and staunch some of the bleeding. It did nothing but bring even more pain. He had to ride out the torture, until he could speak again. His words were even more frayed. “What’re…what’re you doin’?” he breathed, his eyes slowly growing dazed.

“Uh…nothing much,” he sighed back. “Just…ready to sleep this day off. I’m sitting down to watch some TV…with some bourbon.” Malcolm’s eyes slid closed. He smiled. “How much will you make fun of me if I tell you I’m turning on Wheel of Fortune?” Gil laughed.

Malcolm did too. He giggled just a little, before it instantly began to hurt too much. He cringed, ending up sobbing to himself for a couple moments, instead. Before he pried his eyes open and forced it down again. His fingers were starting to tingle. He couldn’t feel his legs. “Wh’l ‘f Fortune…” he echoed, laughing again.

“Yeah, well, Jeopardy isn’t on,” Gil said, and Malcolm laughed again— more of an exhale, this time. There was a brief pause, before Gil spoke again. He sounded more concerned. “What are you up to?” Malcolm could hear his suspicion. It made him smile again. That he was worried. That he cared. Gil had always cared, hadn’t he?

“Nothin’…” he whispered. “Jus’ …wan’ed to call you…”

Another pause. He sounded even more concerned. “You don’t sound like yourself, Malcolm. What’s wrong?”

“…Nothin’…” he repeated, slower. “I jus’…wan’ed t’…say hi…”

“Malcolm. What is wrong?” His voice was getting sharper. “Where are you? Are you home?”

“Nnn—” He cringed away from another, stabbing pain. This time, he couldn’t hold back his whimper.

Gil heard. “Malcolm, what is going on, where are you!?” When he said nothing he yelled: “Malcolm, tell me where you are right now!”

“’m…” He flinched. When he spoke next, it came out in a sob. “I f’r…got…” He couldn’t think, anymore. He couldn’t feel the lower half of his body. His heart was racing but everything else was slowing down. He didn’t know when exactly he’d started crying, but all of a sudden tears were streaming down his face. “I— didn’…call f’r…ba— ‘m…sor…’msorr…”

“Malcolm, where are you!? Did you call an ambulance!?” He didn’t sound happy anymore. Malcolm blamed himself. He wanted to cry more, but he was getting too numb to. He was starting to relax. His head fell more to the side. His breathing was growing shallower. “Malcolm, you— hang on, I’m going to find you, I’ll— find your location from your phone, I’ll call you an ambulance! I’ll get you help, Malcolm, just— just hang on, don’t move, don’t hang up!”

The other line went silent. Malcolm might have imagined him tracing his location— he always wanted to turn off the function on his phone, but Gil kept tabs on it and whenever he saw that he did, he got mad. He was probably looking him up right now. From there, calling the ambulance and begging them to get to him before it was too late. Malcolm might have imagined it, if he wasn’t already halfway gone. More than halfway. He was breathing less and less— it hurt too much. Before, the blood seeping out to coat him had been hot but now it was just cold. He was cold. And tired.

It was happening: he was dying.

When Gil came back, he sounded even more scared. “Malcolm!?” He didn’t say anything right away and he snapped: “Malcolm! Are you there!? Answer me!”

“H…i…” he squeaked. His lips could barely move.

“Malcolm…” He sounded like he was crying. “Malcolm, just— hang on, okay? I’ll— I’m going to get you, I’m going to help you, this is all going to be okay, okay?” He said nothing. He pressed: “You’re gonna be okay, alright?” Still, nothing. Gil’s voice was growing strained. “Just stay on the line with me, you’ll be okay. Can you hear me, Malcolm, can you do that?”

His eyes slid closed. His voice was just a tiny exhale. “Gil…I…’m…sor…ry…”

“D—Don’t apologize, kid, don’t apologize, you have no reason to apologize because this is all going to be okay.” He was weeping. Trying to hide it but doing a terrible job. Malcolm’s lips twitched in a small smile. He was starting to shake more. His back arching, his eyes squeezing shut. “You are in…so much trouble, but you’re going to be okay, I’m going to make sure of it, okay? I’m— I’m on my way, Malcolm. I’m coming!”

He smiled again, but it was barely there. He said nothing. He shivered. One more, violent time. Then fell still.

Gil drove as fast as he could, cutting off cars and breaking the speed limit by thirty miles. The silence began to nag at him. “Malcolm?” He swerved again. Someone honked, but he didn’t care. Malcolm wasn’t talking anymore. “Malcolm!?” Nothing. Tears rushed down his face. “Malcolm, you have to keep talking, you have to answer me, Malcolm!”

But he didn’t.

His kid was silent.

“Malcolm! Malcolm, answer me!” His yelling was slowly changing from calling out his name, into more of a grief-filled wail. “Malcolm!”

Silence.

Dead…silence.

“Malcolm! Malcolm, please! …MALCOLM!”

[dragonrajafanfiction]

“I didn't know you were listening” —Linghao (?) Because it's rare that people ask a fanfic with him as pair

Aroma blinked her eyes, feeling a bit dizzy. The room was hazy and hot, filled with an odd perfume smell. Everyone was in a frenzy, some dancing only partially clothed. Her friends were unrecognizable, reaching for her with grasping hands, leering smiles and empty eyes. She staggered out of their reach. 

“Renata?” She whimpered.

The sound of shouting turned her head.

She didn’t feel well and wondered if the scene before her was a dream. Another boy she didn’t recognize had entered into the dance hall. Renata was standing behind him, looking terrified. Aroma reached out her hand, but she couldn’t speak without gasping for air.

The boy was slapping Anton. “Why did you touch my girl? Why did you touch my girl?” He frowned, not with anger but with impatience.

Anton gathered himself and charged him with fury. With the practice and agility of a professional boxer, this strange young man stepped elegantly aside and drove his fist into Anton’s stomach hard enough to lift his feet from the floor.

He then let him drop laughing loudly.

Anton rolled on the ground, heaving until he gagged and vomited his Christmas dinner.

“Heh. Sorry, my first time hitting someone, it was a little sloppy.” The stranger gave a mocking sneer.

Aroma felt herself gag in sympathy, covering her mouth with one hand.

One of the nurses approached as though to do something about it, but the strange boy lifted his chin, his eyes flashing a brilliant gold. Aroma felt her breath catch in her throat. She’d never seen something to terrifying.

Or so beautiful.

“What are you looking at?” The young man’s voice was frigid. “Never seen a man fight for a woman before?”

Aroma felt his oppressive aura and turned away. Everyone turned away. But she grew dizzy and desperate again and looked back.

Renata and this strange young man were dancing. Aroma staggered to them and heard his voice.

“Someone is going to blow up this port, I just learned. They released hallucinogens through the ventilation ducts, that’s why everyone is acting so crazy. Hallucinogens are like drugs. People who take too much lose their minds and only seek pleasures. The only sober people here are you and me... because your blood is too good... Hm?”

He suddenly turned and looked directly at Aroma. “I didn’t know you were listening.”

“Who are you?” She asked.

He let out a high pitched gleeful giggle. “I’m the Devil in room Zero. How did you escape my notice?”

“I don’t feel good.” Aroma sighed.

“What should I do?” Renata asked.

Zero turned back to Renata. “Take your friend here and go back to the building where you live. Enter through the ventilation ducts, find Room 0 and look for me. Hurry! We have to evacuate to a safe distance before its too late!”

“Do as I ask... both of you. And you will be free... You’ll both be my little princesses.”

Aroma watched as the Boy from Room Zero turned into a flood of gold dust snowing onto the carpet. She had scarcely enough time to react when Renata grabbed her wrist and pulled her out into the frigid night. “Who is he?”

“He’s a boy... a boy I see in my dreams.”

“Is he real?” Aroma asked. 

“He’s real.”

She was telling the truth. Behind the door marked Zero, the room where the nurses told them held monsters and demons, a boy was strapped to a chair, limp and unmoving. Even though Aroma had never seen her enter this room, Renata knew what to do, grabbing a pair of scissors and cutting through his restraints.

Aroma blinked her eyes, confused as to what was real and what was not. 

Despite the dark night moments ago, the room was suddenly lit like it was day time. She turned to the window and saw flames every direction.

Freed from his restraints, the boy named Zero grabbed her hand and pulled her out the door. “Wake up, sleepy head! You’re not dreaming any more!”

The corridors were filled with black smoke. Aroma could no longer see. She could no longer breathe. In her mind, she heard a deep roar, like a raging beast. Renata was leaning against the wall. In the dark gloom of the smoky corridor, her eyes glowed yellow. She drew back her foot and kicked the wall with such force that it burst open.

Dogs were barking. The sled dogs! They were coming towards them! They tackled her and licked her smoky face. Renata hugged them, crying with joy. The boy on the other hand was standing still, eyes forward.

A helicopter was flying over the destruction carrying the limp form of a monster with dark metallic scales and large tattered membrane wings.. It was half eaten away by decay. Aroma had seen this type of creature in story books. 

It was a dragon.

Renata attached the dogs to the sled and the three of them sped away into the night. Aroma could barely keep her head up but the boy from room Zero was smiling at her fondly. “You’re a surprise friend. I thought I had only one... but I had two. Merry Christmas...”

His eyes slid shut and the ground thundered beneath them, throwing them from the sled. Aroma ended up on her back and could see the dark cloud rising against the bright lights of an Aurora Borealis, streamers of fire arcing against the black.

They huddled together with the dogs, hearing the sound of circling helicopters above.

“Don’t move...” Zero murmured. “If you move, you’re dead.”

Unfortunately, there was no way to communicate this to the dogs. As soon as the helicopters swooped low, they panicked, breaking out of their harness, running into the woods. Helicopter fire rained down on them turning them into a crimson mist among the shattered branches of naked trees.

Aroma was now free of the hallucinogen and the smoke. She covered her mouth to keep from screaming, coming to the realization that she, Renata and Zero were the last ones alive.

The helicopter swooped back again and a man was in the open hatch with a gun in his hand. He raised it and it thundered.

The line of bullets ran right next to them.

She could hear Renata murmuring. “We will never abandon each other... nor betray each other until death...”

The man aimed at them again, switching his rifle for a larger metal cylinder that rested against his shoulder.

Zero rolled his eyes up at Aroma. “You really are lovely. Do I really get to have two friends?”

“Yes...” Aroma whispered. “Yes. Forever.”

“Little Aroma, white like snow... Snow White...” Zero was talking nonsense but she seemed to understand. He slid to her and pulled her face to his, his lips brushing against hers as he whispered. “They haven’t seen you yet. Don’t die. Please.”

His voice, the smell of his breath, the warmth of his face, his gentle request. It awoke in her the will to fight. The will to live.

Renata reached for the sled and pulled out a black metal machine gun. Her eyes were the color molten iron. She lifted the gun to the helicopter and opened fire as if she had used the gun a million times before.

Aroma stared at her in awe. What was she thinking? As she asked the question, the thoughts of Renata answered, filling her mind with the knowledge of machine guns. In an instant, Aroma knew how it worked too. She went to the sled and pulled out another gun.

Renata gasped. She had acted a moment too late. A large rocket was heading toward them! Aroma fired her own gun and exploded the rocket before it reached them. The shockwave hit and Aroma was thrown, landing a few feet away. She sat up, tried to stand but fell. She tried again and fell.

She looked in confusion. A bloody twisted wreck was where her foot had been. Crimson blood oozed into the ground.

She turned. Renata was lying not far away, gasping ragged red bubbles through her nose. She was crying.

Aroma crawled, pulling herself to her. “Don’t cry.” She whispered.

“I’m going to die. I’m going to die...” Renata sobbed.

A shadow fell over them.

“Silly girls. How can we be friends now that you’re like this?” Zero, calm in the face of the destruction and death, walked over to them. “Let’s start over. You two...” He wagged a finger to them both, “...must live well and always be useful to me.”

“But... I’m dying...” Renata coughed.

“No... just like the poppies... you will come back again after you die.” He gathered Renata into his arms and went to sit by Aroma. “I promised you freedom as a gift...” He told Renata.  “....and you...” He looked at Aroma with gentle kind eyes. “You’re my surprise Christmas gift. I was so happy to see you.”

He pulled Aroma into his lap like she was a beloved puppy.

“There is still so much out there you haven’t had time to see. Hugs and kisses... and love, so...” He held them tightly, eyes swimming with bright yellow tones. 

“...Don’t. Die.”

He kissed Renata and then turned and kissed Aroma. His lips were soft and warm against hers and that warmth spread to her entire body. She opened her eyes. Her vision cleared and her ears stopped ringing. 

Two more helicopters loomed over her head. Zero caressed her lips in a gesture asking she be quiet.

Then he turned, leaving them in the snow to stand up and face his enemies. “I give my first gift and you want to take it away? You also want to take away my surprise Christmas gift?”

His voice was a mad howl over the sound of the rotors. “WHAT KIND OF EXCHANGE IS THAT?!”

Aroma couldn’t understand what was happening. There were loud booms like fireworks. Bright lights illuminated the sky. Zero was singing and surrounded with a dark and sinister aura. He spread his arms and rose into the air. “At the end of the thousand years... Satan will be released from the prison and come out to deceive the nations of the four corners of the earth! Gog! And Magog! To call them together for the battle! Their numbers... are as the sand on the seashore!” 

[barbarasbae]

Just a Taste- Bleeding Heart

Part 9 of Just a Taste

Vampire!Billy Hargrove x Fem!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: implied gang bang, blood mentioned, described gore, described violence, violence against women, dubious consent, some mild smut, feelings, sad Billy hours, 18+ please

A/n: I didn’t edit this one as heavily as I normally do so sorry if anything comes off as weird 

original gif by @leiaslo

That night they had written out the plan with Billy’s grandfather, going over ways to make fire and water sprayable, emphasizing the importance of either driving a stake through the heart or severing the head with a silver knife.The plan was to go to the boardwalk and act like Billy had convinced her to let him turn her, wanting the guys to think he had come to rejoin them and had a way to find even more victims. With wooden stakes in their jackets, the two slowly walked onto the boardwalk, Y/n getting nervous. “Pretty Billy.” A voice called, Billy reaching for her arm. The boardwalk was dead this early in the morning, no shops open. Only one or two fisherman and fog. “Hey, Jonathan. I brought you something.” Billy grabbed her hand, squeezing it. The vampire appeared before them, making the couple jump. “Cute. You bring me a snack?” He asked, hand on her throat before she knew what was happening. “No. She said she would let me turn her.” None of them had been able to convince a girl to turn, the one girl that Billy had seen the day before turned by force because Aaron was getting desperate for companionship. 

Jonathan’s nose was in her hair. “Shame. You smell delicious.” Jonathan almost growled, Y/n stepping closer to Billy, thankful when Jonathan finally let go of her throat. “I guess we should turn her the traditional way then, huh?” Jonathan animatedly talked about how boring it had been without Billy and how some girls who had been letting the group feed on them had been asking where he was, calling him the cute blond kid. The other guys made casual passes at her as they made their way to the cave, her swatting at them. Billy tried not to let on how nervous he was getting, knowing a little about what Jonathan had meant by ‘the traditional way’. Girls were usually property of a vampire clan, especially if the ratio of girls to guys was very low. So it was a tradition to turn them via an orgy of all things, as if standing in a room full of vampires wouldn’t get your heart rate up enough. Salt water rushed around their bare feet as they climbed into the cave, Y/n shivering as the cold air seeped into her jacket. They led them deeper than even Billy had ever been in the cave, the two sticking close together. “How long you been hiding her, Hargrove?” Chris asked, eyeing her up. Billy didn’t answer. “At least tell me she’s a good fuck, man.” He tried again, Y/n trying not to let her intense embarrassment show. “Fuck off, man.”    

“Eh,” he shrugged, “I’ll find out soon enough, right?” He winked. Y/n fake gagged, Billy trying not to laugh. They came to a large room with plush blankets on the ground, as well as a carpet (how it wasn’t pure mold, they didn’t know). She was pulled to the center by Jonathan, his hands settling on her waist. He reminded her of Patrick Dempsey, but with blond hair. It wasn’t...unattractive. Just a little odd. She was getting nervous. “You sure about this, sweetheart? Your heart rate is already high.”

She nodded, not meeting his eyes. He went to push her jacket off her shoulders, Billy now standing behind her. “Oh, sweetheart…” He locked eyes with Billy. “You really thought you’d be able to get away with this?” He pulled the wooden stake out of her newly sewn-in inside pocket. He grabbed her chin, her watching as his irises turn red. She whimpered, a sharp-toothed smirk growing on Jonathan’s face. “What else have you got in here, sweetheart?” He dug through her pockets, grabbing a little silver knife she was also hiding. He pocketed it, her jacket thumping as it hit the ground. Billy inched closer, lifting her shirt and pulling it off of her body. The feeling of being a little fish in a circle of sharks was debilitating, her reaching for something to hold on to, grabbing Jonathan’s belt. “Pretty, isn’t she?” He asked to the open, the others inching in. 

The female vampire scoffed and pouted in the corner, not into girls and not liking to share ‘her boys.’ She squeaked, shorts yanked down her legs, Jonathan running the tip of his nose up the side of her neck, along her artery. Billy kissed the back of her head, trying to reassure her and to keep her calm. Billy pulled a silver knife out of his jacket and blindly thrust it behind him, hearing a deep groan of pain. He whipped around and stabbed him with the stake, the body falling to the ground. Y/n stared at Jonathan’s chest, trying to convince herself she could get through this, she could be able to help Billy fight them off. “Billy...just because you’re the prodigal son doesn’t mean you can just kill my boys.” He turned around. “I brought you a guaranteed good fuck. And she’ll bring you plenty of meals, man. I think I deserve to be possessive.” He said with a smirk, Jonathan looking up from where he had been marking up one side of her neck with a dangerous hickey. He winked at Billy, the blond smacking Y/n’s ass. Okay, now she was nervous. Was Billy lying to her all along? Another vampire went after Billy, angry at the death of his friend. He managed to land an exact hit on him as well, the body’s increasing. Y/n let out a fake moan, a hand on her ass. Billy then made the mistake of killing Jonathan’s favorite, Ben. He had been Jonathan’s first meal, Jonathan feeling such guilt he turned him to prevent him from dying. 

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” Jonathan yelled, gripping Y/n closer to him, her reaching for his pockets. Jonathan grabbed the knife before she could though. He took a deep breath, seemingly calming down. The other vampires looked on in shock, but not moving in on Billy in case Jonathan decided to kill them too. “Billy, it’s a shame you left. You always knew where to find the best snacks.” Y/n sucked in air, Billy’s eyes widening in horror at the slick sound of the silver knife entering her body. Jonathan had stabbed her in the stomach, right below her rib cage. She grabbed the hilt, trying to keep him from pulling it out. “Smells amazing.” He hissed, licking up her neck. He bit her, Y/n letting out a weak cry, leaning into the vampire. “FUCK YOU.” Billy yelled, shoving Jonathan away from her, Y/n sinking to the ground. Aaron came to Jonathan’s side, snarling at Billy. The blond act as quick as he could, stabbing Aaron in the center of his chest. Y/n felt  someone roll her over, her yanking the blade out and stabbing the person in the neck. He wailed in pain, the smell of old blood punching her in the nose. Through her blurry vision, she counted four vampires, including Billy. 

The girl ran over, screaming that Y/n was a bitch. Aaron had been her mate and saw Y/n as the direct cause of his death. She sank her teeth into her arm, Y/n crying out and trying to push her off, Billy turning and kicking the girl in the head. Y/n’s limbs felt heavy, another cry filled the room as Jonathan watched Billy kill his clan. She slid a lighter over to Billy, the blond catching it with his foot. He bent down and grabbed it, Jonathan and Billy in a standoff. Y/n gasped in air, flames of pain rolling through her body, the blood loss getting to her. “Jonathan, you’re a son of a bitch, you know that.” He shrugged. “Always have been. What would you call me if I rip her throat out?” Billy turned, seeing her eyes fluttering shut. Jonathan was quicker than Billy, running over to the girl covered in her own blood, dragging his tongue over the wounds. Billy grabbed him by the back of his hair and pulled, dragging the older boy away from her. “Dead meat.” Billy said quietly, howling when Jonathan sank his teeth into his thigh. Billy turned the lighter on and dropped it, distracting Jonathan for a moment when his hair caught on fire. Billy planted his boot on the middle of Jonathan’s stomach, hesitating until he heard the wheezing breath of Y/n as she laid on the ground. He drove the stake into Jonathan’s heart with a growl before dropping the weapon. 

He ran over to Y/n, her eyes closed. “Baby, wake up. Baby look at me.” She couldn’t focus her eyes, but she lifted her head and made eye contact with what she assumed was Billy. “Baby, let me turn you. Please.” His voice cracked, Billy laying down with her. He knew he for some reason he hadn’t turned back. But he had come so close. He couldn’t lose her now. “Baby come on, stay with me. Please, please let me turn you.” She shook her head. “Y/n, baby please. I-I don’t know if I can get to the hospital in time. Please. I can’t-” A sob interrupted him, tears rolling down his face. She closed her eyes, not responding anymore. Billy looked over to see her clothes in a pile, sloppily throwing half of them on her, feeling himself grow weaker as he tried to flee the cave. The mid morning sunlight burned his eyes as he ran to the boardwalk. 

He ran into a crowd of people, not able to enjoy the sudden lack of heart beats he heard. “Someone call 911! Please!” He begged, finding somewhere to set her down. “Oh my god! what happened?!” He tried to rack his brain for something that would make since. “I think a shark. I don’t know! She was pulled under the water and now she’s not waking up.” A crowd gathered. “Please, Y/n, please wake up.” 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Please send me an ask or dm if you would like to be tagged in something. The last chapter of Just a Taste will be out by the weekened 

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@telexnesis

[loki-fanfic-whore]

Consumed ch.5

Warnings: triggers galore! Sexual situations/ self destructive thoughts/ harmful situations/ manipulation/seriously shitty twists/ horrible grammar

@onceuponagleepottermindlock @drakesfiance @jessiejunebug @iloveyouthreethousand-o6 @imagine-that-100

Chapter 5 Control

Loki allowed you to cry into his chest until you were calm.

"I must confess something to you my little flame." He spoke in hushed tones as he petted your hair.

"I think I have fallen for a fire giant...and I wish to worship you if you will allow me to." You felt elated but your heart was throbbing in a strange combination of joy and worry. Your hands and wrists were black and swirled with wisps of smoke as Loki gently undressed you and kissed every inch of your flesh making sure to spend lengthy amounts of time caressing and kissing your most intimate parts. He smirked as you panted, you were being very careful not to grab his hair nearing close to releasing.

"My darling, may I take your innocence away for me to keep forever?" You moaned gently and arched your back as he flicked his tongue against you. He was teasing you close to the edge.

"Yes, oh God Loki, please..." you whimpered out and he was within you. The pain and fullness sent your head reeling as you two pushed each other over the edge. He was so tender and gentle with you making sure you were okay every few moments. After a while he quickened his pace and groaned your name. Your own waves of euphoria crashing down over your body. You could feel him filling you with his seed. A sadness sank into your stomach. You would never be able to truly give yourself to him...not as a fire giant and he as an ice giant. You wouldn't be able to touch him while making love if you couldn't control the flames. He spent the rest of the day cuddling you in his arms until it was time to go. Loki dressed you again and held onto you bridal style as he teleported. You squeezed your eyes shut and swallowed down the bile. The journey making you feel nauseous.

"Darling? We are here." He spoke gently placing you down on a soft bed. You peeked through your lashes to find he had brought you to some form of hotel room.

"Where are we?" You whispered still feeling incredibly sick.

"Brussles. I am so sorry little flame but I have to keep moving you. To keep you safe." Loki pushed some hair from your face and gently caressed your cheek.

"I need you to get stronger before we can leave this realm. If teleporting makes you ill, then the bifrost will surely incapacitate you." You held your stomach and groaned. It felt like you would gag any moment.

"Loki- trashcan!" You whimpered out as he quickly obliged. He held your hair and rubbed your back while you heaved all of the broth you had ate.

"I knew it was too soon....I'm so sorry my darling." He waited till you were done vomiting then presented you with a cool washcloth to wipe your face.

You say back against the headboard and painted trying to get the dizziness to stop.

"Loki where will we go? Once we are off of earth?" You weren't accustomed to his realms and didn't know hardly anything about them.

"Well...Asgard was destroyed by ragnarok...your father did that. You should be proud." He laughed but you didn't see the humor.

"Muspelhiem was destroyed by Thor...so that leaves Vanaheim, which is the land of Seidr and snobs." He smirks at his own joke.

"Alfheim, land of light elves, Nidvellir, land of the dwarves, Niflheim, land of ice mist and fog, Helheim, land of the dead and damned, and finally Jotunheim, land of the ice giants...where I originated from." Loki counted them out while you listened.

"Loki...can I even flourish in your world? I'm a fire giant...I'm the last fire giant...Thor and Surtur made sure of that." You felt sadness wash over you. Your species will extinguish with you, and you dont even know anything about them.

Loki put his arm around you and brought you close to his chest shushing you gently.

"Shhh I know its overwhelming. I was the same when I discovered my heritage...We will go anywhere you want. And if you do not want it after a while we will keep going until you feel at home." His kind words were enough to hurt your heart. He was so kind to you all of the sudden. So gentle and caring, when before he never treated you so fragile, he would yell and scream and be snarky...did he see you in another way? Perhaps he did really love you in some way, but this nagging feeling in your mind made you wonder if you could truely stay with him. After all...ice giants and fire giants were enemies and together could cause so much chaos.

Loki pulled your chin upwards so his deep green eyes could scan yours.

"Tell me what's wrong darling?" His breath fanning your face.

"...tell me the truth...you would never trick me right?" Your voice was soft and trembling slightly. His eyes turned dark.

"Who has said this to you? Who has planted this hurtful idea in your mind?" He pushed back from you to stand and pace before the bed. His reaction worrying you more, he never denied it. He never said no.

"Why in all the realms would you think I am against you? I am hiding you from shield!" He tried to keep his temper in check but it was breaking through as his voice rose.

"I swore on my mother to you! On Frigga herself that I would protect you and keep you from them."

You felt the queasiness again as you tried to stand.

"Loki- what if shield is right? What if I am too dangerous, I mean...there is a reason Thor destroyed surtur and Muspelhiem...I'm the last of them...me..maybe I need to d-" he pushed a finger to your mouth forcefully.

" Don't you dare utter that word. I swear to the gods of old I will never forgive you if you say you should perish. I don't care if you are the last woman on any realm you deserve to live and be happy as anyone else." His eyes were wide and dilated in anger. He was visibly shaking.

"Yes, but what if they come for me and I can't control myself again...what if I hurt innocent people...I would deserve to be thrown in a tank for eternity. I-I dont want to hurt anyone."

"Listen to me. You just need control. People die every day! Catastrophic events happen every single day darling. It's just something that happens to no ones fault. If I could just get you strong enough we can take on shield and get you out of here!"

Your eyes widdened. Did he just say take on shield? Does he want you to fight them? Horrifying images of your once teammates mangled and lifeless at your feet flashed before your eyes. You backed up away from Loki with your hands up.

"I-I can't. Loki I can't fight them.. I can't be a pawn in this game..."

You felt the door behind your back as he stepped closer to you. Tears pricked your eyes.

"No, please stop...don't do this. I need you to be level headed. Please let's talk. You are too weak and they will never let me near you again. Please. Little flame. Don't. Dont go." A single tear slid down his cheek as he reached out with a trembling hand.

"I'm sorry Loki...I- I can't cause the destruction of the avengers or earth... please...don't try to come for me...I- I deserve this." And before he could chase, you had slammed the door and ran.

You ran down the street like a psychotic woman until you found an obviously abandoned building and screamed letting the tears flow. Your body erupting into huge catastrophic flashes of fire. Cracks of light broke through your ebony flesh as you pushed as hard as you could. The building was in flames within seconds. You fell to your knees and sobbed, your clothes burnt off, your hair hanging around your face in small dirty clumps.

A hand gently held your shoulder as your head slumped down. Your fire becoming extinguished as you realized how tired you were.

"Lady Embers...I need you to come with me..please...try to control yourself." Thor spoke softly.

"I wont fight you Thor....I'm done fighting...just...throw me back in the tank." You stood and let your head hang. You felt utterly defeated.

"I-I have to put these on you as a safety measure...I'm so sorry..." your tears dripped onto the floor as smoke rolled off your skin. Thor held out the shackles and you held your trembling arms out. Allowing him to shackle you. You felt the energy draining away as you became utterly exhausted. You stumbled and fell. The now cold ash floor smacking your face, cutting your eyebrow. Thor scooped your shaking body up and held you close. Walking you out of the building before passing you to Natasha who wrapped a black blanket around you to hide your nakedness.

"I am so glad we found you safe. We were so worried Loki had brainwashed you. That we would have to fight you." Natasha gently wiped your face and tucked your hair behind your ear.

"Let's get you home." She smiled gently and walked you into the jet that was waiting nearby. Laying you down on a bench in the back. Tony behind the controls smirked as he could see Loki watching from a near by window. He held up a suited hand and waved at the God. Loki snarled and turned, but not before Tony saw the glint of tears on his cheeks.

"Did he hurt you?" Bruce asked looking over your body.

"N-no...quite the contrary...I think I broke his heart." You mumbled feeling the numbness in your chest. You just wanted to disappear. To be swallowed up into the ground.

Bruce frowned and began an assessment. Gently pushing and poking various places on your body before taking a small flashlight and looking into your eyes and throat.

"Tony she needs to go straight to the lab. She is-"

"Yeah yeah we will get her there." Tony cut him off as he jerked the jet up and hightailed it out of there.

Thor moved beside the bench and held your hand. You stared upwards into the light feeling incredibly numb. Almost as if the flame within your chest was finally nothing but embers.

"Bruce..she is what?" Thor urged him on.

"Thor...I think she's dying." Bruce whispered. You closed your eyes as a tear slipped down your face.

"Are you happy? It's consuming me." You whisper aloud.