#he had to be in agony and utterly terrified as he realized what was happening

[movedtodykedvonte]

Simon got bit multiple times in vamp world…

[gojoux]

『 𝐍𝐎 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄 』

· Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

· Summary: Life has decided to lead you to him or lead him to you, knowing that you two are destined together despite your differences. This told story is just a glimpse of a few memories between you and him, one that he remembers dearly.

· CW: 8.6k // Mostly fluff. True Form!Sukuna. Heian Era. Overprotective + Possessive Sukuna. Very subtle sex scenes. Slight violence.

Late post because the app screwed me over a divider. As you see... it’s thicker like him than usual.

The infamous King of Curses had only one weakness—you.

Ryomen Sukuna, the most fearsome sorcerer (or used to be one) alive, would melt in your presence. His usual cold and cruel demeanor vanished when he was with you, replaced by a gentle sweetness he showed to no other.

From the very first moment your paths crossed, he was utterly enthralled, something he would never expect to feel in his life. You’re someone he doesn’t even know or heard of and he doesn’t find the appeal from you, but there’s just something about you that makes him enchanted at first sight.

Your luminous soul called to him like a song. He knew you were destined to be his. And so he courted you as tenderly as his blackened heart would allow, coaxing you to return his affections.

Slowly, gently, he broke down your defenses. His smoldering gazes made your heart flutter. His feather-light touches from his big, strong hands and fingers sent shivers down your spine. Before long, you realized you were falling for this demon who looked at you with such longing in his crimson eyes.

He could shower you with all the passion and devotion he had been holding back. He cherishes you, catering to your every desire. Just being near you was euphoric for him.

When apart, he counted the seconds until he could see you again. And when reunited, he was unable to keep his hands off you, showering you with passionate kisses and whispers of sweet words.

“You are mine. Remember that,” he would murmur against your skin as he held you close. “Always.”

You had tamed the beast. Or so you thought.

While Sukuna was nearly defenseless against your love, it also ignited something far more sinister—his jealousy.

The mere idea of losing you made his blood burn with rage. Other men were not even permitted to look at you, lest they get torn limb from limb.

Though deeply in love, Sukuna’s possessive nature remained. And woe befall any who dared threaten what was his.

The first time it happened was weeks after you’d become his. A young lord from a clan sent you gifts and flowers, seeking your affection. When Sukuna discovered this, the fury in his eyes turned them molten gold.

“He dares think he can steal you away from me?” Sukuna seethed. In an instant, he vanished to hunt down the offending lord.

He returned hours later drenched in blood that was not his own. You shuddered to imagine what cruel fate had befallen the misguided young man. Sukuna said nothing of it, simply pulled you into a bruising kiss and swore you’d never leave his side again.

After that, the corpses started piling up.

A guard who eyed you lasciviously, eviscerated.

A peasant whose longing stare lingered too long, executed.

Anyone who so much as looked at you with desire was signing their own death warrant.

You begged Sukuna to show mercy, but your pleas fell on deaf ears. “They try to take what is mine,” he would snarl. “They deserve no less than agony and death.”

His demonic nature had fully resurfaced, and you realized just what you had unleashed. Sukuna would slaughter legions and burn the world to ashes if it meant keeping you.

You were terrified of what he had become. Yet some traitorous part of you thrilled at being so coveted, so passionately loved, even if it came at a bloody cost.

He was an obsession incarnate, and you, his obsession.

No matter where you turned, his shadow loomed.

There would be no escaping the King of Curses’ dark desires.

You were his.

How did it all start? It’s been too long since it went past your head already.

But you do remember vividly when you were walking that one night when your gut told you not to, you did.

You should have listened to your instincts. But there was something about the forest at night that called to you, beckoning you to explore its moon-bathed paths and whispering trees.

Curiosity won out over caution, and you decided one quick walk couldn’t hurt.

You set out just after sunset, relishing the kiss of cool night air on your skin. The woods were serene and lovely in the deep blue hush just before true darkness fell. Night blooms perfumed the air as you wandered along aimlessly, simply savoring this secret world.

Until you realized you had lost your way. Suddenly the trees seemed more ominous, the shadows deeper. You paused, peering anxiously through the gloom.

How long have you been walking?

Which way was home?

As you turned around in circles trying to get your bearings, a blow of wind appeared behind you. You froze, heartbeat thudding in your ears.

“Well, what do we have here?”

You whipped around with a gasp. Emerging from the trees was a tall, powerfully built man. But what drew your wide-eyed stare were the four arms crossed onto his bare, toned chest.

You stumbled back in terror, but he moved unnaturally fast, appearing before you in an instant. Up close, details that had escaped you at a distance were now frighteningly clear. Tattoos are carved on his face and body. His eyes burned crimson.

You were face to face with the King of Curses himself.

“Please…” you whimpered, trembling. “I mean no trespass...”

Sukuna tilted his head, considering you with evident amusement. He reached out an arm towards you, his fingers gliding along your jaw, tipping your chin up. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for death.

But instead of tearing you apart, he simply chuckled. “Open your eyes. I will not harm you.”

You cracked them open hesitantly. Sukuna was observing you closely now, intrigued.

“Fear not. I merely wondered who was wandering my woods at this late hour,” he purred. “But I see now… you are no threat at all.”

His touch was surprisingly gentle as he traced the line of your throat. You shivered but did not dare pull away. The heat of his skin felt feverish against yours.

“What brings you here to me, I wonder?” he murmured, his piercing gaze seeming to lay your soul bare.

He tutted, circling you slowly. “These woods are dangerous at night, especially for tempting morsels like yourself. Do you have any idea what lurks in the shadows?” He paused expectantly, but you were too petrified to respond.

You licked your dry lips nervously. “I… I was simply exploring. I did not mean to disturb—”

“Quiet.” A finger pressed lightly over your mouth. “How shall I punish this trespass? I do hate uninvited guests.”

You finally found your voice, though it trembled pitifully. “P-please, I meant no intrusion. If you let me go, I swear I will never—”

“Let you go?” Sukuna tilted his head, looking almost offended. “Now, why would I do that? No, you will not be leaving.”

Your heart hammered at those enigmatic words. Just what did this dangerous being want with you? Surely not anything good.

As if reading your mind, Sukuna laughed once more. “Worry not, little one. I only wish for some company.” In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance between you, caging you with his body. This close, the heat pouring off him was incredible, the coils of his tattoos seeming to slither and shift before your eyes with your heart hammering wildly.

A violent shudder went through you, though not entirely from fear now. Being clasped in his strong embrace had stirred something unexpected within you. A strange exhilaration at having caught the eye of this exotic and terrible being.

He leaned down, inhaling deeply near the crook of your neck. “Mm, such fear. I can taste it rolling off your skin… intoxicating.” His lips grazed your fluttering pulse, making you shudder. “You are afraid, yet also thrilled to see me, aren’t you?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. Was it that obvious, the traitorous excitement you felt being so close to this dangerous demon? You just couldn’t tear your eyes away from his unusual beauty.

“I thought so,” he purred, looking utterly satisfied. He brushed a finger lightly down your cheek. “It seems fate has brought you to me for a reason.”

Sukuna sensed your reaction and made a small pleased noise. In one smooth motion, he swept you up into his arms and started carrying you deeper into the woods.

You gasped, hands braced against the solid muscles of his shoulder. “Where are you taking me? Please, I never meant to intrude! I am sorry! just—”

“Shut it.” His grip tightened. “Do not fight me. Submit, and it will go easier for you.”

Tears of panic spilled down your cheeks. But despite your fear, you felt your body responding to his proximity, pulsing with alarming warmth. Your thoughts scattered as Sukuna claimed your mouth in a searing kiss, tasting your helpless whimper.

“What are you…” you gasped, too speechless to find a word to fight back.

As if reading your mind again, Sukuna adjusts the way he’s carrying you to brush his lips against your own in a feather-light caress. “I hope you are not too afraid, little one. I have been alone for so long, you will keep me company. And I have no intention of letting you go.”

Some part of you recognized the truth in his words. No matter how your mind recoiled, your body was betraying you, longing for more of his addictive caresses. He sensed your crumbling resistance, his smile triumphant.

“You are mine now. Do not fight it.”

You stared around in awe at the sprawling shinden-zukuri as Sukuna placed you down and led you inside. Paper screens glowed warmly with lantern light, illuminating opulent tatami rooms decorated with priceless scrolls and vases, and through meticulously tended gardens dotted with tranquil ponds. Everything about this place spoke of immense power and wealth.

It was a far cry from your own humble village dwelling. You could scarcely fathom how a demon lord had come to possess such a magnificent noble estate out here in the remote forest.

As Sukuna guided you deeper into the manse, you passed several elegantly dressed women in simple yet elegant kimonos, all keeping their gazes demurely lowered.

‘Servants,’ you realized. But where had they come from? Were they taken like how you are now? Were you about to become another of his servants?

When you reached the main manor, Sukuna slid open the screen to reveal a grand receiving chamber. Priceless ink scrolls and painted silk screens adorned the walls. The opulence was staggering.

“Do you like it?” he asked, noting your awe. “I claimed this estate long ago from its previous owners.”

You shivered at the implication behind those words but said nothing as he guided you deeper inside.

Your bemused wondering was interrupted when Sukuna slid open a screen door, ushering you into a lavish bed chamber. A large futon covered in silks took up most of the space.

“You must be weary, little one,” he stroked your hair. “Rest now. I will have my servants draw you a bath.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead before gliding from the room. Still stunned by your opulent surroundings, you wandered over to the open window. Beyond the manicured gardens and koi ponds you could see nothing but dense forest stretching endlessly. Just how far had Sukuna brought you?

You had little time to ponder before two servant women appeared, bowing deeply. They poured hot water into a carved wooden tub and then added cherry blossom-scented oils.

You let them help you disrobe and sink into the fragrant bath, the tension in your muscles unwinding. The demon’s domain was still terrifying and foreign, but you couldn’t deny the comforts he lavished upon you. His possession had a gentleness to it that left you conflicted.

This place treated you better in less than two hours than your whole life in the village.

After your bath, the servants dressed you in silken robes layered in rich hues of wisteria and spring leaves. Darkened your lips with crushed berries. They arranged your hair with jade combs and dabbed perfume at your wrists in a courtly fashion.

Examining their work in a bronze mirror, you barely recognized yourself. The simple village girl staring back from the bronze mirror was gone, replaced by someone who looked like a noblewoman.

Sukuna was waiting when you emerged, hungry eyes sweeping over you appreciatively. “Beautiful,” he pulls you close to him. His lips grazed your wrist, inhaling the perfume there. “You will come to appreciate the comforts of being mine.” His words sent an illicit tingle through you.

“Thank you,” was all you could say as you felt your body sway toward him, eyelashes fluttering downward demurely. His attentions were clouding your caution, making you forget the circumstances that had brought you here.

Sukuna seemed pleased by your response. He took your hand and led you to a candlelit room where a feast awaited. You kneeled on plush cushions across from him. There, your eyes widen at the sight—dishes you could only dream of tasting.

“Uraume is my best cook. They know how to make delicious food,” he brags, pointing at the person with white bob hair with his eyes. Uraume bowed respectfully before excusing themselves.

As the night deepened, Sukuna kept your cup full, his burning gaze holding yours in the romantic glow. Here in this place of luxury, it was easy to forget he was someone who had stolen you away.

“Come.” He held out one of his hands. “It is time you rested.”

Back in the bed chamber, he guided you down onto silken sheets while your pulse quickened. His eyes roamed your body hungrily before he leaned down to claim your lips in a deep kiss. You knew you should resist, but his touch ignited a dangerous fire inside.

His fingers trailed delicately along your skin as he peeled away each layer of your robes until you were laid bare before him. “You are so lovely, little one,” he rasped. He pressed you down into the silken futon, his eyes focused on you. “I will teach you pleasures fit for an empress,” he growled.

“And you will learn to crave my body above all else.”

His words sent a spike of fear through you, even as your traitorous body responded hungrily to his. His burning caress left no doubt of his intentions. You trembled, but didn’t refuse him.

Here in this beautiful prison, you were his to do with as he pleased. And some traitorous part of you craved to experience the passions he promised.

As Sukuna’s body covered yours, you surrendered completely to him. Within these walls, you now belonged utterly to him.

You had been living as Sukuna’s pampered pet in his lavish manor for several days now. He gifted you an ornate silk kimono, adorned your hair with jeweled combs, and ensured you lacked nothing. At night, he would lay you across silken futons and set your body aflame with new realms of pleasure.

But each morning after, as he caressed your skin and murmured endearments, doubts crept in. Were there others that he touched this way? The thought filled you with unease.

You wanted his passion reserved only for you.

When Sukuna appeared in your room this evening, he found you quiet and distant, your smile restrained. Brow furrowing, he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

“What troubles you, little one? Have I not provided for you well?”

You gathered your courage. “I… I have a request, My Lord…”

He raised one brow, “Oh? Speak.”

“If we are to share such intimacy, I wish it to be only between us. No other lover, in any way.” You held his gaze evenly. “Will you vow this, please?”

For a moment Sukuna only stared, stunned by your bold demand. Then a sly smile curved his lips.

“My little one wishes to tame me, is that it?” He trailed a finger lightly down your cheek. “You seek to bind me to yourself alone?”

Heart pounding, you gave one short nod.

Sukuna threw back his head with a delighted laugh. “You fascinate me endlessly. No mortal has ever dared make demands of me.” His expression softened by looking at your innocent face. “But for you, I will agree.”

He leans down, face to face with you, “From now on, I am yours alone.”

Relief washed through you at his oath. As Sukuna drew you into a passionate kiss, you yielded completely for the first time, holding nothing back.

“My sweet, little love…” He lifted you in his arms. “I will make you forget any existed before this night.”

And he did. Laying you down, hands and lips he worshiped you, wringing gasps and cries from your lips as you arched desperately, mindless and pleading beneath him.

At the height of ecstasy, his burning gaze held yours. His heated gaze seared into yours at the pinnacle, fierce and possessive. “No other shall ever know you as I do.”

The feeling when your body joined, the sensation was beyond words, it felt like coming home. Like a missing piece of your soul had been restored. Wave after wave of bliss crested over you both, leaving you entwined in breathless ecstasy.

As lantern light faded to silvery moonbeams, Sukuna held you close, your heartbeats synchronizing. You now belonged only to each other in body, heart, and soul.

“Mine,” Sukuna rasped against your skin, his canine digging into your neck, marking you as his. “Just as I am yours. This, I vow to you, little one, from now until the end of days.”

His words echoed long in your mind, even as spent passion gave way to sleep in his enveloping embrace. The King of Curses himself was now bound to you irrevocably. And you to him.

The vow had been spoken, the ritual complete.

The days had settled into a predictable routine in Sukuna’s residence. He would vanish for hours or even full days to attend to mysterious “business”, leaving you to wander the chambers and gardens alone. You never ask where he went or what occupied him. Some fears were best left unspoken.

But your heart would lift eagerly whenever Sukuna returned, no matter how late the hour. Just knowing he had come back to you was enough. You took to waiting anxiously by the engawa, ready to greet him.

At first, he returned spotless and composed. But soon the blood became noticeable.

It would decorate his arms, spatter his chest and face in drying rust-colored patterns. The life essence of whatever poor souls had crossed him in the nearby villages. You didn’t need to ask how it got there.

The first time, you gasped and shrank back in horror. But Sukuna just smiled and opened his arms to you. “Come, let us get cleansed of the day’s exertions.”

You forced yourself to look past the gore, seeing only your demonic lord who needed tending. Taking his hand, you led him to the bath chamber.

There you gently sponged away the carnage, breathing relief when his skin emerged clean again. Sukuna watched you intently, eyes glowing with unspoken emotions. You didn’t dare examine it too closely.

When you were done, he would pull you into his lap, nuzzling against your throat almost tenderly. As if your ministries had tamed the beast lurking within.

“My little one,” he would rumble. And your heart would swell under his praises.

Before long, you began living for his returns. The hours apart stretched endlessly, your thoughts consumed with concern for his well-being. Your chest would tighten with loneliness in his absence. Maybe you craved him because you have no one to come home to, that’s why you are willing to be with him.

Surely he must share your needs, right?

The moment his shadow appeared down the corridor, you flew to him, embracing him heedless of any lingering blood. Sukuna laughed indulgently, hands gentling your desperation.

“Such passion, little one. Did you miss me so terribly?”

You nodded, not caring how you exposed your dependence on him. He tipped your chin up, his sharp eyes looking at you softly. “As I missed you. The time apart is agony.”

His admission made you smile in relief. After bathing him, you would prepare tea and draw him into quiet conversation, savoring this domestic intimacy. Here with you, he almost seemed content.

At late night, his lovemaking took on new urgency, as if reaffirming your bond. You matched his intensity, wanting to erase any distance the day had built between you.

“You are all I need,” he whispered afterward, cradling you close. And you knew then you were hopelessly lost to this dangerous creature. He had become your entire world.

When Sukuna departed each morning, part of you went with him. Until he returned to make you whole once more. There was no denying the truth—you were his, mind, body, and soul.

You see, life with Sukuna provided came at a terrible price—the waiting.

And so you hatched a plan.

You requested the finest silks from the seamstress and described the revealing garment you wished to craft. An elegant yet alluring yukata, hinting at the beauty beneath.

On the night of his homecoming, you adorned yourself carefully, arranging your hair over your bare shoulders, sketching your lips crimson. The ensemble left you feeling exposed, but also powerful.

When Sukuna entered the bed chamber, the sight of you made him halt in his tracks. Eyes widened as they traced over you hungrily, taking in every contour the diaphanous fabric outlined.

“Little one,” he rasped. “You look like divinity itself. What is all this for?”

You steeled your nerves and went to him, guiding his fingers to untie your sash with hands that trembled.

“I wish to ease your burdens tonight, My Lord. Will you permit me?”

A growl escapes his throat as your robes slip to the floor. The intensity of his gaze seared into your skin everywhere it touched. Strong arms pulled you fiercely against him.

“You test my restraint, beloved. Are you certain?”

At your whispered yes, his control shattered. With infinite care he bore you down onto silken sheets, praising every inch of newly bared flesh until you were dizzy and pleading.

Even at its peak, he kept the pace languid—long, delirious strokes of passion. The pleasure was sweet agony. You arched and moved as one, minds entwining as deeply as your bodies.

When it ended, you were changed. Sukuna held you tenderly as languor claimed you both, as if you were the most precious treasure in the world.

Perhaps you should have been afraid of this obsessive devotion. But you could not imagine life without him now.

As nice as it is living comfortably with everything provided for you, sometimes his residence becomes a gilded cage. You yearned to walk beyond the gardens, to visit the nearby villages you glimpsed from afar.

After much pleading, Sukuna finally relented. “If it will make you happy, we shall go. But you must stay close to me.” His eyes held an unspoken warning.

The day came at last. Taking his arm, you ventured out onto the winding forest paths, buzzing with excitement. Sukuna watched you closely, as if to imprint each delighted reaction.

When the first simple thatched dwellings came into view, you gasped. “Oh, look! Real village life, just as I remembered.”

“Then let us explore it,” he said indulgently, strolling by your side.

You moved through stalls selling woven reed baskets, hand-dyed yukata, and carved jade amulets. The smells of grilling fish and blossom-scented steam from tea houses mingled in the air. Your smile was radiant.

Most villagers averted their eyes and scrambled away at the sight of his presence. But their fearful deference only seemed to amuse Sukuna as he guided you along.

Pausing by a fountain, you turned joyfully to him. “Thank you for this, My Lord. I haven’t felt this happy in…” Your voice trailed off as you noticed a young man staring from across the village square. His gaze was fixed on you, his handsome face breaking into a flirtatious grin, looking at you with his eyes signaling interest.

Before you could react, Sukuna had crossed the distance between them in two swift strides. You watched in horror as he seized the insolent youth by the throat and slammed him against a wall, baring razor fangs.

“You dare look at her that way?” he thundered. The young man choked out pleas for mercy as Sukuna’s grip tightened relentlessly.

“My Lord! Stop!” You rushed over, clutching his arm. “I beg you, let him go!”

With obvious reluctance, Sukuna released his hold and stepped back. The terrified man crumpled to the ground, wheezing with his face pale. You tugged Sukuna (he didn’t resist) away quickly as onlookers gaped.

Once you were back within the secluded forest path, he rounded on you. “Why did you stop me?” he demanded, eyes still burning with fury. “That whelp was openly desiring what is mine.”

You trembled. “He meant no true offense, My Lord.”

Sukuna exhaled harshly, drawing you against him. “You are too forgiving, little one. Next time I may not be so lenient.” The promise in his voice chilled you.

Nonetheless, in the days that followed, you persuaded him to let you visit the village markets again. Sukuna acquiesced, but his mood turned brooding whenever you went out together.

It was not long before a repeat incident occurred. A passing noble’s gaze lingered on you a moment too long. Sukuna's reaction was swift and merciless. Before you could intervene, the shrieking lord was engulfed in infernal flames, his ashes scattering to the wind.

This time, Sukuna was deaf to your pleas for restraint. “They continue testing me, presuming they can admire my possession with impunity,” he snarled. “I will suffer this insult no more.”

Numb with horror, you could say nothing as he took your arm and led you from that place of death.

Sukuna would never change his nature. His jealousy and possessiveness were as innate as the demonic power coursing through his veins. And you were helpless to curb them.

Trying to tame such a savage spirit had been foolish. Where his claim over you was concerned, no mercy would ever sway him.

The journey back to the estate was made in tense silence. You could feel the rage rolling off Sukuna in scorching waves as he strode ahead. His jaw was granite, fists clenched and shaking.

Only once you were behind the privacy of the chamber walls did he finally unleash it.

“How can you defend him?” he roared, making you flinch. “Those pathetic mortals who dared to covet what is not theirs. It is unacceptable!”

You stood your ground. “I make no defense, only ask that you temper reactions. This endless jealousy causes nothing but suffering.”

Sukuna’s eyes blazed, his voice dropping to a dangerous hiss. “You ask me to watch passively as they dishonor my claim on you? To permit their vulgar ogling?” He swept a hand savagely across a lacquered table, sending the vase crashing.

You jumped at the destruction but forced yourself to meet his volcanic glare. “I am not possession or prize to be claimed, My Lord. You cannot punish all for one foolish man’s gaze. I have told you this before, but I am not harmed.”

“Not harmed?” Sukuna bellowed, slamming his fists into the bloodwood pillar with a crack. “Not yet! But their desire will grow brazen if I do not act decisively now.”

He stormed toward you, making you back away instinctively. “You are mine. No other shall covet or touch what belongs to me. I would see this whole wretched village burn first.”

As his tirade raged on, you felt tears rising, spilling silently down your cheeks. The possessive diatribes, the limitless fury—you were exposing the folly of trying to gentle the devil’s heart.

Sukuna abruptly halted his pacing at the sight, chest heaving. His blazing eyes took in your hunched, trembling form. For an instant, something like shock flickered across his face. He blinked rapidly, swaying slightly.

“No… My little love…” All at once, the frenzied anger seemed to drain from him. He reached for you hesitantly, as if expecting you to recoil. When you stayed rooted, he enfolded you in his shaking arms.

“Forgive me,” Sukuna whispered. “I should not have raised my voice. But the thought of losing you…” One hand stroked your hair, then gently tipped your chin up. His thumb brushed away the tear tracks on your skin.

“You are everything to me in this wretched world,” he murmured. “I could not bear it if harm befell you.” His eyes were molten and his voice raw. “Tell me you know I would never let anything hurt you, not even myself in the madness of my rage.”

You searched his face and saw the sincerity burning there. With a fragile nod, you laid your head against his chest. His exhale was ragged with relief.

“I will try to be more merciful. For you, at least,” he sighs. “But you must understand it rages in my blood when I see them desire my most precious treasure.”

You stayed silent in his embrace. Perhaps this was the most he could concede—ferocity tempered with remorse. You could not change his possessive heart, only help him master what flowed within it.

And for now, it would have to be enough. His jealousy was a storm that would never fully be calmed. But like the storm’s eye, at the center there was still tenderness he reserved only for you.

Once more, the days dragged endlessly when Sukuna was away. You had explored every corner of the estate a dozen times over. The loneliness gnawed at you.

So when he left at dawn one morning, you made an impulsive decision. Donning a cloak, you slipped outside the manor walls while the servants slept. Your steps quickened as you neared the hill path leading down to the village.

You had only meant to take a brief, harmless walk to lift your spirits. But the smells of grilled squid and sweet adzuki buns drew you like a magnet. Your stomach rumbled, reminding you it had been ages since you tasted simple street food.

Checking over your shoulder, you darted to the nearest food stall when no one was looking. The elderly vendor smiled in delight as you pointed to the snacks that tempted you most. It felt deliciously naughty, this minor rebellion.

You were waiting for the bamboo skewer of piping hot squid when someone jostled you from behind. Whirling around angrily, you found yourself staring up at a rugged, unkempt man looming over you. His bloodshot eyes raked down your body in a way that made your skin crawl.

“Well now, what do we have here?” His words slurred drunkenly. “You’re that demon’s little toy, ain’t ya? His pretty pet.”

When you shrank away, the brute caught your wrist in a painful grip. Revulsion rose in you. “Let go of me!”

The man just sneered. “Where is your master now, hmm? Bet he doesn’t like you sneakin’ off alone.” He swayed closer, sour breath hot on your face. “Maybe I oughta teach you some manners, whore.”

Outraged tears stung your eyes. You opened your mouth to scream for help when suddenly the man’s hand was wrenched away from you with a sickening crack. His shriek split the air.

Whirling around, you saw Sukuna standing there, eyes blazing infernos. The man who had seized you was now suspended off the ground, clutching his mangled, dangling arm.

“Please, mercy!” he whimpered piteously. But Sukuna’s face was a merciless stone.

With a snarl, he slammed the offender down, pinning him by the throat. “You dare speak to her that way?” His voice was deathly quiet. “Dare lay your filthy hands upon her?”

The man gurgled pleas, legs kicking uselessly. Sukuna tightened his grip. “No. There will be no mercy for you.”

And before your eyes, he ripped the man’s head from his body in one savage motion. Blood sprayed hot across your face and cloak. The headless corpse slumped with a wet thud that echoed horribly in your ears.

You stood there, frozen. You’re sick to the stomach—it’s nauseating—looking at the brutal sight that your lover could do.

Rooted in shock, you barely registered Sukuna turning to you. He grasped your shoulders firmly. “Did he hurt you?” At your numb shake of the head, fiery rage flooded back into his eyes.

“Good. Because I would have drawn out his torment for years if he had.” With that, Sukuna flung the lifeless body contemptuously through the door of a nearby hut.

Screams arose from within as you stared at the gore coating Sukuna’s hands. The brutality finally jolted you from horrified paralysis. Voice trembling, you begged him to take you home.

The journey back was made in silence. Once behind the walls, Sukuna rounded on you like the last time.

“How could you go without my permission?” He paced like a caged beast. “See what nearly befell you? The filth who could do anything to you?”

You flinched beneath the verbal onslaught, too numb to defend yourself as he kept raging.

“You are forbidden from leaving again! Do you understand?” He seized your shoulders roughly. “It is too dangerous for you.”

You nodded, mute and hollow. With a harsh exhale, Sukuna pulls you against him as four of his arms envelop you in a warm embrace, some of the frantic anger leaving him.

“Forgive my harsh words, my little love. But I do not like you being treated like that.” His voice broke on the last word. He clutched you tighter, as if to reassure himself you were real.

After that day, whispers followed you through the residence like ghosts, for no clear reason. Servants offering polite smiles that never reached their eyes, only to resume their hushed gossip once you’d passed.

At first, you tried ignoring the sidelong glances and murmurs. But still, the cruel words leaked through.

“She is just a plaything to him.”

“Once the master is bored, she will be discarded.”

“He is only using her on the bed.”

“Once he tires of those pleasures, her time here will end.”

Their cruel words haunted you, sinking claws into vulnerabilities you’d buried deep. Did they speak the truth? Was your whole purpose here just to entertain Sukuna’s baser appetites? The thought you might be expendable shook you to your core.

You managed to conceal your anguish and distress at first. But the doubts festered, stealing your appetite and sleep. When Sukuna finally noticed the toll on your health, alarm flared in his eyes.

Gently taking your hands, he scoops you onto his lap, facing him. “What is bothering your pretty little head, hm? You know you can tell me anything.”

You shook your head, “It is nothing, My Lord. Not a big problem.”

“I do not like you lying to me, little one,” he shakes his head, not buying your secrecy.

“I am okay. Please, no need to be concerned about me.”

“How can I not? What is it? Tell me,” he holds your chin still to make you look at him.

Both of your stubborn banter goes back and forth until you’re both getting impatient.

You wavered, then spilled out the vile gossip you’d endured in silence. Sukuna listened gravely, thumb idly stroking your wrist. When you finished, he let out a long breath, gazing at you earnestly

“You believe their hateful lies? That you are some plaything to me? You know in your heart these claims are untrue.” He grasped your shoulders, staring intently into your eyes. “You are everything. Your faith in me is worth more than a million mortal lifetimes.”

He brought your hand to his chest, holding it over his steadily beating heart. “Do not let petty jealousies make you doubt what we share.”

Overwhelmed, you buried your face against him. “Forgive my doubts, My Lord,” you whispered.

“There is nothing to forgive. The fault is theirs, not yours.” Stroking your hair, he pressed a fierce kiss to your head. Then his tone turned cold. “As for these spiteful women, I will make them regret ever speaking such lies.”

You quickly squeezed his hands. “Please, do not harm them. I only wished to explain my melancholy, not see others punished.”

Sukuna frowned. “You ask me to ignore those who hurt you so? Who makes you doubt my devotion?” His grip on you tightened. “I cannot be so forgiving.”

“I know it comes from care,” you soothed. “But replying to anger with more anger will only breed misery.”

He paused, then exhaled harshly, pulling you close. Resting his forehead to yours, he went on. “I swear to you, my feelings run deeper than they comprehend.”

“Leave this to me now, little one. Just rest easy.”

True to his word, the gossip ceased quickly. You didn’t ask what Sukuna said or did to silence loose tongues. But the servants now bent over backward to please you, their once spiteful eyes now carefully respectful.

Their newfound reverence somehow bothered you more. But Sukuna seemed satisfied. “Let the wretches make amends for causing you pain,” he said nonchalantly.

Some part of you recoiled at his methods. Yet it warmed your heart to know he would avenge any slight against you without hesitation. Perhaps it was wrong to take comfort from his possessiveness.

But you needed to feel cherished after so much doubt. And Sukuna left no room for uncertainty in how deeply he treasured you. Each tender glance and touch slowly healed the wounds until you were whole again.

When he came to you beneath the silken sheets now, the passion held new meaning. A reaffirming of what you were to each other.

You were his sanctuary. Just as he was yours.

The gossip no longer stung when you knew his heart with such certainty.

Sukuna had told you he was taking a few days off to spend with you. With him home beside you for a blessed few days, the gloom cast over the estate seemed to lift. His four muscular arms caged you securely against his broad chest as you sank comfortably into his embrace.

He was attentive in ways you’d never seen before, constantly drawing you into his arms, asking questions about your childhood, your dreams, anything to get to know you better.

At first, you were shy, unused to being the object of such focused interest. But Sukuna’s patient gentleness soon had the words spilling freely from your lips.

You happily opened up to him in turn, chatting lightly about your days spent tending the garden, studying scripture with the monks, or watching the koi fish circle lazily in their pond. No detail was too small or mundane—he drank in every insight into your character with eyes that never once glazed in boredom.

He listened intently, his crimson eyes focused solely on you. As frightening as he could be, you knew this powerful being cherished you in his own way. You were likely the only person in the world he cared for.

When you finally worked up the courage to ask about his early life in turn, his gaze darkened briefly. “There is little of worth to tell,” he muttered.

He went on tonelessly to describe his parents casting him out as an infant, cursing his existence. Forced to eke out a living on the streets, he learned quickly that mercy was for the weak.

“I was not always like this,” he rumbled. “Once I was a human, born to parents who did not want me.” His fingers tensed where they rested on your back. “As an infant, they discarded me on the streets to die. But I survived, growing up feral and alone.”

You looked up at him sadly, heart aching at the thought of him helpless and abandoned with no one to care for him. You raised a hand to gently stroke his cheek.

Sukuna closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. “I do not tell you this for pity,” he said firmly. “My past made me strong.”

His eyes opened again. “When my cursed technique manifested, I used them without mercy, cutting down any who dared stand in my way. I reveled in my growing strength, the thrill of battle and blood... they satisfied me. I honed my skills until I became unmatched.”

You nodded solemnly. His description matched the legends told of the terrifying Ryomen Sukuna.

Now you know why he lacked mercy.

You take his hands in yours, kissing his palms. “The past is behind you now,” you told him. “What matters is who you choose to be from this day forth. My love for you is unconditional.” You smiled up at him warmly. “But I promise to teach you the ways of empathy and love, even if you protest.”

Sukuna huffed in amusement, the corners of his mouth quirking up. “Little one, you may try, but do not expect miracles. I am what I am.” But his embrace around you was gentle, belying his words.

You poked his chest teasingly. “I will make it my mission to show you how wonderful love can be, the joys it brings to our lives.” Laughing, you added, “Just you wait, I will have you reciting poetry and picking wildflowers before long!”

“Hmph, do not get carried away,” he grumbled, but you could tell he was secretly pleased by your playful vow.

You cuddled against his chest, determined to shower this damaged soul with all the love and tenderness he had missed in his tragic early years.

The next morning, as soft sunlight filtered into the bedroom, you lay wrapped in Sukuna’s strong embrace. Your head rested on his muscular chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat. His breathing was slow and even, still asleep.

You traced idle patterns on his bare skin, your fingertips grazing over the tattoos adorning his body. Your mind drifted back to the conversation from the night before when Sukuna had told you a bit of his past.

Abandoned and unloved, forced to survive on his own from infancy. Your heart ached for the small, helpless babe he had been. The thought of him growing up without affection or care weighed heavily on you.

You understood now why love and empathy were so foreign to him. But you were determined to show Sukuna what he had missed, to fill his long existence with the warmth and joy he deserved.

Your short mortal life worried you, however. Sukuna had lived for centuries, he would go on existing long after you passed on. Would he find someone new to love? How would losing you affect him? Immortal beings were not meant to give their hearts to fleeting humans.

You must have tensed in concern, because Sukuna began stirring, his four arms instinctively tightening around you. “What troubles you so early, little one?” his deep voice rasped, still groggy with sleep.

You tilted your head up to peer at him. “I was thinking about what you told me last night, about your past. My heart breaks imagining you alone as a child.”

He regarded you seriously. “It was long ago. Dwelling on what cannot be changed is pointless.”

“I know,” you murmured. “I only wish I could have cared for you then. But now I worry… what will happen when I am gone? My life is so short compared to yours. Will you find someone new to love?” Your voice caught on the last word as you averted your gaze. You weren’t sure you even wanted to hear the answer.

He was silent. When you worked up the courage to look at him again, his crimson eyes were looking at you intensely. With a swift, motion he flipped you beneath him, bracing his weight above you and capturing your face between his big hands.

“You think I could simply replace you when death takes you from me?” His thumb brushed your cheek tenderly. “No other has touched my soul as you have. Long was my existence before you, yet I was empty.” Leaning down, he touched his forehead to yours.

“Your fragile mortality may one day steal you from my side, but what we have cannot be replicated or replaced.” He lifted his head to gaze deeply into your eyes.

“When you are gone, I will be lost again. I accept that your life must end as mine continues.” His jaw clenched. “But I will find no peace with another. What we have is beyond replacement.”

Tears blurred your vision at his heartfelt words. You had not realized the depth of his attachment, that the absence of your love would leave him emotionally desolate.

You threw your arms around his broad shoulders. “Then we must make the most of the time we have,” you declared. “Fill our days with so much joy that you will carry the warmth of our love for eternity.”

Sukuna wrapped you tightly in his embrace. “Yes,” he agreed, nuzzling your neck. “I will cherish every precious moment with you, little one.”

His words made your heart clench, but you understood, he would never love another as he had you. Your lives were tragically misaligned, yet the love you shared transcended such limits.

You spent the day wrapped up in Sukuna, exchanging tender caresses, murmuring sweet nothings, strolling the grounds hand-in-hand. Every shared laugh, every affectionate glance was savored, imprinting your bond ever deeper.

As the sun sets in glorious color, you lay entwined together beneath the cover of a wisteria tree. Your head rested over Sukuna’s heart as he gently stroked your hair. His steady heartbeat and the rhythmic rise of his chest were deeply comforting.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” you whispered.

“As do I, little one,” he replied, his voice tinged with melancholy. “But we cannot halt the merciless passage of time.”

You leaned up to press a soft kiss to his jaw. “No matter how short my life, I am grateful every moment of it is spent with you.”

Sukuna cradled you close, distress evident in his eyes. “When I am alone again, I will find comfort in the memories we have.”

His grip on you tightened, as if he could hold you to this world through will alone. You tilted your head back to peer up at him. “And when I am gone, will you be okay?”

“I will endure it. As I have endured all hardship in my long life.” He traced his thumb lightly down your cheek. “It will not feel the same, my little love. But do not worry about me, I will be fine.”

Your heart clenched at the raw honesty in his normally stoic demeanor. On impulse, you stretched up to press a soft kiss to his lips. Sukuna went still for a heartbeat before responding in kind, lips moving gently against yours.

“Then do not dwell on the inevitable end,” you cup his face in your hands. “Think only of how much we mean to each other now. If my love can sustain you even a little while after I am gone, that will be enough.”

Sukuna pressed his forehead to yours. “I will brace it when the time comes. But for now, my world is only you.”

You kissed him tenderly, then settled against his chest once more. Bittersweet joy swelled your heart, knowing you had brought some warmth into Sukuna’s grim existence. Though fleeting and painfully finite, your mortal love was a balm to his ancient, scarred soul.

The years passed swiftly. Sukuna remained your steadfast companion as you grew from a young woman into old age. He was always there to hold you close, whisper endearments, make you laugh with his wit.

In the blink of an eye, your hair became streaked with silver. Your smooth skin wrinkled and your energy waned. But your love never faded.

Sukuna stayed by your side as you grew frail, cradling you tenderly through restless nights, patiently spoon-feeding you broth when eating became difficult. His eyes reflected centuries of sadness knowing your time grew short.

Finally, you lay weakly upon your futon as he stayed close by your side. Your breathing turned ragged and a violent cough wracked your body. He gathered you gently into his arms.

“The end is near, my little one,” he murmured, smoothing back your thin hair.

You gave him a quivering smile. “I am ready. Just stay with me, please.”

He pressed his lips to your wrinkled forehead. “Always.”

You spent your final moments gazing up at his face, etched into your mind after so many years together. His image would be the last you saw in this life. With a contented sigh, you closed your eyes for the final time.

Sukuna let out a broken noise, pulling you tightly to his chest as your body went limp. Rocking your still form, he wept for the first time in his long existence. Anguished sobs wracked his powerful frame.

He had known this moment would come, yet nothing could have prepared him for the sheer devastation of losing you. It felt as though part of his soul had been ripped away.

Sukuna had guarded your mortal form night and day in those final years. Now you slipped away before his eyes, leaving him utterly alone. The crushing pain made him understand the human concept of a “broken heart”.

But he took comfort knowing you had passed peacefully in his embrace. The only mercy was that you were spared a drawn-out decline. He had filled your short life with as much love as one man could give. He has known you for a short time compared to how you’ve known him for most of your life.

Wiping his eyes, Sukuna pressed final kisses to your cooled skin. He would honor you with a funeral befitting royalty. Then he must decide where to wander next. This place held too many haunting memories now.

Sukuna laid you gently on the futon and stood. He cast one last anguished look at your still face.

“My beloved…” he whispered. “No other shall ever take your place.”

Then he turned and strode from the room, jaw clenched against a fresh onslaught of grief. His steps were heavy with the unbearable burden of immortality and loss.

No, he doesn’t cremate you despite having the ability to do so. He doesn’t even want to think of burning you to ashes, or he might as well lose it and burn the world with it for taking you away too soon.

He buried you beneath the cherry tree where you’d spent so many blissful hours in his arms. He marked the site with a stone monument etched with his promise:

“In this life or the next, you are mine. None will ever love you as I have, little one.”

His task complete, Sukuna wandered for many years after. Though the sharp pain dulled to a persistent ache, the emptiness inside him never abated. He fulfilled his promise and took no other lovers, knowing they could only ever be hollow substitutes.

He will wait until his time comes no matter how long it takes to see you again in the afterlife.

He will wait long enough to see you reborn and claim you one more as his.

But the thing he knows for sure, you will always belong to no one but him.

I got emotional and carried away, I’m sorry 😭😭

[dunmesh]

can't stop thinking about dungeon meshi btw. how it comes down to being able to appreciate the hard and painful times because of the moments of happiness you experienced along the way.

it's about falin being able to forgive and look beyond the harsh way things were done- be it their father announcing he will send her away from the village or laios leaving her behind- partly due to her personality, and how she used to prioritize her loved ones' needs and emotions over her own, but also because of the positive impact that road eventually had on her. she knows her family was trying to protect her but what truly made it impossible to regret the path she had to take were the precious memories she made later on- it was learning magic and seeing new places and becoming friends with marcille and of course she couldn't hate it all, she was happy. it's about laios feeling so utterly miserable because on his end, it seemed like nothing good or enjoyable happened to him after leaving home, aside from the letters written by falin. but how long can a child be satisfied with another's happiness which he never got to experience himself?

so it really is beautiful that the series started off with him realizing that this journey allowed him to finally feel that happiness he was yearning for-

-and ended with everyone else realizing it too. when you first read chapter 11 it's just a funny gag about people not understanding laios, but it genuinely was too early for them to share his sentiment. they needed to come to terms with it on their own, with chilchuck opening up to them and senshi resolving the hovering mystery of his past and izutsumi freeing herself and joining their party and marcille facing her greatest fear. the winged lion was taking advantage of the loneliness and anger and pain lingering in laios's heart, but even it couldn't deny this. how, despite everything, he couldn't be satiated and his own happiness couldn't be complete without his friends' happiness too. how it was always about everyone enjoying a meal together.

and then there's marcille, who refused to admit it until the very end. it's in the way she had such a hard time fully accepting eating monsters despite how tasty she found them, not just due to how weird they were but also because she tried rejecting and burying her own pleasure and joy during this entire journey. from the very beginning, she was only willing to endure the pain and suffering.

as if she couldn't accept feeling an ounce of comfort, satisfaction, let alone happiness while falin was suffering on her own. and it might've been laios's reaction as well if all of this had happend a decade ago- i mean, that's exactly what he did back then. blaming himself for leaving her behind, being tormented by her loneliness and absence while falin was actually slowly moving towards a brighter future. it was him that was stuck, not her. but he kept focusing on her pain to ignore how deep the hole in his own heart had become, consumed by guilt to ignore his own agony, or to make sense of it- because maybe he did deserve it after all he had done.

and for that reason marcille was so terrified of admitting there was warmth in what she considered the depths of hell. because it would mean accepting falin going ahead of her and leaving her behind, accepting the inevitable she was trying so hard to deny and the end of her dream.

but it was learning there's joy even in her worst nightmare that allowed her to finally embrace those moments of pleasure that made her life worth living, however short they were. she realized that her pursuit would take away the things that truly mattered to her, that if she had succumbed to her fear of loss she would've been the one hurting her loved ones, just as happened to thistle. laios asking her to use ancient magic for falin's resurrection and then encouraging her to not give up on her desires during the nightmare chapter was a direct parallel to delgal being the one to push thistle down the road of destruction, while both marcille and thistle were trying to protect the people most important to their friends.

but in marcille's case, laios was able to understand her at the end, pulling her back just before she descended to complete ruin. it's truly fascinating how the story is not only about laios being understood but also getting to understand others properly, deeply- it's about mutual understanding, the balance between two people he never managed to maintain before. and i think it's only after seeing thistle's tragedy that he was able to fully realize what might become of marcille down the line. so while delgal put the weight of the world on thistle's shoulders, laios was the one to tell marcille she doesn't have to do that. because even if falin's resurrection hadn't succeeded, they both already know- there's happiness even in the dungeon's pit. and it's by preparing a hearty meal made of her loved one's remains that marcille was able to truly accept it- thus allowing herself to enjoy it to the fullest, embracing the cycle of life, no matter how weird or painful or grotesque it is.

[arealphrooblem]

A Goblin Bride

Synopsis: Once her sister is safely eloped and out of the Goblin King's clutches, the protagonist waits for his revenge. Things take an unexpected turn.

TW: mentions physically abusive father, injuries from physical abuse, attempted kidnapping/forced marriage, inhuman LI, expecting death (doesn't get it)

She watched the shadows on the floor darken and grow. The night would only bring her doom but she could do nothing but wait for it. Despite the agony of her bruised ribs, her split lip, her black eye, her broken wrist, she sat up in her bed with pride. Spine straight. Chin jutted out. She didn’t cower when her father beat her and she wasn’t going to cower when the Goblin King came for his revenge.

Her father had been incandescently furious when he found out her older sister had eloped with the tavern server. And even more so when he learned of the protagonist’s role in planning it out and executing it. It had led to the worst beating the protagonist had ever received from him.

But that was nothing compared to how livid the Goblin King would be once he woke up and realized his future wife had disappeared. Especially after three kidnapping attempts. He had let them win, let them escape, as part of some twisted chase, confident that he could spirit her sister away to his underground kingdom once he grew bored. Now that her sister was forever out of his reach, the protagonist doubted she would live to see the sunrise.

It didn’t matter what happened to her, as long as her sister was free and happy and not some captured bride wasting away in a dark kingdom with a monster for a husband.

Besides, if she didn’t live past tonight it would only facilitate her own escape. Her father had chased off every suitor that came sniffing around, to the point of uprooting her and her sister from the city to this remote country village. He expected to be cared for until his death and courting another wife was too bothersome.

“I underestimated you.”

The Goblin King stepped from the shadows as if they had borne him. His cat-like golden eyes gleamed in the lamp light. Though she had seen his monstrous form before, several times, the sight of him terrified her just as much as it did the first time.

He looked like a devil with his oxen tail, curled horns, skin black as soot. Even without magic his body was a weapon with his gleaming claws, fangs and powerful build. But what frightened her more than his appearance was the undeniable proof of his inhumanity. That he even existed at all.

She clenched her shaking hands into her duvet and glared at him.

“I told you that you would never have her. It's your fault for not believing me.”

He bowed his head in acknowledgment. “That’s true. I have to say I am impressed at your tenacity.”

“Thank you,” she shot back.

If she could have nothing else, she would have this moment of triumph and gloat before he killed her. He stepped slowly towards her, his boots unnaturally quiet, and she swallowed her terror enough to smirk at him.

“Of course,” he said, “ if I hadn’t played easy, you would have nev --”

He stopped abruptly, just a foot away, as he took in her bloodied lip, her bruised face, for the first time.

“What happened to you?”

His voice came out soft and utterly terrifying.

“My father was just as happy about the loss of my sister as you,” she said, unable to meet the sudden intensity of his gaze. “And if you had any mercy you would finish what he started and be done with it.”

“Finish what he started? Is that the kind of being you think I am?”

She jerked her gaze back to his, eyes flashing. “Why else would you be here?”

“Why else indeed?” he said softly, as if speaking to himself.

He looked lost in thought for a moment. She wondered if it would hurt, or if he could magic her life away in her sleep. If he would grant her the mercy of that.

He shook himself free of his thoughts and reached into the pouch on his belt. A small container sat in his hand, dwarfed by his palm. When he moved to sit at the side of her bed, she swallowed against the rising tide of panic in her chest. He was so close she could feel the heat of him, could smell the spicy scent on his clothes.

She refused to cower or beg, not when he screwed open the lid to reveal a thick cream, not when he dabbed his finger into it. She only flinched when he took her wrist, cracked by her father’s grip when he threw her, and spread the cream over the swelling.

In seconds, the pain diminished into nothing. The swelling disappeared.

It was as if the break had never happened.

“I owe you an apology,” said the King quietly, dipping his finger back into the salve.

She was too speechless to reply as he dabbed the cream on the bruise under her eye with light, gentle fingers.

“I was blinded by your sister’s beauty. I should have known better — Goblins as a society do not place much value on shallow beauty. And yet I didn’t see your ferocity, intelligence, determination, and bravery for what they were.”

“What are they?” she whispered as the pain of her black eye faded away.

He spread a dab of salve on her cut lip and something swooped low in her gut at the tenderness of it.

“The perfect qualities of a Goblin King’s wife.”

She jerked back in shock, the pain of her ribs flaring sharp enough to take her breath away. Her arm hugged her side as she gasped in pain, eyes squeezed shut.

“No,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’m not — You’re not supposed to want me.”

“What hurts?” the king asked, hands skating lightly over her collarbone, down her arm. “Did he break your ribs?”

“Stay away from me!”

She should have left with her sister, even if it meant living hand to mouth. She didn’t think of this possibility.

“Stop moving, you’re only going to make it worse.” He placed two heavy hands on her shoulders and pressed her firmly but gently against her pillows.

Fear clogged her throat so much she thought it would suffocate her.

“Please,” she whispered.

He ignored her plea, instead plucking at the side of her nightgown. “May I see?”

She didn’t reply, for fear of her voice cracking, the tears she had fought down for so long breaking free.

He golden eyes shone down on her, the pupils wide and dark in the dim light. “It hurts — let me help you.”

It did hurt. It hurt so much and if it didn’t, perhaps . . .perhaps she could get away again. Create another miraculous escape somehow.

Slowly, with great pain, she pulled up her nightgown from under the bed covers, stopping just under her breasts, exposing her side and stomach. Already a dark bruise had started to form. The sight of it caused the Goblin King to mutter something in his language under his breath.

It sounded like a curse.

His hands rubbed the salve onto her ribs, slowly and with utmost tenderness.

“It’s not the nightmare you’re imagining,” he said, “being my wife. You would be a queen. You would want for nothing, not for food, not for comfort. You would never hurt like this again, I would make sure of it.”

It sounded beautiful, this fairy tale life he spun for her. But there was one problem.

“You’re the king,” she said. “What protects me from you?”

That stopped him in his tracks, hand hovering over her stomach. His eyes darted back up to hers and the kindness in his gaze nearly broke her.

“My honor, for one. Something your father has never possessed.  My responsibility as a husband and a ruler. My self control. The respect and admiration I have for you now and the love I will have for you in time.”

Love. She flushed at the word. He didn’t look like a being capable of such a thing, the personification of every priests’ warning of the devil. And yet here he sat, magically soothing her injuries away with more tenderness than she ever received from her own parents. The only other person who treated her kindly had ran off this morning, never to be seen again.

To her horror, her throat tightened with tears at this revelation. One slipped out, tracked over her freshly healed skin.

“Come with me,” he said, like a plea, like a siren’s song. “You deserve to feel safe and cared for and respected. Let me give that to you.”

He swiped away the tear with the back of his hand; the short fur on his skin felt like velvet.

“Why bother asking? Goblins always kidnapped their brides, you said it yourself. You will take me no matter what my answer is.”

“I will,” he confirmed. Goblins never lied either, according to him. “But you have suffered enough pain and terror. I won’t add to it if I don’t have to.”

Saying yes felt like cowardice. Half of her wanted him to force it, to throw her over his shoulder and spirit her away while she kicked and screamed so it wouldn’t feel like she gave up. But the other half suddenly felt tired. Her options had narrowed down to this: become a Goblin Queen and lose her freedom or continue to slave for her father and hoped freedom waited on the other side of his death.

She knew what the smart choice was, even if she hated it.

“Alright,” she whispered. “I will marry you.”

He smiled, sharp teeth gleaming, and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “You will find happiness, eventually. I promise.”

She swallowed. “I will hold you to that.”

AN: Okay so this is teeeechnically fanfiction as it is set in the world of the Hollow Kingdom Trilogy by Clare B Dunkle, but its all original characters. If you liked this, please check out the books! They are amazing and available on kindle.

[winniewings]

Her name is Sarah : Part 2 (Bucky Barnes)

Pairings : Bucky Barnes x original female character

Warnings : Past rape, protagonist was sexual abuse victim, past abuse, scars, blood .

Summary : Who could say that a normal night walk would change Bucky Barnes life forever, when he finds a distressed woman with blood stained clothes seated next to a New York’s street dust bin , holding her naked newborn baby in her arms staring at the blue eyed man with her vulnareble hazel eyes.

Part 2  ( part 1)

Medical professionals were coming in and out of the unit catching his attention from time to time lifting his head up from his entwined hands while he was seated on one of the seats in the waiting room of the emergency ward.

Hours passed by, and finally Bucky's body was lifted up by the gravity’s force only when he saw the woman's four wheeled bed being carried out of the emergency ward, surrounded by many highly focused medical professionals .

Luckily, one of the doctors recognized the brunet as Steve's friend and hurriedly approached him, letting the rest of the staff take the wounded to the OT.

“Sergeant Barnes?” The doctor spoke, visibly shaken.

“ Doctor, how is she? What happened to her? I had tried asking the nurses but they wouldn't tell me anything... Why are you taking so long? And where are you taking her?” Bucky asked the lady doctor, ignoring the surprise he felt knowing that he was recognized by this woman with his name, but whose name he was unaware of as she was one of Steve's acquaintances, not really his.

“In front of a street’s dustbin” He answered, adamantly getting serious in a matter of a split second.

“She has been raped” The doctor declared, clearly with her voice being broken in agony, “brutally… hours after she delivered her son . She had woken up an hour ago and I wanted to check her… but she won't let me... she was getting utterly agitated ... so we had to make her unconscious in order to examine her. Bucky, she is in extreme pain, she has lost plenty of blood and is still bleeding… She's traumatized and we are trying our best to save her. I have called a very dear friend of mine, Dr Neil Gonzalez. He is the best gynecologist in town and he will join me to handle this case. We are still examining her” The doctor finished explaining only because she could speak no more… as she had much more to say but the pain had blocked her vocal cords from making any sound after a point.

The doctor’s words had hit Bucky in the chest like rocks making him flinch in disgust thinking of the monstrous being capable enough to sexually abuse a woman right after her giving birth.

“ And what about the baby? How is he?” Bucky managed to ask, after struggling to break his trance.

“ I don't know... I haven't seen him yet... that's not my department. Another detail I noticed is that this seems to be a case of an at home birth in a very weird way… nothing is done properly… in fact... I think… I believe…” the doctor replied, and wanted to tell the worried man her most terrifying doubt, but a colleague demanded her attention, making her leave the Winter soldier standing there really baffled and dumbstruck, not before double eyeing the brunettes traumatized expression shadowing his gorgeous face... as if she found the woman’s suffering reflected in his light blue orbs very intimately... Even though Bucky didn't know the woman's name,he still was able to feel her pain.

Realizing that the doctor had left him, Bucky immediately ran to the information counter and crashed both his hands on the furniture, bringing his face closer to the administrator.

“ Can you tell me where's the baby, madam?” Bucky asked nervously.

“ Which baby sir?” The woman on the counter asked the brunette back.

“The one that was brought some hours ago… with a woman who was taken to the emergency ward… both of them came in the ambulance with me,” Bucky explained, trying to make a point.

“Oh… I see... he is being monitored in the pediatric unit number 10, in the NICU, taking the first left from there”

“Thanks”

The Winter soldier almost teleported his body to said ward, but his feet froze even before he reached the glass door as his eyes fell on the baby. The tiny creature was left all alone being monitored with all the patches and wires on him. Not to mention, the thick white tube that was inside of his diminutive mouth. At first, the baby seemed unconscious to him. But when he looked closely, aiming his eyesight on the baby's naked chest, which was gently being lifted up and down following the laws of the breathing process, he was thankfully proven wrong. Nonetheless, nothing could lessen the pain he felt watching this little child so vulnerable, surrounded by all the heavy medical equipment. That too without his mother.

A white robed man joined Bucky seconds after he had arrived, staying silent for a couple of companionable minutes until he decided to finally share some information about his recent case.

“He is a premature baby and his situation is very... very delicate…” the pediatrician stated, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking at the blue-eyed man, whose attention he grabbed the second he made a sound.

“What do you mean?Will he survive?” Bucky asked, completely shocked.

“We are trying our best… you... are the father of…?”

“No… no... I just found them on the street...I mean he and his mother '' Bucky responded, a heavy seriousness clouding on his serene countenance, “please... Please tell me that he will live... he will survive... he's too small to die …too innocent”

“We are doing everything possible that's in our hands to save him. But he's very weak... very thin... as if he wasn't being fed well inside of her mother's bag...she wasn't eating well and that's why her son is so malnourished… but don't worry fella.. I'll be joined within 10 minutes with my seniors. I hope to give you some good news soon” He declared, giving the sinking man some hope to live on, before he left for the meeting.

At that moment, the former assassin's phone started buzzing. Perks of being in avenger. He was needed urgently, even though he did not want to go he left the hospital with a heavy heart only to attend his duties. Because God knows, and he knew very well that his head was elsewhere.

The image of the woman with the brightest amber eyes he had ever seen in his life was occupying his thoughts. Worried… chewing his own skin he was, until he got a message after a day that both the baby and his mother were out of danger. He sighed a heavy burden of worry out of his lungs seated all alone in the Tower’s main conference room. Now only one thing was left to do ... Take some time out from his tight schedule in order to pay the lady a visit in the hospital.

Even though he was dog tired, after 3 days he decided to go to the place where he had lost a part of his soul to see if he could get it back.

“… Excuse me … the lady in this room ... where is she?” The metal armed man asked one of the nurses who was passing by in the hallway, finding the woman's bed empty. “Which lady?” The nurse asked,

“Oh... I'm sorry... three days ago… I brought a woman with a newborn baby to this hospital at night…”

“Okay, that woman?” She's been out of the emergency unit since the past 48 hours, sir.

“And… where is she now?”

“Wait a second sir, I'll check and let you know in a minute” The nurse stated, before leaving Bucky alone at the entrance of the emergency ward.

“Sergeant Barnes” A familiar voice steadied the brunette’s wandering light blue orbs.

“ Doctor” Bucky muttered in response, seeing the professional who had first informed him about the woman's condition walking over to him.

The doctor had now reached Bucky and stopped a foot away from the tall and handsome man, wearing a delicate smile on her countenance.

“She has been transferred to room 109” She declared,

“ How is she?” Bucky asked , unable to contain his curiosity any longer.

“Want to meet her?”

Bucky took a couple of seconds to think before nodding shyly after lowering his orbs, provoking a wide grin to decorate the lady doctor's face.

“Come with me”

And he followed the gynecologist like an anxious, newly adopted puppy. Nonetheless, Bucky couldn't keep his God-given large mouth shut.

“So… did she speak anything about her situation or her family background? How did she end up there … on the street?” He asked, matching his steps to his companion.

“I'm afraid to say no... she didn't say a word. We have tried asking her multiple questions but she won't tell us anything... not even her name, age, where she lives... nothing” The doctor replied hopelessly and stopped, forcing Bucky to come to a halt as well. “You know Bucky, maybe... she truly doesn't know her identity or who she is , where she comes from. Because…She didn't even know how to sign a paper.Her eyes were so… lost” The doctor spoke and stopped only when she saw the man in front of her getting exceedingly puzzled.

“We have reached her room” She declared and opened the door 109, letting Bucky pass first.

Notes:

Hi guys. So I'm trying to bring the story to the point of slowly revealing the female protagonist's past while getting her and Bucky in the same frame . I really hope you are enjoying this story, trust me it will have a happy ending. Please let me know your views in the comments below. Even two words make my day and will give me motivation to continue with this story. If you want to be added to the tag list, please let me know.

PS. please dont forget to hit the like button and comment!

Tags: @vbecker10  

@lokiandbuckysdoll 

@i-can-do-this-all-dayy

[darkthingshappen]

Brother’s Keeper

Big thanks to @ijustmightbreak for the beta on this and your help with the chapter title.  

Tagging List: @i-can-even-burn-salad, @peachy-panic

Chapter 3: Getting Off on the Wrong Foot

Ben drifted in and out of sleep over the duration of the flight.  Every waking moment was agony.  His arms had long since gone numb beneath him.  His jaw ached.  His muscles were stiff and knotted up in cramps.  He couldn’t see anything and it was cold, so cold.  He felt like he couldn’t get enough air, his mouth was dry and it made his throat scratchy with every inhale and exhale. 

He flexed his feet as much as he could in an attempt to relieve the cramps that rippled up and down his legs and made him writhe against the tight straps.  It was literally the only body part that he could move.  He knew it had been hours, but he had no way of knowing how much longer the flight would last.  His stomach growled yet he became nauseated the longer he lay there.  

He hated that he now wished they would have drugged him.  He’d been terrified that they would drug him when they put him in the trunk of that car. Now, he wondered how long the enforced immobilization would last.  He needed to move, to see, to stretch.  The darkness pressing in on him from all sides was suffocating.  He needed out.  He needed out now!  

He thrashed, he cried, he prayed.  Oh god, did he pray!  Nothing mattered.  Nothing changed.  For hours and hours.  The cramping in his stomach grew worse and worse.  As terrified as he was of what was going to happen to him when the plane landed, he felt immediate relief when the angle of the plane shifted and he knew they were preparing for landing.  

The relief was soon swept away by renewed fear.  The room that Volkov had mentioned played through his imagination.  Every torture device he’d ever heard of or seen could be in that room.  And Volkov had already proved to be a sadistic bastard.  By the time the wheels touched down, Ben was shaking with dread.  His clothes were soaked through with a cold sweat.   

He listened as the cargo door was opened and Russian voices could be heard talking and joking.  Things were being unloaded from the plane and sooner than he would have liked, that included him.  He whimpered and tried to call out.  Someone banged on the box and told him to be quiet in broken English.  

“Did he talk?” a familiar voice asked.  

Ben paled with fear as he realized it was Volkov’s voice.  He swallowed as best he could with his mouth stretched open and breathed as quietly as he could.  

“Da!”

Fuck!

“Little Benjamin, I know you can hear me,” Volkov stated from just outside the box.

Ben began to silently cry.  He didn’t want to be shocked again.  He was so tired.  He just wanted this to be over.  He wanted to go home.  He wanted to sleep in his own bed.  

“I told you I didn’t want to hear a sound out of you, did I not?”

Ben let out a small whimper. 

“I know you’ve had a long flight.  I’ll let this one time slide.  But you are going to be utterly silent for the remainder of your transport.  We’ll be home in the next few hours and you will be able to do all the screaming you want then.  Consider this little infraction your one warning that I won’t tolerate disobedience.  We’ll talk more when at home.”  

Home?  It wasn’t his home.  He didn’t dare utter a sound though.  

His box was loaded onto what seemed to be a truck - the ride was rough, it didn’t feel like a car.  And it was still cold.  It felt colder than it did on the plane.  His thin University of Pittsburgh raglan shirt he had worn on his date wasn’t made for this, especially drenched in a cold sweat like he was.  Even his jeans felt soaked through with sweat and who knows what else that he didn’t want to think of after being trapped in a box for so long.  His whole body ached from the constant shivering and his back felt like it was in knots as a result.  Where the hell were they taking him?  

Ben must have nodded off again because he startled awake in his box when the truck came to an abrupt stop.  

There were men shouting in Russian and the door of the truck being opened.  He could hear other boxes and cargo being moved around and offloaded. 

He jumped with a small scream, when there was a loud bang of someone smacking their hand down onto his box.  His heart was in his throat as their laughter filtered through the wood of the box.  He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on his breathing when they jostled his container and moved him.  

 His lips were chapped and cracked around the ring and his mouth was painfully dry and felt like it was full of sand or cotton.  The air was stale and close and he was so ready to not be trapped in here.  The renewed sense of claustrophobia he’d been living with for the last several hours seemed to double and he strained against the leather holding him in place all the more.  If only he could stretch, just a little.  

It took several minutes of them moving him before he was set down on something.  A light must have been turned on, because he could see just a tiny bit better.  He wondered if they were going to leave him in here like this for even more time or if they were getting ready to open the lid.  He tried not to think about what Volkov was going to do to him.  He just wanted out of the box.  

With the sound of squealing metal being ripped out of wood, the box was finally pried open.  He continued to suck in air but he snapped his eyes shut at the bright light that shined directly down onto his face.  He whimpered and would have turned his head if not for the strap across his forehead still holding him down.   

“Welcome to Russia.” Volkov’s face drifted into his line of sight, a giddly, playful smile danced across his face as he spoke.  “Specifically, welcome to the Vladivostok region.” His excited tone betrayed the severity of his words, a frightful warning.  “Let me acquaint you with the geography in this part of the world, just in case you get any ideas.  The freezing ocean is to the south and east of us.  To the north is China and to the west is North Korea.  That’s after you run for a few hundred miles through the frozen tundra.”  Volkov patted his cheek with mock gentleness belying his cruel intentions for the boy.

Ben stayed absolutely still, chest heaving with terror.  

“Now, I believe there was the matter of punishment for your actions that needed to be dealt with.” 

“Uhng” Ben tried to protest, to beg.  Anything to change what was about to happen.   

“Ah, ah, ah.  Shhh.  Shhh,” he spoke, barely containing his enthusiasm.  “You were man enough to take the action.  Now be man enough to take the consequences.” 

Tears welled up in his eyes.  It had only been a matter of hours, but he was already so tired of being hurt.  

Volkov smirked down on him.  He rested his hand against Ben's cheek, running his thumb over his stretched lips and aching jaw.  Ben jerked against the restraints, but they were unforgiving.   

“You truly are lovely like this.” he spoke softly as he looked down at Ben, hands still caressing his dried lips.  “I really hope that my assumption that your brother won’t be able to pay me back is true. I’m going to enjoy having you around.”

Volkov stood and the box was deconstructed around him. Leaving him laying still strapped to the wood bottom as if it were a plank or a stretcher.  . 

His captor smiled before speaking.  “It was your feet that did the offending, so for this, I think that’s where we’ll focus.”

Ben yanked and pulled, twisting and struggling as his athletic shoes and then socks were pulled off of him.  Volkov ran his fingers along the tops of his feet.  

“It seems you’re having trouble focusing and remembering the rules.”  Ben’s eyes widened at the warning in the man’s voice and he cried out trying to apologize, but Volkov already had the remote out of his pocket and the button engaged.  The shock was so powerful that Ben's scream caught in his throat.  He was left twitching and gasping for air once again.  

Volkov snapped his fingers in Ben’s face.  “Focus.  I’m going to be nice and let you choose your punishment. You kicked two of my men, so you’ll pick two methods.”  

One of the others handed him something and Volkov held it up.  A rattan cane.  “You can choose to have the soles of your feet beaten with this.”  He laid it down next to Ben as he was handed the next thing.  A small black case that he opened and held up a long sharp needle.  “Or… I have a whole set of these and they are coated with a chemical irritant that will cause intense pain for several hours.  They can be inserted under the skin or into your toenails.”  Volkov smiled down at him, seeming to thoroughly enjoy the blood draining from Ben’s face.  

“Your third option is to endure having boiling water poured over your feet leaving you with significant burns.  And lastly…” He paused as he was handed a long metal poker with the tip glowing white hot.  “Should you choose this option, I will press it to your foot in three or four places of my choosing.  While it will hurt, it will be over fairly quickly.”  

Volkov handed the poker back to his subordinate.  “So, Little Benjamin, what is it going to be, choice one, the cane? Choice two, the needles? Choice three, boiling water? Or choice four, the iron poker?  What’s your poison?”

Ben shook his head.  This was monstrous.  How could he be expected to choose how he was going to be tortured. 

“If you don’t choose, Malyshka, then I will choose for you and I will choose all four.  Is that what you want?”

Ben sobbed as he shook his head the small amount that the restraint would let him.   

“No?  Okay, then blink.  The number of times you blink is what I will use for your first punishment.”

Ben’s breathing was ragged as his mind raced.  He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to decide which would be the least painful thing.  A sharp slap to his bruised face called him back to the dilemma before him.  He looked desperately at Volkov and blinked once.  The cane, it seemed the least drastic of the four options.  

Volkov smiled.  “Very good.  The cane is always an excellent choice.  I have a feeling you are going to become very familiar with its delights.”

This man was a sick motherfucker.  

“And your second choice?  What of that?”

Ben wracked his brain, all three of those options terrified him.   

“Remember, if you don’t choose, then I get to use them all.  I have been wanting to try some of these on someone for a while now.”  Volkov fondled the small case with the needles in it and Ben grunted to get his attention.  

He blinked four times.  At least it would be over quickly.  That was what Volkov had said, right?  That if he used the iron poker it would be over fast.  

Ben felt like all the air was being sucked out of the room.  Volkov picked up the cane and left his field of vision.  There was no warning other than a slight whistling sound as the cane cut through the air and then the sharp smack of it landing expertly across both arches of Ben’s feet at the same time.  It took a tenth of a second for Ben to hear the sound of the cane striking his foot before the pain radiated up through his body and he screamed.  

The next stroke landed across his heels, then the balls of his feet, his toes, he stretched his feet to try and avoid the blow and the cane came down across the top of his feet.  He lost count of how many blows to his feet he took.  He was absolutely delirious with agony by the time Volkov stopped hitting him.  His eyes rolled back in his head and felt like he was choking on air, his dry throat ripped ragged from his cries.   

“Did we get all that?” Volkov asked.  

“All of it, sir.  Just like you wanted,” one of the others replied.  

“Hand me the camera.  I want Jake to see what a pretty little thing his brother is right now,” Volkov instructed. 

Ben was dimly aware that Volkov was right near him, holding the camera near his face, recording his torment.  He wanted to turn away, but he couldn’t.  He closed his eyes and felt fresh tears course back into his hair again.  

“Now, since you kicked Dmitri and Ilya, it’s only fair they have a hand in your punishment.  They will be administering the hot iron on your feet.” Volkov was smiling again, eyes mirthful and teeth showing like a Cheshire cat.  

Ben moaned and whined.  He couldn’t take much more.  He felt sick, but there was nothing in his stomach to bring up, still he wretched.  

He heard the men conversing in Russian as they approached him, tones gleeful.  He tried desperately to pull his feet away.  Ilya grabbed his left foot and held it in place.  Ben thrashed helplessly but was too weak to do anything.  He screamed, back arching against the restraints as the white-hot metal pressed into the center of his heel.  He didn’t even notice when the poker was pulled away because it kept burning.  

It wasn’t until Dmitri was drawing a line up the center of his foot with the iron rod that he knew he had moved it.  Ben thought he wouldn’t ever be able to speak normally with the way the screams were tearing through his throat.  Lastly, Dmitri touched the ball of his foot in three places across the pad, almost as if he were drawing a smiley face.  

Ben was left gasping in torment, foot flexing, trying to make the pain stop.  Why didn’t they just kill him?  Why do this?  And Volkov had said this was only the beginning.  

Volkov said something in Russian and Ben was aware that the camera was in his face again.  

“Apologies, I know you don’t speak Russian, we were just saying that you are holding up well.  This part is almost done.”

This part?  What the hell else were they going to do to him?  He’d never survive two weeks at this rate.  They’d kill him.  He was certain.  

His breathing started to calm, Volkov patted his cheek again.  “You good?”

Ben tried to shake his head.  No he wasn’t good.  They were fucking torturing him.   

“You’re good.  Last part, Malyshka.  Might want to bite down on that ring in your mouth.”

Ben felt his pulse skyrocket as Dmitri took a hold of his right foot.

“Uhng!  Uhng!” Ben screamed in protest and then it dissolved into another agonized cry as the same burns were repeated along the lines of his right foot.   

Ben passed out the moment the third burn was being placed to his foot. 

[archies-litterbox]

of poison, forest floors, and terrified wizards

Summary: Out all alone on what was meant to be a simple errand, collecting herbs for Merlin, Douxie is downed when some pickpocket throws a fistful of black powder in his face - a magic surpressant and poison to wizards, he comes to find out the hard way. Unable to move or use his magic, as attempts to do both cause nothing but agony, the moppet has no choice but to rely on the slim hope of someone finding him before the poison overtakes him.

A/N: This is my first toa fic! I’ve spent the past year mostly just doing fic for witcher, so this is a nice change of pace :) I had fun with this! I thought about what would happen if there was some sort of substance in TOA that acted as a poison/magic surpressant to wizards... and ofc it turned into douxie whump (but it’s moppet!douxie which is even more painful :( ). Enjoyyy!

[CW: Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Poisoning/Sickness, Temporary Paralysis, blood mention (but no bleeding)]

---

All Douxie had been sent out to do was collect some herbs for Merlin. It wasn’t even in the uncertain ground like the Wild Wood, but a patch of forest he’d been sent to fetch ingredients from countless times. It should have been a simple enough task for the moppet, which is why he hadn’t woken Archie from his afternoon nap - which he was taking on Douxie’s bed - to have his familiar accompany him. And truly, the task itself was simple; it didn’t take Douxie very long at all to go into the woods and find a patch of the plants Merlin told him to fetch - something about a potion ingredient, the apprentice vaguely recollected.

Indeed, he found it without any trouble, but when he felt a figure speed past his back and steal away the little pouch of herbs he’d collected before speeding off into the woods, that was when the trouble started.

The rational part of him (which said exactly what he’d reckoned Archie would be telling him right now) told him just to pick more, but it was overshadowed by how downright insulting this woodland pickpocket was! Before he’d been taken in by Merlin, conning and using slight-of-hand to his advantage was one of his only means of survival, so to not only be stolen from, but in a way so lacking in cunning? The audacity!

It was the principal of the matter that sent him running after the thief, darting this way and that until he was lost in the thick of the woods, focused only on tailing the pickpocket.

“Hey! Stop!” Douxie panted, “You’re stealing from a master wizard!”

That didn’t seem to entice the thief to stop.

“Well… his apprentice, anyway!” he added for reasons unsure to even himself. Maybe honesty would help?

Well, thanks to his trusty, gangly legs, he caught up to the thief and got close enough to grab their wrist, and he thought it would be smooth sailing after that.

Yeah! Alright! I’ll just get my herbs back and deal with this thief and -

The thief turned around and threw a handful of black powder in his face.

Fuzzbuckets.

Douxie squeezed his eyes shut as soon as he felt them sting, coughing into his elbow to hack up the charcoal tasting powder that flew into his mouth and nose. That little trick stopped him in his tracks, but he wasn’t deterred. Not mentally. He still wanted to try to catch up… 

...but his legs wouldn’t move.

No matter how badly he wanted - demanded his legs to obey him, they remained tense, frozen in that position of one in front of the other.

What?

One terrifying moment later, they did move. But not into the sprint he wanted to take - no, to do something worse: to buckle underneath him and send him falling onto his side against the forest floor. 

And he couldn’t get up.

No matter how much he willed his body to do it, he couldn’t get up.

It was like when he’d have nightmares and he’d realize he was having a nightmare; it took forcing his body to toss and turn and shift from side to side as much as he could to rouse him back to the realm of the fully conscious.

But he couldn’t even do that. He couldn’t rouse himself from this nightmare because he couldn’t push himself up.

Wait.

No.

He couldn’t move.

Nearing complete panic, he internally begged and pleaded to find some sort of mobility, but his limbs grew numb by the second, and wherever he still had feeling, it ached - utterly, reprehensibly ached. Not only that, but it was cold. So, so cold, despite the warm atmosphere of the summer afternoon that hung around him so tauntingly.

He’d never felt more scared in his life. Not even being threatened at swordpoint by Sir Galahad and his men, knowing that he’d be killed for something like a measly alley trick, was as terrifying as this - not even that made his blood run cold (literally, it felt like, as well as figuratively) like this did.

And he was sure that was clear to the thief he’d tried to catch. They stood over him, and he couldn’t see their face from where his head lay on the ground, cheek against the grass, but with his glassy, wide eyes flickering between straining to look at his poisoner - because that’s what this was, a poison -  and darting around wherever they could look without him moving his head - because he couldn’t even do that - as black strands of hair lay loose on his cheek because he couldn’t lift a hand to move them, he was sure looked every bit as terrified as he felt.

The thief laughed. Laughed.

“A master wizard’s apprentice, eh?” they spoke, their voice dripping with mock fascination that made Douxie wish that someone, anyone would come to help him, “And your great master never told you to pick your battles? He must not have, if you felt so inclined as to chase me all through the woods for a plant you could have just picked a little more of. It was right in front of you, after all.”

The realization which dawned on Douxie would have made his blood run cold if it didn’t feel like it already was. They’d pickpocketed him because they counted on him pursuing them, even to the point of ending up in the thick of the woods, far away from where Merlin or Archie expected him to be - far away from where they’d know to look for him.

Douxie finally tried to shout for help, but his throat was just as tense - as frozen as the rest of his muscles, and his jaw was too tight to open as much as he’d need to scream. All he could do was gasp and force shuddering breaths in and out of his lungs, which was still a trying ordeal - too trying for something like breathing to have been.

“Trying to scream? Really?” the poisoner-thief asked as if it was an absurd thing to do in the moppet’s position (which it wasn’t), “Next thing you know, you’ll try mustering a spell.”

Against his better judgement, for trying a spell couldn’t have been a good idea if his own assailant was suggesting it, he tried to force a little magic to his fingertips.

It burned. Oh, sweet heart of Avalon, it burned. His hand hadn’t even hurt this badly after he’d botched a lightning spell and scarred his wrist in the process.

Douxie wheezed at the sensation, and the thief laughed again.

“Oh, this is rich!” they exclaimed, “this has already paralyzed you hand and foot, and you thought some conjuring would help? What do you think this was made to diminish, Apprentice of Ambrosius?

Douxie couldn’t even think of a swear worthy of this (“fuzzbuckets” was too tame), his mind still flooded with fear and his hand still aching from his botched magic attempt. How had they already known he was Merlin’s apprentice? Sure, he’d mentioned being an apprentice to a master wizard, but he wasn’t that specific.

But he wasn’t worried about that as much as what this implied about his magic, and what this - whatever it had been - was doing to it.

“This,” His assailant bent down and held up their fingertips to his face, showing him the black powder on them. “Seeps away your magic. Or poisons it, or diminishes it, or eats away at it - I’m not a poet, and apt synonyms aren’t my strong suit.”

They stood back up all the way, and Douxie wanted to plead, but the words wouldn’t come out. They wouldn’t even form. This - he couldn’t lose his magic. Not on something as measly as an herb collection.

“All of this-”

They gestured to his paralyzed, twitching form.

“Is just a side effect. A byproduct of attacking your magic.”

Douxie tried curling his hand into a fist. Not only were his muscles so weak that he could only curl his fingers for a second in what looked more like a spasm than a conscious movement, but grabbing the wrong end of a knife would have hurt less.

The powder-tosser winced mock-sympathetically.

“Shame, really. I hoped the master wizard you served could be the one to deal with this.”

For a moment, in his agony, he wished he was. Douxie squandered the thought as quickly as it came up, hating himself for conceiving it. He couldn’t wish this on anyone, least of all the wizard who saved him, who plucked him off the streets.

But why couldn’t he save him now?

“Ah, well.” They reached down to Douxie’s face and put a strand of hair behind his ear.

Douxie wanted to cry.

“S’pose you’ll do. It’ll be a kick in the teeth for him anyway, when you don’t come back from your little errand after hours and hours, and by the time they send out a search party…”

The smugness and certainty in their tone made Douxie whimper, the first vocal noise he’d been able to make in all of this, after naught but wheezing and gasping. Where was he going to get dragged off to? The Wild Wood? Were they in league with trolls, hoping to get an edge on King Arthur? Or were they a bandit, hoping to take all his goods off of him (which weren’t much, unless they counted the black cat fur on his vest) and keep him in some rackety shack until a ransom note made its way to Merlin?

(Would he even pay it, considering Douxie’s incompetence?)

“Well, they’ll find you right here, I’m sure, but…”

Douxie could hear them mock-wince again, and their implication was worse than anything he’d assumed in the moments before. He couldn’t hear the rest of their sentence over his own panic that, combined with the poison, made his head swim.

He wasn’t going to be taken anywhere.

He was going to be left here, to - to - to - 

His panic pushed him to try his magic again on impulse alone, and it felt like both his hands were on fire. His throat, as tight as it was, finally let him groan through his teeth.

“An exercise in futility, little wizard.” his attacker taunted, “In fact…”

They took his bracelet - only three fingers wide at this point in his training - right off his wrist, which made him squeak as he tried, tried, tried to shake his head, and threw it into a bush in what was both further assurance of his powerlessness and an insult to injury.

“I would say you should try to get comfortable…” 

They stood up and took a few steps back, leaving the little field of vision Douxie had from where his head lay on the ground.

“...But I suppose that would be another exercise in futility.”

He heard the poisoner-thief run off, their footfalls fading as the pounding of his racing heart, which drummed against his ears in sync with their steps, drowned out the noise until they were out of earshot.

He was alone.

He couldn’t move, some poison was seeping away his magic - his very lifeforce - and tensed his body up so rigidly that he couldn’t even scream, and he was alone.

If he could’ve, he would have curled up into a ball as small as he could make himself in hopes that the dangers of the woods and the dire circumstances of his situation would pass him by.

If he could’ve, he would have screamed, even though he knew he was far away from the earshot of anyone who might have come looking for him by that patch of herbs where he said he’d go, and he knew that Archie, who could have tracked his scent here, was still sleeping because, in his arrogance, he hadn’t thought to wake him.

If he could’ve, he would have dragged himself to his gauntlet, wherever it had been thrown, because even if it wouldn’t have done anything to get him out of this, at least he wouldn’t have felt so helpless, even though helpless was exactly what he was.

But he couldn’t.

All he could do was squeeze his eyes shut and feel his tears run down the bridge of his nose as his lips contorted into a grimace, the only two things he could do with his body where the movement itself didn’t outweigh how badly he wanted - needed to do it.

All he could hope for, against hope itself, was that he’d be found here.

Before all that could be found was his body.

---

He wished he could just sleep.

The grassy ground underneath him was soft enough, and his position on his side could have been comfortable enough. Maybe it would have helped pass the time until the poison ran its course, whatever that entailed.

But whatever this was, it didn’t even grant him that luxury. Whether it was an effect of the poison or a product of his own adrenaline and terror, Douxie was wide awake.

Not only that, but after what might have been an hour or two (judging by the sunlight’s reflection off the dewey grass), his body would periodically twitch because of the poison. Sometimes his leg would kick out like a dog, or his shoulder would seize up to the point where it touched his ear, or his hand would ball into a fist.

But his poisoned body didn’t care which of his movements were voluntary or otherwise - it stung all the same. Not like the horrific burning that came with his attempts at magic, but a grating, awful ache right down to his bones. The spontaneous twitches never let him even come close to unconsciousness, and maybe that was a good thing - every breath was more or less of a laborious gasp, a conscious effort of his, and if he’d lost consciousness and stopped forcing them in and out of his lungs… he didn’t want to imagine it.

He wished his panic would quiet enough for him to get bored laying here - he would have preferred it to this, and it would have made sense, considering that he was stuck staring at the same blades of grass and patch of trees that he’d been staring at for the past hour.

And they weren’t even particularly interesting trees or blades of grass, not that they would have distracted him very well if they were.

He wondered if anyone had started looking for him by now. Maybe Merlin was growing impatient without the ingredients he asked for, and maybe Morgana had started to wonder why “Little Douxie” hadn’t come back to the castle.

He wondered if Archie had woken up from his nap and noticed Douxie’s absence yet. If anyone could insist that someone go out and search for him, it would be his familiar. He didn’t want to delude himself by thinking it would help though.

He wondered the importance of those herbs he was collecting before. Were they really that important to whatever Merlin had been working on? Were they worth chasing that thief down? Were they worth all of this?

He was pulled from his thoughts when a shadow cast over the grass he’d been staring at - the shadow of a creature flying overhead and hovering above him.

If he could’ve curled into himself, just to look as small as possible, he would have. What if it was a vulture, waiting to scavenge him? What if it was a monster, or a winged troll, here to carry him off to some trollish nest in the Wild Wood? None of the thoughts that came to mind were soothing by any means. As the creature swooped down, all Douxie could do was squeeze his eyes shut and hope he wouldn’t be harmed any further.

Even when the figure landed in front of him and stepped closer and closer, he didn’t look at it. It wasn’t until he could feel it’s breath on his face, one of the only sensations of the past few hours that didn’t hurt, that he opened his eyes.

A face of black fur greeted him.

And yellow eyes.

And a round pair of glasses.

Archie!

He couldn’t even say the word, but a sob escaped his throat - a sob of relief? A sob of terror that this might have been the start of an onslaught of hallucinations, the first of which being a sign of rescue? He wasn’t sure. Either way, all he wanted to do was reach up and pet the cat-dragon familiar, or hug him and not let go, but he couldn’t. His arm felt like it weighed half a ton, just like the rest of his limbs.

So, he sobbed. It was all he could do.

“Douxie!” Archie cried.

Merlin’s apprentice could hear the worry in his voice as he stepped back a few paces, his ears back and his wings to his side. Of course, he’d shifted into his dragon form - he must have been able to track Douxie’s scent like that. But Douxie hated the thought of his familiar being in danger because he’d flown here. He was already suspicious enough as a black cat, since they carried the notion of being bad omens. What if he’d gotten taken down? He wasn’t worth that!

Douxie was too relieved - yes, he chose relief, not terror, because that’s all he could afford - to think about all of that though.

“Douxie, I’ve been looking for you! What’s happened to you?” Archie asked, “Merlin expected you back hours ago!”

The first thing that came to mind, despite everything, was an apology for his absence - an apology he couldn’t even say. He couldn’t even say what happened to him, not like -

A spasm cut off from his speeding, scrambled thoughts - a large one in his left arm (his right was still mostly underneath him) that reached all the way from his fingertips to his shoulderblade, forcing his hand to ball into a fist, his arm to fold so tightly that his fist touched his shoulder, and his shoulder to tighten so much that his shoulder pressed to his ear.

The sound of agony ripped from his throat was the closest to a scream he’d gotten yet.

Archie looked horrified, and Douxie could only imagine what the sight of him was like - black strands loose from his bun strewn over his face, his eyes puffy and tear-ringed, his lips contorted in a pained grimace. He imagined he looked as pitiful and helpless as he felt.

(In fact, he didn’t have to imagine it. He could faintly see his reflection in the lenses of Archie’s glasses, and he was right in what he pictured, save for the addition of smudges and speckles of that powder still on his face, the black splotches of dust contrasting his color-drained skin, pale as death.)

His arm relaxed again after a few agonizing moments, letting his hand fall in front of his face and leaving a throbbing ache down to his bones, and Douxie tried to collect himself. He had to tell Archie what was wrong. He had to try. If Archie knew, he could fix it. He could get Merlin to fix it. Right? Right.

“P-” he started, trying his absolute best to form words despite the constriction in his throat and lungs that barely let him breathe at all, “puh- poi-”

His own wheezing cough cut him off.

“Poison?” Archie asked, getting it right much to the little relief that Douxie could manage. He nodded - at least, as close to the motion as he could accomplish - and tried to hum a “mhm” of affirmation, since trying to talk hadn’t exactly worked. Far from it.

Archie stepped forward and sniffed his face. He immediately recoiled, his big eyes widening, and Douxie was proven wrong for thinking he couldn’t be more terrified.

“Oh, dear.” His eyes glanced to what must have been a few more clumps and speckles of dust on the ground, “Ohhh, not good. Not good at all.”

No. Archie couldn’t be scared. If Archie was scared for him, then this was so, so much worse than he thought. How could it possibly be worse?

Douxie squeaked out a whimper in fear, and Archie’s attention snapped back to him (as if it could have been anywhere else).

“Douxie, don’t worry.” he said, “You’ll be alright.”

Archie was never a good liar, much to Douxie’s dismay. If Archie was going to hide the truth to soothe him, he at least would’ve liked it to work. His immediately telling Douxie not to worry had the opposite effect of what was intended; it showed him his worry - his terror - was entirely warranted, which was the exact thing he didn’t want to know. Even if all he said was “You’ll be alright.”, the fear that seemed to bristle through his fur was indication enough of the contrary.

Archie’s eyebrows, indicated by the grey patches in the fur above his eyes, upturned as if in dread.

“...But I need to go.”

NO!

If Douxie could have screamed the word and reached out to hold Archie, he would have done it right at that moment, but all he could do was whine like a kicked puppy, his eyebrows raising as his head shook - an unconscious movement, minute despite his desperation.

“Douxie, Douxie, listen.” Archie said, softening his voice, “I can’t carry you back to the castle. I wouldn't be able to fly carrying you anyway, but especially not with your-”

Archie got cut off by another one of Douxie’s spasms - this one made his left leg curl up so tight that his thigh touched his torso, causing the apprentice to nearly involuntarily hit Archie with his knee, which the cat-dragon barely dodged.

“-that." Archie said, "Not with that.”

Douxie saw the sense in that, despite his panic. He did, he did, he did.

But - 

He sobbed again.

-But he didn’t want to be alone.

Sweet heart of Avalon, he didn’t want to be alone. 

The worst of his pain and terror wasn’t from the paralysis, or the aching, or the random twitches, or the burning that came from trying to use his magic, or even the tightness in his throat and lungs that robbed him of speaking or even screaming; it came from being alone in this - from wondering if anyone would come for him, or find his body; it came from knowing that there was nothing he could do but lay there, at the mercy of nature, the poison wracking his body with every beat of his heart, and the determination (or lack thereof) of someone else to find him.

And when he opened his eyes to find Archie there, all of that went away - all of that fear that told him he’d die alone here. He didn’t want it to come back. He would’ve rather the poison take him right now.

“I just need to go back to the castle and bring Merlin here. He’ll know what to do.”

Archie put his paw in Douxie’s limp, open palm. All Douxie wanted to do was hold it, and he so desperately hoped the next twitch would be in his hand so he could.

“I won’t be long. I promise.”

But what if it was too long, even if he hurried?

What if Merlin was too late, even if he hurried?

What if it took too long to convince his master to come here? Would the fact that he’d been poisoned and needed help be enough, or would Merlin refuse because it served Douxie right for his insolence?

(No, no, he wouldn’t do that. Merlin said that mastery over magic was mastery over life, and he had to learn how to live. He couldn’t learn to live if he died here in the woods.)

What if… 

What if this killed him before Archie came back?

...No.

It wasn’t the same this time. Douxie wasn’t lost here, hoping against hope that someone would find him. This was hope - someone knew where he was, and help would come. He could handle a little bit more fear for that hope, he knew.

So, fighting the grating, awful ache in his bones, Douxie closed his hand around Archie’s paw and put on as brave a face he found himself able to muster, nodding as much as he could while causing as little pain to himself as possible.

He didn’t trust much in this - not even his own body to keep fighting the poison - but he trusted Archie, and he trusted his promise.

His familiar gently pulled his paw away before slipping it under the side of Douxie’s head, lifting it a little off the ground. The little apprentice was confused for a moment, until Archie reached behind Douxie’s head with his mouth. He could hear the sounds of the woods stifle as fabric came over his ears, warding off the now-coolness of the woodsy air around his head as Archie pulled the hood of his vest over his head and gingerly laid it back down.

Ah, he got it now - it was a little comfort, a little shelter from the world.

And of course he took it, hoping his eyes conveyed his gratitude.

He kept up his brave front as Archie turned away from him, something Douxie could tell he’d done reluctantly, and flew off. It wasn’t until he couldn’t see his familiar anymore - until the sight of the cat-dragon vanished behind the treetops - that he let it fall and shatter.

He just had to keep waiting. That’s all he had to do - wait and trust Archie to come back with Merlin. He knew that.

But he could still feel new tears come down his face.

---

Douxie wished he could see the sunset from where he lay. It would have been beautiful, he knew.

The spasms subsided a little while after Archie flew back, leaving Douxie limp on the ground - still unable to move without hurting himself or try to use his magic without thrusting himself into agony - with a lingering pins-and-needles sensation in his hands and feet that felt like it was crawling up from his ankles and wrists.

(Honestly, Douxie still wasn’t sure if the spasms had truly subsided for good, or if this was just a rather long interval between them. He hoped it was the former. The spasms never hurt any less as they went on, and he was so, so tired of the pain.)

Archie still hadn’t come back with Merlin yet, obviously, and at this point, it seemed like Douxie was fighting off his doubt more than the poison. At least he knew what the poison was doing to him - he could feel it every waking moment. But Archie… Douxie didn’t know what had happened to him, and he wouldn’t unless he came back.

(No, until he came back. Douxie had to keep that certainty alive in his mind.)

But how was he supposed to know that his familiar hadn’t taken a tumble? That he hadn’t been brought down by some witch hunter’s net? What if Merlin was being stubborn about coming for him? What if he’d been busy in another row with King Arthur?

...Indeed, he would have loved to see the sunset - to at least try to let it distract him from the tornado of worst case scenarios in his mind.

But he couldn’t.

For a bit, he tried distracting himself by thinking about how Merlin might’ve reacted to him being in danger - to hearing that he’d been poisoned. He sort of liked imagining how scared he’d be, for he preferred fear to indifference. The mental image of his master dropping whatever book he’d been flipping through and rushing to follow Archie… it was a comforting one, as strange as it might sound. That fear meant he mattered.

But Douxie soon grew tired even of that. He hoped he might’ve ran into a patch frequented by fireflies. Those would at least come low enough to dip into his line of sight, and they were always so beautiful, like stars visiting earth for a night before going back to the sky…

Douxie grew cold again at some point. Not just cold, but damp. Since it hadn’t started raining, fortunately, he rightly assumed that it was sweat. Perhaps he was finally sweating this out, like a fever, but that was too good, too fortunate to figure. This was another progression of the poison, he was sure. Just like…

Douxie noticed something in his left hand that lay in front of his face, something wrong…

Oh, sweet heart of Avalon.

His veins were black. 

Hoping, begging, praying to be wrong, he pushed through that dreadful ache in his arm so he could pull it closer, but it only confirmed his suspicions - his dread - his terrors.

The veins in his wrist, in the creases of his knuckles - they weren’t deep blue anymore, just barely visible underneath his skin, but as black as that powder that got blown in his face. Ink could be coursing through them right now, and he’d have been none the wiser.

In that moment, Douxie was proven wrong once again for thinking he couldn’t be more terrified.

He gasped as much as his throat and lungs let him, and he didn’t stop gasping. But then his chest -

No no NO!

-his chest started to seize up.

He fought the growing tightness in his chest with every breath, forcing each one in and out like a wheeze, but it wouldn’t go away. He couldn’t tell if it was from poison or panic, but it wouldn’t go away. He’d even started coughing, which was inevitable, but the black splotch that splattered into his hand terrified him all the more.

This was it. He was going to die here. He was going to succumb to this. He’d never come back to the castle - to Archie, to Morgana, to Merlin - from a trivial herb picking. Archie would come back here, but all he’d find was - was - was -

“HISIRDOUX!”

Douxie burst into tears.

He could recognize the voice of his master - his father - anywhere, but he was so, so scared that it was a hallucination. The fear in his voice already sounded so foreign, coming from the great and powerful Merlin Ambrosius, and if the sound of his voice and his footsteps coming near him came only from his desperate imagination, then he’d - he’d -

A hand gripped his shoulder and turned him onto his back. Finally, he could look up at the sky, aglow with sunset, but his glassy eyes only saw Merlin kneeling down at his side, and Archie flying above him.

The terror in Merlin’s eyes was the exact opposite of comforting, but Douxie didn’t get to see it for long before Merlin conjured a damp cloth and wiped off his face what had to have been the rest of that poisonous powder. He hadn’t realized how flushed he’d been until that moment, when that rag felt so cold against his cheeks.

Merlin finished wiping off Douxie’s face and made the cloth disappear. Douxie missed the coolness on his face. He wanted it back.

“Hisirdoux, say something!” he demanded. But Douxie couldn’t - didn’t Merlin think he would’ve already been screaming his lungs out if he could?

“D-” he choked, “Da-”

He hacked up another throatful of black phlegm, whimpering as the violence of his cough made his torso curl up. Merlin dodged the cough, but put an arm under Douxie’s back before he could fall back.

An apology lay at the back of his throat - one he didn’t know the reason for, even if he could’ve said it.

Merlin brought his other arm behind Douxie’s knees and lifted him like he weighed nothing (and he probably didn’t weigh much to Merlin, being the gangly moppet he was). The edges of the plating of the master wizard’s armor dug against him uncomfortably, but it was the least discomforting thing about this, overshadowed near-completely by the comfort that came just by being held. But he was still scared - if more of that powder was on him, and Merlin touched it by holding him, then -

He stifled a cough, and his leg kicked out unconsciously like a thumping rabbit’s foot. He didn’t realize how badly he’d been tremoring until it was contrasted with the steadiness of Merlin holding him.

Yes… steadiness, safety - two things he’d wanted to cling to more than anything since all this had started. And now, he had them. He had his familiar, and he had his father.

His head, still covered with the hood of his vest, lolled back uncomfortably without any support, but he felt something soft push against the back of it- it was actually Archie, though Douxie couldn’t see it - until the side of his head lay against one of the shoulderpieces of Merlin’s armor, cushioned by the cloth of his hood.

He sighed as much as his tightened chest would allow.

He was so scared.

Douxie was still so, so terrified that Merlin couldn’t save him after all; that he’d die tonight; that he’d never use his magic again; that he’d never get to become a master wizard or get his own staff to wield; that he’d never again get to go back down to the marketplace and talk to that pretty girl who frequented the shops.

(What was her name? Zelda? Zona? Zola? Zo-)

He felt something warm settle on his abdomen - Archie had turned back into a cat and curled up on his tummy, purring as he nestled where Douxie’s legs curled.

At least, despite everything else he feared, he didn’t have to be terrified of being alone anymore.

---

Douxie wasn’t sure if Merlin used a portal, or the relief of being found by his master had finally let him lull out of consciousness for the length of the time it took to be carried back, but the next thing he knew, he was in Merlin’s study. Despite the fluttering of his eyelids, he could recognize the shelves, the desk, and the stained glass window letting in the last light of day.

Home.

He was home.

No matter what happened next, he was home.

“Douxie!” He could hear Morgana’s voice shouting his name in worry, followed immediately by her fast-approaching footsteps.

“Mmh…” Douxie whimpered. It wasn’t clear whether or not the noise was just a pained whine or an attempt to try saying her name - not even to Douxie himself. He couldn’t see her very well, but he could tell when she’d come to them, stepping to the side as Merlin walked forward to his desk.

“Is he alive?” she asked.

“Somehow, yes.” Merlin answered. Douxie hated that “somehow” and the fear it brought, but it was just a little more to add to the onslaught of the past hours. He could just add it to the pile, he supposed.

In the middle of the room, Merlin’s big desk was empty, so the wizard laid him down on the surface, having him lay flat on his back with his hands at his sides, his legs straightened out, and his head facing up. Now, he could fully see Morgana, the sorceress he’d come to see as something of a big sister just as he came to see Merlin as a father, looking down at him. Her face was upside-down from where she stood over him, but he could still see her upturned brows and glistening eyes, and the way she clasped her hands close to her chest so they didn’t even touch him. He hated that look of worry on her face. Seeing Morgana - always fearless, always grasping for more from the world than what others had permitted, always steadfast in her ruthless ambition - look so scared for him… 

...It was worse, if such a thing was possible, than when he saw how scared Merlin was for him, and there was so much he wanted to say, but he was still just focused on trying to breathe as deeply as he could.

Archie got off his abdomen and sat next to his head, gently headbutting his temple before putting a paw on his forehead. It was a little comforting, almost enough to distract Douxie from realizing that Merlin wasn’t at his side anymore.

Almost, though. Not enough.

Douxie tried turning his head to the side, but Archie gently kept it still with his paw.

“He’s just finding a spellbook, Douxie.” he assured, immediately knowing what the apprentice was trying to turn his head for, “He’ll be right back.”

Morgana looked down on the little scene and closed her eyes for a moment, as if to quell her tears, before opening them again.

“You shouldn’t have held him.” she warned, turning her head to wherever Merlin stood now, “You know what that can-”

“I’m well aware.” Merlin interrupted from wherever he still was, “And you know I’ve little concern for that.”

Douxie didn’t understand. There was still so little he understood about whatever was doing this to him, and he didn’t know how to ask about it - he couldn’t.

But apparently, his upturned brows and whimpers of confusion were enough to indicate - at least to Archie - how lost he was.

“Douxie, that powder - it’s called Draining Dust.” Archie explained, “It’s a magic suppressant, and… a poison, as you know by now.”

“Witch hunters would put this in shackles.” Morgana said, finally speaking to him, “To nullify wizards’ and witches’ magic on their way to the gallows. Or the stakes.”

“Trace amounts, yes.” Merlin came back into his view, an open spellbook floating near him with a signature green aura around it, “Pinches of it, cast in the metal. It would suppress the wearer’s magic as long as it was on their body, with a few side effects. Fatigue, headaches, nausea…” he started listing as he flipped through the pages.

Douxie remembered the handful of the stuff that had been thrown in his face. That was far from a few pinches. And those side effects he’d started listing - they sounded tame, menial compared to what was happening to him now.

“But direct contact with raw powder…” Archie started. Douxie knew he was hesitant to finish that sentence, and it wasn’t hard to assume why (but it was terrifying).

“It’s deadly.” Morgana said, “Few wizards have ever survived inhaling or digesting it. More sadistic witchfinders have used that to-”

“Morgana!” Merlin snapped, urging her to leave off. But she didn’t.

“He should know!” she snapped back, “It’s already in his bloodstream, old man. It’s killing him, and he deserves to-”

Douxie started crying again at Morgana’s brutal honesty, as if this all weren’t brutal enough. His eyes squeezed shut as tears streamed down his temples, but when he opened them again, it was darker, like he was looking through a veil. The sight made him want to cry even harder.

It was in his tears.

Oh, sweet heart of Avalon, the poison was in his tears.

It made sense now, why Morgana was so scared to touch him. His own body fluids - his blood, his tears, probably his sweat soon enough - were turning poisonous from this. The only reason Archie was still touching him was probably because he wasn’t a wizard, but a familiar, and this wouldn’t affect him so badly.

(It actually very well could have affected Archie for the worse, but watching Douxie endure this without any comfort would have been worse than any poison.)

“It’s not killing him.” Merlin denied as if he was trying to convince both Morgana and himself, “His death is not certain. If it were, I would have already placed a sleeping spell on him by now.”

Douxie clung to that little hope and tried to watch Merlin scan for the spell he’d been looking for. Merlin had a way to fix this, of course he did; it’s as he said - he would have already put Douxie to sleep to grant him some peace if he didn’t.

Douxie watched his master’s page flipping stall as his eyes scanned over one particular page. His face fell - a minute, near-unnoticeable change in expression, but one that made Douxie’s pounding heart sink.

“Merlin?” Archie asked, “Have you found something?”

Merlin said nothing at first, only taking his place by stepping right to the table’s edge, coming right to Douxie’s side.

“I’ve found a spell to expel the poison and it’s remnants,” he explained, still only scanning the book, “But purging it from his body when it’s progressed this far will be…”

His eyes fell on Douxie’s.

“...quite excruciating.”

But Douxie was already so, so tired.

Not physically - the combined force of the poison and his own adrenaline warded off any chance of fatigue - but in his heart. He was so tired of being scared. Of being in so much pain. He didn’t want to do it - he didn’t think he could…

...But he remembered something Merlin said to him before.

“If there is a universal truth in this world, it is that struggle is the flame which forges one’s soul into steel.”

Well, if there was something tougher than steel, that’s what his soul would become.

Because wizards were strong. Brave. Unrelenting to pain or fear. That’s how Merlin was, that’s how Morgana was, and that’s how he would be.

He put on a brave face - as brave as he could possibly muster in the face of what he’d endure - and nodded. He could do this. He had to do this.

And he would.

The green aura around the spellbook faded as Merlin set it down. Archie lifted his paw from Douxie’s head and stepped back a few paces.

“Morgana, keep him still.” Merlin said, “His thrashing may cause him to injure himself.”

Morgana nodded and brought her hands up, an unsaid apology in her eyes. Seconds later, Douxie felt warm, gentle heat around his wrists and ankles. It didn’t hurt, but it was unrelenting. He didn’t test the bonds, lacking the strength or any actual will to do so. Still under a sort of paralysis, he wasn’t scared of being pinned down, for he knew it was just a precaution; he was just scared of how bad the pain would be in order for restraining him like this to be necessary.

The precaution was far from unwarranted, he came to realize in the coming moments.

Merlin hovered one hand over Douxie’s chest and the other over his abdomen. Douxie watched him say some incantation, but he didn’t catch the words. He was too busy bracing himself for the pain as he saw the green aura of his master’s magic out of the corner of his eye, glowing above his torso.

Before Merlin even got to take a breath after the incantation, the pain started.

And no amount of bracing could have prepared Douxie enough.

The sudden agony in his torso ripped the breath from his lungs. He thought - hoped it would start small and get worse and worse, like a simmer that got hotter and hotter, but instead it was like a pot of scalding water got poured over his chest. No, even that would have hurt less. This… it started at the surface, but it bled deeper and deeper under his skin, and then -

Oh, sweet heart of Avalon.

-then it started to spread.

In moments, as if searing agony itself coursed through his veins, there was nowhere on his body that didn’t burn, not even his fingertips or the tip of his pinky toes. If he could feel it, it hurt, and it hurt unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

As the agony overrode his paralysis, he thrashed against Morgana’s magic that kept his wrists and ankles in place, arching his back one moment and curling forward the next.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to try to open his eyes. It hurt to keep them squeezed shut. It hurt to try to hear the voices of those around him - Morgana trying to tell him to be strong, Archie trying to soothe him, Merlin repeating the incantation. It hurt even to think - the pain, blinding and deafening, flooded out all other thoughts.

For a moment, like a fire burning so hot it feels cold for a fleeting beat, he stopped feeling the searing, searing agony.

But the moment was too, too fleeting before it wracked him again.

Finally, finally, he screamed.

It was a raw, shrill, agonized thing. He felt it come up from the base of his throat, and when Douxie realized, through his hysteria, that he was actually screaming, not wheezing or whimpering or anything he’d had to settle for tonight, he couldn’t stop. He screamed for all the torture of the day, all the fear of being alone, all the panic and terror and despair that he couldn’t let out in the woods, tense and spasming and paralyzed. 

All the screams that couldn’t come out before, when his throat was so tight that it barely let him breathe, came out right now, bursting at the seams of his pain-delirious mind.

He didn’t stop screaming until he finally felt Merlin’s magic let off.

Even then, his screams settled only into groans and wails until the burning across his body finally cooled; until the pain weakened from a searing sensation all over him, like the most brazen of fires, to a low ache, like the embers of a dying camp flame.

Once he fully stilled, which took a few more moments, Morgana’s magic came off his wrists and ankles.

Finally, he came back to his senses and see Merlin, Morgana, and Archie still around him. Archie looked relieved and nuzzled the side of Douxie’s head. Morgana smiled a shaky, hesitant smile - still so foreign to see from her.

And Merlin…

Well, he seemed as difficult to read as usual, but at least he no longer had the expression on his face of a man watching his apprentice die. Traces of relief lay there, and Douxie gladly took them.

So… was it over?

Douxie groaned and lifted his arm. It didn’t hurt to do anymore - well, it did, but more like a soreness left in the wake of heavy lifting, a residue of what happened than a symptom of it. He brought it up to his face so he could see his wrist.

His veins were blue again.

Sighing, he let his hand fall on his face and wiped away some tears - lifting it to see they were purely clear, like before - before letting it slide off his cheek and fall limp next to his head.

“Master…” his voice was so little, so hoarse, “‘s it gone?”

“Every bit, Hisirdoux.” Merlin said, putting his hand on Douxie’s shoulder, “It's over.”

He sounded weary. Douxie hoped that spell didn't take too much from him.

“Mm… my magic… 's it gone too?”

Merlin’s eyes said he wasn’t sure himself.

Douxie sought to answer the question on his own and willed forth his magic. He felt his fingertips thrum with the life of his sorcery. Lifting his hand again, he saw little specks of light, blue and true. It didn’t burn anymore, but it felt warm and gentle, like a heartbeat. His heartbeat. Exactly as it always felt.

He sighed. Not shaky, not fighting to keep his breathing level - a tired, relieved sigh. Despite how sore even the muscles in his face felt, he smiled a little smile.

“Thank you…” he said, “If you all hadn’t… I’d be-”

Merlin moved his hand from Douxie’s shoulder to his forehead.

“Don’t pay that scenario any mind, Hisirdoux.” Merlin urged, “You’ve survived, and although you and your magic have been weakened, both will fully recover.”

Douxie’s little smile fell.

“Wha… what about the poison? It couldn’t just be gone.”

“That it can.” Merlin assured, taking his hand off Douxie’s head, “As brutal as it is to the wizard affected, an unaffected wizard with strong magic can eradicate it from their body and return it to it’s untarnished condition.”

...Well, that was that, and Douxie wouldn’t question it. Besides, he remembered something.

“Mmmy bracelet… I lost it. That - they took it off. It’s in a bush out there.”

“I can see that. That’s alright.” Merlin said, “It can be retrieved.”

“And… and I'm sorry.” He said to Merlin’s subtle but obvious surprise, indicated by a little raise in his eyebrows.

“What for?”

“I… the herbs.” he answered, “I couldn’t bring them back. They got stolen.”

“It’s alright,” Merlin said, “They aren’t a rarity, you know.”

...Douxie sniffled.

“That… they only snatched those plants so I’d follow them deeper into the woods. So I’d get lost. So they could throw that dust in my face and - and leave me there, knowing I’d gone further into the forest than… than anyone would’ve looked, and I wouldn’t be found.” 

“But you were found, Douxie.” Archie said, “They weren’t counting on you having a dragon that could track scents for a familiar.”

Douxie’s voice started to break.

“I should have left it alone - I knew I should have left it alone. There was more right there, I should’ve-”

“Hisirdoux, cease this.” Merlin said in a tone that left no room for insistence, “You must grant yourself some relief in you and your magic’s survival. I won’t have you fret over something as menial as a handful of herbs, so-”

“But Master-”

“-Don’t “But Master” me.”

Douxie sighed. That statement didn’t leave any room for argument. It never did.

Finally, a little normalcy tonight.

Morgana put her hands to the sides of Douxie’s head. After she’d been so scared to touch him this whole time, the feeling of her fingers against his temples, brushing his hair away from his face, was a final, true assurance that the poison had been well and truly purged.

“Sleep, Little Douxie.” she soothed, “I promise you’ll wake.”

He couldn’t tell if she cast a sleep spell in that moment, or if this was from his own fatigue, but he obeyed without hesitance as he was finally lulled away from the realm of the conscious and fell into slumber.

---

Merlin looked down at the boy lying asleep on his desk, the color slowly trickling back into his face as his chest rose and fell in deep, steady breaths. 

“He’s a brave little moppet.” Morgana said as she kept her fingers against the sides of his head, her voice hushed despite the fact that the boy’s exhaustion had lulled him into a deep slumber, and he’d sleep like a stone until morning no matter what.

“...No, he’s not.” Merlin denied, “Not for this.”

Morgana snapped her head up.

“He’s just gone through more torment from that powder in one day than either of us have in all our lives!” Morgana she contested, “Not even you have endured effects that brutal from Draining Dust.”

“To be brave requires a choice - being faced with the ultimatum to either run and give up, or face your fight.” Merlin said, too proverbial and righteous-sounding as he stood over Douxie, “A choice was the exact thing he didn’t have in this. Perhaps if he’d been withholding something from that assailant, even with the threat of this, then it might be different. But as it is, even if he’d wanted to succumb to this before Archie had found him, his adrenaline hadn’t let him.”

“Maybe so,” Archie started, “but when I found him there in the forest, and I told him I’d have to come back with help, he was terrified of being left alone again. I could tell. But he put on as brave a face he could have. He chose that for himself, at least.”

“He did the same thing moments ago, when you told him how much that spell would hurt.” Morgana added, “He may not have had a choice in enduring this, but he did choose to steel his nerves when faced with every reason not to, and there’s bravery in that, old man.” She crossed her arms. “Even you have to admit that.”

Merlin almost found it endearing, seeing them both try to defend his apprentice’s honor when they felt it threatened, and maybe he could’ve seen the bravery they saw, if he’d been looking at anyone else.

But as he looked down at Hisirdoux… that’s all he saw. Hisirdoux. His apprentice. His son. His gangly little moppet who tended to cause more messes than he cleaned up, but smiled like the embodiment of joy itself.

If daylight decided to make itself corporeal and walk among humans for a while, Merlin wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if it took the form of Hisirdoux Casperan.

So, the sorcerer didn’t see bravery when he found Hisirdoux writhing and gasping on the ground in those woods, he didn’t feel bravery when the boy trembled in his arms, and he most certainly didn’t hear bravery when the boy wailed and screamed his lungs out as that poison was taken out of him, black tears streaming down his face until they became clear again.

No, if Douxie had been brave, pride in that laid nowhere in Merlin’s mind. 

After all, when fear for his son’s life flooded his mind, and hatred for whoever did this to him flooded out that fear, where, pray tell, could pride reside?

Morgana kept looking down at Douxie as he slept.

“How could you risk that?” she asked Merlin.

“Risk what, Morgana?” he asked, “Be specific.”

She snapped her head back up.

“You know what I’m talking about!” Morgana almost shouted, stifling her volume so the sleeping moppet wouldn’t hear, ““Eradicate” my foot, old man. I know the spell you used. You didn’t use a spell of eradication, you used a spell of transference!”

Arhcie had been staring down at his own sleeping familiar, but he snapped up when he heard that word, “transference”. First he looked to Morgana, then to Merlin.

“You told him it got destroyed, but you just - all you did was soak it up like a sponge!”

“Merlin… is that true?” Archie asked, obviously afraid that after all of this, Douxie would wake up without his mentor - his father - because he’d taken the poison for him. The little apprentice left without a master would never stop blaming himself, no matter how hard Morgana and Archie tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault.

Merlin sighed, an affirmation without words or nods.

“I spent the years since it’s conception,” he started, “building an immunity to the dust and its properties. It was too big a risk, potentially having a weakness to something so daunting - something I’d seen subdue and poison countless wizards. Too high a risk - a threat to the greater good.”

“So… the poison’s not having any affect on you?” Archie asked, stepping around Douxie to approach Merlin, “It’s not… he couldn’t have gone through all of this just to lose you.”

“And he won’t.” Merlin assured in confidence, “Much more than a handful of that powder would have had to be thrown at him to have any severe affect on me. No, this won’t need more than a night of rest to fix. Besides, what’s the good in spending all that time building up an immunity to Draining Dust if not to make use of it? A waste of time and tolerance built.”

“You couldn’t have known it wouldn’t...” Morgana said, “You couldn’t have possibly known you’d survive taking all of it like that!”

“I didn’t.” Merlin snapped.

Morgana’s eyes widened, as if everything about what the boy meant to him fell into place.

Because he hadn’t worried about his survival - the matter didn’t even cross his mind, not when he could still hear Douxie whimpering in pain with each page of that spellbook he skimmed. No, he only concerned himself with the likelihood that it would save the boy, his only worry being about how badly it would hurt Douxie when he’d already had to go through so much senseless, ludicrous torture.

Merlin always prioritized the “greater good”, some vast, staggering, intangible concept that encapsulated so much - the lives of thousands, the wellbeing of millions, the good of humanity.

But when he found his son writhing, hurting, suffocating, dying, he found he couldn’t spare any more regard to the “greater good” in that moment than he would a layer of dust on one of his books. If saving Hisirdoux’s life meant casting aside the greater good, then there was no question about it - he’d let the greater good rot.

It didn’t matter to him if his magic would’ve been permanently diminished by extracting the poison, or even if it killed him. Cast the greater good aside - the greatest good was the life in Hisirdoux’s eyes, and by all the heavens, he’d protect it.

And thankfully, he did just that tonight, at the cost of neither his life, his health, or his own magic. And that was the greatest good he could have asked for.

With another sigh, relieved that Morgana chose not to pry, Merlin looked down at the boy, still sound asleep, laid out on his desk. He put one arm under Douxie’s back and the other behind his knees, picking him up just like he did when he found him in those woods.

But this time, instead of trembling in his hold, Douxie made a little noise and unconsciously put his arm over Merlin’s shoulder, snuggling closer, if it were possible, to the master wizard.

Yes. he thought. There’s no greater good than this.

Morgana put her hands over her mouth and looked at the two of them as if the sight was something adorable, and Merlin huffed. Archie took his same spot curled up on Douxie’s abdomen.

“I’m taking him to his room.” he said, hushing his voice even though he knew the moppet wouldn’t wake, “And I’ll let him sleep in tomorrow morning. He needs to rest.”

The sun had set sometime during the painstaking ordeal, but torchlight along the walls of the castle made it easy to take his sleeping apprentice back to his room even once night has fallen. After using a simple spell to swing the door open while his arms were in use carrying the boy, Merlin walked in and used another little spell. The green aura of his magic glowed around the blanket on Douxie’s bed as he folded part of it over using his magic, providing room to lay Douxie down on his bed with head nestled right in his pillow’s usual dent. Once Archie stepped out of the way, Merlin reached over and laid the blanket back over him.

Douxie stirred a little, but only to turn from his back onto his side, his back to the wall and his front facing Merlin. Once the boy settled again, Merlin tentatively reached behind his head and let his bun loose so it wouldn’t get tangled if he moved around too much in his sleep. He doubted it would, considering the exhaustion and soreness in his muscles would probably enticement enough to stay still, even unconscious, but the gesture couldn’t hurt.

Archie crawled right underneath one of Douxie’s arms and nestled against his chest, and the moppet unconsciously held the bespectacled cat a little tighter.

And that was Merlin’s unspoken cue to leave Hisirdoux to rest for the night, so that’s what he did. He needed rest too, after all - his built-up immunity may have saved his life, but the poison, like everything else in the onslaught of the evening, left him weary.

Tomorrow, a search would begin.

Tomorrow, Merlin would find out who was behind this.

Tomorrow, the greatest and most powerful wizard in Camelot would not relent until he found the monster, human or trollish, who almost killed his son.

But tonight, Hisirdoux lay curled up in his bed, sound asleep as he kept his familiar close. Tonight, his life was saved.

And tonight, that was enough.

[ahsxual]

Purple and Green Desire

Pairing: Ledger!Joker x Female!Reader

Summary: You wanted to make J a surprise by painting your hair half purple, half green, and provoke him to see what his reaction would be. Little did you know what would come for you...

Warnings: Rough and mad J, possessive and jealous J, J scaring the reader, reader with psychotic thoughts, sir kink, dom/sub, vaginal sex, hard spanking, oral sex (male and female), fingering, nipple play, some blood involved, swearing, degradation, a little bit of edging, mentions of anal sex

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 4,2 k

A/N: Sooo this was supposed to be posted on Halloween, but as always I'm late. I had this idea a while ago, and thought: "why not write a smut out of it?". I thought it would be a good idea to join your request and my ideas together, my lovely @mountainjiwish. Thank you so much for your incredible idea!! I wanted to write something like this for so long, but I thought I wouldn't be able to write such a rough J fic... but how do we know we're not good at something if we don’t try it? Anyway, I still hope you all enjoy it <33

In the last few months, your life has changed drastically. You never thought you would be where you were right now, however you couldn't complain about it, not at all. How could you? You received what you had always wanted and desired for the longest time, something you had always idealized, waiting for your darkest kinks turn into reality with someone you trusted... and he, well, he could have his little toy only for himself, something he didn't know how tremendously he craved until he landed his hungry eyes on you.

If it was possible, your relationship would be seen as extremely toxic by others: you didn't have, or at least you never admitted out loud, the true feelings you had for each other. You just made your darkest wishes come true every time you were together, feeding the hunger that was growing inside your hearts and cores, and that only you could make that happen.

He could be compared to the biggest and most dangerous lion in the jungle, and you to a little masochist deer who would always be eager for the lion to come after you, and eat you in the most cruel way possible. But what was "funny" to you, was the fact that the lion would never let his deer escape from him without causing it some deep wounds... however, he would never kill the deer, wanting for it to come back to him so he could catch it and have some fun. That was the game you both enjoyed playing since day one.

Today was october 31st, your favorite day of the year. Why? It's simple: on this day, you felt like you could be yourself, without being judged or being too obvious that you also had psychopathic instincts. Of course you had your own dark thoughts. Of course you also had the cruel desire to rip someone's throat every time they messed with you or with someone you loved. But you didn't have enough courage to cause such bloody chaos, so instead you decided to be with someone who represented your inner self. Unlike you, J does not fear the consequences of his acts, or even feels guilty. But you do, so that's why it's so much funnier to watch the world burn by someone you love. That way you don't have to feel guilty about anything, because you didn't do anything by your own hands, right? You're not guilty for liking to see the blood coming out of people's mouth and eyes, while they scream in agony. You're not guilty for craving so much to watch the world be destroyed by the scalding fire before your sadic eyes, to love someone who would realize your wishes for you. But that didn't matter right now. What mattered is that you wanted to surprise J, to show him once agaim how a good and dedicated submissive you are for him.

You painted your hair half purple, half green, and put it in two ponytails, each one with a different color, while your makeup also had those gorgeous colors. You wanted to look sexy, yet cute and innocent for him, even if you were the bratiest woman he had ever met in his entire life. And believe me... he had met a lot of girls. Yet none of them were as good as you, and none of them would be loyal and stay with him for so long, even when he had been considered a monster before everyone's eyes... but not yours. He always saw you as his little bunny, his little doll, his little loyal masochist... and he surely planned to keep you for himself for a very long, long time. Your outfit was a little different and scandalous too: you dressed yourself in a fit leather dress you had recently bought, with the highest leather boots you had in your wardrobe, while wearing your sexiest black lace thong briefs and the choker with a diamond "J" on it that he gave you in the beginning of your "relationship". This item was utterly sacred. He always made you to wear it: everyday, at any second of the day, so you wouldn't forget to who you belong to. You then thought carefully if you should wear a bra or not, and decided it would be better if you didn't wear any at all, before putting a comfortable leather jacket on.

You checked yourself in the mirror and for what felt like an eternity, you felt stunning. Halloween never failed to make you feel more confident about yourself, neither the expensive clothes J "bought" you or the compliments he gaves after seeing you wearing them. You stared in the mirror a little while, until you realized that you had something that was excessive on your body: the "J" choker. You knew too well that he would be furious if he didn't see you wearing it... but after all, that's what you wanted, to see the ravenous lion being released from its cage. However, you didn't feel satisfied. Not yet. You were also planning something else to make him even more mad: what about, pretending you went to a party without his gift and permission, while using your favorite perfume in your most exuberant outfit, and then not giving him the attention he always craved from you? Deep down, you even feared he would kill you out of anger, because of your malicious and provocative plan... oh, you really didn't know who you were messing with. But thinking about it, what better way to die than to have sex with the person you were so immensely addicted to?

When you finished fixing your hair by making each ponytail look messy, you heard the door of your house being closed so hard that you genuinely believed he had broken it, which meant he was already mad. Perfect. You ran to your room and started to act normal, pretending to be packing your sex toys. But now that he was there, you felt yourself slightly shaking from pure fear and anticipation. You had a slight idea of what was coming, you just didn't know the gravity of it.

Suddenly your room's door was carefully opened, which wasn't a good sign. The calm before the storm. Maybe he felt your perfume from afar, and knowing that you would only use it for very special occasions, and that he wasn't there with you before, it only meant you did use it for something else. He could even be compared to a quiet dangerous dog, because of his keen sense of smell... and because of his unpredictable behavior. You could sense his stare burning into your back, but you acted like you had a durable shield against his fervent fire. You purposely positioned yourself in a way so that he had a good view of what you were doing: packing your sex toys that were forbidden to be used, unless J used them on you. Now, you could feel and smell the hot and suffocating flames of his fire getting way too intense. You then finished packing them under your bed, and stood up to take your jacket off, making sure he noticed you weren't wearing the choker he gave you.

"You don't look very joyful. Rough day?" you answered contemptuously, calmly taking your boots off in the process. From his point of view, you went somewhere else to do who knows what without his permission, and since you were too desesperate and lazy to undress yourself first, you masturbated with your clothes on. According to his perspective, you didn’t give a shit about his rules, like the obedient slut you should be to him.

Saying that his glare towards you was terrifying and caused shivers down your spine, was an absolute understatement. You instantly regreted making all of this up, but it was too late. Now, you would have to deal with the real consequences of your brat decisions. J slowly walked towards you, making you unconsciously step back until you met the rigid wall of your suddenly cold room. He was so close to you, making you feel his hot, yet deep and rhythmic breathing on your face, and without your leather boots, you felt once again intimidated by his much taller figure. He took this opportunity to analyze you better: your messy colored ponytails and makeup, that for a moment almost made him crack a smile because of your choices, your sexy outfit... to the absence of your necklace.

"Something is ah... missing on ya, dont'cha think, doll? Huh?" completely ignoring your question, he calmly, yet dangerously asked, making known the fact that he instantly noticed you weren't wearing his precious and meaningful accessory. His gloved hands slid to your naked neck and grabbed it forcefully, making you unable to respond him, because of the lacking of air in your throat and lungs. Once he realized you would literally pass out if he continued to choke you, he slightly let it go, just enough to make you receive some oxygen to your now extremely frightened brain.

"I don't k-know what you're talking about..." you really weren't one to give up easily. You wanted to see how your little game would end, even though you had just been almost choked to death. His pupils became so much darker once he realized what game you were playing.

"Ya don't... know?" he suddenly started laughing maniacally, the loudest and scariest sound you had ever heard in your entire life. You knew he had already discovered what your intentions were, however he still didn't know if the fact that you went out with someone else and played with yourself, was true. Yet you would keep him thinking about  that... What a strong and determined woman you were.

His laugh started to slow down and his not so happy expression returned to his scarred face. "Do I really need to ah... remind ya of the rules dollface, huh?" his voice was deeper and hoarse, and you could tell he was trying to contain his humiliating words towards you to himself... at least for now. He walked away from you to grabbed the box under your bed, keeping an intense eye contact with you, and put it above the bed. You were watching very attentively with each step he made, not having the courage to look away from him. He then grabbed each vibrator you had, and started to break them with his own hands. Since when did he have so much strength??

"J, what the hell?!" you screamed at him and the moment you took a step forward, he nimbly took a knife from his pocket and pointed it in your direction.

"Ata-tada!" he warned you with his fatal object in his left hand while giving you a sharp stare, making you return immediately to your initial position. "Dont'cha wanna make things harder for yourself. This is all your fault." he grabbed a broken piece of your favorite vibrator and threw it caressly to a random corner of your room. Much to your control, your eyes started to water instantly: you wanted to provoke him, not ending up having your dear toys broken. But that's what you get when you get on J's nerves... and this was nothing compared to what he wanted to do to you...

A single tear came out of your eye and you instantly looked way, ashamed for feeling so unnecessarily sad for having your sexual toys destroyed. You closed your eyes, and all you could only hear, was your own sobs and his heavy steps.

"Shh-Shh why are ya crying bunny? Ya knew this was ah... gonna happen the moment you messed with your owner, didn't ya?" you didn't answer to him. You were way too pissed to give him what he wanted, but once again... you made the wrong choice. "ANSWER ME!" you never felt so intimidated by anyone the way you did at that moment. You were now trembling with fear, and even if you didn't want to admit it, you were also trembling by lust, excitement and hunger for him. He suddenly harshly grabbed your cheeks and made you look up at him: your makeup was already ruined because of the mix of emotions that filled your slippery salty tears, and by his rough movements on your face.

"YES!!" you responded the loudest you could, but he didn't seem satisfied.

"Yes, what?!" he asked calmer while tightening his grip on your aching jaw, yet he was calm by far.

"Yes sir!!!" for the first time for what felt like hours, you saw a proud grin form on his scarred cheeks. You unconsciously smiled too, but that didn't last for too long since he caressly shoved you against the bed. If your bed wasn't so soft, you were sure you would have bruises or even broken your face. He then roughly pinned your hands together, and tied them tightly with some handcuffs he found in the box beside you both. He turned you on your back, and instantly placed a knife on your jaw. You didn't dare to move, because if you did... that scene would definitely turn into a bloody mess. He was so concentrated on your body, memorizing every detail of your soft skin into his psychotic mind, and without a warning, he cut your dress in half with his pointy knife, and this time, you didn't dare to complain.

"Hmm, no bra..?" he pretended to look surprised and looked like he didn't care about your decision, but his body language betrayed his mind since his excitement was way more noticeable. "Now tell me... how ah... naughty and filthy can ya be, huh?" he then grabbed your hips with such force that you knew for sure he would leave dark bruises there. You didn't know anymore if it was the fact that you were so distracted in leading your own emotions, or if it was due to you being completely consumed by pure desire, that you didn't prepare yourself from what was coming: you suddenly felt his sharpened knife being softly, yet firmly craved into your chest. You couldn't see it, but you did feel the fatal object drawing a "J" letter on your once soft chest. He wanted to mark you forever, so if a goddamn choker couldn't make that happen... a deep scar definitely will. Your screams were mistaken for loud moans, so he continued to do his work, blood running out of your body into the sheets, that were once white, into a dark, permanent red.

When he turned you around, you felt another hot and painful sensation, but this time on your butt cheek, so painful and hard it was, that you almost fell out of the bed, only to be abruptly grabbed by your ponytails to make you still.

"Where do ya think you're going, huh?" he pushed you to himself by each ponytail. A muffled sound of pleasure and pain came out involuntarily of your mouth, yet you couldn't care less.

"Please..." you pleaded, blinded by the absurd amount of pleasure that was running into your veins for him.

"Please what, huh? Tell me... Tell your sir want you ah... desire from him. And if ya behave like ah... good little slut for him, maybe he will reward ya." you opened your eyes that were previously tightly closed and looked deep into eyes, noticing that his eyes were now completely black, like he was possessed by the devil himself. You could feel his huge and solid bulge leaning against your now reddish ass since he pulled you so close to him, and you knew that everything was finally leading to where you wanted.

"I want more... please sir, I want you to destroy me..." the moment those words came out of your mouth, he totally lost it. Neither him or you could hold yourselves anymore. With your leather dress thrown into a corner, your ass was now exposed. He caressed your butt not so softly with his strong hands, admiring the gorgeous view for a few seconds. Oh, how he loved to see his doll with lace.

Your room was then filled with loud moans, deep groans from him, and even louder sounds of skin being roughly spanked. He knows your limits very well, so he stopped once he noticed you couldn't take it anymore: after all, the pain is beauty for him, but so is pleasure and trust from both sides. Your ass was now covered in shades of dark purple and red, a view that J never got tired of... in fact, it was his favorite.

"The purple really ah... suits ya, doll. So does the green and the red..." he whispered more to himself, getting lost in the beauty of the job you both did: the spanking session he just gave you, and the look you chose for yourself that had everything to do with him, as it proved your submission for him as well. While he was saying that, you were trying to catch your breath and collect yourself from what just happened. Your ass was hurting so bad, and you were sure you wouldn't be able to sit properly for weeks, but the pleasure that came from it... it made it all worth it. You were almost getting your breath back, almost, when you felt your ponytails getting pulled once again. He really liked the idea of the colored ponytails, you proudly thought for yourself.

"Ata-tada, ya weren't going ta sleep on me, now would ya? Oh sweet cheeks, we are just-getting-started..." you shaked your head, and before he could punish you again, you immediately remembered what you must do.

"No sir!! I won't upset you again... I-I promise I will be a good slut for you!" you obediently answered, fearing to be punished again. Your makeup must be already ruined because of your uncontrollable crying. Your cheeks were covered in a black mascara, and purple and green makeup that was very blurred because your previous position, so it was practically inevitable to rub your face against the bed. This was something that always made J's pants twist with randiness: the messier, the better.

After your response, you heard a satisfied groan from his throat: he had already forgotten the fact that he was extremely mad, only for that feeling be replaced and completely consumed by lust. He then approached your neck and sucked it roughly, leaving marks that would last for a very long time because of the force it was made, while grabbing your throat to make you still. It came to your mind the idea of him being a vampire who was immensely thirsty by your blood.

You gently rubbed your ass on his throbbing, hard cock: it hurted really bad, but it was the only movement you could do to caught his attention, since he was restraining almost all of your body movements.

"Someone is feeling really eager, huh? Ha! All it takes is ta teach ya some ah... manners, to get those panties all soaked for me..." after that, he ripped your lace briefs with his own hands, making you flinch, and then put two long gloved fingers in you. He was never a very patient man and he wasn’t going to be now, so he started to finger you as fast as he could, curling his skilled fingers into your g-spot from time to time. It felt like pure bless, and it was impossible for you to contain all of your sweet sounds. But even if you did, you knew you would be in real trouble for containing them: J loved to hear your moans and screams of pleasure and pain for him, so he had forbidden you to hide them from him. When you were about to cum, he turned you around and replaced his experienced fingers by his hot and wet tongue on your clit, sucking it hard.

" Oh God, J!!" you moaned as loud as you could, and if it weren't the cuffs holding you still, you would ride your orgasm while fucking his face. This was the first time he let you cum without edging you first. Looks like he's feeling generous. Yet neither of you would be satisfied with only one orgasm, especially you, and J knew it.

"God has nothing to do with your ah... pleasure, doll. I am the only one who makes ya cum like a fucking squirter whore, do ya hear me?" he grabbed your face hard enough to make it hurt, and then forced you to look at him while he slowly sucked his gloved fingers with your juices on it, right in front of your face, wanting to make a show for you. "Hmm, always so... tasty." he admitted with the sexiest tone you have ever heard from anyone. "But now... I've gotta prepare ya for da real deal." once he said that, he pushed three fingers into your mouth.

You could taste your own cum and his saliva mixed on his fingers, and you would be lying if you said it wasn't your favorite taste. You knew you had little time to adjust to his fingers, trying so hard to control yourself from gagging... and that was what was worrying you, since if you couldn't take his fingers... it would be ten times worse once you sucked his dick. He decided to take his fingers off of your wet mouth, since his cock was starting to get so tight in his pants, to the point of being painful. While he was unbuttoning his pants, you took the chance to breathe properly, yet that didn't last too long.

"Come here." he ordered while he grabbed your legs, and then pushed them out of the bed to make you kneel on the ground, before grabbing your freshly painted purple and green ponytails.

"Now open wide that pretty mouth of yours. Sir is gonna ah... feed his slut until she's full." with a smirk printed on his scarred white and red cheeks, he wasted no time in shoving his erected cock inside your already wet mouth. "Fuck! That mouth of yours never fails to get me all riled up, dollface!" he started laughing maniacally right after while thrusting faster and harder into your mouth. You could barely breathe, especially when he shoved all of his dick down on your throat, only to get it out for a few seconds before shoving it back inside, where it belongs. Your boobs (that were also covered in blood because his previous signature he made especifically for you), upper legs and even the floor were covered in saliva and some of his cum, and you couldn't wait for him to release all of his cum inside your mouth... you couldn't wait to make him proud of you.

You started to feel his movements getting sloppier, his groans and breath getting uncontrollably deeper, and his dick twitching in your throat. You could tell he was close, and the moment you felt your ponytails getting pulled closer to his pubic hair, you knew that was it.

"Fuck!" he loudly cursed before releasing all of his cum inside your mouth and down through your sore throat. His taste felt more salty than before, but you still managed to swallow it. It was too much cum for you to keep in your mouth, so some of it escaped from it into the ground. After looking at you silently, he caught your attention by his demanding tone towards you.

"What are ya waiting for, huh? Clean your mess. Now." his glare was fatal, and his hold on your hair started to become unbearable, so you didn't challenge him any further. You crouched down on the ground and started to lick the rest of his cum that fell out of your tiny mouth, yearning a satisfied groan from him after you were done.

"Good girl..." he praised, before helping you getting up from the rigid floor to kiss you passionately. You melted completely into the kiss, his tongue fighting for dominance and obviously winning, until you felt his sharp, yellow teeth bitting your lower lip, making it bleed. He sucked all of your blood like his life depended on it, and you couldn't help but feel wetter with each second. Seems like J wants to be a vampire for halloween this year.

When he got bored of it, he pushed you onto the bed, and lifted you legs around his neck once he was positioned on top of you. You could tell he was really hard again, until you felt him rubbing only the tip of his cock on your clit. He remained in that position for some time, creating the perfect amount of friction on your clit to make you squirm under him. It seemed strange, however it was something you learned from him that felt so incredibly good. He decided to suck your hard nipples meanwhile, which made you gasp because of the unexpected, yet very welcome act, and moan harder. When you were about to cum, he shoved himself inside your dripping cunt, this time having no mercy on you. His thrusts were fast, hard and pounded you so deeply, that you could swear you were seeing shiny stars all over your room.

"Oh fuck, right there sir, please let me cum!!!" you closed your eyes, only to be slapped in the face as a warning to keep them wide open.

"Ya wanna cum, huh? Do ya think you deserve it?" he asked, staring into your soul to see if you would dare lie to him. "Dirty sluts don't get to cum, and believe me when I say that I'm gonna fucking destroy ya." after that, he put both of his gloved hands around your neck, grabbing it with such force with the porpuse to punish you from your supposed desobedience. You could see the madness itself returning to his eyes, and before you weren't able to talk anymore by lack of air, you decided to expose the truth to him, before it was too late for you.

"I-I didn't go anywhere! I didn't f-fuck anyone and... a-and I didn't go to any p-party!" it was so difficult to talk, but at the same time, in the situation and position you were currently on, it made you cum so hard without even getting time to ask him for permission, yet he didn't care about it since he was now focused on what you said.

"What?" he looked so confused, and his eyes started to return to their original color, getting also softer in the process. He suddenly stopped fucking you, and in that moment you thanked to whoever was up there for letting you cum before he stopped.

"I-I just wanted to make you mad... I wanted this..." you admitted, ashamed for making yourself look silly and desperate in front of him. You couldn't tell if he was still mad and irritated, or relieved. Maybe all of them, because now he had the guarantee that you obeyed him and didn't fuck anyone else.

"Oh, doll... If ya want me to fuck ya this hard, all ya need to do his to ask nicely. But ya like to play games instead, dont'cha? I always knew how kinky you were. Then congratulations, ya got what ya wanted! Ya really pissed me off, but dont'cha think you're gonna get out of this that ah... easily..." he warned you. For some reason, he decided to look at your bedside table, only to discover where your very badly hidden J’s choker had landed. He grabbed the innocent object, that was also the responsible for the best sex of your life, while still being inside of you, and then put it back where it belongs: on your neck. After making sure his gift was well tightened around your neck, he took his dick out of your vagina and lined it up right with your tight ass hole.

Now this was going to be a long night...

[ohheyitsokay]

foul

part 5 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 2.5k

warnings: anyway I’m going to say this is where things start to get 18+ strong language, implications or mentions of party drugs, sex, alcohol, addiction, angst uhh I think that’s it. 

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier Baseball AU! Trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball. 

In this chapter, and always, truly good things require work, and while that’s scary, Frankie (and the others, in their own way) realize that it’s worth it.

>>

They didn’t get very far away from the little home before Frankie had to pull over, wanting to bang his forehead against the steering wheel and let the honk drown out his agony. And Santi, who was laughing at him.

He felt like he was reliving the memory again and again, his mind’s eye more vivid than anything else.

The skin of your wrist, even burned, was delicate, softer than reasonable against his lips. Your face was confused, and then he could’ve sworn your pupils dilated as you regarded him. It was a blissful moment, sitting on the kitchen floor, closer to you than he’d ever been, kissing your pain away like his abuela, like the two of you were comfortable together.

Then he realized what he’d done and all but ran away, cursing himself and terrified of your beautiful, questioning eyes.

Before they’d pulled over, Santi was telling him he wasted his shot. He knew.

“What the hell? Fish?” his tone was quieter. Gone was the disappointed, but good natured teasing from before, Santi’s dark eyes widening as he realized there was something undeniably more real than he had been expecting.

“You…” he stared at Frankie, who was glaring out the window, knuckles almost white on the steering wheel. “You’re serious, about her.”

It wasn’t really a question. His friend’s hands loosened, then reasserted themselves, like he was wishing he could strangle something, and then they dropped, defeated. It was answer enough.

“Then why…” he licked his lips, Frankie’s stress rolling over him as he considered his next question. Why did you run from her? Why hadn’t you got her number? “Why cant you…”

“I have a fucking baby, man.”

His broad shoulders deflated, for all their tension, his body filling with unshed tears for the life he was certain he could not have.

“She’s not yours.” A quiet, well-practiced reminder.

“She might as well be.”

Santiago’s hand slipped onto his friends shoulder, rubbing slow circles like his own abuela, willing him to understand his support.

“She’ll understand.”

He could have meant Frankie’s broke, broken, single sister, or his unborn niece, just two months due, or his intensely expectant mother, but he knew better.

There was no good reason Santi’s gut should know what a person was thinking about Francisco, what they would think, but he was seldom wrong about these things. And he was surer than he’d ever been, about you.

-

Hanging over the balcony of the second tier, you laughed as Will slid into home.

All around you the cheers erupted, deafening and joyous. The team might’ve picked him up to carry him around for a victory lap, you couldn’t be sure because you couldn’t see, being jostled left and right on your way back to James.

The two of you had been late to the game today, caught up in traffic, and Benny had texted you to hurry up. It made no sense that he knew you weren’t there, and even less sense that he was able to text you from the dugout, but he had. They were losing bad, when you finally filed through security and found your seats, but thankfully began to claw their way back. It had been one of the closest games you’d seen in this stadium, and you were mildly worried Jimbo would be hoarse by the end of the night.

Knowing them made watching the game far more interesting than it had ever been for you. It was only the shallow end of friendship but it was more than enough. As the closer and closer the scores got to each other, the more you’d let yourself be drawn to towards the field like a lovesick fan. You held your breath as Santi threw one, two, three strikes the top of the ninth, and almost squeezed Jimbo too hard when Francisco caught an unexpectedly vertical foul ball. He had humored you, walking close to the edge at first, but at some point James let go of your arm and told you to stay and tell him what happened.

Beaming, you found him talking to another elderly couple, decked out in Miller boy jerseys and paraphernalia. Your grandfather introduced you, but before you could get their names, a large security person tugged you away, murmuring in your ear.

Trying to decline, and explain they probably had the wrong person, you were utterly confused. They were hearing none of it, and were to escort you to the locker room, and you were bullied into going along, telling James as quickly as you could that you would meet him in a bit.

When you were gently shoved into a large waiting area next to a door that reeked of sweaty men, you were annoyed. Then Ben Miller was coming out, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet before crushing you in a hug. His hair was wet, dripping on you, and his shirt was sticking to his body, and his eager eyes made you forgive him, for the most part. Thankfully, he smelled like cheap soap.

“Benjamin Miller, do you understand that that was not okay?” you tried to be stern.

“He doesn’t,” Will said dryly, emerging from behind his brother with a smile. He gave you a hug too, which surprised you more than anything, and whispered something to the security guards before leading them out. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, but,” you felt flustered, wondering about Francisco as much as the ridiculousness of being near them, again. “Does someone mind explaining what’s going on? Why am I here?”

“Don’t explain,” Santi's voice, and his hand ruffling your hair. “It’ll jinx it.” You couldn’t tell if he was serious.

“Let’s just say, from us to you - thank you,” Ben was grinning winningly, almost making their suspicious behavior acceptable. “And we owe you one,” he added.

Handing finding your hips, you wondered if you had it in you to really glare at the tall, handsome athletes in front of you. You didn’t get the chance, however, as other players began pouring out around you and friends and family were being shown in. Apparently, meeting after the game was more common than you thought, and you felt defeated as you tried to back against a wall. The three of them got caught up momentarily as their friends triumphant voices and energetic movements filled the space.

You bumped into Francisco and nearly melted into the floor. 

His deep brown eyes, the ones you hadn’t seen since he kissed your wrist, met yours, and for a split second he looked like a deer in the headlights. Then they softened again, just like they had before, and he moved his body between yours and the crowd. Only when he glared and jerked his head did you notice one of the players you didn’t recognize had been looking you over, a little too interested.

His broad shoulders were raised, slightly, the only indication that he wasn’t in complete control of the situation.

“Thank you,” you murmured, under the noise, a mirror of that quiet moment in James’ kitchen. He didn’t move away this time, just stood over you as he checked to make sure the other player had gone on his way.

He was so tall. Of course you knew this but he was towering over you now, you could see the rise and fall of his chest, and the swell of the muscles in his arm as he pressed it against the wall by your head. Maybe you should’ve felt boxed in, but it was strangely comforting, the shape of the catcher blocking out the chaos.

The appearance of Ben, yet again, popped the tension and Francisco moved back, his arm falling to his side.

You breathed again as the rest of the group found you, and you could feel his eyes watch you as they joked about your disappearance.

Tom was looking at you too, a strange expression on his face. Of all of them, he seemed the most disheveled, like he’d only just got to the locker area.

“There’s an after party tonight,” he said, haltingly. You blinked.

The other boys were staring at him, and Santi’s head tilted, just a hair to the left, his eyes narrowing even less discernably as he said, “You should come.”

You laughed a little, and saw respect in Will’s eyes as you declined, thanking them for the invite. Did Frankie’s shoulder’s drop with disappointment or relief?

Ben was disappointed, for sure. It was hard to discern all their reactions when there was only one of you.

It was harder still, when James appeared, gently guarded by security, with the elderly couple in tow. Then there was reprieve from the attention on you as they accepted bear hugs from Will and Ben, and slightly more reasonable ones from the others. James received the same love, and winning the game because the second best thing of the day. Or maybe third, you thought, glancing again at the catcher who had returned to your side.

James ducked around them to tuck himself at your other side, and you didn’t need either of them to explain that these were the Miller grandparents.

The three of you melted into the background after you were reintroduced. When they invited you again to the party, the sweetness of the moment and Grandma Miller clouded your judgement, and you told them you would think about it.

-

You ended up going, an hour in, because Will had called you. He hadn’t explained, only half growling the instructions through the noise, before he changed his mind and hung up. Never mind, I’m sorry to bother you, he had said, and you thought that he actually meant it. It left a twisting feeling in your gut, and your instincts kicked in, and you pulled on whatever before driving over.

As per his instructions, you parked far away, slipping past the distracted security, into the luxurious rental. There half naked tipsy women and flashing lights, and things James would lecture them on littered around, and you felt slightly nauseous .

This wasn’t a setting you wanted to see any of them in, but you clenched your jaw, and looked for familiar faces.

First, you saw Tom near you, his hand sliding appreciatively over the ass of a girl who looked like she would frame her dress after he was done. Across the room, you saw a women watching them, standing a little to straight, hands clenched before she pushed her way out of the space. He must have seen it, too - he was frozen, and you snapped to make him look at you.

You didn’t say a word, just pointed with your thumb, eyes telling him what he needed to hear. He did apologize to the fans around him as he chased after her, and you rolled your eyes. It occurred to you that maybe… maybe that was why he mentioned the party. A strange way of asking someone, anyone who would hold him accountable to be nearby.

That seemed far fetched.

The air smelled like sweat and alcohol and smoke, and you tried not to think about your shoes, sticking ever-so-slightly to the floor, and tried not to wonder how often they did things like this. You were careful of explicit noises before you opened doors and your eyes moved quickly so you wouldn’t and draw attention to yourself.

Next, you found what you were sure your instincts had called you there for. He was in a mercifully quiet room, a little drunk, and a lot broken hearted.

Will was there too and when he saw you he stood, leaving his brother on the ground with his head between his knees.

“You didn’t have to come,” his voice was quiet as his eyes looked you over, trying to understand your intentions. You were sure he’d seen people time and time before try to get close for all the wrong reasons, and actually… thinking of it, you were sure that’s what had happened.

Will didn’t see any of that in you when you shrugged, eyes leveling with his despite the height difference, and he let you come further in.

“You guys have always been more than kind to me,” you said. It’s not that you owed them, it just made it easier to be kind in return.

Pushing aside a couple of cans, you settled next to Ben and held out the water bottle you’d brought. His face was stormy his eyes held hurt through the cloud of alcohol, and he took it.

“’m fine,” he said. Will waited for you to respond, to spout cliches and empty praise or lies and terrible advice. He had seen it all before, too many times.

That didn’t come, either, and when you didn’t say anything and rubbed your hand over his brothers shoulder, he was so grateful it hurt.

-

Frankie walked into the room, mouth open to check in, to find you running your fingers through Benny’s hair, his head in your lap. You were elbowing Will, laughing about something as his brother sleepily tried to participate.

His heart aching, Frankie left, closing the door hard behind him. He wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t.

Legs carrying him nowhere in particular, he wasn’t sure who he was frustrated at. Benny or Tom for charming you, dragging you into their lives, bright and shiny and innocent? Santi or Will for being able to talk with you like you had known them forever, to become your best friends like it was effortless?

You, with your open touches and knowing eyes and stupid big fucking heart?

He hated it all so much. Frankie hated it because it felt so good. Watching you act like a sister to his brothers, feeling your eyes on him as he did the one thing he knew how to do, hearing you say honest words for his ears alone - it all felt good, and it was awful. It made him forget who he’d been when he was a rookie, the mistakes he had made, the people they’d hurt while they’d been drunk on petty fame. It made him scared he would forget the lessons he had learned, if he let himself get lost in the good.

The person he was frustrated with was himself. He eyed his teammate doing a line of snow, the music pulsing in his ears, guilt and anxiety chasing him like wolves after prey. The caught him and he inched involuntarily forward, gnawing on the muscle memories of his tongue and heart and thighs.

Then all of a sudden, they were pulled back. Not gone – you were holding them at bay, as your hand touched his arm. Had you... chased him?

God did he want to be the man you though he was.

You didn’t seem interested in that, because you were quiet, telling him that it was good to see him, and to come to Benny, like he was needed. He wanted that – he turned away, back to his friends.

As your hand left his arm, the tips of your fingers trailed and he shuddered, realizing something.

The difference between the good of things that made him a monster, and the good of you was that it was handed to him, easy, full of promises that couldn’t be kept. Creating something good with you was going to be work.

Santi’s words rang in his mind, louder than the terrible music: she'll understand.

Determination flooded him, and he wondered if the wolves, never killed, could be harnessed. Frankie took your hand, relishing how after your initial shock,  you laced your fingers with his. 

<<

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179

hey batter batter taglist:

@icanbeyourjedi @studyofawearymind @hnt-escape @athalien @the-witty-pen-name @daffodin

[litotes-screams]

Could you expand more on the fairy George au? Like, maybe George gets hurt by a Venus flytrap or something else,and Dream just comes out to find a tiny boy with wings stuck in the Venus flytrap or whatever else you’ll write if you are see this ask. Dream is just like, really confused so he sets George free and he just wonders why the human saved him. Then against his instincts he chats and gets to know the human (Dream) and get to be friends idk this is just a thought if you want to do this.

As a person who’s been in love with fairy aus since I saw the Tinkerbell movies as a dumbass kid, I’d absolutely love to. This little drabble didn’t want to cooperate with me, but I hope it’s alright!

―――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

George trips over a twisted root, and before he even realizes what’s happened, the teeth-like fibers of the plant’s maw snap closed over his leg, arm, and one of his wings.

Dream, the owner of the greenhouse he sort of squatted in without his knowledge, had added a recent addition to the flora in his garden: a Venus flytrap. Now, George really didn’t have an issue with carnivorous plants. He wasn’t some dumb bug, he was an intelligent being who wouldn’t fall for such simple traps!

Unfortunately, he didn’t account for his own clumsiness, and now he was trapped here, completely and utterly stuck. All he could think about was how the plant would slowly release digestive fluids that would eat away at his skin at a snail’s pace, making him sit through the agony of his body slowly getting dissolved by the acid. The more he thinks about it, the more he begins to panic, thrashing wildly. Each subsequent movement he makes only causes the trigger hairs to reflexively close tighter around him, sealing his fate.

Then he hears whistling, accompanied by the sound of the door being opened and closed. Gods, he forgot about Dream’s schedule, too. The human always came in around this time of day to check up on his plants and water the ones with dry soil, and to refill the hummingbird feeder that George would steal meals from whenever he couldn’t find food. It was one of the things he admired about him, the care and dedication that he put into his garden, and he’d often find himself taking care of the plants in his little sanctuary as a silent thanks to the man.

Of course, the human also had no idea that George was even here, but this was his only chance to get out of this predicament. He felt the plant tighten even further, and a sharp pain traveled up his wing as he felt it crumple and tear slightly at the tip. The feeling of his wing being ruined was what finally made him break, and he screamed out, “Help! Please help!”

Almost immediately, the man responded, confused. “I..hello? Is someone in here? Can you tell me where you are, o-or just keep speaking?” Footsteps softly started to approach the area where he was, hesitant.

George, thoughts muddled with pure agony, couldn’t even bring himself to care that he was about to be caught. He just wanted to get out of this stupid plant before his wing got dissolved. “I-I’m over here, please!”

Moments later, a huge shadow fell over him, and he heard a tiny, awed noise escape from the back of Dream’s throat, but it was instantly replaced with concern. “Oh, oh no, you’re stuck.” He hears the metal thunk of the watering can being set down, and looks up to find the human down on one knee, face uncomfortably close. He yelps, attempting to move away, but only succeeds in tearing his wing further, whimpering from the pain.

The human immediately backs up slightly, moving to sit on both of his knees, hands held up in front of him. “Hey, it‘s alright. I’m not gonna hurt’cha, I’m sorry. I just want to help you get out of there, is that okay?”

He doesn’t move when he finishes speaking, and it takes George a moment to understand that he’s looking for an actual response. He swallows heavily, terrified, and stutters out, “O-okay.”

The man starts to move again, slower this time to avoid startling him. One hand is cupped underneath the trap, and the other moves closer to George, and he flinches away from it. He gently pries open the mouth of the plant, careful not to damage it, and George tumbles down into his awaiting palm. He flaps his wings a few times, wincing at the pain that courses through him with each tiny movement, and despite knowing that it won’t help him, he instinctively attempts to fly away, only to collapse around a foot up in the air.

Dream moves to catch him, and when he lands in his hands, he’s swiftly cupped against the man’s chest, no escape in sight. “Woah, calm down!”, the human scolds. “You could’ve really hurt yourself. You’re alright.” He gets up slowly, as to not jostle his passenger, but George feels nauseous and terrified.

He can hear muffled shuffling as the human grabs the watering can and sets it down at the door, before walking inside of his house, the door closing with a thud behind him. All of the adrenaline in his system crashes down at once, and that, mixed with the fear of what Dream might do to him and the horrific pain from his wing, sends George into oblivion, passed out in the hands of the worst possible outcome from that scenario.

He just hopes that the human is merciful, and doesn’t drag this out to toy with him or show him off to the world.

[prodtrouver]

C A N N O T

Last goodbyes now untold, bad memories remain unfold. He stood and watched you burn to crisps, music coming out of your favorite disc. What he wanted to do cannot be done, that is until the time will come. Now, he opened the book, full of hope; you will be with him and elope.

Pairing: Time Traveler-vampire!Lee Heeseung x witch!fem reader

Genre/TW: forbidden love, fluff, angsty, the 17th century era (vampire-witch era), time travelling, mentions of murder, blood, poison, knives, self-harm

Word count: 7,256 words

Tall trees, sounds of the birds' wings flapping, and the strong wind blowing the leaves; it was absolutely perfect. The weather was perfect and so were your feelings.

No negativity that tenses your mind into something you don't want it to be. Your fingers gently stroked the leaves of the apple tree your family grew. The softest smile rest on your glossy lips as you picked out a perfectly red apple.

"Y/n, big sister!" You turn your head around to look at your little brother. His hair blown by the wind, so it looked like a bird's nest- this made you laugh. Although, it is utterly adorable.

"Look at this spinning top mom bought me! Isn't it interesting!?" Your brother shouted at the top of his lungs. He jumped around you for you to pay attention to his new toy. You kneeled a bit and patted his head.

"It's looks nice- why won't you play with it inside? You don't want it getting lost, right?" He gasps at your words and immediately runs inside your home.

You let out a chuckle before you continued to pick all the apples from the tree. Your careful figure tried not to stumble because of the wind. You brush your hair out of your face before you head back inside your home.

You placed the basket on the table before you took a small pouch. You attached it to your dress before you come face to face with your mother. "Heading out so soon again?"

"Yes, mother- I need to go to the village. We are running out of food supplies. All we have are fruits, I'll be back soon, don't worry." You grabbed your cloak.

"Be careful, my child. Don't let anyone suspect you," her last words made you nod. Soon, you left the house and made your trip to the village. Your heart beats in anticipation like usual when you head to the village.

The nervousness and fear of getting caught fills your stomach with pesky flies. Your hand gripped on your cloak tightly. You never intended for someone to find out you are a witch.

Therefore, your family has remained far away from the village. No one would have made dark magic and dark spirits roaming around their homes- that's why they eliminate people who practices witchcraft immediately.

When you made it to the village, you tried to act normal. A soft smile on your face as you bought food for your family. So far, no one has really suspected you as a witch. You were so distracted in buying food; you flinched when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You turned around; "hello, miss- I apologize for scaring you, but I believe this is yours?" He reached out his hand with a familiar red pouch on top of his palm. Immediately, you checked your bag, and the red pouch is gone!

"Oh- um- thank you. This is awkward, I'm not this clumsy." You take the pouch from him. You smiled sweetly before you continued to walk away.

Your grip on your cloak tightened again. Your feet have never walked away this quick, ever. Other than that, you turn your head around to look at the boy.

His brown hair that looked like chocolate. His glossy and soft lips that glistened. His eyes that sparkled under the sun... He looked gorgeous!

He must be someone wealthy, well- at least, you assumed him to be. His clothes don't scream noble or poor. He looked like an average boy that was blessed with gorgeous visuals.

You turned around and walked away; oblivious to the fact the boy was staring at you. As he was captivated by your beauty and mysterious aura.

You continued to walk through the village like usual. Nothing more could catch your attention as time passed by. Your interest getting less and less until you figured it is time to leave. You have a lot more to do, better not waste time, you thought.

You turn around to head back to the village's entrance. Your basket full of food as you walked pass the shops and booths once more. Everything was alright until you heard a woman's screams and a child's cries.

You turn your head to the side and saw a crowd forming. Excited and angry men and women chanting the same word all over again; burn. 

You look- your feet walking towards the crowd where you could see what is happening. Your eyes widen as you felt your stomach drop. The woman was tied to the wooden pole that stood in charcoal. 

"Burn the witch! Kill her!" The villagers continue to chant. Suddenly, the child's cries turn into laughs. The woman tied to the pole cries and screams for help, for mercy. However, it it known for people to be merciless in this horrible world. 

They set the charcoal on fire; the woman catches on fire. Her screams of agony and pain echoed throughout the village. The cheers and laughs of villagers muffled by the roaring sound of the burning woman. 

You covered your mouth; you stopped yourself from crying; how can people be so cruel?

You were scared, terrified that one day, this could be you or your family. The pain from watching is immaculate. How much more if you're the one on fire?

Suddenly, you flinched when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You slightly jumped whilst your heart skipped a beat and your mind full of visions of death. You faced the person and saw the boy from earlier.

A clear frown appears on his lips when he sees your state. Your pained and scared state hurt him, even though he barely knows you. His thoughts filled with pity because you had to see all of that.

He knows nothing about you, so why does he care so much?

"Let's get out of here-," he dragged you away from the ceremony. His warm hand fit perfectly with yours.

You don't know why, you probably will hate yourself for letting a stranger drag you away, and possibly kill you after. You felt anxious, however; you feel you could trust him. 

You ran out of the village; his hair blown by the wind as you ran. He looked very alluring under the shadows of the tall trees. His eyes actually sparkling because of the glimpses of the sun.

The warmth of his hand hugged your chilly hands. Once you both are far from the village, he stopped running. He turns around and looks at you. A soft and inviting smile on his pink lips.

"I'm sorry for dragging you all the way here. You just looked terrified and I know how aggressive it will be after the burning." He stated and your eyes widened- there's more?

"What will they do after the burning?" A pitied sigh left his mouth.

"They will blow the ashes away, find and kill whoever is left in there family, including the children." He muttered, your heart dropped. What if that happens to you and your family? Is that the reason your mother wanted to live far away from the village?

"That's terrible..." Is all you could say. With your mind full of thoughts and predictions, you cannot say any more words. You cannot feel any other emotions, other than fear.

"Yeah... At least, you won't hear the screams and chants of death here. Where is your home?" He asked as he sat under a tree.

The rays of sun that went through the gaps of the leaves shown upon him. His sparkling eyes stared at you.

You were never one for face features or one to feel confusing feelings, so why are you suddenly feeling this way? Why do you feel so attracted and confused towards this man?

"Far away from here... Oh yeah, I never got your name!" You said, suddenly feeling a little more cheerful. The boy smiled and patted the ground beside him.

Your face showed hesitation, but he was patient. He kept the smile on his lips while you slowly sit beside him.

"My name is Heeseung, I'm a regular human boy from that merciless village." He gives you a small flower he plucked out. You let out a soft chuckle and accepted the flower.

"My name is y/n," you mutter. The wind soon turned into a soft breeze. You and Heeseung spoke softly to each other. Your comfort zone letting him in as you laughed at his jokes.

Heeseung smiled at your beauty and grace. His eyes landed on you as soon as you walked pass him. Luckily, the gods were on his side and made him approach you.

Soon, time passed quickly, and you realized you have to head home. You get on your feet, your basket on your arm.

"I need to go home-,"

"Do you want me to accompany you home?" Heeseung stood up as well. You shook your head softly, although you feel safe around him, you don't trust him very much yet.

"I can go home myself, I know the way back very well. I will see you soon, Heeseung," you smiled widely. You bid your goodbye and walked away from him.

Heeseung bid him farewell as well, his eyes glued on your figure. Your figure getting farther and further away from him until you disappeared.

He pressed his palm against his chest, feeling more than he should have. He hoped to see you again. 

Your return to the village was a week after your last visit. You hesitated to return after what you've seen last time.

However, the village looked a bit more peaceful. No fights, no chants- everything looked fine. There are fewer people, maybe because the others are very busy in their homes.

Your basket slowly getting filled with food whilst you walked down the path. Children were running around, their toys in their grasps.

A soft smile appears on your face. It's not every day to see children playing, villagers working, and food selling out quickly you live in the woods after all; away from the chaos, this village masks.

"May I get 2 loaves of bread?" You reached out the coins to the baker. He flashed a smile before he gave you the 2 freshly baked loaves. "Thank you," then you left.

After your experience that time, you aren't so sure if you want to stay longer in this village. That's why you're in a hurry whilst acting normal. Although, you want to see him... To see Heeseung again.

"Hey, you," you turn around to see a stranger pointing at you. Your heart races quickly, your mind, once again, filled with visions of your death. He suddenly grabbed your wrist, and you tried to pull it back immediately.

"You need to come with me or else, you will end up like those nasty witches!" The man shouted, his arm raised as if he was going to hit you. You shut your eyes, terrified of what the man will do.

However, you didn't feel pain. You heard a low grunt instead, followed by a heavy thud. You felt your basket taken away from you and you opened your eyes.

Heeseung stood protectively in front of you. Instantly, he turned around and held your wrist tightly before he dragged you out of the village.

He never looked back while you guys ran to the woods. The voices in the village were disappearing, and that made Heeseung stopped. He let go of your wrist,

"Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did that man hurt you?" He asked and moved closer to you. His eyes scanning places where there could be injuries from that man. You smiled and held his hand. His concerned and panicked self was silenced.

"I'm okay, Heeseung... Thank you for helping me," you let out a chuckle. You swore you saw his cheeks turn pink before he looked away.

You tilted your head and asked; "are you blushing?" His eyes widened when he turned his head to face you. He immediately shook his head, and you laughed. You quickly caressed his hair,

"You're cute... By the way, can I have my basket back?" You asked and pointed at your basket. He let out a soft gasp before quickly returning your basket. You thanked him and turned around.

Your eyes on his flustered figure whilst he stared at a bird family. The parents feeding their young one. Suddenly, a thought popped into your head, so you ask him.

"How did you find me, though?"

"A-ah, I just saw you in the village when that man suddenly grabbed you. Luckily, I was nearby and immediately ran to you. I even left my friend to help you!" He laughed when he remembered the shocked and concerned expression of his friend.

You laughed along with him before you remembered to head home again. You suddenly stopped laughing, another thought popped into your head.

"Heeseung, can I trust you?" You softly said and Heeseung instantly nodded his head. His silence whilst he stared at you almost spilled the truth from your lips. You walked closer to him, but he didn't step backward.

"What if I tell you I'm a witch?" You asked, scared. You don't know if you're making the right decision, you don't know if this will lead to something bad or good. However, you feel you could really trust Heeseung.

You felt your world freeze; you felt like time stopped when he smiled. He let out a chuckle before his warm hand patted your head. "I don't care about that, y/n." Your eyes widen at his words.

He sits on the leafy ground, his sparkling eyes stared at you. His smile has disappeared and his gaze gave you butterfly... A lot of butterflies.

"I don't care about witches or anything- honestly, I think they're really cool. I'm sure not all witches are bad, I'm sure a lot of them are very nice too. If you are a witch, I wouldn't give a damn. You're you and you're gentle... Well, from what I've observed so far, but yeah! I don't care," he smiled widely.

Immediately, you felt your heart skip a beat once again. A smile unconsciously makes its way to your lips as you sat beside him. He chuckled and patted your head once more. "You're you, you have a delicate heart. That's what all it matters,"

You swore you have never met someone as sweet as Heeseung. Your heart always in a rush whenever you talk to him. This may only be your 2nd meeting but you feel you've known him for a long time.

"Heeseung, if I come to this village every other day, will you wait for me?" You asked, instantly he nodded. He grabbed your palm and clasped it.

"I'll even wait for you every day," you laughed and softly smacked his shoulder. He laughed along with you. You sat beside him and rest your head on his shoulder. You both admired the clouds, even though they are covered by the tall trees.

"Are you really a witch?" Heeseung asked, and you nodded. You faced him and ruffled his hair. It was soft. It reminds you of the hair of your younger brother.

"Do you want me to prove it?" He nod his head and you took something out of your pocket. It was small charms, very hidden, but it was beautiful.

The charms were made of purple wood, and they were carved as sun and moon. "These are charms that bounds 2 people together, hence the reason it's the sun and moon." You held his other hand.

You freeze for a minute. Should you give it to him? After all, your mother stated you must only give this to your loved one. You sighed and placed it on his warm palm before you wrapped his fingers around it.

"When you show this to the sunlight or the moonlight, it's shadow will be the same shape as the charm. If the shadows of these two charms meet or overlap, they will be together forever." You muttered and Heeseung stared at the sun charm on his palm.

He reached it out to the sky and both of your pair of eyes widened when you saw a shadow. You did the same thing, and you became more shocked. The shadows overlapped...

"Looks like we're bound to be together forever," Heeseung laughed and you softly smack his shoulders.

"I can't believe this... Wow... The shadows didn't overlap when my mom and I tried it! This is magic! Wow!" You were impressed. The charms work... Just with someone who is perfect for you. Heeseung laughed at your cheekiness and ruffled your hair once more, you pout.

"We're bound to be together?" Heeseung whispered, and you nodded. You both stared at each other, both of your sparkling eyes staring at each other. He smiles as you lean closer to his lips. He didn't move, he shut his eyes and let you take control.

Soon, his lips felt warm the next second. Your small hands on top of his large ones. You both melt into the kiss, the warmth embracing both of you whilst you enjoy each other's presence. You break the kiss and immediately hid yourself on his chest.

"I'm sorry... I don't know what came over me..." You were flustered- it was just your 2nd meeting and you did that! How would he feel? Did he feel weird? Creepy? Ah, you were ready to shout at yourself when you get home.

"Why are you apologizing?" Heeseung caress your hair while you continued to hide in his chest. He laughed when you incoherently mumbled.

"I don't know! Maybe, it's because this is just our 2nd meeting and I already kissed you and that I feel like we aren't supposed to be doing this-," Heeseung kissed you once more. Your hand on his chest while his are on your waist. He pulled you close to him as you value the time you both have together.

Birds chirping, the wind has gotten softer- you feel special. You feel loved and protected with him. Despite this being your 2nd interaction, you feel like everything is fitting in the puzzle piece.

"Don't apologize- I really like how your lips feel on mine," Heeseung whispered. He chuckled when he saw your tinted pink cheeks before you looked away. He pulled you closer to him.

"I need to head home, Heeseung," you whispered, saddened since you didn't want to leave yet. He let out a sigh but didn't move.

"Let's stay like this for a minute before you head home," Heeseung pecked your forehead, resulting in a chuckle coming out of your mouth. You wrapped your arms around him whilst you melt into each other's arms.

Heeseung raised his charm in front of the moonlight. His eyes stayed glued on the ground, full of hopes you would raise your moon charm too. You have been doing this for weeks, letting the other acknowledge your presences, even when you aren't with each other. Heeseung loves doing this with you.

You let out a chuckle when you saw Heeseung's charm's shadow on your wooden floor. Instantly, you grabbed and flashed yours. The shadows overlapping immediately.

You grab your cloak from your hanging rank and quietly exit the house. A paper and quill pen in your grasps. You sat on the leafy ground; the pen met the thin paper as you wrote a letter for him. Although, it is very late in the night; you hope a lovely letter can ease his thoughts.

You let your owl deliver the letter to Heeseung. A smile danced on your lips whilst you watch the owl fly away to wherever Heeseung is. You were staring at the full moon that was shining brightly for the night. You turn around when you heard the door open.

"Mom," you become nervous instantly. She stared at you with the soft features on her face. Her hand on the wooden door frame, her dark chocolate brown eyes bore into yours. "Sending a letter to a boy? Is it a human boy?" She asked seriously.

You looked down and bopped your head. You shut your eyes, ready for her angry nagging about how unsafe you are being. It's very well known that humans despise witches.

If they were to find out, your entire family will die, including yourself. However, Heeseung kept your secret safe. He's willing to protect you and your family, even though he hasn't met them yet.

"Y/n, you know why we keep ourselves a secret from those terrible beings! They are ought to kill us, to eliminate us. And you're here sending letters to a human boy!?" She fumes, you shook your head, which silenced her. You stared at her with the same look on her face.

"Heeseung is not like those evil humans! He loves me and I love him. I know humans are terrible and I fear them too but Heeseung... he's different, he's willing to keep our secret." You spoke seriously and bravely. Your mother sighed in disbelief. Do not want to believe that you re standing up for a human.

Your mother rubbed her bridge as she let out another sigh, heavier than the first one. You both stared at each other, not one bothered to look away. Her angry eyes bore into your brave ones. Not wanting to fight with her daughter anymore, she looks away. "Bring that boy here and no one else. Just that boy," she heads back inside.

You sigh in relief, your heart ready to jump out of your chest. You were sure she's hesitant, as if she'll stop you from talking with Heeseung. You turned around and saw your owl come back with a different letter. A hurt smile appears on your lips as you reached out your arm for your owl to sit on.

"Good job, Niki... Thank your for delivering this to me. You may go back home," you murmured. You watched your owl fly back to his tree before you head back inside. You opened the letter and read it.

Hello, lovely y/n.

I've received your letter and you don't know how happy I am. I'm delighted that you even write letters for me. I love how you described your home, in hopes to visit soon and meet your family. I have a few presents made for you and I really hope you will like them. May I know when you'll visit the village again? I'm excited to give you these gifts. Other than that, I hope you have a good sleep and sweet dreams.

You smiled and folded the letter. You put it in your red box, a box where you keep all your valuable papers and writings. 

The next day, after your slumber, you quickly get dressed.

Your littler brother sat on the wooden floor, books surrounded him whilst he writes on his book. Your mother comes out of the kitchen,

"Don't forget what I told you," she said before she took the empty and dirty plates from the table. You felt uncertain, but it must be done. You don't want her to see Heeseung as an evil person...

"You're going to the village again, sister?" Your brother turned to you, you bopped your head as an answer. He ran up to you and showed you a drawing.

"I don't know who you will love, sister, but I made a drawing! This you, mommy, and the boy who you will love! I know we'll be a happy family after father died!" He smiled, and you carefully took the paper from his grip.

You smiled widely and embraced him. "I love it... big sister will be back with a guest, so why won't you draw something lovely for him?" You asked, and he smiled widely. He didn't waste any time to run to his study place and begin drawing.

"I'll be back shortly," you left the house. You closed the door and head to the village.

Amid your trip, you admire your surroundings. Birds flying above and below the trees, the leaves being blown, the flowers in perfect bloom of spring... Everything is lovely.

You were excited to meet Heeseung, but you also felt nervous. First reasons, take him to your home. Second, you're afraid Heeseung would be nervous because it's so sudden. Third, he's meeting your mother- the witch who raised you!

You clasped on your cloak as you saw the village nearing. You looked around by the entrance and saw Heeseung, already there. He was playing with a puppy that has been following him.

You remember he talks about that puppy a lot. You let out a soft chuckle when Heeseung picked up the puppy and start peppering it with kisses. You come out from your spot and slowly walk towards him.

"Why don't you ever kiss me like that?" You said, he immediately raised his head, embarrassed. He put the puppy down whilst it ran away from him.

"Well, if only you come over more often than sure," he ruffles your hair. Suddenly, his expressions brightened; "follow me! I'll give you your presents!"

He takes your hands in his, then drags you to his home. You've been in his home couple of times; its simplicity really pleased you.

"I got this music disc for you! It's like one of a kind and very rare! I know you love the music this village plays and I think you would love this too!" He plays the music disc to your pleasure and you gasp. The sound of the violin and organ in perfect harmony.

"Wow... How did you even get that?" You asked him while he sat beside you. He placed a soft peck on your cheek.

"If magic is love, then it probably is love," he said. You let out laugh but that didn't last long when you remembered what your mother said.

"Heeseung, do you think you could accompany me home?" You asked and his eyes widen. The shocked expression on his face puzzled you.

"Are you sure? Wouldn't that mean I would meet your brother and mother too?" You bopped your head. Heeseung bit his lip as he jumped on his bed. He hummed for a few seconds before he faced you with a smile.

"Of course, I would actually be delighted to meet them." Heeseung kissed you on your lips. You both burst into giggles when you jumped on him on his bed.

And so you both went to your home together. Both extremely nervous, but you swore you were close to death.

Heeseung even had to assure you everything will be alright. Once you both nearest your home, you saw your mother outside, hanging the clothes.

"Mom!" You ran to her, and she immediately turned to face you. Her eyes, however, landed on Heeseung who stiffened at the sharp glare.

"Mom, this is Heeseung-,"

"The human boy... What are your plans, you human?" Your mother sharply said, and you panic. You placed your arms around her to stop her.

"Ma'am, I plan on loving your daughter until our eternal lives meet." Heeseung courageously answers, which surprised you.

"Do you plan on exposing us to your kind? You know those humans hate us and they're probably burning a witch as we speak right now!" Your mother bursted, but Heeseung remained unfazed.

Heeseung stepped forward and placed a hand on your shoulder. You turned around to face him, but his eyes were glued to your mother.

"Ma'am, no- I do not want to do that nor have plans to do that. I love y/n with all my heart despite not knowing long! I do not want the girl I want to spend my life with to die," Heeseung spat.

You and your mother were frozen in your places. Your eyes bore into Heeseung's chocolate eyes. His determined expression and his large hand stayed on your shoulder as if he's afraid to let go.

Your mother let out a sigh which made you look at her.

"Protect my daughter, Heeseung. My children are the only family I have after the burning of my husband. I don't want them to go through the same," Heeseung smiled and intertwined his hand with yours.

"I promise, ma'am-,"

"Call me mom, I don't trust you fully, so I need to observe you more. However, if my daughter loves you a lot, then you are welcome to join us for dinner." You smiled widely and embraced her instantly. Thanking words come out of your mouth whilst your mom laughs.

"Come inside."

Heeseung jumped when his bedroom door was kicked open. He turned around to face his fuming father.

"I cannot believe you would be a traitor, Heeseung... Why would you be with a witch!?" His father shouted, his eyes widened. How did he find out?

"You bring that witch in this village and you will watch her burn!" His father kicked his chair to the side. Heeseung kept a serious expression on his face.

"Who says I'm with a witch?" He bravely said. However, all his feelings and emotions went down in the drain when his father showed him the charm. The sun charm you gave him.

"Does this not explain? This is a witch's charm, Heeseung! Why would you have a witch's charm with you!? Are you studying witchcraft now!?" His father throws the charm to the side.

Heeseung felt his world crumble when the charm split in two. That was when Heeseung was finally getting annoyed. His angry eyes bore into his father's angry ones.

"Get out of my room," Heeseung said.

"What?" His father muttered.

"I SAID GET OUT!" Heeseung raged. Suddenly, the windows slammed open, shocking both of them.

"A WITCH! I FOUND A WITCH!" He heard the villagers shout in excitement. Heeseung's eyes widen and immediately, he rushed out of his home.

There he sees you being held by a man. A terrified expression on your face as the man dragged you to where they keep the other witches. Heeseung immediately ran to you.

"Let go of her," Heeseung kicked the man and took your hand into his.

"Heeseung! Stop this instant!" His father ran up to him. The other villagers surround them both. Heeseung's arm protectively around your waist.

"Let go of that witch or we kill you both," the villagers raged in anger. You looked into Heeseung's eyes; his chocolate brown eyes once full of love are now full of anger.

"I will not let go of her! Kill me! Do not kill her!" Heeseung bursted, and you felt your heart break. Tears fall from your eyes whilst you think about your nearing death.

"Heeseung, play my favorite music later, okay?" You muttered, loud and clear for him to hear, he freezes.

"What? Why?" He looks at you; his angry eyes now full of concern and sadness. His heart shattering into pieces when he watches the tears fall from your gorgeous eyes.

"I want to hear the music when I die. I want it to be the first thing I hear when I enter my eternal life. You'll do that for me, right?" You caressed his cheek, his eyes turning glossy.

"No! I will not let you die in the hands of these terrible people!" Heeseung glared at the surrounding villagers.

"Heeseung! I love you, you know that! I cannot escape what is called a witch's punishment. I cannot escape this, Heeseung! I feel like my date has been written already and a witch and a human cannot be together." You cry even more in his arms. You stood on your toes and kissed him.

"I love you," you whispered before you removed his protective arms around you.

"I will go with you, but you must not kill Heeseung. I spelled him to fall in love with me. Once I die, the spell will be broken." You like which shocked Heeseung. He was about to protest until he felt a hand on his wrist.

He looked down to see your brother, your mother, behind him. Both have a sad look on their faces as they have to pretend they are not related with you.

The sad eyes of your brother while he tries not to cry pained Heeseung. This is your family, his family as well.

"I must be killed today at midnight for the spell to be broken," you stayed strong.

"Very well then- get her," a villager said. Immediately, a man grabbed you and drag you to the prison. You turned around and flashed a smile.

Heeseung falls to the ground; tears falling from his eyes while your brother ran back to your mother. Both try not to cry, knowing another family member will be burned to death. Later that day, Heeseung entered his room.

His father stayed with the villagers for your burning. Your mother and brother in his room as well. Both in each other's arm as they grieved for your upcoming death.

He could hear the villagers' chant to burn you. He looks out of his window and sees you being tied to the pole. At that moment, he plays your music disc.

"Let the witch burn!", "Burn her!", "Eliminate all witches!" echoed in the village. Soon, he could hear the soft sounds of fire.

He turns around to face you. Your eyes looked at his home, which wasn't far.

"I love you," you mouthed before the fire eats your body. Heeseung bursts into tears, his loud sobs echoed in his room.

The dark sky and bright light of the fire met in the air. Your ashes blown by the wind until nothing was left.

Your body long gone as the day finally ends and you enter your eternal life.

"Go back to the before, change your lore, however, you cannot change what was bound to happen."

Heeseung caresses the book with a dejected expression. His hand trembling with guilt and regret. How can he just let you die like that?

He watched his townspeople burn your body. Your body that turned to ashes and soon, get blown away by the wind. Your favorite music disc playing in the background of Heeseung's room.

You didn't deserve it; you didn't deserve death just because you are a different kind than them. Just because you're a witch and he's a human, it doesn't mean that you shall be killed.

Your family, isolated and briefing over your tragic death. Heeseung's thoughts only blamed himself for the death of his innocent loved one.

He ought to sacrifice himself for you. He ought to see you once more and spend an eternal life with you. His heartbeat incredibly fast as he sees the vision of himself marrying you.

Your beautiful figure wearing a white dress that symbolizes purity. Your hair styles beautifully as you both are ready to make a commitment to each other. A commitment that you and Heeseung would gladly accept; Marriage.

That is how Heeseung got there.

He sat under the tree before he looked around. Such feeling of deja vu hit him before he get on his leather boots. He looks around; the peaceful sound of the woods echoed in his head whilst he looked around for any signs.

Immense amount of pain coming from inside his mouth. He slowly and gently brought his finger to his teeth- his eyes widen when he felt a sharp part of his tooth pierced his finger.

He turns around, his body suddenly stopped responding. His body invisible on the mirror that stood in front of him.

"Heeseung? What are you doing here?" He turns around, shivers on his arm as the confusion clouds his thought. He turns around and he comes face to face with your very alive self.

"y/n?" He muttered your name and you made your way towards him. You tiptoed and pecked his cheeks, you noticed a mirror behind him and tilted your head.

"Why would a vampire need mirrors? You can't even see yourself!" You laughed, you made your way to the mirror and fixed yourself. Heeseung figure not visible at all but you could tell he was confused. You turn around to face him, confused to why he's so confused as well.

"What- what do you mean I'm a vampire? I was born human!"

"What are you talking about? You've always been a vampire." You patted his shoulder and held his hand. "Come on, mother is waiting for you! Also, I don't think you can stay under this sun." You smiled, and drag him to your home.

He remained confused but silent. It happened all so sudden. What confused him even more is that he's a vampire and the last time he remember, vampires don't exist...

"Why are you so quiet? Did you hurt your head or something?" You turned around to face him, a pout on your lips before you both continue to head to your house.

"Y/n, do you believe in time or universe travelling?" He asked, still confused, but curious to what you think. A soft pout appeared on your lips.

"Not really? I mean, witches and vampires exist but I don't think things like that exist- oh, we're here!" You opened the door, immediately greeted by the embrace of your mother and your brother.

"Welcome back, Heeseung! We really missed you both!" Your mother hugged him as well.

"Thank you for having me, mother," Heeseung muttered. He sits down and watched you play with your younger brother.

His head still full of memories from the future or whatever his original time was. He knows you'll get caught, he just knows because no matter whatever happens, it cannot change.

That's what was written in the book he read. That's why before the day comes, he'll turn the tables.

Night has come; the moon shines brightly once more. Thoughts run around Heeseung's clouded mind as he stared at you.

Your eyes tightly shut, little whimpers coming out from your mouth while you stir around in your sleep. Your arms wrapped around the pillow you love cuddling at night.

He smiles before he slowly gets up. He cannot change your past; the villagers burning you then he can change the village's fate.

He quietly loves your home which is now his. The cabin hidden in the endless woods, away from the bloodthirsty villagers. The villagers who loves to ignore innocence go pleasure their own.

The night was peaceful, however, he notices the sky being covered with gray clouds. The bright and glowing moon was no longer visible to the eye.

Heeseung felt anger and greed. He cannot let his love die on him again, it cannot happen again. He ought to protect you and he will keep it.

His feet drags him to his previous home, his cloak touched the leafy ground. Leaves being rustled by his heavy steps and blown away by the occuring strong wind. The village comes to his sight.

The eerie and dark feelings it gave him. Many lingering souls walk around the village they despised so much. Although, Heeseung couldn't see them, they were dreading for him to set them free.

"And that's why I'm here," he muttered. He stepped into the village, the strong wind blows the gray ashes of a human and fire from the ground.

He goes to the place where the burning happen. It seemed much more heavier at night, where everything stays, and goes around the hateful place.

Heeseung takes some a torch on the side and lights it on fire. Heeseung felt himself sweating, not from the fire but from what he was about to do.

He looks around the village, his previous home for the last time. He moves closer to a certain place; the place where they keep the so called witches are.

"This is much sadder..." He mumbled when he saw a torn stuffed bear on the dirty ground. He moves to the side, the cells empty, indicating every witch has been burned during the time of his traveling.

Everything affected him- his feelings is on a roller coaster, and his emotions is in some kind of tornado. However, Heeseung knew what he has to do, and that will be to destroy this village. No more harm will be done if the village itself disappears. Heeseung lights up another torch.

The mesmerizing fire that moved along the wind on the wooden stick. Charcoal keeping the fire alive and steady, despite the wind. He puts some coal around a few houses to make the fire last longer.

Arson, arson seems to be the only thing in his mind. Arson and you, his love, and the people who were killed because of his horrible kind.

Before the wind could get any stronger or before the clouds begin to drop some rain, he quickly throws the torches on the houses. The fire begins to spread, people starts to come out of their houses, full of terror and worry on their faces.

It was a wildfire; the fire spreadt from house to house. The wind only made it stronger, it was as if nature was on his side. His plan was being supported by the dead souls around him who could not rest in peace.

Heeseung stepped out of the village. The black smoke that spreadt the sky was obvious from miles afar. He watches people scream and cry for help as they were getting fewer and fewer.

He turns his head to the side to see a mother and a child. Both had burn marks on their bodies. Both were transparent, you could see right through them.

They faced Heeseung; a much happier smile plastered on their face. "Thank you," the mother muttered before they both disappeared. Heeseung looked up, stars begin to appear. He assumes they're the people who finally gets to rest in peace...

"Heeseung?" He turns around, your shriveled state made him chuckle.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were asleep," he reached his arm out. You slowly made to his side and let out a gasp. The village was on fire... Its people screaming for help whilst Heeseung watched.

"What happened?" You asked, your eyes glued on the burning village. The rays of orange and red looked like they could touch the stars.

"I'm not sure... I just saw the smoke and I came to this," he lies. He holds your hand and pulls you close to him.

"At least, they won't do any more burning ceremonies or something." Heeseung said, you gripped on his cloak you made for him.

You were glad to say the least, however, your mind was debating whether you should tell him the truth or not. The truth of you witnessing what he did.

However, you immediately understood why; he travelled time. With the book he left and you found, it was obvious. You were killed in his world, so he did this.

Although, you were disappointed that you couldn't visit the village anymore, yet you're also glad you're given a second chance to spend time with your love with no more problems or worries.

"Let's go home?" You softly asked him, to which he smiled instantly. He nodded and you both left the freed place.

He cannot lose you again, therefore, he had to do sacrifices. After all, it's either lose you or take the chance. And he chose latter. It was based off a simple word that he fears; "Cannot".

[slashersins]

A Game You’re Not Playing

The screaming wakes you up . Pained , sobbing , desperate cries for help that have you jolting out of the comfort of your warm blankets . Panic fills you , dread ear at your limbs as you haphazardly stumble out of bed , hands grasping at nothing on your dresser in a search for your glasses . The screaming get worse , and you can’t even tell who’s it is , or why it’s happening , but none of that matters . You have to find the source , have to help . So you , body still stuff with sleep , make it out of your room , head whipping this way and that trying to locate the source of the sound . But just as suddenly as it started it stops .

Your heart is beating so fast it feels as if it’s trying to burst from your chest , and for some reason the sudden silence has tears welling in your eyes , a million terrible scenarios playing in your head over and over . You can’t stop your body , like the fools in every horror movie you run towards where you think the noise had came from , needing to know who was screaming , why .

It was just supposed to be you and your family in the house tonight . At least just you and your older step sister in the case your parents went out . You’d went to sleep before the sun set , tired and wanting nothing more than a comfy little nap that ended up lasting too long . Your parents couldn’t be here , no , they would of been shouting at the sound — or were they the ones screaming ?

You manage to make it to the bathroom , opening the door only to freeze at the scene before you . A boy , body bent and broken , bleeding out on the floor , face contorted in terror . Fear . Nausea . Utter and complete terror seizes you , stealing the air from your lungs as you slip on the blood that you hadn’t seen spilling under the door way and fall back . You crawl away , trying not to look but unable to tear your gaze away .

You know this boy . He’s a friend of your step sister’s . One who’s always hanging around , always making snide comments , one of your sister’s favorite companions. . But why was he dead ? What — Who — How ? Your hands move over your face , body trembling , and then you realize it might be less from terror and more from the sudden cold sweeping over the room .

You can see your breath come out in puffs , hands moving over your arms to warm yourself . It hadn’t been this cold , even the blood seems to ice over at your feet . A whimper leaves you as your finally tear your eyes away from the corpse . There were worse things to worry about than the sudden cold . You knew it , but for some reason you couldn’t bring yourself to focus .

“I see you.”

Dark , deep like thunder , and so so close . You’re eyes snap open only to be greeted with the sight of someone — a man in all black crouched over the body of the dead boy . You couldn’t see his face , but you could feel his eyes boring into you , cutting you like a knife and letting cold fear seep into your chest .

“You’re not playing . . .”

He sounds annoyed , growling as he stands to an impressive height , stepping over the body and coming towards you . A clawed hand reaching out , and you’re stuck in place , looking up with wide , teary eyes . So close , he’s so close . He’s going to grab you , grab you and —

He stops , head tilting as he lets out a low , “Someone else wants to play . . .” There’s a side glance at you , and then as quickly as he was there , he’s gone . And your left alone , the mysterious figure gone , the body of the boy leaving only a bloody mess on the floor . You’re terrified , eyes wide as you shake and whimper . But you barely get time to lose yourself to terrified thoughts and questions before another scream fills the air .

You choke out a sob , a second wave of terror settling inside of you , a second wave of careless adrenaline that tells you to stupidly run towards the sounds of agony . You slip on the blood getting up , gripping the wall as you finally get off and take off towards another part of the house . Maybe — Maybe if you’re fast enough you can save whoever is screaming now , maybe you can stop the man who seemed to be no man at all .

You pant , slamming into walls as you scramble towards the screams . You’re step sister’s room . There are three of them huddled together with candles , a circle around them . And to the left there was someone dangling , someone with those claws that had reached out to you earlier currently pushed through their skull .

There’s no scream , no air just utter shock as you drop to your knees with a painful thud . The man — the creature turns its head to you giving you that sharp look that cuts to your core once more . His eyes move back to the group huddled together , off you , and you can breathe again . Your gaze follows his . Your step sister , her best friend , and her best friends brother .

Confusion fills you as they start shouting , begging you to help , but you don’t know how , you don’t understand , what’s going on , why — The candles in their shaky hands go out and they all screech as they desperately try to relight them . It doesn’t help you understand what’s happening , and you move towards them , almost breaking through the white ring that surrounds them only for them to scream at you to stop . Don’t break the salt , don’t let him in .

Your eyes flicker to the strange being , currently dropping the corpse he’d been holding onto to the floor . He tilts his head at you and you swallow thickly , caught in the middle , not knowing what to do , so you stay still . But you stay still a moment too long as no sooner do the three light their candles are they taking off , shoving past you and pushing you into the floor , wax from their candles hitting your skin . You curse , curling in on yourself and trying to protect those head as the run off . But a new fear takes over you , a sinking in your gut .

You try to scramble after them , crawling towards the door as you try to stand up , but the voice of that man shrouded in black calls out to you , forcing you to stop .

“Not playing the game . . . I cannot harm you , but you fear all the same . . . Tell me , what is your fear ?”

His voice reverberates in your chest , making your throat feel likes it’s closing , you can barely suck in enough air as you stare at him . So fluidly he shifts closer , closer , once again reaching out to you with those blood soaked talons .

“Be — Being alone . A — Abandoned .” It’s barely a whisper , falling off trembling lips , all but pulled out from you , vaporizing into mist as you exhale shakily . Tears on your cheeks seem to freeze over . The creature tilts his head , looking you over , seeing into your soul , into your very soul .

“Abandonment . . .” His head turns towards the door , where your step sister and her surviving friends had just taken off , all but trampling you as they did so . There’s a dark laugh , deep and rumbling as it fills the room and your head , making your dizzy with fright . “You aren’t even playing the game , and you’re already losing to me .”

You swallow thickly , staring up at him , freezing cold and trembling as he saunters closer . You manage to hiccup out a sob , those bloodied claws just brushing your hair , and you whimper out unable to look away , unable to tear your eyes from the creature as he moves closer .

“Your tears mean nothing to me .”

“I know.” The words fall from trembling lips , weak and pathetic but it’s true . Whatever , whoever this thing is didn’t care that you were crying . But you couldn’t stop it , you were scared . And it seemed that it’s exactly what he wanted . His nails tapped against your cheek , the sharp points almost painful , almost piercing and then he was pausing , laughing again as he pulled away .

“The game isn’t over . And they still want to play .”

He’s gone before you can do so say anything , and once again your left alone , nothing but bloodstains and slowly warming air surrounding you . You were so confused , so utterly terrified , what was going on ? What game ? And how were you losing a game you weren’t playing ?

Somehow you manage to get up , wanting to find your step sister , the desperate desire to not be alone forcing your fear weakened legs to move . There were no screams this time , and you didn’t know if that scared you more or not .

It’s been minutes but it feels like hours . The dark pit twisting in your stomach sinks deeper and deeper , making you nauseated with every step . How could it feel like the house has so many rooms ? You whimper out into the darkness , ears straining for some type of sound , silently begging for someone to be close . At this point you would welcome the creature’s chilling eyes boring into your back . At least you’d feel less alone .

Navigating in the dark , you don’t see the box on the floor before you stumble over it . You manage to catch yourself , panting as you rubbed the palm of your hand over your chest in an attempted to stop the startled beating of your heart . Just a box . Just a box . Just a box . The words repeat in your mind ,mad you get down , putting the items you’d spilled back in so you can move it off the floor , it would be your luck that you’d stumble over it again . But something catches your eye , an old piece of paper , parchment , and typed words with stained ink .

It’s dark , and you should light a candle , but you have no matches , so you strain your eyes with only the moon light seeping in to help you read . It’s . . . Instructions . Instructions to a game . The Midnight Man game . You blink , confused and intrigued , as you sit down and read over the rules . You read it once , twice , three times , and suddenly little bits and pieces of the night start to fall into place . The salt circle , the candles , the man talking about the game , the bodies .

Why would anyone play such a dangerous game ? Why — You swallow thickly , looking inside the box again despite every fiber of your being telling you not to . Pictures , faded and old , some of children , some of teens . A candle , looking as if it’s been used before and yet never used at all . A small , sharp looking pin prick . All the things you’d need to play the game . Sometime compels you to reach for it , something almost guiding your hand , but you stop short , pulling back . No . You don’t want to play this game .

The sound of a metal tin dropping and rolling towards you has you turning your gaze away from the box . A small , old , metal tin rolls and hits your foot , as if it’s been lightly sent your way . Don’t pick it up , your mind whispers . Pick it up , some darker voice at the back of you coos . You swallow , picking it up , opening it . A tin of matches .

“You should play . You just might win .”

The low baritone voice has you jolting , spilling matched into the floor . Your hands skitter over them as the chill of the man — The Midnight Man — takes over you . You shake your head , tears forming at your eyes once more , “N — No . No . I don’t — I don’t want to play .”

Your voice breaks , it shakes , falling apart in your terrified throat before it even leaves your mouth . You toss the matches , the rules , the pictures , the candle — all of it is tossed backed inside of the box , shaky fingers tying it shut as you put it on the counter , off the floor . “I don’t wanna play . I don’t . I can’t .”

A dark chuckle , you don’t have to look to know he’s getting closer , “Why ?”

The words he previous spoke fall off your lips in such a broken way , tears once again falling down your cheeks , the cold air near freezing them in place , “Because I’m already losing . And I’m not even playing the game . I’m — I’m going to lose without even . . .”

“Then play . Lose to me .” His breath hits your cheek , cold and warm all at the same time , and you turn only to crane your neck up as he looms over you . He was going to kill everyone playing the game , wasn’t he ? And he was going to try and kill you too . You weren’t sure what terrified you more . Being alone in the house after everyone was slaughtered and the Midnight Man left , or dying and being alone in a darkness you were sure you’d ever escape from . And from the way the creature tilted his head at you curiously , maybe he didn’t know either , maybe he did . You didn’t want to find out .

“I don’t want to play .” Even saying it as firm as you can , it comes out as a terrified whisper . He only lets his head fall , a sadistic smile in his voice that you can feel without seeing .

“That makes me so sad . Fine then , don’t play . But watch , and do nothing .”

When his head tilts back up to you , you swear he’s staring into your very being , past your soul and into something so much deeper that you can’t fathom , and it stills you , chills you . There’s a weak noise pulled from you at that as fresh tears warm your cold cheeks . And like so many times before , within a blink of an eye he’s gone , and the screaming starts again .

He’s right . You can do nothing but watch , nothing but listen . But the humanity inside of you pushes for you to try — compels you by to give up despite knowing you’ve lost . You’re going to lose . But you still turn and take off , running towards the screaming as the truth of the situation eats at your heart .

The screaming gets louder , gets more desperate , pleas and begs falling from bloodied lips as you round the corner to the kitchen . Step sister’s best friend , abandoned in the room , a salt circle broken by a spilled glass of water . She’s crawling backwards , staring up with terror . You can’t see what she sees , you can’t feel what she’s feeling , but you can see it , you can hear it .

“Please — Please don’t —“

The dark figure taking shape pays you no mind , ignoring you for the game that has the girl now twisting on the floor . She flails , hitting the cabinet , the counter shakes , the knife blocks falling just within her reach . Somehow her hand grips it and —

You look away , holding your hands over your ears and sobbing . It does nothing to stop the sickening sound of metal piercing flesh and bone from filling your covered ears , the screams of agony . The deafening silence . You don’t want to look , you know she’s dead . You can’t — you can’t look at her .

The second warm blood reaches your feet you take off , the feeling of it warm and wet against your frozen skin startling you into action . You have to get away . Your step sister is still somewhere in the house , her friends brother too . Maybe — Maybe they would make it . Maybe ? You had to hope . A choked sob leaves you as your lungs fight for more air , legs screaming as you run towards the living room , only to stop when you see the dead girl’s brother yelling out the open door .

The rules of the game replay in your mind , which one was it ? You can’t remember the number , but leaving the house — that was against the rules . Afraid that he might try and bolt . You call out , telling him not to leave the house , and then you hear your step sister yelling .

You’re throat closes up , your step sister panicked , screaming for the brother to join her , screaming for you to run when she sees you in the door way . But she doesn’t make it far . An all consuming blackness engulfs her and from it is a scream that pierces your ear drums and leaves them ringing . The grass is soaked with blood , stained an ugly , vibrant read color . Your sisters name is a whisper , and you feel sick as the coppery scent of what’s left of her reaches your nose .

The door shuts on its own , that familiar chill growing . He’s close . He’s so close and there’s only one player left . One player and you , and that terrifies you . But you have to stay calm . Maybe the brother can make it , maybe he won’t lose . What time was it — The sound of a thud against the floor has you turning , a blown out candle rolling on the floor , warm wax leaving a puddle .

No . No , no , no , no , no , no , no ! NO ! You don’t recognize your own screams as you take off after the brother , fear fueling you as you try to reach him , arm stretched out . So close , just need to grab the back of his shirt , just needing to relight his candle .

There’s a sickening sound . Flesh ripped and torn , bones cracked and ruined . And the finger tips that touch your own are shoved through the chest of the brother you’d been so close to grabbing . The blooded finger tips of the Midnight Man staining your own .

Tears well in your eyes , the boy struggles with the last breath , wheezing out and gurgling blood . Your knees hit the ground , but that bloodied hand laces it’s fingers with you , digging it’s claws into the back of your hand enough that you let out a pained sound , but they don’t pierce your skin .

“They lost their game . And now you’re all alone . Or at least . . . you are now .”

The voice is still echoing in your ears , you barley notice how the hand gripping yours is gone , hand suspended in air . No body . No Midnight Man . Just you . Just you in an empty house . Just you in the quiet . Just you in the dark . Alone . Abandoned .

You can’t suck in enough air , there’s not enough oxygen as each inhale and exhale comes out faster and faster , all but choking you as you sob . They’re dead . They’re dead and they’re gone and they left you .

Fear , stupidity , desperation all move you to crawl , then walk , then run towards the room . You can’t be alone . You can’t . You don’t want to be alone . The pull of the game has you tearing through the box . A pencil , a sharp object , a candle , matches . That’s all you need right ? And he’d come back and you wouldn’t be alone . But he’d come back .

Yes , but you wouldn’t be alone .

No . No . This — You aren’t part of the game , you can’t be part of the game . You saw how it ended , how everyone died , how —

How everyone left you . Left you all alone . Alone . With no one .

Alone . All alone . I’m all alone . . . I don’t want to be alone . I can’t . If he comes back I won’t be alone . Right . . . ? I don’t want to be alone . . .

Play the game . Call him back .

You don’t know what force moves you , it feels like an out of body experience . Like you’re watching a movie . You see yourself at the front door , signing your name , pricking your finger , staining the page with your blood . You feel the heat from the match , watch as it flickers and brings the candle to life . And then you’re brought back into your body from your near outside perspective . And you can feel those eyes on you .

“Playing a game you know you’ll lose .”

Your eyes squeeze shut , fresh tears rolling down already tear stained cheeks , how you had any more left to cry you didn’t know , but you did . Swallowing thickly you turn your head , looking up to face the man , the monster , the demon who ripped life after life away for his own sick pleasure .

Your lips tremble , and he tilts his head . “I didn’t want to be alone .” His shoulders shake , thick booming laughter filling the room and shaking it like lightening struck and thunder was trying to tear down the walls .

“You won’t be . Not for long .” The candle goes out , and he watches , slowly reach out as you start to count .

One . He’s towering form leans over you .

Two . Darkness swells around his feet and slinking towards you .

Three . “Your tears mean nothing to me .”

Four . You take a breath , accepting that you’re truly utterly stupid .

Five . You hope your parents won’t hate you .

Six . “Such a curious thing you are , so full of fear . So desperate to have someone , anyone , even at the cost of punishment .”

Seven . You look up at him , accepting that fate that you’ve dealt yourself , bracing yourself for a painful end .

Eight . Claws run down your face , leaving pink marks behind them , mocking how your tears fall .

Nine . He’s closer now , growling low and deep and you know it’s time . You close your eyes . You can feel that hand wrap around your throat , poised and ready , grip just shy of being too tight .

Ten .

When nothing happens you open your eyes , confusion marring your face . The man’s head tilted , staring into you . His voice is annoyed , and yet somehow entertained when he speaks .

“You win . . . And yet , do you really ?” His chuckle fills the room as black shadows seem to disperse from him until he’s gone , until the grip on your neck is no more , and once again your left all alone . Where his head had once been is a clock , so despite the darkness you clearly see the time . 3:33 . Your body slumps , candle rolling out of your hand . You’d won this game by sheer chance and luck , a game you’d been so ready to lose . But it didn’t feel like winning . As the silence deafened you , as darkness consumed the room , you couldn’t feel any joy . Just utterly loneliness and loss .

[need-a-fugue]

Trustworthy (Chapter 5)

Summary: You’ve spent the last three years teaming up with Santiago Garcia on every mission you had a hand in coordinating… and the past several months plotting with him to take down the biggest bad to hit your radar. But even all your time at the DEA and all your experience in the field couldn’t have prepared you for this.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader (slow burn)

Warnings: Violence, language

His shoes come into view long before you hear his voice, heavy, mud-laden boots stepping confidently in front of you, one tapping out an impatient rhythm for a moment before nudging harshly at your toe. You pull your head from between your legs, plant shaky elbows on your knees, cringe once again at the dull rumble pulsating along your ass and thighs as the chopper continues to climb into the sky… and you glare up at the man before you.

Santi merely smirks as he reaches out a hand to lean into the wall of the helicopter, looming smugly over the top of you. “How you doing?” he asks with a teasing lilt.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this unmedicated,” you seethe. “I hate flying.” He knows this. Of course, he knows this. And if the overt quirk of his lips tells you anything at all, it’s that he simply revels in your agony. “Asshole,” you mutter as your eyes narrow dangerously.

And the bastard has the balls to laugh. “C’mon,” he says after a beat, his voice just barely cutting in over the roar of the propellors above. He reaches down to grip your bicep and tugs, urges you off of the bench and up to your feet. “Come check this out.”

You release a pathetic-sounding moan, somehow loud enough for him to hear. And pitiful enough to encourage another snort of a Santiago laugh. You trust this man. You’ve worked with him for the better part of three years, been friends with him almost as long. You’d very likely take a bullet for him… well, depending on why he was being shot at anyway. But right now, the crooked, far-too amused grin on his face as he leads you up towards the cockpit is enough to make you want to toss him from the damn helicopter.

He nudges you forward as you reach the front of the chopper, sandwiching you in between his unmoving frame and the back of Frankie’s seat. “Take a look,” he instructs, nodding out towards the rolling green hills below.

You reluctantly raise your head and gaze outside, the beauty of it all enveloping you for a single breathless moment before you hit a small air pocket and the helicopter gives a slight lunge. Again, Santi laughs. So does Frankie in front of you, though he at least has the decency to mutter a soft, “Sorry,” as his eyes arc over his shoulder and catch your wide, petrified stare.

“I’m gonna hurl,” you say, only partially serious.

“Then go lean over Redfly’s seat,” he says back to you with a wicked smile.

You keep your eyes trained on him, on his worn hat, on the side of his scruffy face, on anything other than the wide-open world laid out ahead of you… the one you’re fairly certain you’re all going to plummet down into any second, ending your story in a massive molten steel fireball. “You’re sure you can handle this thing?”

A harsh huff blows out his nostrils, eyes rolling dramatically. “I’m gonna pretend like you didn’t just ask me that,” he replies smugly.

Your gaze drifts down to the myriad buttons and controls peppering the console in front of him, the sheer number of things he must have to keep track of just to ensure you all stay in the air both impressing and terrifying you. A swift hit of panic causes you to inadvertently gasp and you feel his eyes on you once again.

“I know what I’m doing,” he states simply, a warm reassurance emanating from those simple words.

You don’t look up to catch his brief glance. Instead, your eyes remain trained on his hands, entranced by the strong, confident hold he has on the controls. On this whole damn deathtrap of a machine. “Yeah,” you mutter, a bit reluctantly, the tension in your shoulders uncoiling, if only a bit. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Check it out, bonita,” you hear Santi spill into you from behind. You look up and out at the world beyond, see a streak of blinding white creeping in along the horizon. He leans close and pats you on the shoulder. “We make it over the Andes and we’re almost home-free.”

“Just as long as we don’t end up like that rugby team,” you offer snidely before tossing a glance back at him and letting your own face split into an arrogant smirk. “I have a feeling all of your meat is too damn tough to digest.”

He shakes his head in amusement and pops a chuckling Frankie hard enough to bounce the baseball cap askew on his head. “That’s all up to this guy,” he says before leaning over the seat and asking, “You think we’ll make it?”

There’s a bit of a shift to his tone when he asks, and to Frankie’s as well when he answers. “Not sure.” And it’s just enough to cause your stomach to drop to your knees.

“I hope that’s a joke,” you say, doing your best to hide the anxious warble to your voice.

He looks over his shoulder and tosses a seemingly carefree smile in your direction, easily hums out, “Just playing in the clouds, cielo,” before turning his attention back to the task at hand. You roll your eyes, but can’t quite keep the corner of your mouth from ticking up into a crooked grin all the same.

000

Somehow – somehow – you had managed to fall asleep. Sheer exhaustion and the near-constant ramping up of adrenaline apparently being the trick to getting you to nod off whilst in the air without a Xanax-vodka cocktail. You never would’ve thought it would – or even could– happen, but for some indeterminate period of time you became utterly dead to the world while rocking on this terrifying contraption. In fact, you’re so far gone that you don’t even register what’s happening when your heavily drooping head suddenly slams back into the wall in time with a violent lurch, ripping you from sleep alongside a horrifying screeching sound from above.

The helicopter heaves again and you white knuckle it, clinging maniacally to the metal bench beneath you as you watch Ben and Will look frantically around as though they too had just been torn from rest. From your left, you hear Santiago scream something at them. Something that sounds like, “Pull the lever!” the words just barely audible over the top of the whooshing reverberating in your ears.

The brothers both leap up – one a bit slower, a bit more painedthan the other – and they turn to search for the device. Will finds it first, a bright red lever sticking out like a sore thumb amidst the gunmetal gray and deep olive drab tones of the helicopter’s interior. He pulls it in a single harsh movement and both of the men hold tight to the netting on the wall as they stare down at the small access door in the floor. But… nothing seems to happen.

“Didn’t work!” Ben shouts back at Santi, and by this time, you too are leaning forward to catch a glimpse of what they’re looking at. Through the tiny access door, you can just make out the net full of money, swinging dangerously from the bottom of the helicopter. With a jolt of panic, you realize that they’re trying to release it.

“What’s going on?” you shout, your words effectively drown out as Santiago pushes past, forcing you back to your seat as he yells something about a manual release.

Ben drops to the floor and tries to shimmy through the access door – much to your horror – just as the chopper heaves to the side again. Will lunges forward to grab him, but as it turns out, there’s really no need for him to worry about his brother because he… “Can’t fit!”

All three men freeze, hovering over the tiny hole in the floor for a single, nerve-wracking moment as they gather their wits and formulate a plan. Then all three sets of eyes turn on you.

“No, no, no, no,” you string together as you throw up your hands and lean further back on the bench.

Santi steps forward and kneels awkwardly in front of you, his hand wrapping tightly around your wrist. “We’re going to crash if that thing stays on,” he shouts over the din. “If we release it, Fish can land. If not, we die.”

You shake your head no, but don’t resist as he tugs you up and forward. “Think you can fit?” Ben asks, his voice, perhaps for the first time you’ve heard it, carrying no hint of humor nor mirth. You lean forward to look, and you freeze.

At your back, Santi gives you a little nudge and squeezes your elbow reassuringly. “The release is right there,” he says, pointing down at the heavy lever atop the net. “We’ll lower you down. Just kick it to release.” He turns you toward him, looks you dead in the eye, now holding tight to both of your arms, and he gives you a quick, firm shake to make sure he has your attention. “We won’t let you fall. I promise.”

You give a blank nod and swallow thickly before stepping closer to the access door and appraising the space. You can do this… of course, you can do this. You can fit through that door. Just drop through it and… kick the thing. They won’t let you fall. They won’t let you fall. We won’t let you fall.

“Okay,” you say simply, nodding once more as Santiago transfers you over to Benny. You seize him in a death grip as he lowers you out the door, his strong hands wrapped firmly around your biceps, his stern, set face – so unlike the visage you’d come to know – holding your stare in a confident promise. We won’t let you fall. But as you kick wildly through the air, you realize that the lever is just out of reach.

You look up to see Benny turn to the others and say something, but the wind rushing around you keeps his words at bay. When he turns back, he nods down, issuing a silent command to keep trying, and you feel yourself slip further from the helicopter. Immediately, your eyes snap back up and you see that his grip on your arms is still solid, he hasn’t slackened a bit. But he is about halfway through the door himself.

Can’t fit, my ass, you think exasperatedly, noting that his hips seem to be clearing the opening just fine. Sure, it’s tight, but he could’ve made it. You shove those thoughts away for now – though you have every intention of berating him for this later – and you stretch further, looking down to line up your foot as best you can with the lever, each kick haphazardly swinging through the air and just missing the release.

Finally, you make contact, feel it jerk a bit beneath your boot. You pull back and make one more wide-arcing sweep and slam into the lever with your heel. The net full of money drops, your wide eyes watching as it plummets to the earth below. But – before you’re even able to fully register the fact that you actually did it – the chopper lunges to the side, awkwardly reacting to the sudden drop in weight, and your body is flung up against the bottom of the helicopter.

Ben holds you tight, his fingers digging into your flesh almost as deeply as yours are into his. But when you look up, you see that he’s shifted so far that he’s now hanging almost entirely out of the access door himself. His wide eyes connect with yours, terrified for a beat of a moment before his face pulls back into that stern, determined expression.

“We gotta jump!” he shouts down at you, causing your hands to constrict around him. He looks up, presumably at whomever is still holding him in the aircraft – though nothing can really be seen beyond the tight access door – shouts something into the wind, and then – before you can protest, before you can prepare – you both just… fall.

Strong arms tug at you and by the time you hit the ground, Benny’s got you cemented to his chest, breaking your fall at least a bit as he tucks and rolls for the both of you. But it still hurts like hell, your foot slamming into the ground and cranking your ankle to the side, you head bouncing off of something hard and sharp on his tac vest as the two of you collide with the earth. The air is forced violently from your lungs by the impact, and the horrific sounds of the helicopter breaking apart above you drive their way into your consciousness, reminding you all at once that not everyone has someone to break their fall.

Benny shoots up and lunges forward, stopping himself for just the fraction of a second it takes to turn back and glance over at you, make sure you’re alright. Or… alive, at least. A giant piece of metal flies toward both of you, the shimmer just registering in your periphery, and you grab at his arm to tug him back down and out of the way. The second it’s past, he’s up again in a flash, readying himself to take off just as the body of the chopper skids to the earth, lurches and rolls, and finally pulls to a terrifying stop ahead of you.

You follow him, of course, trailing behind – the now twisted ankle slowing you almost as much as the steady stream of blood trickling into your eyes. You don’t see Santiago – along with Will – climb from the wreckage, don’t see him rush for you as the brothers head for the cockpit. But you do manage to wipe enough blood from your eyes to catch the horrified look on his face once he’s right in front of you.

“Are you alright?” he asks as frantic, shaky hands pull up to wipe away more blood and examine your head. He hisses when he sees the laceration at your hairline, but you can hear a relieved breath blow out of him when you give a nod in response.

“Benny could’ve fit,” you say, words tumbling out in a breathless heap. “That was bullshit.”

Santi just laughs, loud and carefree, and pulls you into an unexpected – but most welcome – hug. “Look on the bright side, bonita,” he mutters into you, clinging tight for a lingering moment. “At least you can still say you’ve never been in a helicopter crash. You bailed before we hit.”

You shove him away and scoff, waving wildly at the wreckage behind him. “That still counts!”

He simply laughs again, shaking his head fondly, before finally dropping his hands from your shoulders and heading over to check in on Ben and Will.

“I keep telling you,” you shout at him as he goes, pointing heatedly at the wrecked helicopter. “Death trap!”

“No one’s dead,” sounds from a few feet away, drawing your attention. Tom steps out from behind the chopper and gives you a strict nod as he throws your tac vest over, the piece of equipment landing with a dull thud near your feet. “Suit up.”

You reach down to collect the vest, pinching your eyes firmly shut to stave off a sudden swell of dizziness as you pull back up a bit too fast. But before you can stumble and reel, a steadying hand lands on your back. You blink away the shakiness – and a bit of blood still trickling into your eye – and crane your head just enough to see the man now looming at your side.

“You good?” Frankie asks, concern furrowing his brow as his eyes bounce methodically back and forth between you and the order-shouting Redfly. You want to say yes. You want to ask him – bleary gaze focusing on a seeping cut down his cheek – if he’s alright. You want to ask where the hell he came from, how he appeared at your side so suddenly, just when you needed him. But before you can even crack your lips apart to speak, he shouts over to Tom, a quick and definitive, “I got her!” and you startle out of your pensive state.

His hand slides over to cup your ribs as you pull yourself upright, his thumb absently stroking atop your now sweat-soaked shirt. You turn to face him, head cocking almost comically. “You got me?” you ask, words lilting as a small smirk pulls at the corners of your lips.

His head ducks a bit as a wide, almost nervous-looking smile blooms. “Yeah,” he mutters, his hand falling away and fisting nervously before he reaches out to take the tac vest from you. You let him, remaining staunchly still – save a bit of residual sway from the trauma of falling out of a freaking helicopter – as he deftly fits it around you, tightening the straps and snorting out a short chuckle as you oomph in response. He gives a light tap to the center of your chest, a quick all good once the armor is in place, and meets your eyes before stating simply, “I got you.”

The coms are shot and the moment everyone gets into position, that thick anxiety begins curling low in your gut yet again – no rest for the weary. But, despite the fact that presumed hostiles are digging into your net full of money right now, and your way out is a smoldering pile of spent metal, and all of you are exhausted and beat to hell, limping and wiping away blood every few seconds, despite all of that, well…

I got you.

Even once the shooting starts – a single quick pop from your left, a smattering of gunfire from within the group of farmers… Even as Frankie rises and curses and trains an unyielding stare on the chaos ahead, his hand falling to your shoulder for just the fraction of a second it takes for him to communicate, stay down… Even as the locals retreat and you all move to close in, Frankie stepping directly in front of you, refusing to let you move ahead of him… Even as you approach and see the two men lying dead in the field, Tom standing over them, a look of shame painting his face… Even then, there’s a sort of calm that floods your senses, an internal quiet that sits deep in your bones, a reassurance that sounds in a deep, reverberating tenor.

I got you.

Taglist:

@tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @icanbeyourjedi @greeneyedblondie44 @mrscrain-x7 @kyjoraven@elephants-are-a-thing @nakhudanyx

[vendettacanons]

@maximuses​ SAID: It would not be a day in Heisenberg's factory if there was not at least one rant about Mother Miranda and her golden child, Alcina Dimitrescu. Karl had reached his limit in their interactions with the pair. All of these meetings about Ethan Winters? Bullshit! Why worry about a man who can hardly tell his wife from Miranda? If anything, they had done him a favor in bringing that realization to light. He just wanted his kid back, and that was admirable. But no! No! Instead it's 'kill him by any means necessary'. Bah!

The mechanic paced about as he rambled to his audience, of which happened to be Nemesis at the moment. Boots clunked against heavy metal, hands gestured wildly as he droned on about how much Miranda (or Mirander in his case) had fucked up everybody else's lives for her own kid and how it was, frankly, idiotic of her to not expect Ethan to do the same.

As his laundry list of rambling points grew, the factory began to quake. Loose screws and bolts floated around the lord. Metal groaned and creaked, bending against the walls.

Was there an earthquake in the village, or did his wrath toward the woman run that deep?

Nemesis knows what is coming. He has experienced enough of Karl’s tantrums to recognize when he is upset and about to start ranting like a deranged scientist. Nemesis doesn’t like seeing him upset. He’s become very attuned to Karl’s emotions and behaviors - not to mention how hose emotions and behaviors impact his abilities. (He still thinks he can feel a bump from the time Karl threw everything off his his desk in a rage and accidentally knocked a heavy cog into Nem’s skull. He was slurring his words for a week afterwards.)

Nem does his best to try and soothe Karl the only way he knows how. He tries to extend his tendrils towards him, slightly stroking them over his arms and back or using them to gently tug at his coat while he croons softly - his only way of saying ‘Karl, please calm down. Please stop.’ But as his ramblings only became more fiery and vehement, the tyrant felt the stress rubbing off on him. He began to get up and move around in attempt to calm himself down too. The tendrils were trying to pet at Karl while he was shakily trying to organize tools and documents- some of them had fallen off shelves and tables and he wanted to put them back to avoid further upsetting him. He knew where everything went after all - he had their proper places practically memorized. But that didn’t help.

He paused, whining as he felt everything begin to shudder and shake. The whole factory practically groaned in agony as Heisenberg’s rage shook its very foundations. This had happened several times. And every time, it came at the mention of this Mirander. Nemesis hated it. It filled him with such a confined sense of dread and paranoia. First came the things on the shelves, then came the shelves themselves. The tables, the hanging things, the boards on the walls, and the piles of tools and scraps - they all came tumbling down. That winding feeling of anxiety bubbled and burst in his chest into full grown panic. The tyrant began running in circles, roaring in... fear. Actual, legitimate fear. And he kept screaming, over and over again, utterly terrified of the endless shaking all around him. It was like the incident with Ethan all over again!

“MIR-AN-DER! MIR-AN-DER!”

[sleepy-sunlight]

uhh idk if you do these anymore- but if u do... maybe an inquisitor who is quite physically weak but packs a whole load of magic to make up for it... but having such a vast amount of magical potential in a small and fragile body, it sometimes hurts her? 👀 she never says anything, but mayhaps that pain one day gets much too unbearable

Absolutely! I’d like to get back into writing prompts again, especially since I still have a ridiculous love for Dragon Age and have now played the whole series! Hopefully, you enjoy this prompt and have a marvelous day, thank you <3

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Since you were a child your magic was known to be... finicky. ‘Finicky’ was the word the Grand Enchanter would use to describe your surges when a simple spell resulted in a ball of fire destroying a good chunk of the parlor. ‘Terrifying’ was the term the templars preferred, but few could stay mad at the sniveling child sheepishly trying to clean up their mess that was you. 

You’d spent many nights with your fellow mages learning all the best methods to keep your magic under control -- falling asleep into the late hours over books and a cloak that the Grand Enchanter would drape over you. Yet no matter what you did, no matter the training and the desperate efforts, somewhere, somehow it always spiraled out of control. Eventually, it cast a toll on your entire body -- so feeble and tiny your childhood became littered with fevers and aching limbs. 

You didn’t grow much as you aged. Of course, your legs earned a few inches, but your magic only multiplied. The mage circle, however, found a way to contain you. Instead of spurts that left the tower’s library in shambles or the quarters with a sizable hole in its wall, your magic was contained within you -- a thousand stitches to cover up loose ends where your magic poured out. 

The only problem remaining was the pain and the great deal of it that came with the containment. It was a fire brimming upon a thin layer, you could always feel the pressure against your body like a dull, forceful knocking upon a door -- brash knuckles banging again and again without end. Thankfully, you’d gotten used to it... most of the time. Everyone had their breaking point after all, and your sutures too, came undone. 

Of course, being the Inquisitor did little to help the situation. Every moment you stepped out of Skyhold’s gates you were opening yourself up to every facet for danger and peril. But it could’ve been worse -- you could’ve not had the Commander waiting for you each time you returned. The wrinkles upon Cullen’s face when he smiled at the sight of you and the way his eyes glimmered would’ve been awful to miss out on. 

“Emerald Graves,” Cullen said quietly to himself as the two of you walked the barracks. “How was it?” The day you were expected to return Cullen couldn’t help pacing about Skyhold’s courtyard -- letters only did so much, after all. Your first evenings back were always spent catching up with your Commander -- ‘strategy and reports’ were the official reasoning, but everyone knew better. 

You chuckled. “Well, considering on the first day we stumbled into a dragon... I’d say just peachy. But otherwise, peaking so quickly the rest felt a bit boring.” 

“Oh, I know that can’t be true,” Cullen remarked, nudging you amusedly. “Between your daily hobbies of reading and puzzles I find it hard to believe taking down red templars is ‘boring’.” 

Admittedly, he wasn’t wrong, but you didn’t exactly have a splendid time either. 

Taking down a High Dragon on the first day was an exciting, thrilling task, but a taxing one as well. Your magic had been unyielding and vigorous but each spell cast brought a shiver down your spine and fire sparking in your lungs. It took all your remaining strength not to collapse alongside the dragon when the beast fell in defeat. 

Since then you’d made poor attempts to keep your shambling body under control -- sparks of magic erupting from your fingertips and a continuous delirium heavy upon your mind. The reason most of your trip was ‘boring’ was because you could barely remember it. Even now your magic had yet to settle itself. You clenched your firsts together tightly just to keep a crackle of lightning or an inferno from surging out. 

“I mean it,” You managed a faint if strained laugh. “I doubt Varric would even use any of it for his writing.” 

Mentioning Varric reminded you that you’d have to actually ask him for a recap. 

“Nothing... bad happened did it? Nothing you’d want to leave out of reports?” 

Cullen was always dreadfully good at reading people -- something awful considering he himself could be impossible to read in comparison. 

A red hot searing pain pressed against your skin and you cringed, knowing it all too well. You clenched your jaw. “No! Nothing. Just uneventful.” 

“I didn’t think such a thing existed in Thedas,” Cullen muttered. “Especially wherever the Herald of Andraste went.” 

Your strained laugh didn’t help to assuage his suspicions. It was slow and heavy like your slowing footsteps on the cobblestone. “Miracles still happen I suppose!” 

Cullen reached for your hands and even beneath the thickness of his gloves he felt the warmth radiating off you. His eyes widened like saucers and his brows furrowed into a deep knot. “Maker’s breath, are you alright?” 

You wrenched your arm back as a sharp sting burst at his touch. Your feet staggered backward against the barrack wall and that split second in which your hands broke apart was all it took for your secret to be revealed. 

In an instant, an explosion of lightning crackled forth from your fingertips and a ripple of pain shot through your core. Your legs buckled beneath you and you folded your stomach over your hands as you hunched over, heaving and gasping from the small shocks still igniting. 

Anyone else would’ve run -- perhaps to find help or to shelter themselves. Yet Cullen, as you’d found, wasn’t like most others. 

He rushed after you and knelt down with an expression painted with panic and concern. Cullen perhaps best represented the definition of a worrier. 

“What’s happening? What can I do?” He looked over you frantically. His hands were stretched out but still utterly bewildered on just what to do. This wasn’t a blood mage revealing themself or a demon overtaking a vessel in a possession. This was you, his love, in pain and afraid. 

Whatever words you managed to sputter out were lost in a harrowing scream. Tears brimmed at the edge of your eyes and your heart had leaped to your throat. The only thing you could manage to do was look up at Cullen. It reminded Cullen how he couldn’t stand to be helpless. 

He wanted to do something. He had to do something, and so he did the only thing that came to mind. He held you.

He pulled you into his arms and gripped you tight. One could’ve thought you stood on the edge of disaster by his hold, and they wouldn’t be entirely wrong. 

When he held you, you felt the soft fur of his shroud and took in the smell of Skyhold’s garden and the thick smell of ink and parchment from all his reports and writings. He truly never stopped working, did he? 

The thought brought up a weary laugh. Your throat had gone hoarse from your yelling, leaving your shoulders heaving and dry breaths spilling out -- but for just a moment you laughed. In the next few seconds the pain would overwhelm you to such an extent that you’d pass out but even if only briefly, you knew relief. 

You later woke in your quarters, moonlight streaming through the windows and the faintest night breeze sweeping under your blankets. From the hall, you heard Cullen’s voice amid a few others, hushed and nervous until the door was shut. 

You hardly managed to sit up before realizing the weight hanging over your chest. Your lungs scrambled for a breath and each inch of yourself was wracked with discomfort. The pain you’d known was gone, at least. 

Cullen entered the room slowly but at the sight of you, he bolted to your bedside. “You’re up! How’re you feeling?” 

“About as expected,” You groaned. “Have you been here the whole time?” 

Cullen scoffed as if the answer were clear as glass. “Of course. Where else would I be?” 

“Well, didn’t you have others thing to do I-I didn’t mean to-” 

“Hush. I want to be here,” A grin cracked across his face. “It’s not like I’d rather be writing those damned reports anyway.” 

He paused, reaching his hand up to touch you but hesitated. You’d been in so much agony earlier. 

“Can I...?” 

You nodded and took Cullen’s hand to press against your cheek, sinking against his palm and all the grooves and healed over scars drawing his skin. 

You offered him a gentle smile, but a tinge still weighed upon Cullen’s shoulders. 

“Are you okay?” 

It was a question that warmed your heart. You pressed a small kiss to his palm, and all the pain of earlier felt so far away.

“I will be.” You murmured. “Would you stay until then?” 

It was a question that you both already knew the answer to. Still, Cullen nodded, saying a quiet ‘yes’. 

And if only a little bit, you already began to feel better. 

[betasuppe]

Follow up to this amazing present by @the-writer-nerd-ro where Kei has to go home & tell Obake what's going on...

• • • • • •

The two chattered excitedly on their journey home, but the euphoria of the moment came to a bitter end when they departed the train to start on their separate ways home.

But, before, the two parted, Seth turned & hugged onto Kei extra tightly as one last form of good-bye.

"Everything is going to be fine, Kei. Obake is going to be thrilled, first of all, and Morgan & I will be there every step of the way," they gently reminded Kei with another squeeze. "Just… before you guys settle on names, run them by us first. Can't trust a guy who calls himself something as crazy as 'Obake,' you know?"

Kei laughed raucously & brushed the bangs away from obscuring Seth's face. "You have a valid point, kiddo. And thanks, I'm so glad I have you in my life."

After exchanging another set of good nights, the two began their walks home.

• • • • • •

Like a thief breaking into a stranger's house, Kei carefully snuck through the front door & entered the foyer, trying desperately not to make any noise as she stepped out of her shoes & crept over to the staircase. The house was incredibly quiet & dark, so with any luck, Obake would be asleep & she'd be able to quietly creep into bed without waking her husband up, which would at least give her a bit more time to think of a way to broach the very difficult, life changing news she received at the doctor earlier that day.

But, luck wasn't something Kei usually had on her side - tonight was no exception. As she stepped up to the landing on the upper floor, Kei cursed upon seeing a beam of light coming from the master bedroom. & truthfully, Obake was a raging insomniac, so she shouldn't have been so surprised to find he was still awake. Kei crouched down on the step, her stomach flipping in agony at realizing what she had to do. She stayed there for what seemed like ages before she heard a book shutting, which was followed by a familiar, weary sigh.

"Kei, are you going to hide out on the staircase all night? Or are you at all interested in actually coming to bed?"

The DJ wanted to scream & run down the stairs, out of the house & vanish into the night, but Seth's words echoed in her mind: "Obake will understand… Your kid is going to be lucky to have two of the best parents in San Fransokyo." Kei made a mental note to text them tomorrow to vent about this whole situation, but in the meantime, she steeled up her nerves & shakily stood upright.

"I'm coming! Just… thinking. I'll be right there."

She forced herself to climb up the last few steps & trudged into the bedroom, where Obake was sitting on the bed, his glasses halfway down his nose as he passed her a curt smile, with a few pages of notes & some old looking books spread out around him. At least he made use of his sleepless hours, but even so, Kei wished he was a normal human just this once so she could forget this conversation until the following day.

"What's all this stuff about?" Kei asked nonchalantly as she began shrugging off her hoodie. "Scheming something new up?"

"Yes, I've been thinking about… No, no, nevermind all that - what's going on with you? You're really late &, just now, were you hiding on the stairs? What was that about?" Obake adjusted his glasses as he looked her over & Kei felt her face heat up as he passed her a rather stern look.

"I'm not that late," She mumbled before quickly turning away from him & venturing into the closet to step into something more comfortable. She groaned internally as she slipped away from his piercing gaze, which made her feel just like a little kid that was about to be punished for causing a mess. "I told you the train would have me back around 2AM."

"Kei. I don't know what time you think it is, but it's six o'clock in the morning," came the reply. "You're four hours late."

"Oh," she mumbled, already trying to forget how she took the longest way home possible, taking a trip to the park, a quick stop at one of those 24/7 quick shops for a candy bar & her late night meal at a Noodle Burger on her short walk back from the train station. She began fighting with the hanger as she tried to force it into the jacket's sleeves, her frantic mind in a total panic with how to explain this whole situation to Obake. "Right…"

Her cheeks were still burning painfully hot as she struggled with the simple task. She nearly jumped as a pair of hands gingerly took a hold of her shoulders, finding Obake standing behind her.

"Here, allow me."

"Sure," Kei gulped & stepped back, watching Obake take over & complete the easy task in one simple motion. After a beat, he finally turned around & looked over at his wife, who was practically shrinking under his gaze.

"Kei… what's going on?"

Kei meekly glanced up to him, fearing she'd see anger or annoyance caught in his glare, instead a very worried expression was knotting up his eyebrows.

"Is everything ok?"

"I'm totally fine!" She replied casually with a grin, though her smile slowly began fading as she realized she couldn't lie to him about this, even if she wanted to. "Er, ok I'm, like, mostly fine, that is. I… I think you should sit down."

"Hell, now, you have me worried! Why do I need to sit?"

"Hey, if you don't wanna sit, I do! I've been on my aching feet all night. C'mon, 'Bake." He simply followed Kei back into the bedroom, where she plopped down on the bed & patted the empty space to her side. Instead, he remained standing, his arms crossing sternly across his chest.

"Well? Go ahead. Out with it, then."

Kei chuckled dryly, her stomach knotting up miserably as a cold sweat began running down her back. "You know how we've been talking about the future & all that sort of stuff lately?"

Obake tilted his head in interest. "Yes. And…?"

"Well, like, we've talked about what we want out of the future & that sort of thing? All that stuff that'll make us happy & whatever? And you know that one particular thing we both agreed would be especially awesome, but we weren't sure when it would be best to do? So, we just kinda decided to put it on the back burner, to worry about it later? Well… we don't have to worry about it anymore, because that thing is happening now."

He shook his head & laughed mirthlessly. "I'm afraid you've lost me. What on earth are you talking about?"

"Omg, I'm such an idiot," Kei groaned. Suddenly seizing up in embarrassment, she covered her rosy face with her hands as best as she could. "Let me put it this way: Obake, I'm pregnant."

She peeked through her fingers to watch his face as her words sunk in. That annoyed expression he was wearing quickly dissolved into disbelief & a gentle glow began lighting up the side of his face.

"You… you're serious, aren't you? You're actually pregnant? And we're having a kid? Us? Together?" His knees seemed to give out & he suddenly knelt down at her side. He took a hold of her hands, gingerly pulling them away from obscuring her face so he could clutch desperately onto her. "Is this… This is really happening?"

"Yes," she smiled feebly through tears that were pooling at the corners of her eyes. "You're not mad, are you?"

"Mad?! I'm the very opposite! Kei, my dear, I couldn't be happier!" He leapt back on his feet & pulled Kei upright with him, dragging her into an especially tight hug. She squeezed hard onto him, relishing in that particularly strong glow he was letting off on the side of his face. "Darling, when did you find out? I hope you weren't out there hiding from me tonight!"

"If I'm honest… I was terrified of telling you! But, it's not because of you! It's just that… I'm too used to messing everything up. I wanted this to be a good thing for both of us, you know?" She sniffled, wiping at her eyes. "And, don't worry, I only found out this morning. I thought I had an odd stomach bug & wanted to get checked out before the show &... well, here we are!"

"This is utterly magnificent." Obake gazed at Kei tenderly, gently drying her cheeks as her laughter transformed into a case of hiccups. "And, unless I'm mistaken, I can at least assume that Seth & Morgan know, right?"

"You damn well know I tell Seth everything, even before you," Kei smirked, burying her face in his shirt. "I love you, 'Bake, but Seth is always with me, so they got to know first & helped me figure out what to tell you."

"Well, I'm glad they were there for you today, Kei." Obake pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "And now… our little family is going to be getting a little bigger. Imagine that."

Kei only sighed happily as she snuggled up in Obake's arms.

For a girl who grew up fearing she'd never have a place in the world, let alone ever make a family of her own, Kei had proudly found an odd little niche of her very own where she was simply flourishing with an absolute madman as her partner in crime.

Who could've ever seen this coming‽