#i miss having energy and more manageable pain levels

[yoshiyakiryu-archive]

Mad. Angy. I want to talk to people but don't want to subject them to my bad mood and will probably just sull anyway. Probably understimulated but everything is the wrong kind of sensory input.

[stsgluver]

synopsis. your husband still ignores the side effects of his cursed technique just so he can get a glimpse of you.

wc. 1.2k

gojo satoru was born with six eyes — a special cursed technique that allowed for an extremely precise manipulation of cursed energy, down to an atomic level. it also blessed him with a beautiful pair of ocean blue eyes that were practically glowing. you’d never seen eyes so pretty.

the drawback to this gift? the skull-splitting migraines that came with the excessive information constantly being processed by his darting eyes.

as a child, the pain was manageable. gojo didn’t have much of a hold on the technique so his weaker state meant that the migraines were subdued as less information was being absorbed. however, as he grew older and more powerful, he would find himself bed ridden for at least twenty four hours if he did not take some sort of measure to protect his eyes.

his go to method was the sunglasses, almost 100% tinted — no other person would be able to clearly see out of them, if they could see anything at all. his sight, on the other hand, so impressive that he could distinguish people and the objects around them through the levels of cursed energy radiated.

still, accidents happened. whether it be him breaking his glasses, or forgetting them as young children do, he quickly learned the drawbacks to his technique. no normal medicine could relieve the pain and no sorcerer was strong enough to either.

gojo satoru met you at fifteen years old on his first day at tokyo jujutsu high. you wore a uniform similar to shoko's but your skirt was closer to the floor than it was to your thigh. your hair was longer than most female sorcerers and tied into a plait that hung against your back. in all honesty, you appeared quite plain to him. nothing particularly stood out. not even your cursed energy was particularly strong.

but you were gorgeous. completely and utterly gorgeous. his glasses slipped slightly down his nose as he analysed you from afar and it wasn't till a slap on the shoulder from geto that he snapped out of it.

within six months of knowing one another, the two of you were dating. you picked up on his habit to forgo his glasses around you pretty quickly and you definitely didn't miss the increasing amount of discomfort that would cause him.

"why do you do that?" you asked him one time.

the two of you were on a date in the park. a picnic blanket had been laid out and satoru had bought basically every single pastry and sweet at the bakery next to the park. you'd barely managed to make it through half till the both of you had given up and opted for cloud watching, giggling as he joked that one cloud in particularly looked very similar to nanami's 'emo' haircut.

satoru turned to his side to look at you questioningly, his head resting on his hand, "do what?"

"take off your glasses," you gestured to the folded pair of black glasses by his head. "i don't have to be a doctor to realise that you're in a lot of pain right now." the longer you lay there, the less satoru was actually looking up at the sky, instead just listening to you as you pointed out shapes and animals.

you knew the toll six eyes could take on his body.

he kept his eyes screwed shut when he wasn't looking at you to ease the the pain from the intense light that was too overpowering for his splitting headache. he winced when a kid screamed too loudly or ran too close and his fingers would push against the sides of his head frustratedly. as if he thought hard enough, the pain would just go away.

his lips tilted up into a lopsided grin, "but i see you."

you twisted so that your body was parallel to his. there was a faint blush on your cheeks now but you didn't look away from his eyes. how could you? "you always see me."

"not with those stupid glasses," satoru frowned, and you think it was the most serious you had seen him since you met. "seeing you and seeing your energy are two very different things."

"you're hurting yourself," you pointed out, placing one of your hands onto his cheek to gently stroke your thumb against his skin. his shoulders relaxed slightly and he leant into your touch like it was magic. like you were some drug that numbed the pain, replacing it with a special serotonin only you could give him.

"worth it." satoru kissed your palm.

that was his only response. worth it. and he stuck to it even a decade later.

"old habits die hard, i guess," satoru tried to laugh at his poorly made joke, but only a few shakey breaths came out. you'd been home thirty minutes and he'd already been sick twice. he'd curled himself up in your shared bed not long after the second time and that was where he was when you began scolding him for his carelessness.

"you are twenty eight," you rant exasperatedly, juxtaposing your voice that is no louder than a gentle whisper, "you have three first years to be looking after right now, but no, someone wanted to go out for dinner and someone didn't want to wear their glasses, and someone-"

satoru's much larger hand squeezed yours, "don't be cruel. i do this for you, my love." his blindfold was now on (you had made him put it on as soon as you had gotten home) but you know him well enough to know he was staring up at you with those lovesick eyes that made you weak at the knees.

"i just worry," your tone eased. you had no issue looking after your husband, you never had. it wasn't his fault that he got the migraines per se. yes, he could definitely be doing more to mitigate the severity, but he was stubborn. that had never changed. "i've seen you fight special grades. i hate seeing a stupid headache hurt you so much."

"lay with me."

"you're sweaty and sick." you scrunched up your nose, eyes flicking to the en suite you'd just cleaned and back to the cold flannel on his forehead as his body temperature fluctuated.

he shook his head, placing his index finger over his lips. "shhh, i'm passed that stage. pretty please? i need you."

gojo satoru was irresponsible at the best of times. he'd been raised to believe he was invincible and had been spoiled to always get what he had wanted. there was no telling him what to do when he'd already decided an hour ago exactly what he wanted to do.

but there was something about being needed by gojo satoru. you could never say no to him. so whether it be due to his own decision to stare into the eyes of his wife during a romantic night out, or an extensive fight against a cursed spirit, you would always be there to clean up and make sure he was wrapped up in bed all cosy.

and you would always lift up the covers and climb in once there was no more that you could do but simply act as a pillow for your husband as he tried to sleep off the throbbing pain.

a/n. um so my previous post on this topic blew up and i’m so so grateful so i thought i’d expand a little on this hc for anyone that was interested. rambled a bit towards the end but i hope you still like it!! love you lots xxx

[cowgurrrl]

darlin’ i’d wait for you

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (plus platonic Ellie Williams x fem!reader)

Author’s note: Inspired by my real life love for my godchildren. Mis almas, no hay nadie que ame más que tú. Gracias por elegirme.

Summary: “Ten fingers. Ten toes. And even if you had none of them, you’d still be the grandest thing I’ve ever seen.” - Emily Henry, Beach Read aka you and Joel have a baby [3.0k]

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of labor and delivery (nothing graphic), swearing, lots of emotions, fluff

"You need to be resting!" Maria says as you pace the living room with your hands on your hips. Ellie is watching you move from her space in the kitchen, her knee bouncing with anxiety as she sits there. 

"You need to find Joel!"

"Tommy's getting him right now. Please, just lay down."

"I'm fine," another contraction ripples through your body, and you grip the back of the couch. "Fuck! I can't believe Joel convinced me to do this again!" You yell. The pain tightens in your lower abdomen, and you drop your head to the cushions, unable to focus on anything else. Strong hands press against the small of your back, applying the perfect counter pressure to your contraction. The tension releases just enough for you to pick your head up and find Maria standing over your shoulder, a knowing look in her eyes. No words need to be exchanged for her to know how grateful you are for her presence.

The contractions have been coming and going since late last night, but you didn't think much of it. They were sporadic and not painful enough to make you think you were in labor. You had false contractions with Jane and expected the same thing with this one, except that these contractions became very real very fast. Joel was already out on patrol when you had Ellie run to Tommy and Maria's for additional help because they were getting so bad. This baby is coming soon. 

"Do you have a bag ready to go?" Maria asks as the contraction ends, and you nod, pushing yourself up. 

"In our bedroom closet, but it's missing some stuff." 

"Okay, tell me what you need, and I'll pack it."

"I can do it."

"Honey, if you walk up those stairs, there's no way you'll make it back down." She says, and you sigh. Reluctantly, you list some last-minute things that need to get thrown in the bag and where they'll be. Maria turns on her heels and sprints up the stairs, ever a woman on a mission. Ellie walks over to you as Maria's figure disappears, standing awkwardly near you as you hold your belly. 

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to scare you." You say, wrapping her in a hug or as much of a hug as you can manage with the baby in between you. She relaxes and lets out a big breath as you rub her back.

"I feel like I should be the one comforting you." 

"I've done this before. I know what I'm doing."

"Yeah, but that was before," the fear in her voice rattles you to your core, and you pull away to look at her. Her bottom lip is cracked and bleeding from her teeth worrying at it all morning, and she looks like the scared kid you met in Boston. "You really should be on the way to the hospital." 

"As soon as Joel gets here, I'll go, okay?" You say, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. She shakes her head, and you open your mouth to say something more, but the vice grip returns, and you grip her shoulders. Your head bows under the weight of the pain, and you clutch Ellie like a lifeline.

"Okay, they're getting closer together. Maria!" Ellie yells as she holds you upright. You vaguely register Maria rushing down the stairs and telling Ellie something, but you don't have enough energy to listen. Time could've stopped right there, and you would've had no way of knowing. No stab wound, gunshot, or punch even comes close to this pain level. Your breathing is uneven, and you can feel yourself sweating bullets despite the cool August air. You thought you were ready. You thought you knew what to expect after Jane, but this is different. You wonder why you thought you could have another baby as the contraction fades. Maria says your name, and you pick your head up from Ellie's shoulder.

"We need to get you to the hospital right now. Joel will meet us there." She says, but you shake your head, the lump of panic in your throat tightening. Memories of begging your mom, Jane's dad, friends, or anyone to come to the hospital so you wouldn't be alone replay in your head. You were alone and scared and sixteen fucking years old when you had Jane on a stormy Tuesday morning. The nurses looked at you like a kicked puppy and mumbled, "a baby having a baby," under their breaths when they left you to cry alone while holding your newborn. 

"No, no, no. Joel's not here yet. I'm not going without him."

"I promise that Tommy will bring him to you. I'm sure they're on their way back now." 

"I'm not going by myself!" The harshness in your tone makes everybody in the room pause. "I've already done this alone once, and I'm not fucking doing it again. So, we are going to wait for Joel even if I have this baby on the fucking floor! Do you understand me?" 

"Hey," Ellie says softly. "Hey, you're not alone. At all. We're all here because we love you and want you to be safe. Nobody is going to leave, okay?" She says, rubbing your back as tears fill your eyes. 

"I can't do this." without her, you want to add, but you don't. Ellie pushes the sweaty hair out of your eyes and holds your face so you can look at her. Your breath is shaky, and you feel like you could shatter into a million pieces, but her brown eyes are looking into yours so intently that you have no choice but to look back.

"You can. You can do this. You're doing so good. You're going to have this baby, and it'll probably be the cutest fucking baby ever. And we'll all make stupid faces at it and love it even though I don't even think I like most babies, and you'll be okay. Both of you," her eyes don't move from yours as she speaks, even when you start crying. "You're not alone, but I can tell you're in pain, and we need to get to the hospital before it gets worse, okay?" She asks, and you take a shaky breath before nodding. Ellie and Maria seem to let out sighs of relief at the same time, and they start ushering you to the door when it opens.

"I'm here! I'm here! I'm sorry I'm late," Joel yells as he and Tommy run in. He smiles and runs over and kisses you. You have half a mind to smack him for looking so giddy when you're in so much pain, but let him kiss you anyway. "You ready to have a baby?" He asks as another contraction tightens in your stomach, making you squeeze him tightly. You don't get to see your family scrambling to get out the door, but you feel it. Bags and coats find owners as your entourage helps support you down the steps of your home and on the path to the hospital. 

Four contractions come and go on the way to the hospital doors, where Maria, Tommy, and Ellie cheer and promise to wait there until you're ready for them. "Almost there, baby. We're gonna get you all the good drugs, okay?" Joel tells you quietly as he flags down a nurse and a wheelchair for you. The nurse asks rapid-fire questions as she rushes you into a delivery room, and Joel does his best to answer them. You curl into yourself the second your body hits the hospital bed, yet another contraction hitting you, but this time with a familiar splitting pain. You're not going to have time for the good drugs.

The rest is a blur of doctors, nurses, questions, and Joel whispering praises into your temple. Your vision struggles to focus on anything as pain radiates from your hips to your back and up your spine. It's excruciating and dizzying, and you think you'd throw up if you weren't so focused on getting this fucking kid out. "One more, baby. One more push, and then it's over." Joel tells you. You don't respond. You can't. All the blood rushes through your ears, and you squeeze his hand hard. For a moment, the whole world stops, and tears fall down Joel's face as the tiny baby is placed on your chest. You gasp and hold them close as they screech, announcing their arrival loudly.

"It's a girl!" Someone announces, and you laugh weakly, struggling to catch your breath. You look down at your daughter and kiss her head as she continues to cry.

"You're okay. I've got you. We're okay, sweetheart. You're safe," you tell her, rubbing her back. Joel reaches out to trace the apple of her cheek and grabs her tiny hand. You and Joel join her crying, everything besides your family becoming obsolete. Joel presses a chaste kiss to your lips and smiles when you laugh against him. "I told you so." You say, and he laughs. 

"You were right," he says. "I'm so proud of you." He kisses you again as your daughter cries beautifully on your chest. Jane didn't cry at first when she was born, effectively scaring the shit out of you and everyone else in the room, but when she finally did, it was like you were breathing for the first time, too. You think this may be the first time since her death that you've felt that much peace. 

Joel cuts the cord, and the room devolves into a controlled madness with nurses and doctors calling things back and forth to each other. You don't care. The little girl on your chest has settled down and tucked her head under your chin, listening to your rapid heartbeat and recognizing the pattern. "We're right here, baby girl. We're not going anywhere, okay?" You whisper to her, kissing her over and over again. She smiles, and you immediately recognize Joel's crooked smile— nine months of carrying her and a record-breakingly fast delivery for her to be his twin. 

"Mama, we're gonna take her to get cleaned up and get her measurements, okay? The doctor's working on getting you fixed up, too." A nurse says, and you nod. 

"Just be careful, please. I made her from scratch, and it took a really fucking long time." You say as you pass her to the nurse. Everyone, including Joel, laughs even though you're serious. Joel leaves your side only to follow the nurse to the other side of the room, watching her every movement meticulously. You keep eyes on both of them. She starts fussing as the nurse cleans her up, and Joel reaches out to smooth her hair. He says something to her that you can't hear and watch him start crying again. She settles down again, but Joel is a mess. The nurse offers him a tissue, and you laugh to yourself but don't do anything to get his attention.

Let them have their secret conversation. You have a feeling it will be the first of many.

She's asleep, but you can't stop looking at her. Joel is lying in the hospital bed with you as she rests in his arms, your chin hooked over his shoulder so you can stare at her. The little girl who gave you enough excitement for a lifetime is bundled up in a white blanket with a striped hat covering her dark hair. Her legs are long and skinny, but she's strong, grasping anything within reach.

She has his nose and lips, but your eyes match. Her little chest rises and falls steadily, and little sighs come from her occasionally as she sleeps. Her hand somehow escaped the swaddle, and her fingers flex around the blanket's fabric like she's trying to decide whether she likes it. Joel reaches for her tiny hand and tries to tuck it away again, but she resists, making an angry face until he lets go. You laugh and melt simultaneously at her actions.

"She's perfect," you whisper as you kiss Joel's shoulder. He hums and turns to kiss your temple. "How did we get so lucky?"

"I've no idea," he whispers back. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Her. This. Making me a dad again." His voice is so tender and raw that your eyes mist up again. You sniffle and wipe your eyes.

"Anytime, cowboy," you rest your hand on her chest to feel the little heartbeat you made from nothing but stardust and blood. Her face scrunches up in her sleep before her little fingers find yours. "Well, maybe not anytime, but you know what I meant."

"Oh, 'm ready for another one right now."

"Never in a million fucking years could you convince me to do that again."

"You did great." He says, and you smile. You're both exhausted and should be sleeping, but you can't stop looking at the life you created together. She's not even a day old, and you know you would tear the world into a thousand pieces if she asked you to. You would do anything for her.

"D'you still like the name we picked?" You ask, and he nods.

"Do you?"

"I think it's perfect for her."

"Hey, guys," a nurse peeks her head in the door. "Are we ready for some visitors?" She asks. You nod, and Joel adjusts baby girl in his arms. Her little arm reaches up in a stretch, and she fusses when she loses the grip on your hand. You tell her you're not far, and Joel bounces her. 

"Hey," Ellie says softly as she enters the room. You smile and sit up, ignoring the jarring pain in your hips at the movement. "Oh, my God. How are you feeling?" She asks as she hugs you like she's afraid she'll break you if she holds you too tight. You rub her back and kiss her head.

"I'm okay. I delivered pretty much the second they could get me to lay down."

"I knew we should've gone to the hospital sooner!" Ellie says, and Joel shushes her. She makes an eek face as she looks at him.

"A baby's tryin' to sleep here."

"Holy shit," she breathes, taking in the bundle in Joel's arms for the first time. "Girl or boy?"

"I'm pretty sure the Millers are only capable of having girls at this point," you say, and Ellie smiles. "Do you wanna hold her?" 

"Can I?" She asks as Joel stands. She's unsure what to do but copies Joel's position and puts a hand under her back.

"Support her head," Joel instructs quietly as he carefully transitions your daughter into Ellie's arms.

"I got it. I got it," she says. Instinctively, she starts swaying back and forth and patting the baby's back. Joel stays nearby, watching as Ellie gets comfortable holding her. Your heart could explode seeing the three of them together. "Who are you?" She asks quietly, pulling the blanket under the baby's chin so she can see her. 

"This is Charlotte Elaine Miller," you say. "Charlie, for short." 

"Hey there, Charlie girl. My name's Ellie."

"She's your big sister." Joel adds. Even though he's talking to Charlie, he's looking at Ellie. She takes a shaky breath as she processes his words. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and kisses her forehead. 

"I'm one of your big sisters," she says. The pregnancy hormones and the day's emotions catch up with you, and you couldn’t stop the tears even if you wanted to. Something about seeing Ellie with Charlie hits you hard. "I've got so much to teach you and tell you about when you're a little bigger, though. There's not much I can do with you right now except, well, this," She shrugs as if to make her point to the sleeping baby, and you laugh. Charlie stretches again, probably getting used to having so much room now that she's out of you, and yawns. "Oh, big yawn. Good job." Ellie praises.

"You're a natural," Joel says, making her smile.

"I dunno about that, but she does like me. Right, Charlie girl?" she asks, and the Charlie girl in question chuffs. "Oh, we're gonna have so much fun together." She says sincerely. Joel meets your eyes, sending you a knowing look and a crooked smile, and you smile back a little sadly. He works at his jaw, and his Adam's apple bobs as his eyes sparkle with tears again. No words need to be exchanged. You know. You may be one of the only people who know. Ellie rambles to Charlie, ever the present audience, and you remember, silent and pious in your devotion. 

You think you'll spend your whole life remembering, a constant scramble for pieces of memories that bring her closer. You think you'll find bits of her in music, the summer sun, and your girls' eyes. You think you'll tell Charlie of her big sisters, who were loved and cherished beyond belief, and their shared adoration of Patti Smith. You think you'll be able to find a way to talk about her that doesn't feel like your soul is desperately ripping away from you. For Sarah, Jane, Ellie, and now Charlie, you think you would do anything.

Even after so much loss, destruction, and nights spent hopelessly staring at the wall like it would be enough to start Jane's heart again, you think you would do it all again. The world can be a really shitty place, and you've seen firsthand how horrible people can be to each other. You and Joel have been a million different versions of awful people, and you can never escape that. But you have Ellie and Charlie. And each other. And for a moment, in this horribly lit hospital room, every minute of that misery has meaning.

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taglist: @evyiione @nyotamalfoy @abbyhaslongshorts​

[thesilversun]

Dihua exchange fic: Fragments of our Past

Writen for @flashbulb-memory as part of the the Dihua exchange.

Bulb, I hope this was the kind of thing that you wanted.

Title: Fragments of our Past

Pairing: Di Feisheng/Li Lianhua

Rating: Mature (brief nsfw in Di Feisheng's memory fragments)

Warnings: No AO3 archive warning apply

Word count: 5984

Additional tags on AO3: Temporary Amnesia, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, regaining lost memories, previous relationship together, working on getting back together.

Summary:

After returning to the Lotus Tower following the events at Mountains Red, Di Feisheng finds himself feeling more and more unsettled by what happened there. The women held there, how they were people who wouldn’t be missed. The cruel master with guards controlled and beholden to him even if they did not wish to do his bidding. Even Murong Yao, how he’d come to take vengeance, how he’d wanted it to be over, rather than to take power and continue the cycle of oppression. They all play into memories that he no longer has access to, yet still manage set his nerves on edge.

Unable to rest, a late night practice with his sword brings with it a brief flash of the past - a shared, intimate past with Li Lianhua.

Read here or on AO3

They leave Mountains Red, the women freed and able to return to their homes if that is their wish, while they return to the Lotus Tower.

For all it is over and done with, Di Feisheng finds himself feeling more and more unsettled by what happened there. The women’s captivity, how they were people who wouldn’t be missed. The cruel master, with guards controlled and beholden to him even if they did not wish to do his bidding. Even Murong Yao, how he’d come to take vengeance, how he’d wanted it to be over, rather than to take power and continue the cycle of oppression.

His head aches it with it all, a low level background discomfort that refuses to fully fade no matter what he does to try to ease it. Memories that he no longer has access to, somehow still setting his nerves on edge. While old scars itch and ache with phantom pain, his body recalling old hurts, even when his mind does not.

Despite this there have been no new memories forthcoming, but he can feel their presence bubbling just beneath the surface. Either they will rise and become known, or they will sink back into the depths. He has no way of knowing or forcing either eventuality.

So, for all he is weary, aching with the need for rest, Di Feisheng knows he won’t manage it. Not yet, maybe not at all tonight. All he will do is grow more and more frustrated at his inability to remember or to sleep. Eventually, his restlessness will wake Fang Duobing, who will be tired and tetchy from being woken up in the middle of the night. As much fun as squabbling with him usually is, he doubts that either of them are in the mood for it. As for Li Lianhua, he definitely wouldn’t be happy if he was woken up by raised voices and breaking furniture.

If he can’t sleep then maybe he can burn off some of the restless energy boiling in his veins.

Taking his sword, Di Feisheng leaps easily down from the upper part of the Lotus Tower. There’s no sense using the stairs and potentially waking Li Lianhua. He can let them sleep, even he cannot.

Perhaps if he tires himself out then maybe he’ll be able to get an hour or two before he’s woken by the sunrise and the sound of the forest coming alive around them.

The moon is bright as he steps out into the wooded clearing, the dry autumn leaves murmur softly above him in the breeze. It’s peaceful, yet sitting in such nocturnal calm isn’t what he has in mind.

Removing his sword from its covering, Di Feisheng traces his fingertips over the embossed metal of the scabbard and hilt. It’s well looked after, although there are small nicks and scratches on it, showing how it’s been used.

It’s not just decorative piece, carried only for show. It���s a weapon first and foremost. It’s a weapon, it has been used to kill and it’s his. He knows this much with absolute certainty.

He might not remember who he is, not beyond the few fragments he’s recalled for himself, the violently unsettling dreams that disturb his rest and the half truths that Li Lianhua has provided, but his body knows this.

It is as natural to him breathing. Each move flowing effortlessly one into the next, there is no need for thought: His muscles remembering what his mind does not. It isn’t an elegant style, at least not compared to others, but it’s powerful, exacting and demanding in its own way.

He feels alive like this. Power surging through him, the sword an extension of him and his will. It’s freedom and the strength to stay that way. It's the ability to make his own way in the world, unhindered by others.

Turning fast, Di Feisheng brings his sword round in an arc, energy rippling out from it, fierce as a winter storm. Branches bend and sways above him, autumn leaves showering down, as the silver moonlight catches his blade.

Dazzlingly bright, its reflection catches his eyes. Images of another autumn night, the moon full and golden over city rooftops, flood his mind and vision.

A young man in red and white, dances in the moonlight. Sword and ribbon and body all moving in complete harmony. The youth doesn’t look like Li Lianhua, even allowing for the passage of years, but he knows with absolute certainty that he is. Younger by at least ten years, he’s moves with a grace and power that makes something seize in his chest even now.

Another night and another roof top, they fight hard and reckless, blades sliding against each other, sparks dropping like the stars in the sky. A kiss across the crossed blades, as hard, as forceful, as the fight itself. Lips and teeth and heat.

They whirl away from each other, the vision of the past fleeing with them.

Images swirl, faster and faster, the pain and pressure in his head increasing. Dropping his sword, Di Feisheng staggers, clutching at his head. There is no relief to be found. The bright, stabbing bursts of pain are accompanied by flickering arcs of light.

Another time, a bright summer day in the bamboo forest, all heat and humidity beneath the greenery. Leaves showering down, light, whirling steps as Li Lianhua runs across the thin, swaying stems, free and unstrained like the breeze himself.

The image shifts again. Clothes hanging open, trousers pushed down to his knees, Li Lianhua clings to the towering bamboo, white knuckled, shaking, mouth open as he cries out in pleasure. Kneeling on the ground in front of him, Di Feisheng can remember the weight and heat of his cock in his mouth, the bitter salt rush over his tongue.

Caught in the rising tide of memories, barely aware of anything around him, Di Feisheng staggers then falls to his knees.

The memories aren’t yet done with him.

Another day, an inn, the golden afternoon light streaming in through the window, food left untouched on the table beside books and documents, while the are on the bed.

Naked apart from a red ribbon tied over his eyes, Li Lianhua gasps and moans, love bites littering his neck and chest, nipples dark and hard from where they’ve been mercilessly pinched and teased. Legs over A-Fei's shoulders, he arches into the punishingly hard thrushes, with no concerns for how sore he’ll be afterwards.

There is no sound to this vision of the past, but he can tell that the shape of the words that falls begging from Li Lianhua’ lips isn’t his name as it is now. Anymore than the name on his own tongue isn’t Lianhua.

Xiangyi.

In the memory Li Lianhua comes, his cries becoming more and more ragged and desperate as Di Feisheng chases his own pleasure.

That memory however, is denied him, as the pain in his head flares sharply. All encompassing, there is nothing he is aware of apart from its presence, everything else spiralling away.

Laying on the ground, his head aching fiercely, Di Feisheng slowly opens his eyes. The moonlit woodland blurs around him, dizziness and nausea building until he is forced to close them once more.

Trying to relieve it by feeding energy into it won’t help. Rather it will intensify the pain in his head, while the hidden things still beat at the edge of his consciousness, refusing to reveal themselves.

If he could regain his memories in this way, no matter the pain in doing so, Di Feisheng knows that he would. But it doesn’t work like that. He knows this because he has already tried. Because he has had to deal with how it had left him feeling feverish and sick, with a splitting headache for hours afterwards.

There’s movement close to him and Di Feisheng forces himself to open his eyes, although he doesn’t feel able to do more, even to defend himself. Which is a terrifying thought. But passing out or throwing up on them aren’t viable methods of attack.

A muted blur of colour approaches, the vicious pain in his head blurring his vision, and preventing him from seeing who is it. Finally, when they are almost close enough to touch they are clear enough for him to tell that it is Li Lianhua.

“Really, A-Fei, sleeping on the ground?” Li Lianhua sounds somewhere between amused and concerned. “Xiaobao doesn’t snore that badly, does he?”

“Couldn’t sleep. I-” Di Feisheng stops with a groan. Light still shimmers inside his head, a brilliant arc as if the sun had caught his corner of his eye. It brightens and the pain flares with it, an all consuming fire inside his skull. His vision distorts further, the ground beneath him feeling like it's falling away. Which is both impressive and utterly disconcerting as he is already lying down.

“A-Fei?”

Di Feisheng can’t reply as he feels cold, careful fingers pressed to his wrist. Trying to think enough to put even a few words together sends sharp bursts of pain searing behind his eyes.

“You’re not hurt,” Li Lianhua says, although it feels more like he’s talking to himself than offering reassurance. “Are you starting to remember?”

Still unable to voice an answer, Di Feisheng risks nodding. The smallest movement he can manage without it driving either the pain, dizziness or nausea to even higher levels. All the same he can feel a cold sweat beading on his forehead and down his spine.

“Now you know why I didn’t want to hit you with too much information all at once.” Li Lianhua pats his hand, before pulling away. “It shouldn’t last more than a few hours.”

Hours of feeling like this, of being all but defenceless, isn’t what Di Feisheng wants to hear. Yet what can he do but endure it? He tries to stay as still as possible, hoping that it will bring him some relief.

Unfortunately, laying there until it passes doesn’t seem to be something that’s going to be permitted, as Li Lianhua says, “Lets get you back to bed. You can’t sleep out here.”

Then, before he can say anything to dissuade him, Li Lianhua puts an arm around him and pulls him to his feet.

Bright bursts of light and pain fill Di Feisheng’s mind like fireworks have been let off inside his skull. With a groan, he sways, clinging to Li Lianhua’s arm for balance. Even with that assistance he’s far from certain that he’s going to remain on his feet or if he is even going to cling on to consciousness at all.

“A-Fei?” There is concern rather than teasing in his voice now. “I’ve got you.”

He has and it should be terrifying to be so weak and defenceless in front of anyone. Why he thinks it should be, Di Feisheng doesn’t know. Feelings and fears born of events and memories he no longer has access to still plague him.

It should be frighting to be so helpless, but he’s safe. With Li Lianhua, despite his lies, he knows he is safe.

“Do you want me to carry you?”

“No.” It hurts to talk, but he forces the word out all the same. Although any kind of movement feels somewhere between wildly inadvisable and outright impossible, he knows he has to try. Maybe he’ll regret it in moment if he ends up face first in the leaves, but the idea of giving up this last little bit of control is too much.

Li Lianhua gives his hand another small pat. “We’ll take it slow.”

Holding onto him for support, eyes still closed as it is the only relief he can find, Di Feisheng allows himself to be walked slowly and carefully back to the Lotus Tower.

Li Lianhua doesn’t ask any further questions about what he has remembered or even how he’s feeling. Nor does he try to make him negotiate the steps up to the bedroom upstairs that he’s suppose to share with Fang Duobing. Instead he guides him to his own bed. It’s probably only due to practicality, but it feels right all the same.

“Lay down.” Li Lianhua keeps a hand cradled against he back of Di Feisheng’s head as he guides him down onto the pillow. “I’ll just be a moment.”

Not that there is anything that he can do if he’s not.

He is wondering if passing out now that he’s safely indoors is an option, when a cool, damp cloth is laid on his forehead. Then deft fingers remove metal hair piece and pin that holds it in place, so nothing presses on his aching head.

It offers a small amount of relief for which he feels pathetically grateful. He wishes that Li Lianhua would stay there beside him, would keep his cool, careful fingers against his aching head. Even if it doesn‘t provide relief it is comforting all the same.

He won’t ask for it. He won’t beg. He’ll never do that again. Not for anyone.

A flicker of something too vague to be called a memory comes to him. Begging didn’t work anyway. It only meant more pain.

He can’t chase this thought, won’t hunt down this echo of something left behind by a past that he both needs to know, yet is hesitant to fully recall. Something holds him back, tells him to let it pass, at least for now.

The world narrows to nothing but the throbbing in his head, and the surging waves of nausea and vertigo that accompany it. How long he drifts like this, Di Feisheng doesn’t know, but finally he feels the thin mattress dip and the wood frame creak as Li Lianhua sits of the edge of the bed beside him.

A moment later a bowl is held to his lips, as Li Lianhua says, “Drink. It’ll help.”

The smell of whatever questionable medicine he has made is enough to turn Di Feisheng’s stomach. The taste, if possible, is even worse. It’s a struggle to drink it, but he does. He can endure the acrid, bitterness of it, if it will make the unrelenting pain in his head go away.

All the same, as he feels a second bowl pressed to his lips, he refuses, unable to stomach anymore. “No more.”

“It’s not medicine. It’s to take the taste away.”

It could be a lie, but he trusts that he won’t hurt him. It’s warm and faintly sweet, just water with a little honey melted into it. He drinks it gratefully, glad to be rid of the lingering bitterness of the medicine.

Li Lianhua leaves for a moment, then replaces the cool cloth on his forehead, fingers lingering a little too long to be purely practical as he brushes back his hair.

The night drifts on, and the pain and dizziness begin to fade, a gradual ebbing, likely a retreating tide. Finally, Di Feisheng risks opening his eyes. His head still aches, but the pulsing light is gone, and the pain has dropped to a dull throbbing rather than something agonisingly sharp.

He remains still at first, just breathing and looking around now that the light no longer hurts his eyes.

A single lantern, dim and shuttered, hangs above the table, creating only a small pool of light over Li Lianhua. Sitting at the table, a pot of tea to his side, he looks almost asleep. Eyes are closed, his head resting against this hand, where it is propping him up.

Li Lianhua has been far kinder and more patient than Di Feisheng had expected he would be, than he’d expected anyone to be with him. He has no expectation of kindness or care. Yet why wouldn’t he be? Li Lianhua understood pain and weakness better than most. With the poison slowly taking his life, how could he not?

He watches him, the dim gold of the lamplight seem to make him glow. He had been in love with him once. Maybe he still is. That brief glimpse of the power that Li Lianhua once had, one to rival his own. They had been perfect for each other in every way. What had gone wrong? Why has Li Lianhua not been honest about it?

Di Feisheng frowns, something tickling at the edge of his consciousness, yet refusing to let itself become known. He doesn’t want to force it. Not when his head has only just stopped feeling like it’s being split open.

Perhaps now he knows a little of his past he can get Li Lianhua reveal more of what they had been to each other. It’s late, possibly not the best time to talk, but there feels like there is an urgency to it, that if he leaves it until morning all he will get is excuses.

It has to be now, he decides, in case those few precious memories he’s regained start to fade.

Wary, less the pain and dizziness return, Di Feisheng sits up slowly and carefully. They don’t, but the movement makes Li Lianhua turn to look at him.

Half asleep, Li Lianhua blinks, barely stifling a yawn, as he says, “You’re awake. How do you feel?”

It’s a reasonable question, but it catches him by surprise all the same. Di Feisheng doesn’t think he’s someone who was used to being cared for or even kept safe. Did he only ever have this with Li Lianhua? Is this why they’d had such an intimate relationship? Perhaps soon he will have answers to this. “Better.”

“You’ve regained your memories,” Li Lianhua says, as if he is stating a fact rather than asking a question.

“Some. Yes.” He could be honest with him, tell him that it is only a very few fragments, but Li Lianhua has told enough lies and half truths that Di Feisheng feels entitled to do the same. He could do. He could make him guess what he knows, getting him to reveal more by pretending to already be aware of it. It’s appealing. It makes him wonder if he was once the kind of person that lied easily to others. He doesn’t think so. Not without reason at least. All the same he wants to try it. He watches Li Lianhua for a moment, making sure he has his full attention before saying, “Were you ever going to tell me we were lovers?”

“What? We weren’t-”

Not giving him a chance to deny it, Di Feisheng interrupts. “We were. On the roof top. In the bamboo grove. At the inn. Shall I continue?”

There is a look close to panic in Li Lianhua’s eyes as he rapidly tries to think of a way of refuting it.

“Nothing to say?” Di Feisheng asks, feeling a little smug at being able to play Li Lianhua for once. “Surely you remember. A red ribbon around your eyes. You were so loud.”

“A few times ten years ago. It was never serious.” Li Lianhua turns away, pretending to busy himself with rearranging items on a shelf, buying himself some time to think. “Why would you even remember it? What useless memories to get back. I’d almost forgotten all about it.”

Di Feisheng doesn’t need to have all his memories to know that he is being evasive, nor a better light source to have seen the way his cheeks had turned pink. So it must have meant something to him. Was this denial an attempt to make the fact he’d not managed to heal him, to save him, easier to deal with? It was a stupid plan if it was. As if any way of losing him wouldn’t feel like his heart has been ripped in two.

Or had it ended badly between them?

Or maybe to Li Lianhua it really hadn’t meant much.

No, the last of these feels more like a lie than anything else. He’s seen the look Li Lianhua gets in his eyes when he thinks he can’t see him watching him. The gentle, caring touches when he knew that he was in pain. He’s seen the blush just now. The feelings are definitely there, but for whatever reason he wants to keep them hidden.

He might want that, but there had been two of them in the relationship, and Di Feisheng wants the truth. Even if they cannot regain what they once had, he wants to know what those days had meant to them.

“You say that. Yet even when I can remember nothing else, I remember you.” Getting up from the bed, Di Feisheng follows him to where Li Lianhua has retreated to fuss over potted plants instead of facing him. “Even when I know nothing about you, even when all you’ve done is lie to me, I know I want you to live.” He stops just short of touching him. “That I want you.”

“A-Fei, we-“ Li Lianhua stops, catching himself before he says more. “This is why I didn’t tell you. You’re so clingy already. Why would I want to make that worse?”

The dismissiveness of it hurts. He’s been expecting it, but it doesn’t lessen its sting. “You mean I was in love with you, but you didn’t feel the same?”

“What?” There is genuine surprising in his voice now. “No, you weren’t.”

The memories of Li Lianhua gasping and clinging to him, caught in the throws of pleasure, crying out his name, burn. For all Li Lianhua might think that there was nothing there, Di Feisheng cannot believe it. He might not have his memories but the feelings, possessive, protective, besotted, don’t feel like lies to him. “You think that? That I can’t love anyone? Was I so cruel to you?”

“So many questions, A-Fei. It’s much too late for such things.” Li Lianhua turns away, avoiding looking at him again. “Go to sleep.”

“So you’ll talk about in the morning?” There is nothing Di Feisheng can do stop the hurt bleeding into the anger in voice. “Am I suppose to believe that?”

“You can believe what you want.”

It’s a risk, maybe it doesn’t mean anything or maybe it will anger him. Regardless, Di Feisheng can’t think of a better idea. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I didn’t love Li Lianhua, but there was no Li Lianhua back then, was there?” He pauses a moment, seeing Li Lianhua’s shoulders tense, then he drops the rest. “The was only Li Xiangyi, who cried out my name as I took him.”

There is a thud as the water dipper that Li Lianhua had picked up falls to the floor.

So that was true as well. As horrible as the headache had been, Di Feisheng finds that he can now place it in the category of worth it. “Aren’t you going to say something? Deny it or tell another lie?”

“What would be the point?” Li Lianhua sounding weary rather than angry that this part of their past known to them both once more. “You’ve already made up your mind.”

“I know what I felt.” What I still feel.

“It didn’t…” There is no conviction in Li Lianhua’s voice at all.

“Don’t tell me it didn’t mean anything. Even if I was nothing to you. I know what I felt.”

“It wasn’t that. We…” Li Lianhua stops and sighs, the weight of those memories pressing down on him. He steadies himself, hands flat against the table top, eyes down cast. “Let it stay in the past, A-Fei. Neither of us are who we were.”

“Does that matter?”

He still doesn’t look up. “How could it not?”

Although Li Lianhua has refused to admit to any feelings for him, his actions speak far louder than any of his half hearted denials. There is one way this makes sense, albeit of an awful kind, that hurts more than it helps. “You’re lying to protect me.”

Weary, seemingly resigned to his fate, Li Lianhua’s shoulders droop, what little fight he had left in his vanishing. “What good would the truth be to you now?”

He has a point. What good would there have been in telling him that yes, once they’d been in love, but then something had happened, and now Li Lianhua was going to die. He was going to die because he hadn’t been strong enough or fast enough to save him.

Despite this, he still thinks that it isn’t a good point, because as horrible as that truth might be, Di Feisheng is certain he would rather know. Even if it only to make the most of every moment left to them.

“I’m going to remember it all in the end,” Di Feisheng says, walking up behind him, until they touch. “Were you hoping you’d be gone by then? That you wouldn’t have to face it? or me?”

When Li Lianhua doesn’t answer or move away, he puts his arms around him, holding him close, not willing to let him run out on answering. “You’re not a coward or a fool, regardless of what you pretend to be. Is self sacrifice so appealing to you? Do want to be thought of as a hero?”

There is an unsteady edge to his voice as Li Lianhua finally replies, “You’ve told me that before.”

“That you’re a fool?”

“That I want to be hero,” he says quietly, caught in memories of his own. “That it’s my greatest weakness.”

“Was I wrong?” Di Feisheng pauses, then adds, “Am I wrong now?”

Li Lianhua doesn’t answer. Instead he seems to sag, exhaustion finally getting the better of him.

Holding him close, Di Feisheng turns him in his arms until he is facing him. “I don’t know when I said that to you or why, but I don’t think I was wrong either.”

He strokes his hand along Li Lianhua’s jaw, as he’d done in his memories. Relief and even hope blossoms as he leans into it, rather than pulls away.

“Heroes get hurt. They pointlessly throw themself into danger for others who don’t appreciate it or deserve it. I don’t think I wanted that for you back then. For you to be hurt or used. I know I don’t want it for you now.”

Li Lianhua leans into his touch, eyes closing.

Di Feisheng can feel how cold he is, how exhaustion is truly taking hold. Heading out into the night to find him, helping him back inside, brewing medicine for him and then waiting up to see if it worked rather than resting, has cost him.

He holds him tighter. It feels good, right. He needs to keep him like this, needs him in arms. “Come to bed.”

“It’s my bed.” There is a soft huff of annoyance, as Li Lianhua adds, “I don’t need an invitation.”

“So I do?” Part of Di Feisheng wants to take this chance to kiss him, to see if he can shake loose something more than lies and half truths from him. Yet they aren’t quite at that point yet. He can wait for that.

Being able to rest can’t wait though. Now the pain in his head is almost gone exhaustion if fast taking its place. It’s unsurprising really. He’s slept poorly every night that he can remember since first waking up here, and pain is wearying by itself.

“Do you want me to go up and disturb Fang Duobing?” Di Feisheng says, although he has little intention of doing it. “Should I let him know that you were called-”

“Don’t you dare.”

There is something close to real fear or worry in his voice. Which is… interesting. “So he doesn’t know your other name. Why?”

“He doesn’t need to.”

It is possible that what he has said it truth. Di Feisheng has no idea about why Li Lianhua is called that now rather than Li Xiangyi. It's also equally possible that it's very important and he lying through his teeth about it. “He’ll find out eventually.”

“Eventually isn’t right now,” he snaps back. “So, don’t tell him.”

There’s nothing to be gained by arguing about it, so Di Feisheng replies, “I won’t, but I won’t do anything to stop him finding out either.”

He expects that to earn him another rebuke, but instead there is a soft laugh from Li Lianhua, as he shakes his head. “Still the same A-Fei, no matter what.” The laugh and smile fade, weariness that’s more than just physical creeping back in. “Don’t tell him.”

“I told you I won’t.” He strokes Li Lianhua’s cheek, a brush of fingertip, moving away a stray hair. “So I get to sleep here tonight?”

“Just sleep.”

“What else would we be doing?” Di Feisheng says with an innocence that they both know is fake. All the same, doing anything more strenuous than resting doesn’t seem wise. Yet if it was something Li Lianhua wanted, Di Feisheng knows that he wouldn’t say no.

They get ready for bed quickly, the night already cold and late. Lying down beside each other, their shoulders touch, the bed too small for them not to.

“All the times we were in bed together, we never just slept.” Li Lianhua says softly into the dark. “There was always some other matter to attend to. Something more urgent to deal with.”

“We were young.” Laying a hand on Li Lianhua, Di Feisheng starts to draw him closer. “We thought we had forever.”

There is no reply or resistance from Li Lianhua, only a shaky little sigh. An admission at last that this is a lot for him.

It’s probably too cruel to say such a thing to a dying man, and Di Feisheng finds that he regrets saying it. All the same he doesn’t apologise for it, there’s nothing to be gained by it.

“No more thinking and no more talking,” Li Lianhua says, prodding him, a finger against his ribs. “It’s late and I need my sleep. So either stop talking or go wake up Xiaobao and bother him.”

“I thought you told me not to.”

“I told you not to tell him about that, not that you can never speak to him.” Li Lianhua pushes half-heartedly at the arm Di Feisheng has around him. “What are you doing?”

“Keeping you warm,” Di Feisheng replies, not loosening the arm around him. There is something rather endearing about how sleepy and grumpy he is at the same time. “You’re cold. I’m not. It’s practical.”

Li Lianhua makes an indignant noise, but doesn’t try to move away. Then, after a moment or two, he settles more comfortably into his arms, sinking into the offered warmth.

It doesn’t take long for Di Feisheng to feel Li Lianhua drift off to sleep, too exhausted to stay awake any longer. He watches him sleep, a faint outline in the fading lamplight. The barely remembered past overlayed onto the uncertain present.

He knows it won’t be easy to get Li Lianhua to admit whether he was in love with him back then, any more than it will be make him admit what is between them now. Perhaps Li Lianhua had even believed that there had been no feelings involved. Di Feisheng knows his own heart, and he won’t leave him in any doubt this time.

There are two things that Di Feisheng knows with absolute certainty are the truth, and they both concern Li Lianhua. The first is that he wants him to live. The second is that he is in love with him.

He will find out who he was and who Li Xiangyi was, he will find out what was done to him and why. He will find a way to save him, to bring him back to being an equal in all things. He will help the barely hidden embers of fondness still in him burst in flames of passion once more. He wants to make him shake with pleasure again, to hear him, to feel him.

What had happened between them that they had broken apart? Why had they been separated for so many years? Had they been? He only has Li Lianhua’s dubiously honest words that they had been apart for years.

Despite the warm covers and Di Feisheng laying by his side, his arm draped across him, Li Lianhua starts to shiver in his sleep, the poison in him leaving him cold and aching in even when he tries to rest.

Rolling onto his side, Di Feisheng pulls him closer, spooning against his back, so they are pressed together from shoulder to thigh. There is a practical element to sharing body heat like this, and he does hope the warmth of being held close will help ease the painful cold in him. There is a sense of satisfaction too, that he can do this, that he is allowed to do this, that whatever happened between them in the past Li Lianhua still trusts him. More than anything though, it feels right to hold him, like he is meant to fit into his arms.

Perhaps it’s too sentimental and it’s certainly not something that he’d ever say out loud, but Li Lianhua is the only part of his past that Di Feisheng can remember with fondness or joy. The memories he has of him, as fleeting as they are, are ones he wants keep forever. They are proof that at least some of his past had been happy. That it hadn’t all been the vicious, terrible things that have come to him in nightmares, ones where he is a child, his hands red with blood of the boys he’s killed, their screams ringing in his ears.

A shudder runs through him, and Di Feisheng presses his face in to Li Lianhua’s hair, letting their closeness soothe his tired, ragged nerves.

Whether the man in his arms is called Li Lianhua or Li Xiangyi, or even another name that’s not yet know, it doesn’t matter to him. How can it when it doesn’t truly know his own?

Why would names matter at all? he tells himself. As no matter whatever they call themselves or however long they’ve been parted they have found their way back to each other. He can’t say if he has ever truly believed in fate, he’s not sure he does even now, but it feels like they are meant to be together.

Let me have this. A silent plea to whatever kind deity might listen to the words in his heart, even though he cannot yet speak them aloud, even if he never can. If I can have nothing else, even if I can never remember another thing about who I was for the rest of my life, let him live and let us have this.

Outside, autumn rain clouds have hidden the moon, the soft patter of it falling on the roof and trees fills the night air. While warm and dry, they lay together, held close in bed.

Di Feisheng lets his breathing match Li Lianhua’s, slow and steady in sleep. For once he feels truly at peace. He’s lived this long and so has Li Lianhua. He’ll find a way to keep him safe and to save him.

Finally, on the edge of sleep, he presses his lips to Li Lianhua cheek. A far chaster kiss than those in his memories, it’s a reassurance that all is well, and a promise too, of a future he wants them to share.

Li Lianhua murmurs something in his sleep, contented rather than annoyed. Beneath the covers, his hand seeks out Di Feisheng’s, holding it tight, like he’s never going to let go.

In the dark and quiet of the room, only their breathing and the gentle fall out rain disturb the silence, Di Feisheng finally sleeps. Tomorrow can take care of itself, for tonight at least he has everything that he wants right here in his arms.

[drferox]

Updates…

So the pretty good news is that my child custody case is pretty much sorted, and I have functionally sole custody of Honey Bee, with the ex only having supervised visitation unless he puts in more than minimum effort. Feeling reasonably secure on that front.

Going through family court is definitely an unpleasant experience though. It is definitely not set up to favor mothers, and it was both infuriating and distressing to watch him submit quote cruel lies to the court, to which I find that get to reply. While I could have proved a lot of his lies to be lies, the amount of evidence required, the number of pages to look through, was just not going to be considered by a court system that is so short on time. Fortunately for me, he kept making really dumb decisions, and that’s what decided the outcome more than anything else, I think.

It’s a rough experience because while you think the other side is making outlandish claims and bad decisions, you have no indication as to whether the courts view their actions in the same way until the end. There is zero feedback as you go along.

But it’s done for now, and from here on in I can only hope that he either improves himself as a human being and father… or gets bored and wanders off to let us get on with life.

In the petty adequate news, my Multiple Sclerosis seems fairly stable. It’s coming up to two years and I don’t think there are any major new symptoms, and I am better able to know what my physical limits are. Every now and then I’ll think I want to give surgery a go, but am only really good for 10 minutes or so, so that’s not something I can realistically do any more. It’s enough to help a new graduate get out of a disaster, but I can’t take over for them if they’re struggling. I miss surgery very badly.

The Kesimpta is getting easier to manage, side effects are still very random but significantly milder than when I started. Mostly any pain gets managed with stretches and osteopathy. The fatigue is frustrating but I’m getting better at knowing how much I can actually push myself, because if I go over that level I will be wiped out for a few days. I can tell you about that journey if you want to know. Overall it’s not terrible, but it is frequently frustrating.

So now I’m feeling safer and more stable, I will try to get back to irregular posting. But no promises, the energy isn’t what it used to be.

[not-goldy]

the thing is I'm sure jimin was suffering too during the months jungkook was working nonstop like july,september,october,november

I'm sure he missed jungkook just as much he's just way more lowkey about it and would never showcase it online

just different types of people

I don't disagree

He's either better at pretending things don't bother him when they do or better at processing negative feelings as and when they arise because if it were me, FAM🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

The whole world is about to know.

The in laws will know

The siblings will know

The ancestors will know

The pastor will know

Even your therapist will hear about it.

I'll call into radio shows and air our business cos you are not about to make me the broken hearted girl😌

And missing someone who isn't reaching out to you is a whole other level of pain Jesus 😕 💔

Forget the ego

It's your self respect vs your emotional needs and feeding one destroys the other. You don't know pain till you've been put in that tormenting situation.

And it makes a lot of sense why dude keeps complaining about chronic loneliness dude been repressing so much it's alienating😭😭😭😭😭

I want to go to therapy with Jimin😭😭😭😭😭😭

There's a lot we both need to work through

And I feel he's wrapped himself in so much principles it's barring him from expressing certain things certain very human things that's now working against him.

He set himself up and now he gotta hide certain things and certain feelings

Imagine telling Jungkook he's childish for throwing tantrums when he misses you- now you gotta be the better person and live as an example when you in the same situation otherwise you no better🥴

Imagine constantly setting yourself up like that. Imagine feeling you have to be the better and bigger person in every situation because you feel your whole life is an example to others.

He has that first born curse and 1st born syndrome. He expects too much of himself and he's allowed those around him from the BTS group to his fans to have the same high expectations of him.

I'm not mad at that except it can be draining and exhausting and a lonely experience cos not too many can relate.

And people wonder why his solos are the way they are constantly making up ridiculous unsustainable unattainable standards for both him and others to follow, constantly putting him on a pedestal and acting shook if he goes off even a little bit.

Meanwhile he's only human and humans aren't perfectly flawed. ITS OKAY TO HAVE FLAWS you know??

I'm glad Jk spoke about Namjoon admitting he didn't know what to do with Jk. When it was happening and I spoke about it people came for me. I recall people making such a big fuss about me saying Namjoon gives of elitist energy (much like PJMs) and was constantly having at it with Jungkook because he wouldn't fall in line while Jimin would.

I said this before, Jimin made his leadership so easy for him because people like that do not stirr shit up. They are predictable easy to manage and easy to deal with.

And I recall saying they were constantly looking up to Jimin to set the pace and keep Jungkook in check and how that was a lot for a teen- because Jimin was a teen too.

That expectation of perfectionism is crazy. I'm not a fan of anyone who expects that of Jimin- particularly his solo stans. Namjoon can get away with it, he's tall.

Dude didn't want to be bothered he just wanted an easy tenure of office and Jungkook was anything but. It's why he will always write him letters and always invest energy into repairing their dynamic and why he would always feel he owes Jungkook an apology.

And Suga is right in telling him never mind. Embrace your self the whole of yourself it's okay to make mistakes it's okay to be flawed

You don't gotta live life in a constant teacher mood where you feel every aspect of you is a curated lesson for others.

And I'm glad he explored this theme in his 1st album but please Jimin, let's go to therapy 😩

We have so much to work on baby

Or who knows, may be he's just super human and I'm wrong🥴

[shiemori-writes]

could i request some hcs of the octotrio + leona with a gn!s/o that's more powerful than them? like in magic and/or strength (it's up to you whether reader is yuu or not.)

i love your writing so much! keep up the good work :D

✰ Stronger than you!!

how the fish mafia and cat boy react when youre THE alpha male‼️‼️😈 THE QUEEN‼️👏 the absolute drip💪💪💪

characters: leona, azul, floyd, jade

includes: crack, lighthearted teasing + bickering bc YES, fluff (though more on the crack side,, apologies dearest anon!) and ofc, gender neutral and sfw!

notes: im in sm pain shark week can go die anyways enjoy mwa mwa i decided to make the reader yuu bc thats easier to write! 🫶

✎ Leona Kingscholar!!

Hah? Some little herbivore managed to beat him? Now this he's gotta see

At first tbh hes mostly annoyed, heavily so, some random herbivore just decided to mosey on over and be all strong huh? What's next youre gonna go all-enemies-to-lovers-slowburn 100k words on him?

gosh damn i-

Ok real talk! he most likely doesnt, and wont care, at least not for quite some time

If some herbivore wants to beat him, then go, he barely has the time nor energy deal with it besides being mildly irritated

What he didnt anticipate for however, was to become closer to you

Whether that be platonically or romantically, he does come to realize you had become someone he cherishes, even if he doesn't want to admit it outright yet.

So the annoyance turns into admiration

(and teasing, dear sevens you will receive so much teasing from this man)

Expect him to teasingly challenge you into fights if you ever catch him during his spelldrive practice, and if you agree, sevens know he wont hold back

you can tell how much fun he's having competing with you, he hasnt felt motivation in a long time and you single-handedly made him grin, whether you lost the match or not he'll always have a teasing remark prepared

Overall he genuinely respects you, with how competetive and tiresome this school can be, he admires your skill, and how you can hold your head high, thats his herbivore alright

"Hah, great work herbivore, that was pretty impressive, still far from beating me though,~ now c'mon, im tired, lets go nap. You can go flaunt your skills later"

✎OCTORIO!!

✎ Azul Ashengrotto !!

Most likely was very tempted to drag you into a contract just to get said abilities, man held himself back to an intense degree ooooh boy

Envious, but knows when praise is due,

(even if said praise if back handed and most likely an attempt to scam you, wow zuzu so nice)

Will try to beat you, flaunting his skills infront of you as if a nonverbal way of telling you "he's better"

Eventually gets knocked off his high horse during his whole overblot-situation and stops pursuing his so called 'one sided rivalry' as floyd calls it

Starts to become more curious of your abilities and asks more questions, you two sharing nifty tips and tricks too!

(for a fee, of course,)

(said fee is visiting the monstro lounge to see him, psh softie)

The closer you two become, the less he minds and the more he appreciates your skill

After all, the twins cause enough destruction on a daily basis, having you by his side causes his stress levels to decrease incredibly low

(at this point he's just trying to convince you to join octavinelle for the sake of his sanity)

Hes more genuine with the compliments as time goes by, (blushy blushy octomer aww)

but at the same time not missing the competetive spark that he had when he met you, he's still willing to compete with you after all, only time time in a more "civil manner"

"My my, what marvelous skills you have prefect! perhaps you would be interested in...hm? No im not fishing you into another contract!..Although...I wouldn't refuse on the offer, my of course im joking. What do you think of me?"

✎ Floyd Leech !!

NOW ISNT LITTLE SHRIMPY SO ADORABLE

Bro run 😨 im saying it rn RUN FOR YOUR LIFE BC HES INTERESTED AND WONT LEAVE YOU ALONE ANYTIME SOON

At first he was a bit annoyed, cant have a little shrimp be better than him now could he?

But floyd being, well, floyd, didnt really mind much upon finding out it was his shrimpy! (he has claimed you yes this isnt kidnapping)

In fact, he didnt care at all to be honest, he'll still squeeze the life outta ya, strong or not! hehehe <3

Loves to pester and torment you for fun or as he calls it, playing, challenging you every second to a game of some sorts to "test shrimpy!"

If you're the type of person who's strong physically then floyd will swoon i tell you and will most likely ask to be carried by you 24-7

(yes youre carrying him like a princess)

(no shrimpy this isnt embarrassing go faster cmon!)

The best way to motivate him is you tbh, he can be having his moodswings and jade or azul could casually mention you and suddenly hes fired up!!!

(not for work tho, so azuls still mad but shh)

Overall, doesnt really mind, in fact he'll even brag to you to others probably, talking about his little shrimpy being so so strong and how theyre just little guppies compared to you (and him) >:)

"HEHEHEHE shrimmmpy~~~ let's play! Huh? What do you mean you're not in then mood? Cmonnnn!!! youre strong arent cha? Im bored! We can compete to see whos stronger!! I wont let you win this time, too! Loser gets to do my night shift at the monstro lounge!"

Jade Leech

Oh? Fufufu..How amusing

When I say run I say RUN

Like Floyd, Jade is heavily interested in you, seemingly curious to your skills and strengths, wanting to observe and see for himself how strong you could really be, and my my do you not disappoint!

( tbh he treats u like a lab experiment for awhile /hj )

While he and his brother are known to be polar opposites, theyre more alike than people give them credit for, because just like Floyd, Jade liked to stick with more interesting people, and boy have you piqued his interest greatly

While he thought you were rather dull at first, your strenght definitely intrigued him, even more so when you're just a freshman

You wouldnt see it in his face as he remained his composure because, well, he's Jade after all, but the surprised look he gives for a brief second was there and you swear left and right you saw it

Regaining his composure rather quickly, his suprised face curved into am amused smile,

"My my aren't you interesting? Perhaps you can spare some time and visit monstro lounge later? I'll be working on my shift, of course but you can always talk to me," he said, a polite smile painted on his features

"Oh, and, feel free to bring your little first yeae group with you too, fufufu~"

As the two of you got closer though, it would be less of him treating you like some sort of creature and more of him praising your skills

(knowing full well it flustered you)

(bastard)

He does admire your skill though, no matter how his teasing remarks feel, you can tell hes being genuine when he casts a fond look through your direction

[nico-di-genova]

To Be Known, To Be Loved

Summary: Alex is sick, Pato takes care of him. AKA: Palex sickfic

A/N: This originally started as a prompt fill, but then it went off the rails and became its own thing. So the prompt will get filled eventually, but now there is also this. The mortifying ordeal of having to be known to be loved. The horror of having to put your trust in someone in order to let yourself be cared for. Trigger Warning for Emetophobia!

There is vomit on Pato’s shoes, specks of it dotting the toe when he kicks them off at the doorway to his bus. They land on their side, next to Alex’s half-hazardly thrown pair, whose are vomit free because when he’d doubled over behind the truck, after their debrief, it had been Pato who was in the splash zone. He’d just barely managed to step back, and so most of the sick had ended up on the pavement, watery and thin, spreading in a puddle across the cracks in the surface where the weeds had managed to break through. A diet of liquids, that’s what Alex had been operating on apparently, all of it now emptied from his body and left soaking into the track that had delivered him another P4 finish.

How he’d managed to race at all was still beyond Pato. How his entire team had failed to notice the heat roiling off his body, and the glassy-eyed expression he’d worn during the entire debrief meeting was a bigger mystery. Pato had known from the moment he saw the sweat beading on Alex’s forehead, the wince when he tried to talk about the roll bar adjustments they’d made to the car, and his voice came out like it was scraping against rock, physically paining him to speak.

“I’m not sick,” he’d grumbled in annoyance when Pato pressed a hand to his forehead and was met with furnace levels of heat, and then he’d barely made it two steps away from the truck before he lost the little bit of water he’d managed to sip down during the debrief.

Pato had kept a hand on the small of his back, rubbing soothing circles as Alex retched, feeling his body tremble and shake. Thankfully they’d waited inside the truck long enough, Alex insisting he felt fine even though he hadn’t had the energy to pull himself out of where he’d slumped in his chair. There was no one to see him lose the battle with his upset stomach. Pato is sure Alex would have been ten times more mortified if there was anyone else there, he already can’t look at Pato now.

“I’m sorry,” he says, swaying on his feet and leaning against the dining table behind him for support, instead of Pato’s outstretched hand. “About your shoes.”

Pato waves dismissively at the footwear, “Eh, whatever. They weren’t my favorite pair.”

They were, but the vomit can be wiped away, and he doesn’t really care about the cost to replace them if it doesn’t right now. He’s more focused on how Alex is shaking again, all of his energy focused on keeping himself upright, despite the fact that he’s leaning heavily on the table. His skin is pale, other than the red flush on his cheeks, the same flush that had indicated to Pato there was a problem when he first sat down for their meeting. It could have been blamed on the race, the heat of the car, but even as they sat in the airconditioned truck it hadn’t faded. Now it’s impossible to miss.

“Alex-“ he tries, starts to reach out.

“I just- I just need sleep,” Alex waves him off, “’m tired.”

He takes one step away from the table, starting for the bedroom at the back of the bus, before his knees give out. Pato is anticipating it, the way he tips and loses his balance, and so he manages to dart forward quickly enough and steady Alex with one hand on his chest, the other on his hip. He stumbles under Alex’s weight, bangs into the kitchen counter hard enough that he’s sure he’ll be sporting a bruise along his side – he and Alex matching, since Alex took a hit from Ferrucci in turn 3 earlier and has his own budding collection of darkening skin to show for it.

“I got you,” he promises when Alex tries to take another step, finds his knees too weak to do so.

“Fuck.” Alex states in response.

It’s a process to get him stripped out of his clothes and to ease him into bed. Alex on a good day is unwilling to accept help, self-reliant to a fault, but a sick Rossi is a whole other beast. Pato thought the time he’d had to nurse a hungover Alex back to health was bad, when he was hiding under the covers in their hotel room in Mexico because the light hurt his eyes. He rethinks that now. At least then they’d had the crashing waves on the beach and room service to provide some modicum of comfort. And when Pato had traced the bare skin of Alex’s shoulder with his finger, kissing at the back of his sun warmed neck, Alex hadn’t minded the touch – had leaned into it even, because it was a welcome distraction from the pounding of his head.

Now, it’s dark and it’s cold because Alex keeps the bus at an inhuman temperature. When Pato tries to ease Alex out of his hoodie that’s got vomit crusted on the sleeve from where he’d wiped at his mouth, Alex whines and pulls away like the touch hurts him.    

“We have to cool you down, babe,” Pato tries, “you’re really warm.”

An understatement, the heat roiling off his skin may as well be visible, coming off of him in waves.

“I’m already cold,” Alex argues, which is another sign everything is wrong. Alex has highjacked Pato’s thermostat, hacked it, so that it can be set to ungodly levels of cold, because he doesn’t like to be warm. He doesn’t like to feel his clothes stick to him with sweat, as the hoodie is so clearly doing, soaked through under the arms and on the back when Alex curls over where he’s sitting on the bed to put his head between his knees and Pato can see the darkened fabric.

Pato reaches for the hem of the hoodie at the small of his back, peels it upward so it’s pooled around his neck. Alex whines again as the cool air hits his skin, but doesn’t pull away, maybe because he’s lost the strength.

“Come on, Alex, work with me here,” Pato pleads.

He manages to work the hoodie over Alex’s head, and then down his arms. It ends up on a puddle at the foot of the bed, along with Alex’s socks and then his race suit. A normal Alex would be peeved by this, make an offhand comment about the laundry basket two feet away from them, nestled beneath the clothes hanging in the closet. A sick Alex doesn’t even seem to notice, just shivers when he’s stripped down to his underwear.

In the lamplight coming from the built-ins along the wall, Pato can see the bruising already forming along Alex’s left side. Splotches of purple along his ribs and down to his thigh. It’s not the worst Pato’s seen on him, minimal and not nearly as dark as it seems in the dim lighting, but it isn’t fun to look at. Not when Alex is breathing so heavily his chest expands with the effort, his ribs visible beneath the bruising.

“You’re going to make yourself dizzy like that,” Pato says, eases him up with a gentle hand on his shoulder so his head isn’t between his knees anymore. Alex goes, lets himself be lifted and then eased back on the bed.

Before leaving this morning, Alex had insisted on making it. Pato, one shoe half-on, already preparing to dart out to the track, had been ready to leave it as it was. Pillows askew, sheets rumpled, and half balled up at the end of the bed. He wasn’t the sort to wake up in the morning and immediately begin to assemble his life, not before he’d gone for a run or had breakfast. Alex, he has learned in the short six month span of their relationship, is the opposite. He wakes up and gathers himself slowly, makes the bed because he hates coming home to an unmade one. If he’d moved slower that morning, tucking the duvet in between the mattress and the box spring with careful movements because his body was beginning to ache with the sickness that had now set in, he was better at hiding it then.

He gets a better look at the bruises once Alex is laying on his back. They’re really not bad, but he can’t help but wonder if Alex had felt like this when he was driving. Eyes watery and body shuddering, hands trembling when he pulls at the duvet he’s tucked in too tightly. He wonders if he’d been alert he maybe might have been able to avoided the contact altogether.

“Here,” he says instead of continuing to think about Alex sick and borderline delirious in his car going 200+ mph, “Let me do it.”

“I’m not useless,” Alex grumbles.

He stalls the man’s fruitless pulling of the duvet with a hand over his. “No. But you’re sick, so let me take care of you. Okay?”

It may be that Alex is foreign with the concept, because he continues to try to pull the blanket free so he can tuck himself under it. Or it may be that the fever has him acting with single minded purpose.

“Rossi.”

“What?”

“Stop.”

Alex stops. He pulls his hand back so Pato can take over, and shivers on the bed until Pato gets him under the blankets. Then he curls onto his side and shakes until Pato crawls under the covers beside him.

“Gonna get you sick,” he mumbles.  

Pato shrugs, presses himself along Alex’s back and pulls the man closer to him, letting Alex leech away some of his warmth to maybe help with the chills. He’ll get another blanket for him later, press a cool towel to his forehead and hope it breaks the fever. Right now though he just wants to hold him. He wants to feel the way Alex grabs at his arm when he wraps his arm around him. His hand gripping at Pato’s wrist with a desperate need, like if Pato holds him close enough it will maybe help him feel better.

This morning the roles had been reversed, Pato tucked into Alex’s arms and waking up to find he wished he could stay there. It wasn’t the first time he’d yearned for a place to stay. There was Punta Mita, with the Airbnb he was fond of booking. Texas, where everything was familiar. Indiana even, in the small bits of time he and Alex got to spend there, appreciating the sprawling space of Alex’s house before they had to pack their lives back up into suitcases again. He wonders if maybe this is the travel catching up, the late nights and stress of the championship, all of it building on Alex and taking its toll physically. Or maybe it’s just that he’s caught whatever bug has been floating around the bus lot.

Whatever it is, Pato takes the gamble of catching it. He holds Alex tighter and kisses at the nape of his neck and thinks of Mexico. Sunkissed skin that smelled faintly of aloe-vera and waves crashing on the shore, how Alex had laughed when he was drunk. How his cheeks had flushed pink, not from fever, but from the alcohol. How they’d chased each other along the shoreline, knowing that when they did eventually collide they’d both end up toppling into the water.

How Alex had looked in the moonlight, eyes glinting, shirt soaked through by the waves he’d ended up in first.  

“Oh, you’re gonna pay,” he’d warned, seconds before lurching forward and grabbing Pato to pull him into the ocean beside him.

When they’d kissed it had tasted like salt and the Coors Alex had imbibed in heavily at the bar. Pato chased the taste of it, tried to commit it to memory, alongside the feel of Alex’s hand in his hair when he pulled it to tip his head slightly. Their first kiss, messy and uncoordinated and then broken by the waves that crashed against them.

When morning had come Pato had woken to Alex in his arms and sunlight piercing at the headache he was nursing. Alex, who had drank more, had buried his head into the blankets with a groan. The same way he did now. Except now Pato knows the feeling of kissing him sober, knows the feel of Alex’s hand in his hair when he’s not pulling it. He knows Alex likes to make the bed in the morning and will do so even if he’s fighting his own body. Knows he would drive a car in oppressive heat, despite the fever spiking his own temperature.

He knows Alex doesn’t like to be taken care of, but that he’s letting Pato take care of him anyway.

Alex shudders in his arms, and Pato holds him, kisses the nape of his neck and tells him, “I’ve got you.” He finds he means it, fully, finds he can think of home now and it comes in the shape of Alex - familiar, safe, shaking in his arms with a fever he is trying to beat.

“I got you,” he repeats, as Alex presses closer - as he does not pull away.

[alovesongtheywrote]

Hide and Seek | Eddie Munson x Reader

♥ Summary:  When your first meeting with boyfriend's family goes off the rails to a murderous degree, you call your cute co-worker for help. as it turns out, he has a couple demonic tricks up his sleeves [Demon!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader]

♥ Warnings:  18+, minors and ageless blogs dni. graphic violence, extreme gore, a rape metaphor, threats of sa, vomiting, stabbing, murder and attempted murder, gun related violence, violence against women, derogatory terms used for the reader by someone other than eddie (whore, slut, skank), multiple side characters infer that the only purpose of individuals with wombs is to have children/make sacrifices for others, unprotected sex, p in v sex, mild breeding kink, monster fucking, angst, mediocre smut imo, fluff. if you've ever seen ready or not, take that, and combine it with labour paris paloma. if i missed anything, please let me know so i can tag it

♥ A/N: other content tags include: modern au. demon au. there's vague lore to this, i might write a follow up. for more author's note, please check the bottom of this post.

♥ Word count:  23041

♥♥♥

“Grace couldn't be happier after she marries the man of her dreams at his family's luxurious estate. There's just one catch- she must now hide from midnight until dawn while her new in-laws hunt her down with guns, crossbows and other weapons.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you hissed, snatching the movie away from your coworker, “Do not read that shit to me right now, I’m anxious enough as it is.”

A laugh slipped out from Eddie’s soft lips as he scrunched his face up in sympathy, “That bad, huh?”

“Don’t laugh at me,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands, “I never should’ve agreed to this.  I’m so stupid.”

Eddie shrugged, pouting slightly, “No, you’re stupid for other reasons.  This isn’t stupid.  This is far from stupid.  You’re just meeting your boyfriend’s family, I mean, that was gonna happen one way or another, right?”

You didn’t give a verbal response right away.  You just let out a pained scream, muffling the sound of it with your palms.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Eddie gave your arm a sympathetic pat.

“It’s just,” you pulled your hands away from your face, “It feels so soon- and I didn’t think my first meeting with them would be a weekend long getaway at their giant fucking mansion.  How the fuck am I supposed to deal with that?  A giant fucking mansion?  Who the fuck has a giant mansion in this economy?”

“Your boyfriend’s parents.”

You let out another distressed sound, “I mean, I knew Roman had money, I just… I didn’t know it was McMansion money.”

Eddie nodded, hopping up on the counter of the always quiet video store, “I see.  So what exactly are you afraid of here?  Slipping on marble floors?  Breaking their solid gold antiques?  Using the wrong fork in such an egregious fashion that you get yelled at?”

“Honestly, I’m mostly afraid of blaspheming or something.  His parents are like, hyper-Catholic.”

A smile crossed your face, but it faded far too fast for Eddie’s taste, “God, his parents are gonna hate me.”

Eddie tilted his head to the side like a confused puppy, or an adorable baby cow.  You weren’t entirely sure how he managed to pull off that expression.  Everything about his appearance seemed to scream tough, scary metalhead- except for his eyes.  His eyes betrayed the fact that under layers of leather, chains, and eyeliner, Eddie Munson was deeply kind.

“And now you’ve lost me,” he leaned back, tipping himself over the counter to a dangerous level, “How could anyone hate you, angel?”

“Eddie, I work a minimum wage job in a nearly-defunct movie store that sells DVDs.  I go to a community college for a degree that won’t take me anywhere.  I’m pathetic, and I have no energy ninety percent of the time, and even though I’m going to try and look nice this weekend, I know I’ll look like a mess.  I’m nothing.  I’m nothing, and I’m going nowhere, and in a hundred years I won’t be anything more than a footnote on a footnote on their son’s wikipedia page.  They’re gonna see that I’m not good enough for him.  I’m never gonna be enough for him and they’re gonna hate me for it.”

“Sweetheart-” his eyes were wide.  He looked completely shocked, taken aback that you saw yourself as nothing.

“You know, whenever we get an angry customer, everyone here hides behind you?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, unsure of where this was going.  Eddie continued, “It’s because you’re strong as hell and you’re terrifying- and you can make anyone see reason.  You’re smart as fuck and you take no shit from anyone.  You’re the furthest thing in the world from pathetic..”

“You’re just saying that-”

“I’m not!” he leaned forward, “I promise!  And I mean, besides all that, you’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met- and you’re definitely the hottest.”

“Are you sure about that?” you asked, finally cracking a smile, “You know Steve.”

“‘The Hair?’  Well, I mean, I have eyes, I know he’s gorgeous, but you?  You’re a total knockout,” he threw a few punches into the air.  You couldn’t hold back your laugh.

He smiled at you, just admiring the way you wheezed at his eccentricities.  

“You aren’t nothing,” he said as your laughter subsided.  

“I know,” you didn’t really believe your own words.  You were pretty sure he picked up on that.

“I’m serious!  You could have the entire world if you wanted it.  Forget a hundred years, I give it six months before the Earth is yours.”

“Are you sure about that?” “Six months!  Then the world is yours and the rest of us are just living in it.”

You scoffed, hopping up on the counter beside him, “Make it four.”

“Or less!”

A soft, content silence passed over the two of you.  You watched as Eddie’s long, slender fingers tapped a beat into his thigh.  You reached out, taking his hand into your own, running your thumb over the blue veins that lay beneath his skin.  God, you didn’t know a person could have such beautiful hands.

“Still,” with his hand still in yours, you leaned into his shoulder, using it as an oddly soft pillow while you spoke, “Even if I am taking over the world, I haven’t done it yet- so this weekend is going to fucking suck.”

“Hey, if there’s anyone who can deal with hellish in-laws, it would be you.  Pretend they’re just customers.   If anyone can deal with a couple of rich in-laws for a weekend, it’s you.”

“Is it?” you sighed, “Or are they gonna kill me because I used the wrong salad fork?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, a smirk crossing his lips.  He gave your hand a squeeze and let go before he jumped off the cash desk, “They’re not gonna kill you, sweetheart.  You think Roman would let them?”

“Who knows?  Think of Grace.  Think of Chris Washington.  This could totally be a Get Out, or a Ready or Not!”

You were playing around now, dabbling in worst case scenarios to ease some pressure off of your worried mind.  Eddie played along with you, as he so often did.

“You’re right.  You’re totally gonna get murdered this weekend.  I’ll have to find someone to pick up your Monday shift.”

“I know,” you feigned a wince,  “Sorry in advance.  I’ll be too busy getting sacrificed to the devil.”

Eddie paused for a split second.  His smile wavered so briefly that you didn’t quite catch it as you continued on your dramatic rant.

“And yes, I should have informed the company over text, at least!  But!” you shrugged, “I was too busy getting murdered by my in-laws.”

“That’s no excuse!” Eddie gasped, taking on some weird, posh sounding accent- presumably the sound of the bourgeoisie, “You should know that the interests of Family Video come before personal crap like getting murdered.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Boss Man.  I’d ask you not to fire me, but, y’know.  I’m dead.”

Eddie’s smile returned in full force as he twisted away from you, focusing on the new task of placing films back on their shelves.  As you gazed at his back, gears began to turn in your brain.  Maybe keeping someone in the know about your whereabouts wouldn’t be such a terrible idea.

“Hey, Eddie?  Would it- would it be okay if I did inform you?  Over text?  If something happens, I mean.”

He paused, and when he spoke again his voice was much softer, “Nothing’s gonna happen to you, sweetheart.”

“I know that.  Logically, I know that- I’m talking about a scenario where everything goes terribly wrong and I end up offending the hell out of his parents.  If they hate me, can I call you?”

Eddie nodded, his sweet eyes widening as his strong hands wrapped around the plastic case of another film.  

“Of course, sweetheart.  Of course.”

You bit your lip as you watched him turn.  The way Eddie spoke to you filled something inside of you.  It met a deep dark need that ached somewhere in your chest.  You wondered if, in a different universe- one where you had met Eddie before you met Roman- you would still have that need.  

You kept your eyes on Eddie for a few minutes before you finally turned away.

-

Hours later, the clicking sound of your heels echoed across the front lawn of a rather imposing mansion.  The smell of freshly cut grass overtook your senses, nearly covering the underlying stench of metal.  Already, the grass was covered in fallen Autumn leaves.  

A mildly uncomfortable dress clung to your body, exposing your shoulders to the chill of the early evening air.  An expensive bottle of red wine sat heavy in your hands.  Behind you, you could hear the muttering of butlers (butlers!) as your luggage was removed from the car you’d arrived in.

Roman stood at your side, his piercing blue eyes dead focused on the door a few paces ahead of you.  His suit was perfectly tailored to every sharp edge of his toned form.  The harsh scent of his expensive cologne stung your nose.  He was the very picture of confidence- next to him, you felt like a lost, sad stray puppy.

“You’re sure about this?” you asked, not bothering to turn to face him.  You knew he wouldn’t look you in the eye for a question this trivial, “You really think I’m ready to meet-”

“You are,” there was no hesitation in your paramour’s voice.  There was no compassion, either.

“And you think they’re ready to meet me?”

When you were met with silence, you steeled yourself.  You took a deep breath, clenching your fists as your lungs filled with the scent of cut grass and cologne.

“Now, the second that door opens, you are quiet and polite, got that?  Don’t speak out of turn, laugh softly, and for once in your life, do as I ask.”

You didn’t have time to respond.

The door swung open as you and Roman approached, revealing the smiling faces of a middle aged couple.  You had been informed about them on the car ride up- and you didn’t fail to notice the way they looked you up and down, judging you in a practiced silent way.  

The woman, Roman’s mother, had short dark hair, styled neatly so her bangs framed her unwrinkled face.  From what you’d been told, she was a fan of diamonds, anti-aging creams, and vintage reds- hence the bottle in your hands.  The man next to her, Roman’s father, Benedict, shared your boyfriend’s piercing blue eyes.  The watch on his wrist was expensive, though you already knew it would be.  When it came to the finer things in life, Benedict (never Ben) was something of a collector.  

The couple was perfectly warm as they welcomed you into their home.  Cecilia placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, and Benedict clapped his son on the back, expressing a sort of fatherly pride.  Still, as you stepped through the heavy oak doors, you were overwhelmed with a sense of wrongness.  It took all your strength to smile through it.  You had to ignore every instinct you had- all of which were currently screaming for you to run.  

A chill ran up your spine as the doors swung shut behind you, trapping you inside with a heavy thud.  Someone took the wine from your hands.  You had no choice now.  You were in.

You tried to shake off your unease as you moved through the hallways.  Each space you entered dripped with the trappings of wealth.  Everything was crafted with fine materials by the very best craftsmen.  The decorations were decadent and modern and entirely overwhelming.  You could just tell that everything in this house was more expensive than your car.  

You did your best to listen as Cecilia and Benedict took turns delivering the history of the marble floors and fancy trims, but you couldn’t help but focus on their taste in wall decor.  Oil portraits hung on the walls; painted visages of men and women stared down from golden frames.  Their bodies were bathed in painted finery, and their eyes seemed to watch you as you passed through their hallway.

“Ah, I see you have an eye for art!” Benedict exclaimed, stepping away from your side for a moment to gesture to the portrait of one woman in specific.  She had the saddest honey-brown eyes you had ever seen.  You wanted to reach out and hold her hand- which was odd, considering the fact that she was a painting.  

Benedict continued, ignoring you as you became lost in your own mind, “These paintings are all originals, all commissioned by the family.”

Your eyes followed the line of portraits as far as you could see.  In each gilded frame, a different face peered out at you with sad, desperate eyes.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Cecilia took your elbow in her hand, pulling you closer to the painting of the brown-eyed girl, “She was Benedict's darling first wife.  She passed so tragically young.”

Her words told a tragic tale, but her tone was nothing short of upbeat.  You stood straighter, becoming more aware of Cecilia’s proximity to you and the smile on her face as she continued to speak of Benedict’s late partner.You couldn’t help but notice that the woman in the frame was missing a ring.  

“She died in childbirth, as did her baby- her only child.  When she left us, we had this portrait made.”

“Tragically, that’s the case with most of these old things,” Roman said, placing a hand on the small of your back, “When a LeBuer passes, we commemorate their life with art.  It’s a nice way to keep them close- to keep them from leaving.  Someday soon, you’ll join them.”

You nodded, entirely unsure of how to respond to that statement.  All of your jokes with Eddie had been just that- jokes.  Now, however, with the eyes of the portraits boring into you, you were actually starting to get freaked out.  

“Come now,” Benedict’s voice boomed through the hallway as he guided the group away from the portrait and down the corridor, “It would be rude to leave the rest of the family waiting.”

“Oh, yes.  They’ve all been so excited to meet you!  Roman has told us such wonderful things.”

You peered at Roman from the corner of your eye, wondering what, exactly, he had told his family.  He kept his gaze on the portrait, glaring at the woman within as if she had done him a personal injustice.  He remained there, stock still with that look on his face until his parents pulled you away, leaving Roman behind.

A short ways away, the hall opened up into a second foyer that was somehow even grander than the first.  A chaise lounge sat in the middle of the room.  On a small table next to it, dried flowers sat perfectly arranged in a vase that definitely cost more than you could hope to make in a lifetime.  An elegant staircase twisted up one wall.  Beneath it stood an oak door, covered from top to bottom with fine gold detailing.  When you looked closer, you could see that the gold made up tiny illustrations of what you had to assume were biblical stories.

The other walls were decorated with more portraits.  More finely dressed men and women, more piercing eyes staring down from gilded frames.  You suppressed a shiver of discomfort.

Roman’s parents stopped you just as you reached the door beneath the stairs.  Benedict  stood behind you, keeping a firm grip on your shoulders as Cecilia gathered your hands in her own.

“Now, some members of the family were unable to make it- tonight you’ll be meeting our daughter Medea-”

“And her no good husband,” Benedict continued, the tone of his voice and Cecilia’s eye roll betraying the truth behind his joke. 

“You’ll also meet our eldest son, Adam, and Roman’s aunt and uncle, their son, and-”

“Cathrine,” Roman announced his return to the group, “You’ll get to meet Cathrine.”

Honestly, you had no clue who the fuck that was.  Cathrine could’ve been the family pet for all you knew- but something about the way Roman’s lips curved around her name, the way his voice took on a tender tone that he never even used with you- that said otherwise.

“Are you ready, dear?”  Cecilia took your hands in hers again as she asked.  Her words were kind, but you couldn’t help but think her smile looked fake.  You drew in a harsh breath.  Your heart began to race in your chest.  You drew your lower lip between your teeth, nibbling at it as your nerves twisted in an anxious dance.  Cecilia’s hand drifted up towards her neck, where she laid a few dainty fingers over a necklace- a gold chain and a crucifix.  For a split second, and only a split second, you could see disgust cross her face.

“I-” you stuttered, “I think I need a moment.”

Cecilia said nothing.  She no longer looked like she wanted to throw up at the very sight of you, but there was still a cold look in her eyes.  Benedict was unaffected by his wife’s sudden frost.

“Just as well!  We’ll let the family know you’ve arrived.”

He took his wife by the elbow and gestured for his son to follow, guiding them both through the massive doors into what looked like a void of darkness.  Before you could question it, the patriarch’s voice called out to you.

“Come in soon, dear.  They’re waiting for you.”

You smiled, attempting to cover the tremor that ran through you at the echoing sound of Benedict’s voice.  The second the doors shut behind the happy family, you let your facade drop.  You collapsed onto the chaise lounge.  At a different time, you might’ve felt glamorous doing that, in the moment, you just felt anxious.

Moving quickly, you pulled your phone from your dress pocket.  Your lockscreen was a photo of you and Roman at a beach.  His arm was wrapped around you, his eyes and smile confident and self assured.  Beside him, you simply looked inadequate- tired and anxious.  Unlocking the phone, you were met with your homescreen- a photo of you and Eddie where the flash made his eyes go red- and a text from the man himself.

EDDIE: hope you got to the haunted mansion safe and sound (ooooooo ooooooo *spooky sounds*)

Your thumbs flew as you typed a response.

Y/N: i’m here, and i haven’t been murdered yet.  this place is fucking *weird* though

EDDIE: what brand of weird are we talkin??  good weird?  bad weird?  me weird?  that time gareth got drunk and tried to organize the gravel behind my place weird?

You paused, smiling before you resumed typing.

Y/N: ok, tbh, i don’t think anything is gonna top gareth weird

Y/N: but things are like… weird weird.  

Y/N: i don’t mean to be a bitch.  his family is perfectly nice, it’s just…  they have paintings??  oil paintings of all these dead people.  apparently they’re all relatives, but there are so many of them

EDDIE: huh

EDDIE: maybe it isn’t ready or not, maybe you’re in crimson peak, and one of his relatives is murdering all of their wives 

EDDIE: hey if you see tom hiddleston wandering around looking sad, lmk, i wanna get in on that

Y/N: ha ha, very funny

Y/N: but seriously, i hate these damn paintings- it feels like the eyes are following me

Y/N: I’m On Edge, eds. seriously, Roman told me I was gonna join the paintings on the wall one day, and maybe it was a marriage proposal, but it felt more like a threat

There was a pause, a moment where all you had were three little dots telling you he was typing.  For a split second, the storm of anxiety brewing in your chest threatened to overtake you.  Your breath came in harsh pants as your hands began to shake.  Eddie would think you were overreacting.  It was just a comment from your boyfriend- you thought for sure Eddie would call you crazy.  Roman would have called you crazy.  

EDDIE: do you want me to come get you?  I can be there in half an hour if i drive fast enough

Just like that, the storm faded.  The thundering beat of your heart returned to normal.  You couldn’t help the grin that crossed your face as you stared at your phone, nor could you withhold the relieved sigh that left your lungs.

Y/N: don’t break any traffic laws for me just yet… but leave your phone on, just in case

EDDIE: as you wish.  stay safe, sweetheart 

You stared at your phone until the screen went black, trying to fight the warmth that crept up your face.  After years of knowing Eddie, those damn pet names never lost their effect on you.  You tried to shake it off, steeling yourself to prepare for your next challenge.

In-laws.

With a calming deep breath- and then a second and third calming deep breath when the first one didn’t do its job- you pushed open the doors and made your way into the next impossibly fancy room.  

Immediately, you were overcome with the sense that the very act of entering this room was a massive mistake.  It was almost as if the space itself knew you did not belong inside of it.  

A wide, oval shaped table took center stage in the middle of the room.  Like everything else in the house, it was finely crafted- and probably custom made.  The surface was carved with strange, intricate shapes.  Chairs had been scattered around it haphazardly, as if a family sat down only to get right back up again.  The walls were covered in paintings alongside various taxidermied trophies from various hunts.  Unlike the paintings, the glass eyes of the deer, foxes, rabbits and bears didn’t seem to follow you.  Two cabinets sat at the far end of the room, both well stocked with guns and other weapons that you could just see through beautiful glass panes.

The entire LeBuer family fell silent and turned to face you, as if you had rudely interrupted each and every one of their conversations.

You stood there for a moment, facing Roman’s family with wide eyes.  His parents were standing with a pregnant woman, her hands clutching the arm of the man that stood beside her.  That would probably be Medea and her husband if Benedict ’s clenched fists were anything to go by.  Across the room from them, another couple stood talking to two young men, presumably Roman’s aunt and uncle, his brother and his cousin.  At the very back of the room, in front of a massive portrait of a dark-eyed man with a devilish smirk, stood Roman.  With him was a woman you did not recognize.  Cathrine.

Each and every one of them wore an expression like you had just kicked their dog.  Lovely.

The room seemed to drop a few degrees in the following moments.  Silence filled the air as you stared at the family, and they stared back.  You had half a mind to turn right back around and call Eddie, and you were about to follow through with it when Benedict moved towards you.

“Ladies and gentlemen!  And other creatures of the night,” he pointed at Roman’s uncle with a grin, “It is my honour and privilege to introduce you to the newest member of the family.”

You felt like that was a bit extreme, but really, you were just glad someone was talking.

“Miss (L/N),” Benedict ’s hand was on your back, guiding you through the room, “I’d like to introduce you to my brother, his lovely wife, their son, Alexander, and our boy Adam.”

You tried to hide the tremor in your fingers as you made your introductions and shook their hands.  Roman’s aunt and uncle gave you polite but cold smiles.  Alexander looked completely uninterested in you.  Adam almost looked too interested.  He wouldn’t let go of your hand until you pulled away with moderate force.  The smell of his cologne was overwhelming.

The storm of anxiety Eddie had eased moments before had returned in full.  You could feel it clawing at your ribs- it was a force of nature that became less like a weather event and more like a feral creature the longer you stood in that room.  Every moment you spent speaking to Roman’s family was a moment your instincts screamed at you for not running away.

But you were being silly.  These were just nerves.  You wanted to make a good impression.  You wanted to get along with Roman’s family.  You wanted them to approve of you- to make him happy.  He wasn’t even looking at you.  Even as you crossed the room, as you were introduced to his sister and his brother-in-law, his eyes stayed on that other woman.  Cathrine.

“We’re so excited that Roman has finally found someone,” Medea let go of her husband’s arm, placing her hands over her bump, “Maybe our little guy will have a friend to run around with someday soon.”

You didn’t even try to make your laugh sound genuine.  You just smiled, and nodded, and pretended you were totally down with that idea.  

You were not totally down with that idea.

“Roman!” Benedict  called out, “Come here, son.  Introduce your sweet girl to dear (Y/N).”

It took you a moment to process Benedict ’s words- his phrasing was odd, and perhaps it would be a touch hurtful if you were a jealous woman.  

Across the room, Roman took Cathrine’s hand, cradling it gently in his.  He looked at her like she was precious to him, as if she was something he’d searched all of time and space for and finally found.  He looked at her as if she was a divine and expensive creature.  

If you were a jealous woman, this would have been more than a touch hurtful- it would have been a punch hurtful, perhaps.  Roman never looked at you that way.

“(Y/N), dear, this is Cathrine,” those weren’t Roman’s words.  He didn’t even bother to introduce you to her.  His mother did, “She was a childhood friend of Roman’s.”

“They’ve always been close,” Benedict said, putting a hand on your shoulder.  It was probably meant to be reassuring, but it felt like a dead weight on your back, pushing you forward into the event horizon of a black hole.

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for so long,” Cathrine smiled at you, her voice was sweet as honey- with a special sort of poison lurking just beneath, “Roman’s told me so many good things.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” you tapped your fingers against your wrist in a rapid, anxious rhythm, “I’d be a little sad if he only told you bad things.”

Cathrine laughed, but the sound was fake; a cheap plastic vase in the place of a porcelain one.  You knew your joke was bad, but still, the sound put you on edge.  When her tiny nose wrinkled with laughter, you were almost sure she was scowling at you.  As her chest rose and fell, you caught sight of her choice of jewelry- a gold chain with a dainty crucifix.  

“Oh,” she hummed, “You’re so funny!  That’s such a good trait.  You’re so pretty, too.  I’m so glad Roman picked you.”

She looked at you the way a hawk would look at its prey moments before they tore it into little tiny pieces.  You thanked her quickly and cast your gaze to the floor, unable to stare down her bloodthirsty expression.

You didn’t have to avoid her gaze for long.  The massive doors creaked open.  The sound echoed through the room.  Neatly dressed men in white shirts and black dress pants filed through, each of them carrying a tray with a single flute of champagne on it.  It seemed incredibly inefficient, but you were just happy that something had distracted Cathrine from her murderous thoughts.

Benedict took his place at the head of the table, standing behind the chair that you assumed was his.  The rest of the family followed suit.  There was a place saved for you beside Roman.  Feeling petty, you took a spot away from him- an empty seat closer to the head of the table.  No one seemed to mind, and the place that would have been yours was filled by Alexander.  

“My beloved family,” Benedict  raised his glass, “A toast!  To good company, good fortune, and a bright future.”

You watched Roman’s family toast and drink.  You did the same.  You had never tasted such salty champagne.  

Benedict continued, “To my brother-” he turned to Roman’s uncle, but you could not make out the man’s face.  You shook your head, trying to clear your head.  Benedict’s voice became briefly inaudible as your vision blurred.

No one paid you any mind.  Roman’s father continued, his glass still held aloft, “To my darling wife-”

You gripped onto your glass, breath coming fast as Benedict’s voice faded in and out.  Black dots swam in front of you.  Something was very wrong.

“My dear children.  You have ensured that our family will prosper for yet another generation.  First, my sweet Medea, and now Roman.  You’ve brought home the perfect girl- and the perfect sacrifice.”

You couldn’t have heard that right.  The world seemed to sway, spinning around as you tried to stay steady on your feet.  Your stomach flipped and your throat burned as you fought the urge to vomit all over the table.   

“You’ve done an excellent job, Roman,” Cecilia’s voice was immeasurably fond.  Her eyes were on you.

“Did you really have to pick such a cute sacrifice, though?”  Medea whined, “Now your kid is going to be cuter than mine.”

“Does the demon have a preference?”

You stumbled backwards, champagne glass slipping from your hand as you tripped away from the family.  The sound of shattering glass was entirely lost on you.

“What-” your voice was weak.  You could barely hear yourself over the static in your ears, “What the fuck-?”

“Relax now, dear,” Benedict put a hand on your shoulder, “You will come to understand in time.”

You jerked away from him, nearly collapsing to the floor in your haste to get away.  You could see Roman approaching you, hands outstretched as if you were some feral creature he wanted to soothe.

“Darling,” he whispered.  You couldn’t hear him, you could only see his lips moving.

“The drugs are in her system, Roman.  You’ll have to speak up.”

Roman sighed, throwing his hands in the air as if annoyed that he’d have to expend anymore energy on calming you.  You were kind of used to that gesture, actually.

“(Y/N), darling- my family has a tradition.  We can’t further the family line until-”

“Until we spill the blood of an innocent and summon the ancient gods,” Cathrine spoke, stepping towards Roman and wrapping her arms around his waist.  She grinned as confusion spilled across your features, and she spoke to you as if you were a small child, “Don’t you understand?  You’re here because I wanted to have a child with my husband.”

Ice spilled through your veins as realization sunk in.  The agony of betrayal bit at your heels like the feral dog this family imagined you to be.  Anguish spread through you, burning in your throat and behind your eyes.  You were hurt, you were sick, and over everything else, you were annoyed.

Because you had been right, and Eddie would never hear about it from you.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Roman took a step closer, “I wasn’t the only one in our relationship who loved someone else.  I had Cathrine.  You had that boy from your work. You should have stayed with him.”

Roman’s words stung like tiny razors dancing across your skin.  Of course this was mostly because he was excusing his own deceit, but it was also because he was kind of right.  You didn’t want to admit it.  You didn’t want your killer to be right about anything- but here, in what could be your last moments, you were thinking of Eddie.

You made an attempt at retreat, but your back hit something.  A cabinet.  

Roman’s eyes were on you.  His family’s eyes were on you.  His wife’s eyes were on you.  Your intuition had been right all along- you were the prey, and they were the hunters.  You were never welcome here.  You were never going to be welcome here.  Your mind raced, eyes flitting around as you tried to find a way out.  They were going to kill you.  Roman’s family was going to kill you in a stupid, cliche way.

But the LeBuer family, in their infinite wisdom, had made a mistake.

They backed their prey into a cabinet filled with guns.

You let out a shuddering breath, folding in on yourself as you tried to project the image of a woman defeated.  You let out a sob, a genuine sound, even though it was a distraction.

“You’re right,” your voice betrayed your terror, “For both our sakes.  I should have stayed with Eddie.”

Roman didn’t have time to ask what you meant.  None of them did, and you couldn’t imagine them being super curious about what you had to say, anyway.  You were livestock to them.  Something to stab so that they could further their family lineage, or whatever the fuck they had said.  You couldn’t remember it clearly, and as you stood, the thought completely vanished from your mind.

Adrenaline flooded through your system as you threw your elbow into the glass panes of the display cabinet.  You didn’t feel the glass pierce your skin, or your blood dripping over the wood.  You just felt the solid reassuring presence of a weapon in your hands.  

You weren’t sure if it was loaded.  Even if it was, you were not confident in your ability to shoot straight given your drugged state.  Therefore, when the first of Roman’s family members approached you, you decided to use the shotgun in your hands as a club.

Alex went down like a fucking chump.

You hit him in the face and he collapsed to the floor with a sharp screech.  Adam was next.  You ducked under his open arms and nailed him on the inside of his thigh with the butt of the gun.  Just as he fell to the ground, Roman’s uncle moved in.  You jumped up, hitting his chin from below and sending him stumbling into his wife.

The other members of the family began to back away.  You turned the gun in your arms, aiming it at them as if you knew what you were doing.  They raised their hands in surrender.  You kept the weapon trained on them as you began to stumble through the room, your back to the wall as you headed for the door.

“Now, (Y/N), sweetheart,” Cecilia began, “You have to understand- this is for the greater good!  Your sacrifice would give Roman and Cathrine the ultimate gift- a child!  Don’t you want that for them?  Don’t they deserve it?  The joys of mother and fatherhood?”

“Isn’t this your place as a woman?” Adam decided to join in, “To give life?  Don’t you want to fulfill your duty as a woman?”

“Don’t you love our son, (Y/N)?” Benedict  asked, “Please, help him with this.  No marriage is truly blessed without children.”

You almost lowered the weapon, shocked at their audacity, “It was never gonna work out.  Turns out he’s married.”

You were almost there, almost out.  Just another few steps, and then you could run.  You didn’t know how far you would get, how long the adrenaline would last, but it had to get you somewhere, right?

You would call Eddie.  You had to call Eddie.

Just as you formed a concrete plan in your mind, someone’s arms wrapped around your throat.  They pulled you back, nearly throwing you to the floor before you had a chance to fight back.  You scratched at their hands with your free one, managing to draw blood.  The angle was awkward, but you did your best, using the gun to try and beat them away from you.  They tried their best to pry the thing from your hands.  You fought back.  Their arm was tight against your windpipe.  With their other hand, they reached down.  Their finger wrapped around the trigger.

The sound of a shot made your ears ring.  The arms around your throat dropped in a millisecond.  You stumbled away, hand wrapping around the gun as you dared to glance behind you.  

Roman’s uncle was on the ground.  The space where his face had been was nothing more than a mass of blood, bits of skull, and scattered brains.

You aimed the gun at your hunters.  You could faintly hear Roman’s aunt screaming, but you tuned her out.  It was easy enough- your ears were still ringing.

“Are you still going to kill me?”

There was a moment of silence.  Blood pooled on the marble floor near your feet.  The light from the chandelier caught on the broken champagne glass you’d left on the floor.  You were seeing double again.

Roman nodded.  So did the second, drug fueled vision of him that only you could see.

“Fine,” you hissed, shutting your eyes against the harsh reality you were facing.  When you opened them again, Roman was much closer, staring you down with a look of pure disappointment.  The fucking audacity of these people.  You turned the gun in your hands again, hitting him in the dead center of his face.

“Good luck with that.”

With that, you were gone, tearing out the doors and down the hallways.  The mansion that Roman’s family called home was a fucking maze.  Even without the drugs coursing through your system, you would’ve been lost in seconds.  The only thing you could do was find a place to hide.

You let out a small laugh at the thought.  Your night had, despite all improbabilities, actually turned into Ready or Not- a cursed game of hide and seek that would end with somebody dying.  You would never let Eddie forget this.

That is, if you saw him again.  To do that, you needed to survive long enough to call him, and get help.  You could do that- you had to believe that you could do that.

You could hear voices and footsteps far down the hallway.  Someone was coming.  With your goal in mind, you ran.  It was a struggle to avoid falling or tripping over the stupidly lavish hallway runner.  There were no significant landmarks to tell you where you were going.  There were no windows, no doors, and every damned wall was covered in those paintings.  The portraits with sad eyes watched as you tried to make your escape.  You weren’t afraid of them anymore.  

After coming upon two dead ends, you finally found some way to make progress.  A twisting stairway led up to another floor.  You didn’t have time to weigh your options.  The voices of your pursuers were only growing louder.  With the shotgun in hand, you threw yourself up the stairs and bolted onto the second floor.

Immediately, you were blessed by the last rays of light that the sun had to offer as it sunk below the horizon.  You didn’t have time to enjoy it.  You just ran down the hallway, past windows and portraits until you finally, finally found a series of doors.  

The first few you tried were locked.  Sweat pooled in the palms of your hands as you heard someone running up the stairs.  The ground seemed to shift beneath your feet when one of the doors finally swung open beneath your palm.  Counting yourself lucky, you tucked yourself inside and gently shut the door behind you.  Moments later, you heard footsteps thudding passed your hiding place.

You took in your surroundings.  You were in a bedroom.  Though it was beautiful, the space smelled of dust and neglect.  The fine silk sheets on the bed clearly hadn’t been used in some time.  A bronze crucifix hung over the bed, though it had been tilted to the side ever so slightly.  The rug was expensive, but its red hue had been darkened from dust.  The other furnishings had suffered a similar fate.  

You took a step forward, trying to explore the room further and get away from the door.  Your leg gave out beneath you.  Nausea overtook your body as you struggled to stand.  The world wouldn’t stop spinning.  Again, your vision doubled, though this time it faded to black at the edges.

You were about to pass out.

In a desperate attempt at self preservation, you checked the door behind you.  There was no way to lock it- no keyhole, no mechanism, nothing.  You glanced at your surroundings again- there was a bed, an oak chest that was far too small for you to fit inside of it, a nightstand, and a door.    You had no choice but to crawl to it, dragging yourself across the floor, burning your skin on the rug.  

You had fully assumed that this door would lead you to a closet, but to your luck, you found a small ensuite.  It was just as neglected as the bedroom- particles of dust floated through the air, coating the counter and catching in the fluffy towels that hung on the wall- but the door had the ability to lock.  That was all that really mattered to you.

You slid the shotgun in first, tucking it beside the toilet before you slid yourself in, knees and thighs clinging to the cold tile.  The moment you were in, you pulled the door shut behind you and locked it.  A moment passed.  The silence was broken only by your deep, haggard breathing.  Your hands clutched at nothing as you tried to calm the erratic beat of your heart.

Though you desperately needed a second to catch your breath, time was not on your side.  Your body shook almost violently on the cold bathroom floor.  Your vision continued to darken, and you knew that whatever drugs were in your system would slowly drag you under if you let them.  You didn’t know if you would wake up from that.

Pulling yourself over to the toilet, you made yourself vomit to the best of your ability.  You did everything you could do.  Still, the world swam in front of you.  As you faded from consciousness, you managed to pull your phone out from your pocket.  Roman’s smiling face mocked you from the screen as you unlocked the damn thing.  In the final moments before the world went dark, you managed to send out one text.  You hoped that Eddie left his phone on.

Y/N: sos.  sos.  please.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your phone clattered to the floor.  Night fell as you lay there, alone and asleep on the bathroom floor.  All the while, Roman’s family searched for you, becoming more agitated as they did.

The sound of your phone vibrating against the tile floor pulled you from your sleep.  The bathroom was dark and cold, and you shivered as you sat up.  Your skull ached.  Your throat stung.  Your limbs hung heavy at your sides.  In other words, you felt like total fucking garbage, and in that sweet moment before you remembered what hell you were living in, you swore you were going to shatter your phone for robbing you from your peaceful sleep.

And then you remembered that you were in deep, deep shit.

You immediately began to search for your phone, pawing mindlessly through the darkness with only the occasional vibration to guide you.  When your fingers wrapped around the sweet little device, you almost cried tears of joy.  You unlocked it quickly, wincing at the agonizingly bright light that spilled from your screen.

Your phone was flooded with missed calls and texts, not only from Eddie, but from Steve, Robin, and Nancy.  Your dear friend had raised the alarms- and you were so thankful that he did.

EDDIE: what’s up??  are you ok???

EDDIE: what’s going on???

EDDIE: (Y/N)???

EDDIE: do you need me to come get you??

EDDIE: is this a joke??  if this is a joke, it fucking sucks :(

EDDIE: you’re freaking me out, man

He called you.  Of course, you hadn’t been awake to answer.

EDDIE: come onnnnn, (Y/N), pick up the phone

EDDIE: ok, im making steve call you

EDDIE: if this is a joke, he’s gonna be so mad

EDDIE: he’s gonna go full dad on you, just wait

EDDIE: and if it isn’t

EDDIE: please tell me this is a joke

There was a missed call from Steve, then a missed call from Robin.  The latter had spammed your phone with texts and direct messages, sending you your name a thousand times on three different apps.  Steve had sent a few frantic texts of his own.  Both Steve and Robin were clearly worried by the end of it, but neither of them could top Eddie.  From his texts alone, you could tell he was terrified, and that was without all the missed calls (of which there were at least 20 and at most 200.  You didn’t bother to read the number correctly.)

A twinge of guilt ran through you as you kept reading.

EDDIE: ok, you aren’t answering steve or robin

EDDIE: i don’t like this

EDDIE: please tell me what’s wrong

EDDIE: please

EDDIE: if you don’t respond, i’m calling hopper

EDDIE: i swear to christ

EDDIE: (Y/N) my heart can’t take this, please pick up your phone

EDDIE: ok, that’s it, im calling hopper

That was the most recent message.  You responded.

Y/N: do it and hurry

EDDIE: HOLY FUCK YOU’RE ALIVE

EDDIE: thank god 

Y/N: i need you to come get me, now

Y/N: please

EDDIE: i'm on my way

EDDIE: are you okay?  can you tell me what’s going on?

There was no way you could tell him- not through text, anyway.  There was no way he would believe you based on words alone.  You tapped his name in your contacts list and hit the little phone icon.  He picked up on the first ring.

“(Y/N)?  Sweetheart, what’s going on?”

His voice was distorted by static, but you could still hear every ounce of his concern.  Your body warmed as tears pooled in your eyes.

“I- I don’t even know, Eds,” you cringed as your voice cracked, but Eddie didn’t miss a beat.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.  Just take deep breaths for me, angel.  You don’t have to say anything, Just stay where you are, I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay.  Okay, just be careful.  They-” you paused, taking a shuddering breath as you remembered the feeling of drugs coursing through your veins, of an arm around your throat and hands grasping at your body.  You knew it had happened.  The shotgun lying beside you and the blood spattered across your body told you that.  Still, you barely believed that any of it was real.

“What did they do?  If they hurt you, I swear to god-”

“I think they drugged me,” you sounded so painfully small, broken in the middle of this strange bathroom, “They drugged me, and Roman’s uncle tried to choke me, and I- they said something about sacrifice?”

“What the fuck?” Eddie sounded just as terrified as you felt, “I’m calling Hop, he’ll meet us there.”

“Call an ambulance too, please.  I don’t know what they gave me, and I feel sick.”

“I will.  Just hang on, sweet girl, just hang on for me.”

“Okay,” you whispered as tears finally spilled down your cheeks.

The line fell silent for a moment as your mind raced over the events of the day.  With another shaky gasp, you spoke again.

“Roman is married.”

“Shit- what?”

“He’s married.  He has a wife.  They want to kill me.”

“Jesus H. Christ-”

He’s about to say more when you cut him off, “And Roman’s uncle shot himself in the face.  He- he was trying to kill me.”

“Holy fuck- and he shot himself in front of you?  God, angel, I’m- I’m so sorry.”

A small, breathy laugh escaped you, “Don’t worry.  It was kind of metal.”

It was such a weird joke, but you were coping in whatever way you could.  Eddie laughed cautiously over the phone, clearly concerned but allowing you to cope.  The line fell silent for a few moments.  You could hear him scrambling around, grabbing his keys and trying not to trip over himself.  Despite the situation, you were filled with overwhelming affection for the man on the other end of the line.

“I love you, you know,” you weren’t sure he heard you.  You didn’t try to speak up, “If I don’t make it out of here, I want you to know that.”

“You’re gonna make it out of there.  I promise, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.  I love you, too, sweet girl.”

You let out another small, terrible laugh.  Tears kept spilling down your cheeks.  You couldn’t hold them back anymore.

“Y’know what’s funny?  I was right.  I’m hiding from my boyfriend’s family members while they try to kill me- this is just like Ready or Not.”

“You’re right.  You were right, and this is just like that fucking movie, and you’re gonna get to rub this in my face for the rest of our lives, just stay put, baby.  I’ll be there soon, ok?”

Before you could answer, a floorboard creaked somewhere nearby.  You pulled the phone away from your ear.  Footsteps thudded down the hallway.  A chill ran up your spine.  You threw yourself away from the door as quietly as you could, seizing the shotgun with your free hand.

The bedroom door opened.

“Eddie,” you whispered, “Someone’s here.  I have to go.”

“Okay,” he sounded frantic, “Okay, okay.  You go, stay safe, I’ll be there soon, sweetheart.  I love you.”

“I love you,” the words were barely there.  You hoped to whatever force was out there that he heard you.  The light of your phone dimmed down to nothing, and you were left alone in the dark and the quiet.

You slipped your phone into your pocket with the utmost caution, trying not to make even the smallest of sounds.  Moving slowly, you wrapped your other hand around the shotgun, holding it in front of you like the world’s worst shield.  Someone was breathing on the other side of the door.  You could hear them moving around, getting closer and closer to your hiding space.

Suddenly, the bedroom fell silent.

The smell of cologne became overwhelming.

Adam knocked on the door.

“(Y/N)?” he drew out the sound of your name, his voice violating every syllable, “I know you’re in there, sweetheart.”

You remained silent, praying that he would decide that you weren’t actually in the bathroom and leave.  Those prayers went unanswered.  The doorknob twisted, but it didn’t give.  You had locked it.  Now Adam knew you were in there.

“Who were you talking to, Miss (L/N)?  Was it someone special?  No, it couldn’t be, you already have a boyfriend… well, had.”

Something was tapping against the door- something metal.

“But now you know the truth- or at least part of it.  Roman is happily tied to the lovely Cathrine, and you’re nothing but a lamb for slaughter.”

Your knuckles were white around the shotgun.  Adam went silent for a terrifying moment.

“You’re real a cute lamb, though.  It’s a damn shame, if you ask me.  A real waste of a body like yours.”

You tried not to gag.

“Y’know,” something dragged across the door, fabric, then metal again, “We could always figure something out.  If you came with me, Roman and Cath would just have to find another sacrifice- and we could get a sacrifice of our own.”

You tried to take deep breaths.

“You look like the kinda girl that would like that- summoning a few demons, having a few kids.  You’d make a cute little housewife.  That’s what girls like you are made for.  And I’d treat you better than my shit head brother ever did.”

You remained silent, biting your lip until it bled.  The taste of iron spilled into your mouth, but even that wasn’t as vile as the man on the other side of the door.

“On second thought, I might not keep you, Miss (L/N).  You’ve been too quiet.  I like girls who can scream.”

You could hear the sound of a gun, cocking, loading, fucking whatever, you didn’t know how guns worked.  You just knew that you had to do something, and you had to do it now.

Just before the sound of a shot could fracture the uneasy silence, you unlocked the door and threw it open, smacking Adam in the face.  He collapsed to the ground in an undignified heap, the gun in his hand skittering across the floor.  Without a second thought, you ran for it and kicked the thing into the hallway.  When you turned back to Adam, he was still sprawled across the rug, clutching at his face.  Blood gushed from his nose, dripping into his mouth and spilling across his lips and chin.  You hoped the taste of it was fucking vile.

“YOU FILTHY BITCH!” Adam screamed, “You broke my fucking nose!”

“You deserved it,” you held the shotgun like a bat.  You didn’t know how to shoot, but you did know how to hit something with a blunt object.

Before Adam could struggle to his feet, you hit him again, right in his bloodied nose.  He shrieked in pain, scrambling back as you went to hit him again.  He took his face out of range- an intelligent move, in theory.  Unfortunately for Adam, this put his knees right in your line of fire.

You weren’t sure what damage you did, but by the time you’d finished, Adam was curled into himself, and you no longer felt human.  You staggered away, covered in the blood of not one, but two of Roman’s family members.  Your hand found purchase on the window sill.  You leaned against it, desperately trying to catch your breath.

Outside, someone screamed.

You looked down, only to see some of the LeBuers gathered in the driveway.  Medea was half-way inside of a car, looking up at you with horror and rage painted across her features.  Immediately, half of the people with her raced back into the house.  Cecilia remained outside, ushering her daughter and son-in-law into the vehicle before she, too, went back inside.

They all knew where you were now. 

You were deeply, deeply fucked.

You could hear Adam laughing at you as you raced into the hallway, scooping the discarded gun into one hand and keeping the shotgun in the other.  You sped down the corridor, stopping every now and then to throw open whatever doors you could find.  You hoped that Roman’s family would think that you’d disappeared into another hiding place- anything to give yourself more time.

You ducked into one of the open doors just as Roman’s family spilled into the hall.  They weren’t quiet in their searching- you could hear Benedict barking orders, and Cecilia’s distressed cry upon finding her beaten and bloodied son.  As the hunting party panicked, you slipped into the darkness, moving backwards into an endless and ill-lit corridor that you hadn’t even noticed.

When the voices of your pursuers faded, you finally let yourself turn around.  The hallway seemed to stretch on forever into infinite darkness.  You could just barely see the frames of portraits that still lined the walls.  The floor runner beneath you muffled the sounds of your footsteps, and you followed it diligently, staying silent until you found yet another fucking door.

You held both guns in one hand as you pulled it open.  The next room contained another goddamned staircase, this one descending to the floor below.  Before you could truly question the design choices of the rich and powerful, someone shoved you forward.  You collapsed to the ground, losing your grip on both guns.  Exhaustion filled your bones as you watched both weapons tumble down the stairs.

A well polished shoe slammed into your ribs before you could move.  You didn’t have the chance to respond before your assailant kicked you again, bruising your ribs if they hadn’t already.  You let out a sharp cry as you tried to sit up.  Your attacker spat at you as you struggled, and when you looked up, you saw Alex’s disgusted face.

“Get up.”

You didn’t move.  You just laid there with a shocked expression on your face.  Alex leaned in, grabbing the front of your dress and dragging you to your knees.

“I said get up, you stupid whore.”

This time, you did as he asked, moving slowly as your shocked body tried to catch up with your equally shocked mind.

Alex didn’t appear to be armed.  If anything, he looked like he hadn’t expected to find you.  It was pure coincidence that he’d happened to wander down the same hallway you had.  Alex was doing his best to look angry- furrowing his brow and glaring down at you- but the disgust on his face betrayed him.  Locating you was nothing more than an inconvenience. 

You hoped you could use that to your advantage.

“Alex, listen,” your voice was more sure than you expected it to be, “You can let me go.  You can let me run off.  You won’t have to get your hands dirty.  You can just- you can pretend you never saw me.”

“Mm, yeah, I could,” Alex drew out every syllable he could, whining as a way of mocking you, “But this whole thing will end faster if I drag you back by that skanky little dress of yours.  So-”

He pulled you to your feet, hands still tangled in the fabric of your dress.  Adrenaline surged through you as he pulled you to the door.  You fought him, scratching at his arm, drawing red angry lines into his pale flesh.  He shrugged you off for the most part until you leaned in, seizing his neck with one hand and pulling it towards your mouth until you had the opportunity to bite.

Alex screamed as your teeth broke his skin.  Blood filled your mouth, hot and metallic.  You wanted to pull away, to stop biting and spit out the vile liquid, but you didn’t stop.  You couldn’t.  Not yet. 

With your teeth still embedded in the flesh of Alex’s throat, you used your hold on his neck to drag him backwards, towards the stairs.  He didn’t struggle or fight- he only screamed louder.

When he finally let you go, Alex lost his balance.  You watched as he stumbled, staggering away from you as he tried to stop the bleeding.  With his blood dripping from your mouth, you walked up to Alex and shoved him down the stairs.

You watched him fall, tumbling and bending in ways that human beings were not meant to tumble and bend.  His screams stopped about halfway down the staircase.  You shut your eyes.  You just listened to the sounds of bones breaking in silence until that, too, came to a stop.

Then, the only sound was your breathing.

You felt around in the darkness for the banister of the stairs, and you clung to it as you collapsed to the floor.  You sat there in the quiet, staring into nothing.  For a moment, you were lost to the world as a numbing sort of panic filled your lungs.

“Holy shit.”

You knew that voice.  With a gasp, you looked up.  Of course, given your luck, the first thing you saw was Alex’s mangled body.  His knee was twisted the wrong way, as was his left arm, and you winced at the sight of it, but your attention was quickly pulled away to the thing right next to Alex.

A pair of beat up white sneakers.  Black jeans, a Metallica t-shirt, a leather jacket and violently wild hair.

“Eddie?”

The familiar boy at the bottom of the stairs didn’t say anything for a second.  He just examined the body below him.  At this angle, you couldn’t see his face.  For a moment, you were terrified.  You might’ve taken a man’s life- and that in itself was horrifying- but to add more fire to the hell you were in, you’d taken that man’s life in front of your best friend.  What would he think of you now?

“Eddie?” you asked again, your voice trembling unpleasantly.

“Holy shit, sweetheart,” he finally looked up at you.  His expression wasn’t disgusted or afraid- in fact, if you didn’t know better you would almost say he was impressed, “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Tears filled your eyes as relief washed over you.  You were safe now.  Eddie was here, and he would take you away from this place, and these people, and you wouldn’t be brutally murdered because Eddie would never let that happen to you.  And on top of that, he didn’t seem to mind that you had just maimed a man.

A smile crossed your face as you called down to him, “Will do.”

He returned the grin, but it immediately slipped from his face.  His eyes were no longer focused on you.  In the silence that followed, you could hear Roman’s family coming down the hall.

“Run, run!”

Eddie really didn’t have to tell you twice.  You sped down the staircase just as Roman’s aunt stepped into the room, a silver hunting knife clutched in her hand.  Adam limped in behind her, bruised and bloodied but still well enough to hunt you down.  Clearly, you hadn’t kicked his ass enough.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, you leapt over Alex’s body and into Eddie’s arms.  He caught you and pushed you behind him, getting you as far from the new threat as he could.  As you moved towards the exit, your foot hit something metal.  You knelt quickly, seizing the guns at your feet and handing one of them to Eddie.

The moment you did, Roman’s aunt noticed her child’s crumpled form on the floor.  For the second time that night, you heard a mother scream at what you’d done to her son.  You couldn’t find it in you to feel any sort of guilt.

“YOU WRETCHED JUDAS!” she screamed as she stormed down the stairs, “You’ll pay!  You’ll fucking pay!!”

She ran at you, knife raised, but before she got the chance to enact her vengeance, a deafening shot rang out.  The shotgun was still in your hands, unused and useless.  Blood soaked the woman’s shirt as she collapsed to the floor.  You and Eddie watched in silence, the gun still smoking in his hands as she pulled down the steps into a bloody heap at the bottom.

“No- no!”  Adam’s face was painted with his rage.  His eyebrows were furrowed, cheeks red, and the look in his eyes could only be described as murderous, “You fucking wretch!  I’ll make sure the last thing you hear is her screaming as I tear her apart!  Do you understand that you stupid bitch?  I’ll break you open and I’ll make him watch!”

You resisted the urge to vomit as you and Eddie ran out of the room, his hand slipping into yours as you fled.  The beating you’d given Adam bought you more time, but you didn’t let yourself indulge in the illusion of safety.  Even as Adam’s threats faded into silence, the need for escape haunted you.  Your fear followed you like the eyes of the paintings on the walls.

“Do you remember the way you came in?” you asked, panting and out of breath from your run.

“I did, but I think we lost it two hallways ago- who the fuck lives like this, man?”

“Rich people.”

Eddie barked out a laugh.  With his hand still in yours, he pulled you to an abrupt stop.  Before you could ask what was wrong, you were in his arms again.

“Please never date a crazy rich dude with a homicidal family again.  I don’t think my heart can take it.”

You laughed into his chest, wrapping yourself around him and grabbing fistfulls of his shirt in your hands.

“I don’t think mine can either.  I’m barely functioning as it is, I can’t even begin to think of doing this again,” you moved your hands up to gently cup his jaw, making his eyes meet yours, “Let’s make a deal- we are never doing this again.  Ever.  For any reason.”

“Agreed,” his smile was damn near blinding, betraying his mock-exasperated tone, “Because all of this is just fucking crazy.”

“I know!  It’s crazy and it’s cliche, and if I ever fall for another psychopathic rich man, I want you to kill me.”

He laughed, but there was a look in his eye.  You couldn’t really tell if it was guilt or some other kind of remorse.  Your smile fell from your lips as you remembered, unsure of how you had ever forgotten- Eddie had just killed a woman.  He had done it for your sake, to save your life, but you didn’t know how that action would weigh upon his shoulders.

“Thank you,” you whispered, “For coming to get me.  And I’m so sorry for- for everything else.”

Eddie shrugged, as if shooting someone hadn’t bothered him in the slightest, “Anything for my best girl.  Now come on, we need to find a way out of this fuckin place.  Hopper’s on his way, he’ll be here soon- not soon enough, but soon.”

You nodded, but you stood still as he began to pull away.  Before he could get far, you launched yourself at him again, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

“I mean it,” your voice was muffled by his body, firm and solid beneath your lips, “Thank you.  And I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get us into this mess, I should’ve followed my gut, and-”

“Hey, hey,” two of his fingers slipped under your chin, tilting your head up, “Look at me, angel.  Look at me.”

His eyes were soft, gentle, and indescribably comforting.  You raised your hand, slipping it into his much larger one.  You couldn’t help but watch as his muscles flexed, his fingers wrapping around your own.

When he spoke again, his voice was soft and quiet.  For a fleeting moment, you found yourself captivated by his lips, “You don’t need to apologize.  For any of this.  Look, I’m a coward.  I know I am.  But if you’re in trouble, I need you to know that I will always come to get you.  It doesn’t matter if it’s this homicidal family, another homicidal family, or some other shit.”

He paused.  His hand was so cold in yours.  You never wanted to let go of him.

“When it’s you, I can put the fear aside.  When it’s you, I can be brave.”

The air stilled for a moment as you let his words wash over you.  They warmed your skin like soft flame, and without another thought, you brought his still freezing hand to your lips.  You pressed a gentle kiss across the back of his fingers, silently returning the affection he's given you.  When you met his eyes again, his cheeks burned an impossible red, but he could not hide the smile that spilled across his face like wine across a fine linen.

“Now,” he cleared his throat, “We’re gonna get out of here, and Hopper’s gonna fix this shit, and I’m gonna take you home, and we’re gonna stop for soft tacos on the way, and we are never watching Ready or Not again.  Sound good?”

“That sounds amazing,” you returned his grin, but before you could say anything else, you heard voices echoing through one of the endless hallways.  It was time for more running, “Let’s go.”

“Good plan!”  Eddie kept your hand in his as he bolted, “You’re so smart, did you know that?  I always love your plans. “I think I love your plans more!” you panted, knowing that you, at the very least, were not talking about plans.  

You weren’t sure how Eddie felt about you, but as the two of you threw open doors in the hopes of an exit manifesting itself, you became sure of your own feelings.  Truly and completely, you were in love with Eddie Munson.

Maybe you should’ve been worried about that.  Maybe you should’ve felt some heavy sense of dread that he wouldn’t return the feeling.  Maybe, under normal circumstances, you would’ve felt that way.  However, given the fact that this self-professed coward had broken into this place for you, shot a woman for you, and saved your life, you were pretty confident that he felt something for you.

“This way!  They went this way!”

But you would never know for sure if Roman’s family managed to find you before you could ask.

You threw open every door you found as you ran, again looking for an escape while creating a million distractions.  Eddie followed your lead, catching on quickly as if he was built for this exact insane situation.

Behind each door was the same kind of shit- bedrooms, closets, storage spaces holding extravagant nothings (you were pretty sure you saw the shape of a grand piano.)  You could feel your hunters closing in.  The hallways and corridors of the mansion seemed to close in around you and Eddie.  Then, there came the final door.

It was painted red, though the colour had faded and chipped away through the years.  Without a second thought, you seized the brass door knob and turned it.  The door opened to reveal an empty black space.  You couldn’t see the end of the room.  

A frigid draft blew in through the new space raising goosebumps on your skin.  The smell of rotting flesh overtook you.  You shivered, trying not to retch as you looked around, desperate for another escape.  Other than the red door, you had found yourself at a dead end.

“(Y/N), come on, let’s hide and find another way out.”

“There’s no time,” there really wasn’t.  You could hear Adam’s enraged screaming getting louder and louder with every passing second.  You wouldn’t let yourself be caught.  

You grabbed Eddie’s hand and pulled him into the dark.  As you ran further into the room, the light from the hallway shrunk down until it was nothing but a pinprick.  The smell of mold and decay got stronger as you ventured further inside.  Flies buzzed around just out of swatting distance.  Your body trembled, struggling to get warm as the room got colder and colder.  Eddie’s hand was an anchor in a sea of nothingness.  You held him tighter, desperate to know that he was there.

Towards the back of the room, another light came into view, blood red like a warning.  You raced towards it, Eddie’s hand in yours.  The dim crimson light illuminated a set of poorly painted metal stairs.  You didn’t even stop to wonder what the hell they were doing in a mansion like this.  You didn’t stop to wonder where they led.  The breeze on your face- though it smelled putrid as anything- felt like freedom.  You moved down the stairs faster than was safe.  Eddie followed behind you hesitantly, though he didn’t slow you down.

You seemed to descend for an eternity, moving down until the light faded and you were in the dark again.  When you finally met solid ground again, you surged forward, running in an animalistic panic through what you had to assume was a basement.  You kept telling yourself that you would be safe, that you were almost out the door.

Then, the floor fell out from beneath you.  The shotgun slipped from your hands, landing somewhere deep below with a dull thud.  A scream tore itself from your lips, echoing back up the stairwell and giving away your location instantly.

Eddie pulled you back to solid ground and turned you, keeping your face tucked into this chest.  His arms wrapped around you, keeping you secure in his embrace.  He was muttering something, but you couldn’t hear him over the rush of blood in your ears.  Your fingers gripped his shirt so tightly that it made your knuckles sore.  Your ribs ached as your breath came to you in harsh pants.  

You turned to look at where you had fallen.

All too late, Eddie’s voice finally became clear, “Don’t look at it, (Y/N).  Don’t look, you don’t need to look.”

You had nearly fallen into a pit.  It was deep.  Wide.  And the bottom was absolutely lined with corpses.

You could see bones sticking up through tattered old finery.  Flesh still clung to fingers, decorated with once gleaming rings.  Eyeless sockets stared up at you through matted, fetid, rotting clumps of hair and scalp.  

You were looking down at centuries of sacrifices, first and second and third wives of the LeBuer family, victims of a ritual that you could not hope to understand.

If it weren’t for Eddie’s hold on you, you would have collapsed.  

“I see you’ve found your future tomb.”

You whirled around.  As your eyes adjusted to the low light, you could see Adam standing on the stairs.  Alex limped down behind him, his mouth drawn up in a pained grimace.  Eddie pushed you behind him, trying to protect you from this new, hellish encounter.

“You won’t touch her,” he growled, “Not while I’m here.”

“Oh, shut up, guttersnipe.  This isn’t about you.  This could never be about you.  All we want is the girl,” Alex hissed, though you couldn’t tell which was stronger in his voice- hatred or agony.

“Look, trailer trash, we’ll even make you a deal for her,” as Adam spoke, you wrapped your hands around Eddie’s wrists, trying to provide some form of comfort.  You weren’t sure if it worked, or if it just made you look like a damsel in distress, but at least you tried.

“We’ll set you up for a few years, and in exchange,” Adam continued, “You give us the girl.  And you keep quiet about this, of course.  The LeBuer name has a reputation.  If any of this were to get out-”

“Any of what?  The demon sacrifice?  The murder of innocents for your own selfish needs?”

“And how would you know about any of that you fucking heathen?”

Eddie shrugged, “Just trust me on this one, man.  I know.”

“Look at him, Adam,” Alex wheezed, “He would know demons.  He fucking looks like one.”

Adam scoffed, shaking his head at Alex’s attempt at a joke… or was it an insult?  You were too tired and terrified to give a shit.

“Okay boys, fun’s over, I’m afraid I’m not up for exchange this fine evening.  Now if you’ll excuse us, I think it’s time to leave.  Thank your parents for hosting, Adam, it’s been wonderful-”

The deafening sound of a gunshot cut you off.  

You screamed, reaching up at your ears to protect them from the noise.  Eddie had the same idea, and Alex and Adam ducked right to the ground, lying on their bellies as you all looked up to see who had shot.

Roman stood on the stairs, his back just bathed in the faintest crimson light.  In his hands he held another fucking gun.  Honestly, by that point you were so fucking tired you almost hoped he’d just shoot you with it.

Clearly, God, Roman, and also Eddie, had other plans.

Eddie tucked you behind him, making it absolutely fucking clear to everyone in the room that if they wanted to hurt you, they would have to go through him first- and oh, how your heart sunk as you realized you were something Eddie wanted to protect.  In that moment, you knew you were precious to him.  Maybe you were something he’d searched all of time and space for and finally found.  You wanted to fucking scream again, but your throat was really starting to hurt.

Roman just sighed.  As he made his way down the stairs, his pace was leisurely and completely self assured.  He didn’t even aim the gun at you or Eddie- he barely even spared you a glance.

“My good gentleman, I assure you, this isn’t how we wanted this night to go.”

“Don’t even start with that bullshit, man.  Don’t fucking gentleman me.  Maybe you didn’t want to spend the night in your corpse dungeon, but I’m perfectly happy to be here,” Eddie’s voice had a harsh edge to it, one that made you want to cling onto him and never let go.  If you were too tired to fight this battle- which at this point in the night, you had every right to be- you knew he would handle this thing for you.  For the both of you.

“Are you?  You’re happy to defend an empty vessel?  Happy to stand on the edge of a pit filled with the lowest form of decay?  Well, I guess it’s an upgrade from whatever hovel you crawled out of.”

Nevermind.  Fuck lying dormant while Eddie protected you.  You were going to protect him, too.

“Oh, would you fuck off, Roman,” you barked, woken up from your angst-filled exhaustion, “How long have you been bottling up the classist insults?  Just through our relationship?  Or did you hide even before that?  Come on, then.  If you’re hurling insults at people who don’t spend stupid amounts on whatever pathetic bullshit you call “luxury,” you should probably spare one for me.  We were partners, after all.”

Eddie’s eyes were filled with pride and fear in equal measure- he looked like he wanted to kiss you and shove you back behind him for your own safety.  Roman, on the other hand, had the audacity to look hurt.

“Were?”

It was your turn to scoff, “You were planning to sacrifice me to the devil for your own sake- and for the sake of your secret wife.  You expect me to serve you, to die so you can have a kid.  You used me, Roman, and I’m sick of your shit.  We’re fucking done.”

He stood still on for a moment, his eyes darting between you and Eddie from his place on the stairs.

“I was right,” he finally mumbled, “It’s you and him.”

In the silence that followed, Eddie’s hand found its way back into yours.  Your thumb traced over his knuckles, over every ridge and vein his hand had to offer.  He squeezed his fingers around yours in return, pulling you close to him with no intention of letting go. 

“Very well, then,” Roman pointed the gun at Eddie’s chest, “You’ll both die screaming.”

You knocked Eddie to the ground as Roman fired a shot.  The overwhelming sound of gunfire echoed off the walls, making everyone in the room wince and cover their ears.  It gave you an opening.

With Eddie’s hand in yours, you bolted towards the stairs.  Alex recovered from the sound first.  He jumped towards you.  Eddie let go of you for a moment, just so he could fight off your assailant.  As his punches landed, Alex staggered back.  He made weak attempts to return Eddie’s blows, but he was no match for the metalhead.  For the second time that night, Alex went down like a bitch.  He rolled across the floor, coughing and swearing until he fell off the edge of the floor.

The third time Alex went down that night, he went all the way down to the corpse pit.

You froze, listening to Alex’s scream as he plunged out of sight.  A dull thud echoed through the room as he landed.  Bones crunched beneath him, rotten flesh squelching as Alex slipped through old blood and viscera.  You could barely hear him screaming over the buzz of disrupted flies. The smell of rancid meat rose into the air.  Bile rose in your throat as the screaming turned to desperate retching.  Eddie stood still, gazing into the pit with an expression you couldn’t name.

Before you could reach out to him, an arm wrapped around your throat.  You let out a yelp as someone pulled you into the firm plane of their chest.  Your heart fell through your chest as you clawed and scratched at your attacker.  You couldn’t afford to show them mercy.  You bit and tore at them, drawing blood and shrieking like a feral animal as their other arm curled around your waist.  Through your adrenaline fueled haze, you were absolutely sure that it was Roman’s voice calling you a bitch.

Eddie raced to help you, moving faster than you thought a person could go.  Adam interfered, advancing on Eddie viciously.  Unlike Alex, Adam was adept at fighting and capable of heinous violence.  The two men exchanged blows with equal force and brutality, landing hits until Eddie’s nose was bloodied and the side of Adam’s face was painted purple.

In the interim, you didn’t stop fighting.  As Eddie and Alex beat the shit out of each other, Roman tried to pull you towards the stairs.  In retaliation, you took a sizable chunk out of his arm with your teeth.  You gagged as you spat out his flesh- the sensation of hot, metallic blood spilling past your lips was almost too much to bear.  Roman growled, and you could feel his hand tangle itself in the roots of your hair, pulling you away from his new wound.

“I’ll credit you with this, my darling,” Roman grunted, pulling you backwards as you spat out his blood, “You’ve put up a good fight.  But you have to know, this can only end one way.”

Beside the body pit, Adam had finally managed to pin Eddie to the ground.  You watched as the bastard gripped Eddie’s jaw and turned his head to face you.  Eddie looked absolutely devastated.  Panic swirled in his warm brown eyes as he kept trying to free himself.  No matter how hard he tried, he was still forced to look at you as Roman wrapped a hand around your throat and started to squeeze.

As your vision began to swim, Adam leaned down, pressing his lips to Eddie’s ear.  You clawed at Roman’s arm like an animal.  Your nails tore at his already open wound, but he held you fast, placing another hand just below your navel to keep you still.

“I get what you see in her, pretty boy,” you could hear Adam’s words, muffled slightly by the sound of your blood rushing in your ears, “She’s hot when she struggles.”

Beneath his assailant, Eddie growled, digging his nails into any flesh he could reach.  Adam barely winced.

“It’s a shame you won’t leave this room- I mean, the things we’re gonna do to her once we get upstairs.  It would be a wet dream for a freak like you.”  

Tears spilled from your eyes as the threat set in.  Fear burrowed itself inside of you, eating away at your flesh as flies fed on the bodies below.  Across the room, Eddie grit his teeth, his eyes flashing with rage.  You didn’t see him land his next hit.  You didn’t see him claw at Adam’s face.  You didn’t see anything- it was all too fast.  All you knew was that one moment, Adam was smirking down at Eddie, and the next his face was covered in blood.   Adam shrieked, his hands hovering over his face as crimson gushed from four deep, perfect wounds embedded in his flesh.  

In his panic, Adam made a terrible mistake.  He let Eddie go.  Without a second of hesitation, Eddie tackled his assailant.  He wrapped his pale, slender hand around Adam’s throat and squeezed.  You watched Eddie’s knuckles turn white, his veins standing out against his skin.  Beneath him, Adam gasped for air, thrashing desperately in an attempt to escape.  You could hear him choking on his own blood as it poured down his face.   

You heard something snap.  A smile snuck its way onto your face.

Adam was still gasping, though the sound was almost nothing now.  Static filled your ears.  Roman screamed, a sound of deep rage, right in your ears.  Eddie looked up at you, his eyes wide.  A thick strand of scarlet something dripped from between Eddie’s lips.

And then he was gone.

You watched as Eddie fell back into the pit, dragging Adam with him.  Someone was screaming- you.  You were screaming.  You couldn’t feel the strain in your throat.  You could barely hear the sound.  You hadn’t heard the gun go off, even though Roman had shot it inches away from your skull.  You couldn’t feel Roman pulling you back.  You couldn’t feel the stairs hitting the backs of your legs as he dragged you back up into the house.

All you could see was the dark void that Eddie had fallen into.  All you knew was that dark void.  There was nothing else.  Tears ran down your cheeks.  Eddie was gone.  Broken sobs left your body as you collapsed into Roman’s arms- into the arms of the man that had destroyed your world in seconds.  You were nothing but a wounded animal, now.  Hunted, maimed, and brought forth for slaughter.  You took some bitter joy in that thought.  You knew you would see Eddie soon enough.

The hallways of the LeBuer mansion blurred into nothing.  The portraits on the walls had the decency to look bereaved, but every little Jesus on every little cross you passed seemed to laugh at you.  All the fight had been drained from you like blood from a cadaver.  You said nothing as Roman pulled you back into the dining room.  You didn’t flinch at his family’s carnivorous smiles.  You didn’t make a sound when Roman let you drop to the floor.

Bruises began to form on your arms and shoulders but you didn’t feel the pain.  Someone took your phone, not that it mattered.  You let the family place you on their table.  You let Roman tie you down.  You let Cathrine tear open your dress.  Even the chill of the room on your exposed flesh didn’t bother you.  You just laid there, still as death, while Benedict approached with a large, intricate blade.  He handed it off to his son.

“Roman, dearest, did you drug her?” Cecilia asked, “She hasn’t moved an inch.  Usually they squirm so much…”

“Don’t worry, mother.  As far as it concerns us, she’s already dead.”

“That’ll make the next few steps a lot easier.  Perhaps she’ll bleed less,” Cathrine put a hand to your cheek, gently brushing the smooth pads of her fingers over your flesh.  Her face was the only thing you could see, the only thing you had to focus on as the knife finally dug deep into your skin.

You refused to scream.  You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.  Your tears, however, spilled from your eyes without your consent.  Cathrine’s smile grew wider as her family tortured you, as you were penetrated again and again with the blade.  You couldn’t see what they were doing.  You didn’t know when they would finally end your suffering.  Your world was made up of her cruel eyes and nothing else.

Your blood burned as it dripped over your sides, pooling beneath you until you could feel it between the table and the flesh of your back.  You could hear drops of it falling to the marble floor.  The sound was enough to drive you crazy- that is, if the pain didn’t do it first.

The blade ripped through your skin, diving deep into you with such brutality that your body shook from the force.  You could feel yourself choking on blood.  The world was turning gray, tunneling into a mess of static.  The grunts of effort from Roman’s family were muted by the panicked sound of your own breathing.  You were going to die here.  You were going to die here, and Cathrine would be the last thing you would see.  You didn’t try to fight it.

In a weird way, it was almost like sex- the blade thrusting in and out of your body, making you bleed, making you hurt.  It was a violent intrusion.  A man imposing his will on you to serve his own desires.  

You didn’t have it in you to fight, but you did want to throw up really badly.  

When she finally pulled back, you had just enough strength to look up and see what they’d done to you.  You’d been stabbed.  Just stabbed, a thousand times without a hint of grace or tact.  You could see yourself bleeding out, blood pulsing to the surface with every weak beat of your heart.  The sight made you sick.  There was something viscerally wrong about your mutilated body lying before you.

You let out a soft cry as Roman put his hand low on your abdomen.  It was a pitiful sound, the only thing you could make as your heart struggled to keep you alive.  

“Thank you.  For your sacrifice,”  he pressed down, a final act of cruelty.

Cathrine wrapped her arms around him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “It’s what any woman would do.”

“My family,” Benedict  began.  Though his voice sounded miles away, you could still hear the jovial tone in his words, “Let us begin the prayer.”

You watched as Roman took Cathrine’s hand in his- specifically, his hand that wasn’t stained in your blood.  She grabbed the golden crucifix around her throat and held it with a look of pride and hope.

“Our father,” you couldn’t tell who was speaking anymore.  You just knew that they sounded happy.

“Forgive us this trespass and send us a servant of the one below.”

The lights flickered.  You almost wanted to laugh.  This was some cheesy fuckin shit.  The air took on a sudden chill, not that you could feel it.  Your blood provided you with a scorching heat as it spilled from your veins.

“A servant of your fallen son, to bless this fallen daughter.”

The lights flickered again.  You could hear something loud above the voices.  Something crashing, loud like thunder but not as natural.

“To bestow upon our family the ultimate gift- a child-” their voices cut out, “And your name.”

You were pretty sure one of the ten commandments was not to murder anyone- but you knew you weren’t a person to them.  Thou shalt not kill didn’t apply to slaughtered lambs.  Why would it apply to you?

“Accept this most humble offering, this lamb to slaughter, this child of Abraham.”

You heard a door open.  

“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.  Or whatever.  Amen.”

That voice- that voice was new.  Roman’s family stopped their prayer.  You could hear someone gasp.  They sounded terrified.  You wondered, briefly, what they would have to fear.

“You- you can’t be here.  You’re dead.”

“Huh.  Thanks for filling me in, I wouldn’t have noticed otherwise.”

“I shot you-”

“I’m aware.”

“Roman, who is this boy?”  Was that Cecilia or Cathrine?  For the life of you- something that was quickly coming to an end- you could not fucking tell.

“You asked for a demon,” you heard a pause.  Footsteps.  Something fell to the floor with a crash, “You got one.”

“No- you’re not, you can’t be-”

“Roman, darling-” was it concerning that you still couldn’t tell if that was your ex’s wife or his mom?  It didn’t matter.  The next thing you heard was Roman, enraged.  You were sure of that.  You heard it enough times.

“ENOUGH- I’m going to end this!  I’m going to end-”

A shot rang out.  There was another pause.  Something small and metal clattered to the floor.  Silence followed.

The lights went out.

Bathed in darkness, the voice of the new guest suddenly became clear, and when he spoke a fresh round of tears fell from your eyes.  You were dead now.  You were sure of it.  The afterlife was fucking weird, but you were certain.  

“Hey there, angel.  You’re gonna be okay.  I’ve got you.  Just tell me what to do.”

You drew in a shaky breath, your chest rattling, aching with the effort.  The cold air hurt your lungs.  You felt like you were burning from the inside out.

“Help me, Eddie.”

In an instant, his presence was gone.  The room was still dark.  When Eddie spoke again, his voice came from the doorway again.

“You’re going to get away from her now,” his voice was low, his words a warning, “This is your only warning.”

Footsteps echoed through the room.  Someone was running.  There was a grunt, a sound like someone exerting effort, throwing a punch.

There followed an awful, fleshy, tearing sound.  Roman’s screams of agony met your ears, just as the snap of breaking bones jolted you back to some level of reality.  There was another shout, a scream of paternal rage.  More footsteps- and again, the sound of flesh being torn from bone.  You couldn’t find it within yourself to feel bad about that.  In fact, you almost laughed.

The next cry that rang out was definitely Cecilia’s.  The noise she made was cut short, overtaken by cracking sounds of a shattering rib cage.  Someone choked on their own blood, gagging and sputtering their way to a brutal death.  You couldn’t really feel bad about that, either.

Roman was still screaming.  You could hear Cathrine’s voice, demanding Roman’s freedom.  It didn’t help much.  The next thing you heard was Roman’s pained gasps for air.

Eddie’s voice rang out again, a source of comfort amid all the auditory gore.

“Let me get this straight.  You two shit stains wanted a child so badly that you were willing to torture an innocent woman to get one?  You were willing to brutalize her for your own sake?”

“It’s tradition!  Roman’s family is cursed- they must have a sacrifice in the name of God!  A holy baptism of blood!  A new mass!  The killing of one womb so that they may conceive in another-”

“God doesn’t give a shit about your family’s tradition of torture porn,” Eddie’s voice was strange, caught between a growl, a laugh, and a sob, “I’m half convinced he doesn't give a shit about anything.  He doesn’t see you, Cathrine.  He doesn’t care about you.  He doesn’t bless you, he doesn’t bless this fucked up family, and he doesn’t bless your husband.”

You heard a weak wheeze before Roman spoke, “She- she gave her consent.  I had her, she whored herself out to me.  That means-”

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN SHIT,” Eddie had been enraged the entire time he’d been speaking, but this was something new.  From your place on the dining table/alter, you could see a red light flickering off the ceiling.

“Consent to sex is not consent to ritual sacrifice, you stupid fuck.”

You were pretty sure the black mass that flew across your vision was Roman.  You weren’t sure how Eddie managed that one, but you sure as shit weren’t complaining.  A deafening crash came from one of the cabinets.  Glass shattered on impact.  You laughed- the sound was wet and broken, and the laugh itself was painful, but the sound still escaped.  You hoped that whatever had happened to Roman had fucking hurt.

“Roman!” Cathrine’s scream all but confirmed your theory.  You heard her footsteps as she tried to get to her husband, but something stopped her.

“And you.  Well, you’re just a fucking disappointment.  Tell me, kid, what makes you think you’re any different?  What makes you think you’ll be spared from him?  From his wrath?  From his family?  There’s a pit in the basement full of bodies, full of people this family has sacrificed for their own gain.  What makes you think you won’t join them?”

“He- he loves me.  Roman loves me.”

“He told (Y/N) the same thing.  Look what he did to her.  Look what you did to her.”

“She- she would have done the same thing!  She would have killed me!”

“No.  Not like this.  I, on the other hand-” 

Eddie didn’t finish that sentence.  You just heard the squelch of skin splitting, the sound of something wet falling to the floor, and a half scream from the woman who watched as the light in your eyes faded to nothing.  Like that, she was gone.  You couldn’t help the smile that slipped across your face.  You shut your eyes.

“(Y/N)- (Y/N), come on, keep your eyes open.”

You did.  Eddie was above you, haloed in red light- and something was different.  His eyes were dark, pupils blown.  It almost looked like the dark overtook the whites of his eyes.  His skin was pale, ashen, far more so than it normally was.  You reached towards him and when he moved to take your hands you noticed them.  Massive leathery wings stretched out behind your boy.  You had to be dead already.  Or at least close to it.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his hand squeezing yours, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.  I never meant for any of this to happen.  I never wanted you to get hurt, I never wanted you to see me like this-”

“You…” your voice was weak.  Your blood stained your lips and teeth, “You’re pretty.”

He let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh.  It broke your heart, a little bit.  You wanted to pull him close to you and never let him go, but it hurt to move.  You just wanted to close your eyes and drift off to sleep.

“No, no, no, come on.  Stay with me, angel, stay awake.”

You could only hum in response.

“I- I’m going to have to touch you.  Is that okay?”

You wanted to tell him that he could touch you however he wanted to.  He could do whatever he wanted, he could finish what the LeBuers had started and cut you to bits and you would let him.  Whatever was left of you was his.  You loved him, and you wanted him to know that.  All you could do was lie there and nod.

Apologies spilled from his lips as he let go of your hand and placed his own over your wounds.   His touch was feather light.  It should have hurt.  By all logic, it should have hurt, but you didn’t feel any pain.  You could feel something sharp against your flesh, but whatever it was, it didn’t cut into you.  It just scratched sweetly across your skin as his fingers traced over your stomach and your ribs.  

Eddie brushed over you slowly, gently, in a way that filled you with want.  You could feel his hands start to tremble as they moved lower and lower.  Warmth seeped into your body wherever he touched you.  Slowly, the agony you felt- the sharp sting of your torn flesh, the bruised ribs, all of it- it just faded away. 

You opened your eyes and slipped your hand into Eddie’s.  Your fingers tangled with his over your stomach.  Where you expected to feel blood, you only felt your own skin- and something sharp, attached to Eddie’s hands.  Claws.  Neat.

Your strength was coming back slowly, inch by inch, but you could feel it- you could feel life return to every vein and nerve you had.  

“Whatever you’re doing,” you whispered, “Don’t stop.  Please don’t stop.”

A smile broke out across his face, “I won’t.  I promise, I promise I won’t.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead and giving you a good view of those things behind him- wings.  Actual fucking wings.  They were beautiful, terrifying, and they were half wrapped around you, keeping you close to Eddie.  You loved them, instantly, but good lord were you confused.

“Am I dead?” your voice was still quiet, still fragile despite your growing strength.

“No, sweetheart.  I couldn’t let that happen to you.  I couldn’t let them take you from me.”

“So this…” your eyes searched his face, “All of this is real.  I’m not dead or dreaming?”

“You’re not.  You’re awake, and alive, and in a few minutes we’re getting the fuck out of here.”

“Oh,” you nodded, “That’s nice.  Are you going to fly me out of here?”

He paused, seeming surprised, as if he had forgotten about the massive wings behind him.  A deep blush overtook his face, painting him red from his jaw to his ears.

“Yeah, about that,” he winced, “I know this is a terrible time to tell you, and I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but I’m not really a person.  Or at least, I’m not anymore.  I’m so sorry that-” You cut him off before he could say anything else.

“They’re perfect.  You’re perfect.  It’s all very metal.”

He laughed at your words, ignoring the tears that spilled over his cheeks.  Without a word, you reached for him, trying to maneuver yourself into a sitting position as you wrapped your arms around his neck.  He leaned down, meeting you halfway, and burying his face in the bare skin of your shoulder.  His messy curls stuck to your skin.  His strong arms curved around your back, his fingers digging into you as if he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

“Just hold me for a second, please,” you whispered, running your fingers up and into his hair, “Don’t let me go.”

“Never,” he gasped, his voice trembling terribly, “I almost lost you.  You’re not leaving my sight ever again.”

“Good,” your voice broke, your eyes burning as tears of your own began to fall, “Don’t let me go.  Don’t ever let me go.”

“I won’t.  I promise.  I’ve got you.”

Eddie pulled away first.  You made a small sound of protest, but he wasn’t gone long.  He didn’t even take his hands off of you.  He just took off his leather jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders.  

When you looked down at your body, at his clothes covering you, you couldn’t help but notice that you had been healed of every single stab wound and every single bruise.  There wasn’t even a scar left behind.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart.”

“I mean it, Eds.  I would have died if you hadn’t come to get me, I-” you paused, watching as Eddie anxiously bit his lip.  Heat pooled in your stomach like the births and deaths of a thousand stars.  You couldn’t tear your eyes away.  You really wanted to kiss him.

“I really want to kiss you,” you moved closer, your lips barely an inch away from his.

His eyes went wide.  His grip on you tightened.  You could feel his breath catch, feel the way he tensed up in anticipation.  Everything about him betrayed how badly he wanted you.

“Shit, I-” he took a shuddering breath, his fingers kneading a pattern into your skin, “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

“Good,” you leaned in, but he stopped you, placing a hand on your shoulder to put some space between you.  You paused, tilting your head as his fingers ran down to your hip.

“Wait,” his voice was so quiet, “Just wait.  I don’t want to- I don’t want to take advantage, y’know?  You just went through something terrifying, and I-”

“You don’t want to hurt me,” you reached up to cradle Eddie’s jaw in your hands, letting your thumbs stroke across his skin, “You’re still protecting me.  You’ve been doing that all night, y’know.  You should let yourself take a break.”

Eddie tried not to grin and failed.  His grip tightened on you as you pulled him closer, your chest pressing against his as you sat up properly.  

“Hey, I have a demon question for ya,” you pulled one hand away from his face, tracing lines up and down his arm.  You followed the thick ridges of his veins, a deep blue against his pale skin.  You hid your grin as he inhaled sharply.  His fingers would definitely leave bruises on your hip, but you couldn’t bring yourself to mind.

“Demons usually offer their aid in exchange for something, right?”

“Where are you going with this?”

“Just answer the question, Munson,” you looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, and you watched him melt in front of you.

“Yes, we usually take souls and shit, but I couldn’t ask you for that.  I couldn’t, I-”

“Could you take something else?”

He let out a half gasp, “Wh- what?”

“Could you.  Take.  Something else?” you met his gaze dead on, “A firstborn, maybe?”

“Oh, sweet girl, you are trying to kill me.”

You giggled- actually fucking giggled- and leaned into his chest.  Maybe you were trying to kill him, just a little bit.  Maybe you wanted something else.  

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, something across the room broke.  Beneath the collapsed gun cabinet, something was moving.

“Shit,” Eddie whispered, “Get behind me.” 

Without another word, he let you go and moved to stand in front of you.  His wings spread wide, blocking you from sight as someone began to rise from the rubble.

“I’ll kill you,” Roman’s voice was weak, “I’LL KILL BOTH OF YOU!”

“Don’t you people ever die?”  Eddie asked, exasperated as his body tensed, preparing for a fight.

You stepped to the side ever so slightly, getting a glimpse of Roman that you very much could have lived without.  There he was, your ex boyfriend, his face painted red with his own blood.  His shirt was torn revealing bruised and broken skin beneath.

He looked like a monster.  And he looked like he wanted to kill Eddie.

For whatever reason, your gaze turned to the side.  You winced as your eyes fell upon Cecilia’s body, lying across the room in a pool of crimson.  Eddie had destroyed her.  He’d destroyed all of them.  It was a gorey sight, but you had a hard time finding sympathy for a woman who watched as you were held down and tortured.  If Roman wasn’t being a little shit, you might have grinned.

Beside her, in a puddle of viscera that you could only assume was once Benedict , was the elaborately decorated knife that almost brought about your end.  

“You haven’t even seen the worst that I could do to her,” Roman growled, “You love her, don’t you, demon?  Then it’ll hurt you even more when I flay her alive.” 

“You won’t live long enough to get the chance.”

“Won’t I?  I’ve lived this long!  You killed everyone else, but I’m still here!  I-I have been chosen!  By you- by God!”

You slipped under the table, dashing across the room to grab the knife.

“Man, I genuinely thought you were dead until right now.  Your survival was a mistake.”

“There are no mistakes, demon.  I was meant to be here.  I was meant to survive!  To carry on the LeBuer line!  And I think I’ll use that pet of yours to do it.”

Eddie made a deep, inhuman sound at the back of his throat.  From your space across the room, you watched as he lunged at Roman, teeth and claws bared.  He was ready to attack, and so enraged that he didn’t see the grin that spread across the LeBuer boy’s face.

When Eddie flew across the room, Roman dove out of the way, bending down and seizing a wayward piece of glass.  He leapt at Eddie, shoving him into the wall and bringing his forged weapon to his chest.  Roman’s hand bled where it clenched around the sharp object, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I’d kill you now, demon, but it would be much more fun to make you watch,” he pressed the glass into Eddie’s shirt.  Honestly, it didn’t do much.  Eddie pulled back, his neck tensed.  He looked absolutely murderous.  Realizing his mistake, Roman dropped the blade and wrapped his undamaged hand around Eddie’s throat.  It took everything you had to keep from screaming- and you couldn’t scream- for the sake of stealth.

The two men were so focused on each other that they didn’t notice you coming.  They didn’t notice you leveling the knife at Roman’s back.

“Roman,” you called his attention to you.  Roman turned, and from the look in his eyes alone, you knew that given half the chance, he would make good on every threat he’d made.

You took a deep breath and drove the knife straight through Roman’s chest.  You didn’t stop until you had run him through.  Roman let out an agonized screech as he stared down at the blade protruding through his body.  You winced as he collapsed, his weight pulling the blade from your hands.  As he spit blood at your feet, you whispered, “We’re.  Fucking.  Done.”

A moment passed, silent and still.  Your hands shook slightly.  Taking another deep breath, you looked up at Eddie.  His big dark eyes were already on you.  Without another thought, you leapt over Roman’s body, running into Eddie’s arms.  You fell into him, and he caught you like he was made to do just that.

He held you close, his grip strong and reassuring.  You buried your face in his chest for a moment, your hands gripping onto him hard enough to bruise.  You could feel his wings wrap around you again, locking you in a soft and safe dimension of your own.  Eddie whispered something to you, several somethings, but you couldn’t quite hear him.  You could feel the vibration of his voice in his chest, but you couldn’t register anything.  It was all just static.

You looked up at him, eyes wide.   His soft lips were moving, speaking, and the motion was hypnotic.

“Can I kiss you now?”

He paused, lips parted slightly and eyes wide.  You spread your fingers across his chest, brushing your thumb across his collar bone.

“I saved you.  You saved me,” you leaned closer, “We’re even now, right?  So we can kiss each other without feeling bad about it?”

He stared at your lips.  His eyebrows furrowed together slightly, creating the picture of a conflicted man.  You could feel his heart racing in his chest, just beneath your fingertips.  

“Eddie?” 

“Fuck it.”

Eddie’s lips were on yours before you could make another sound.  His hands were on your face in an instant, cradling your jaw with such a sweet intensity that you almost melted into him, then and there.  Your hands came up to grip his arms, and you followed them up the shape of his body until your fingers wrapped around his shoulders.  Without another thought, you pulled him closer.

He let out the sweetest sounds as you parted his lips with your tongue.  You wrapped one of your legs around his, desperate to feel his touch everywhere you could.  He lowered a hand to your waist, nearly clawing your side in his desperation to hold you.  Need turned the both of you into animals just a few shades from feral.

 “We’re even,” he spoke against your lips, breathless and panting, “We are so, so even, angel.  Fuck-”

“Haha, I get it now.  You’re a demon, and I’m-” you cut yourself off, whining into Eddie’s mouth as he bit down on your lip just hard enough to make your flesh sting.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Eddie whispered as pressed kisses to your jaw, “You’re my angel.  Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Eds, I’m- I’m perfect… When's Hopper gonna get here?”

He paused, tilting his head, “Not for a while… why?”

“Because I have plans for us, pretty boy.”

A wicked grin crossed Eddie’s lips as he dove back into you.

Eddie may have seen you as angelic, but the thoughts running through your head were anything but holy.  Your blood seemed to burn wherever he touched you.  Sparks flew with every touch he left on your skin.  You were seconds away from catching fire, from burning brighter than any star the sky had to offer.  You let out a soft moan as Eddie’s lips trailed down your throat.  

“I need you,” you panted, “I need you, Eddie, please.”

“Whatever you want, sweet girl, whatever you-”

You cut him off by leaning forward and wrapping your lips and teeth around his shoulder.  You bit down, marking him up without drawing blood.  The moan that slipped from him was far too pretty for you to handle.  Your hips moved against his thigh, grinding against him desperately.  You were very much aware that you were acting like a pathetic slut, but you didn’t really care.  You needed him- and judging by the hard length pressed against you, he needed you just as much.

You wrapped your hands around the back of his neck, pulling him blindly towards the altar/table in the center of the room.  He followed eagerly.  You both stumbled, nearly falling to the ground since you both refused to break the kiss.  

Your back hit the altar with a harsh thud.  You let out a soft whine, jumping up to sit on the flat surface just as Eddie pulled away.

“Are you okay?  That sounded like it hurt-”

“I’m fine,” you reached behind you and unhooked your bra, exposing your breasts to the cold air of the sacrifice room, “Can you do me a favor and tear off what’s left of my dress?”

Eddie didn’t move.  He didn’t say anything, either.  He kind of just froze for a second.  When you looked up to meet his gaze, his eyes were completely glued to your chest.  A sweet blush graced his cheeks, and you couldn’t help but grin.  

The fact that he wanted you, that he couldn’t look away from you set off another set of sparks deep inside your body.  Absolute want pooled at your core as galaxies formed in his eyes.  You were his universe.  You could see it.

“You okay there, Munson?”

“You’re so fucking pretty.”

You let out a laugh before reaching out and pulling him close.  Once you had him between your thighs, you wrapped your legs around his hips.

“Thank you, Eds.  Now are you gonna help me with my dress, or am I going to have to take it off myself?”

You tilted your head to the side, unable to wipe the smile from your face as Eddie continued to devour you with his eyes.  His hands came up to your sides, trembling slightly as he took you into his hands.  Something dark and dominant flashed in his eyes.  His grip tightened.

“You’re gonna have to wait a second,” his voice was low, almost inhuman, and fucking delicious to your ears.  You laughed again as he buried his face in your chest, kissing and biting your skin, leaving purple marks behind.  Your laughter quickly gave way to breathy moans and desperate pleas as Eddie’s lips moved across your exposed flesh.  Your hands found their way into his hair, tangling at the roots and giving them a slight tug.  He growled against you, biting down hard and marking you with the shape of his teeth.

“God, I want you to do terrible things to me.”

“You’re-” he cut himself off with a kiss, “Adorable.” 

“I’m serious!  I almost died today- we both did.  I’ve come face to face with my own mortality, and I realized that life is too short.  If I don’t ask you to rail me now, who knows if I’ll get another chance?  In other words, please fuck my brains out before we get hit by a meteor or something.”

He laughed.  You could feel the vibrations in every place his skin met yours.  You kind of wanted to scream.

“We’re not gonna get hit by a meteor.”

“You don’t know that!” you sat up, pulling his face from your chest and holding his jaw in one hand, “We could get meteored any second, so I need you to know that I love you.”

His soft brown eyes bore into your soul for a moment, and honestly, you wouldn’t have cared that much if a meteor did smite you at that particular moment.  You had Eddie.  You had everything you needed.

“I love you, too,” he pushed you back and finally, finally set his claws on your dress.  He tore it off slowly, making you ache with anticipation.  You could feel the sharp, pleasant scratch of his nails against your skin again, slipping beneath the waist of your underwear.  You really wouldn’t complain if he just ripped you open, but you knew he wouldn’t.  Not unless you asked nicely.

“By the way,” he leaned up to kiss you, “I wouldn’t let you get hit by a meteor.”

“Is that something you could prevent?” you tried to come off as confident, but your voice snapped into a million pieces as he pulled your panties down your thighs.

“I’d do my best,” he shrugged, tossing your underwear to the side for the moment.

“That’s comforting.”

“You’re the one that came up with the meteor thing,” he gripped your thighs, claws just biting at your flesh as his fingers flexed, “You know I’ll always protect you.”

He would.  He had.  He’d proved that much to you.  He leaned in slowly, kissing your lips again before moving down to your throat, tracing the pattern of purple bruises and bite marks that he’d already left.  You squirmed in his hold, hips thrashing slightly.  You could feel yourself dripping.  Arousal gathered between your thighs as he eased his way down your body.  

Eddie’s arms hooked themselves around your thighs, hands spreading on your hips- he was holding you in place.  After pressing another kiss to your skin just below your navel, Eddie paused.  When he looked up at you, you could feel the space of the universe fill your lungs.  When his eyes met yours, the heat of the sun made its home within your ribcage.  

“Please,” you begged.  It was all you had to say.

He bit his way down your thigh, leaving another trail of marks on your skin.  His lips were so soft against your skin.  When he reached your aching pussy, he grinned.

“You’re soaked for me, sweetheart.  How long have you needed this?”

“Too long,” you whimpered, though the sound turned into a moan as he pressed a kiss to your throbbing clit. 

“My poor girl,” his tone was soft with the slightest hint of mockery.  You opened your mouth to respond, but you cut yourself off with a whine as Eddie’s tongue met your entrance.  He lapped at you, collecting your arousal like something feral.  His nose nudged against your clit, making you cry out his name.  

“That’s it baby,” he moaned, “Just like that, fuck.”

You called out his name again, and he buried himself deeper inside you- a reward for your good behaviour.  You could feel Eddie smile against you, grinning like a madman and lapping up your arousal as it dripped down his face.  You could feel your body clench around nothing, feel yourself draw closer to the edge.

His hands reached up, moving over your hips to your breasts.  His calloused fingers brushed over your nipples, squeezing and circling until you threw your head back against the altar.  You tugged at his hair again, pulling him closer to your core with a desperate whine- not that he was any better at keeping his composure.  

The noises he made were nothing short of delicious- hungry praises and moans that let you know just how much he wanted you.  After the blood-soaked night you had, you needed to hear that.  You needed to hear him moan your name.  You needed to hear how badly he ached for you.  It sent you right over the edge.

You let out a weak cry as he devoured you, as he sucked and bit softly, and as his fingers dipped down to find your dripping entrance.  You clenched around nothing, your hips thrusting into his face of their own accord.  The world faded around you, disappearing into a void of stars that burned half as brightly as you did.  

“You taste so good,” he whispered, sounding almost mindless, rambling as if eating you out had decimated his ability to think, “So, so fucking good.”

You simply panted in response.  Your grip relaxed on Eddie’s hair for just a second before you pulled him up to face you.  He went willingly, obediently, following the unspoken order.  When you brought his lips to yours, you could taste yourself on him.  

One of his hands left your chest, moving to your back to pull you closer, deeper into the kiss.  His fingers spread out across your back, rough fingertips dug into you carefully, almost gently.  You pinned his other hand to your chest, threading your fingers through his and pressing your joined hands into your skin.  You and Eddie wrapped your bodies around each other, refusing to let go as you kissed the breath from his lips.

His body was soft but firm beneath your hands.  He was your anchor, keeping you tethered in the real world, ensuring that you didn’t float off into another world while you were with him.  You needed that.

Slowly, keeping his hands on you, you sat up.  You wrapped your free arm around his neck.  He literally couldn’t get any closer to you, but that wouldn’t stop you from trying.  The hand that you had tangled with his slipped away, tracing a line down his chest until it reached the button of his jeans.  

You let your fingers play with the fabric, slipping beneath it to feel the rough, scarred skin of his hip.  You paused for a minute, surprised at what you felt.  Eddie pulled back for a second, a mildly embarrassed look on his face.  You didn’t let him stay away for long.  You pressed your lips to his again, hard and fast as you full on attacked his jeans.

“You must want me pretty bad, huh, angel?”

“How do you figure?” you asked, pulling him closer with the arm around his neck and bringing your lips to his neck.  You kissed the column of his throat for a few moments before you bit down harshly, lips and teeth completely unforgiving.  When you pulled back, a large swath of his skin was stained purple.

“Yeah, pretty boy,” you pressed a kiss to the sore spot, “I want you.”

“Good,” he growled, pushing you back onto the table and pulling you to the edge of the surface.  He brushed his hand across the side of your face before lowering it, tracing down your side until he reached your cunt, “Because I want to do unspeakable things to you, pretty girl.”

You moaned, your face burning hotter than the heat death of a small universe.  Eddie slipped his fingers into you.  He took things slow at first, torturing you by easing you into things, pumping into you gently with just the tips of two fingers.  You mewled, craving more of his touch.  You’d given up on wondering how his claws weren’t cutting you.  You just wanted his calloused fingers to go deeper.

Eddie silenced your pleading whines with a kiss.  Slipping deeper into you, he whispered, “You have to be patient, angel.  You can be patient for me, right?”

“I-” you moaned as he sunk his fingers deeper.  His dark eyes watched your face intently, taking in every change in your expression.

“Come on, sweet thing.  You can be patient, right?”

You whimpered, opening your mouth to respond.  You didn’t get the chance.  Eddie moved his fingers again, moving his fingers in and out of your dripping slit.  You moaned softly, and as your lips parted, Eddie added a third finger.  The sound you made snapped, becoming louder and more desperate as your demon brought you to the edge again.  

“Eddie,” you whimpered, “Please.  Don’t be mean to me.”

He laughed a little, pressing a kiss to your lips as he brought his thumb to your clit.  You came quickly, thrashing slightly in his arms as you clenched around his fingers.

“God,” he groaned, “You’re so fuckin tight.  Such a good girl for me.”

You let out a little whine, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down on top of you.  The two of you stayed there for a moment, holding each other again as you calmed down.

“Think you can give me one more, pretty girl?”

“Is that even a question?”

He kissed your throat again, keeping you distracted as he freed his cock from his pants.  He pulled away for a moment, allowing you to see the absolute monster he kept between his thighs.  You knew, now, why he had prepared you so thoroughly.  It was necessary.

His cock was almost unnatural- long and thick, red near the tip and covered in veins.  It looked… demonic.  And you wanted to take him inside you as soon as you possibly could.

“See something you like, sweetheart?”

“I do,” you grinned, reaching out for him.  He leaned in, placing his face against your palm.  He smiled down at you, his eyes incredibly fond.  You were the thing he had searched all time and space for- and you had searched for him.  Now, you were both found, both real- as batshit insane as it was that this was the place that made you so.

“Let me know if it hurts,” he whispered, “If I need to stop.”

“I will.  I promise.” He pressed into you, slowly and gently, letting you feel every single ridge and vein.  You shut your eyes, moaning softly.  Eddie braced himself with one arm, using the other to knead at the soft flesh of your chest.  His lips were on your throat again, adding more marks to the sea of purple that he’d already made.  

Once he was inside, he paused, just taking a moment to feel your body around him.  You clenched down on him, running a hand into his hair to tug at it again.  

“You’re so fucking warm,” he growled in your ear, “So fucking tight.”

“Thanks, I worked hard on that.”

Eddie lost his composure, thrusting into you gently as he laughed, “You are so deeply strange.  I adore you, did you know that?”

You thrust your hips up towards his, “I kind of figured, I’m not gonna lie.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, his thrusts increased in speed as you bathed in the light of his smile.  You could feel his cock deep inside of you, pressing against every sensitive spot you had.  You moaned softly as his thumb stroked over your nipple.  The stimulation of his calloused touch on your breast had you arching your back, pressing further into him.

“You’re so deep inside,” your voice wasn’t much more than a whimper, though you willed it to be stronger, “Fuck, keep going.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” he thrust into you harder, leaning down to bite your chest, clearly not satisfied with the job he’d done on your neck.

His hand slipped down to your clit, pressing into your swollen nub.  He circled it in time with his thrusts, alternating between heavy pressure and feather light touches until you were seeing stars and screaming his name.  

“Are you gonna cum for me sweet thing?”

You didn’t even get to answer his question.  You came around his cock quickly, and he fucked you through your orgasm without a moment of hesitation.  Your body spasmed, your walls clenching down on him until he moaned your name into your skin.  

Your chest heaved as you caught your breath.  Eddie’s lips didn’t leave you.  He laved his tongue over the bite marks he’d made, and you could feel his smile against your skin.

“You’re so perfect, sweetheart.  Such a good girl for me.”

You clenched down around him again, moaning this time at the praise.  You searched your mind for a witty comment, something cute to say to make him laugh, but your brain was full of stars and nothing else.  Every time his cock stabbed into you, another damn galaxy found life behind your eyes.  

You used the hand you had tangled in Eddie’s hair to pull him closer.  You pressed your lips to every part of him that you could reach.

“I love you,” you whispered, “I love you.  I love you so fucking much.”

“I know, sweet thing.  I love you, too.”

You tugged his hair, biting down on the side of his throat, and he moaned softly.  You clenched your now sensitive walls around him, whimpering slightly at the sensation.  He let out a sharp exhale, and his hand left your clit to wrap around your hip.  You could feel how wet your cunt was just from the feeling of his damp fingers on your skin.

His thrusts grew harsher, his pace speeding up to something unforgiving.  His grip on you was bruising, but you wouldn’t mind the marks.  

“Are you gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” you asked, “Are you gonna cum inside me?”

His hips stuttered, and you could practically feel his heart skip a beat, “Can I?”

“Please.  I want to feel you- I want this.”

“You- you promise you want this?  The whole- the whole deal about your only purpose being to create life, that isn’t in your head, right?”

You shook your head, “No.  Not with you.”

One of his hands found one of yours.  Your fingers tangled together like they were made to do just that.  You leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips, “Besides, I’m on the pill, anyway.”

He laughed again, briefly against your lips before he went right back to kissing you.  He squeezed down on your hand, his teeth grazing your lip.  You could feel him twitching against your walls, could feel his cock throbbing inside you.  

He thrust all the way inside you as he came.  Ropes of hot cum flooded your walls, filling your cunt and warming you from the inside out.  Another orgasm took you by surprise, rolling over you suddenly and making you clench down hard.  Cum spilled down your thighs, pooling on the altar beneath you.

When Eddie pulled out, you were both completely breathless.  His hand was still in yours, his body still draped over top of you.  You wrapped your free arm around him, your fingers landing on the spot where his back met his wings.  They unfurled behind him, showing you their impressive size in whole.

“You’re amazing,” your voice was quiet, trying not to ruin the post-orgasm haze, “I don’t know how I managed to land you.”

“Are you kidding?” he murmured, his voice just as quiet, “I don’t know how I managed to land you.  You’re terrifying,” he pressed a kiss to your collarbone, “And sweet,” another kiss, “And you’re fucking stunning,” a third kiss.

He pulled back, warm eyes dead focused on you, “I’m in love with you, sweetheart.  I have been for a while.”

“Good.  Because I love you, too, and I think all of this would be a touch awkward if you didn’t love me.”

He grinned, pressing his face into your shoulder and pulling you up.  More cum spilled out of you and onto the altar.  You reached down, collecting some of it on your fingers and putting it in your mouth.

“Fuck-” Eddie hissed, “Don’t do that.  You’re gonna make me cum again.”

You threw your head back, cackling as Eddie put his forehead against your shoulder.  

“Would that really be such a bad thing?”

“Normally?  No.  But I just noticed that that painting looks kind of like my dad, and it’s freaking me out,” he pointed at the wall, to the massive portrait of the smirking gentleman with black hair.

You tilted your head, casually running a hand through Eddie’s hair.  If you squinted, you could almost see the resemblance between Eddie and the man in the painting.  You didn’t want to think about it.  You’d had enough creepy shit for one evening.

“We should get going,” you murmured, wrapping Eddie’s leather jacket around you again, “Hopper will be here soon, and I don’t really want him to see us like this.”

“Fair enough,” Eddie looped his hand beneath your knees, “You brought your stuff for the weekend, right?”

“I-I did.  Eddie, wait-!”

Before you could stop him, he lifted you up, carrying you over the bodies and out of the room.  You wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him tightly.

“Am I not-?  Do I weigh anything to you?”

“Demon strength.  It’s like lifting a bunch of grapes.”

You scoffed, letting your head rest against Eddie’s shoulder, “I don’t know where the butlers put my stuff.  My bag could be in the body pit for all I know.”

“It’s not, I was down there.”

You scoffed again, ”Well, we’ll have to hunt for my shit I guess.”

You did.  It didn’t actually take long.  Most of your things had just been left by the door.  As was the-

“Oh shit!  The wine!” you exclaimed, patting Eddie’s chest until he put you down.  You ran over to the bottle, which had been left just beside your bags- bags that you ignored entirely in exchange for the sweet bottle of vintage.

“Angel, don’t you-?  Want your clothes first-?”

“Eddie, you don’t understand, this wine was fucking expensive and I didn’t think I was gonna get a chance to drink it.”

You struggled helplessly with the cork for a few seconds before you gave up and handed it to Eddie.

“Demon strength?”

He laughed at you a little, but he did open the bottle for you.  While he did, you pulled some clothes out of your bag- a shirt you’d meant to sleep in, and some pajama pants.  You kept Eddie’s jacket wrapped around your shoulders.

Once you were dressed, the wine was ready to go.  You gave Eddie a cheer, and a small round of applause.  He joined you, and for a moment you both applauded like idiots in the foyer of Roman’s big ass house.  The portraits seemed to smile down at you, grinning your approval as you drank the blood coloured wine.

You and Eddie passed the bottle back and forth wordlessly as you made your way to the door.  Your hand slipped into his again.  Every time you held his hand, you felt more and more like that’s what your hands were supposed to do- what you wanted them to do.  When you weren’t busy taking over the world, you wanted to hold Eddie close to you.

The two of you sat together on the front stoop of the McMansion.  The porch light cast a warm glow over the front yard.  The freshly mowed lawn had drowned beneath a sea of leaves since you last saw it.  You let your head rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

“What the fuck are we gonna tell Hopper?”

Eddie took a drink of the wine, “The truth.  Your in-laws tried to kill you.  We didn’t let them.”

“I’m pretty sure we both committed several counts of murder tonight.”

He shrugged, “Eh, it wouldn’t be the first time.  For me, anyway.”

You looked up at him, concerned, though you didn’t move away from his shoulder, “Should I be concerned?”

“I mean, I haven’t technically killed any people?  It’s a long story.”

“Oh,” you nodded, taking the bottle from him and taking down a deep sip of wine, “So.  What about the melted puddles of people?  How do we explain that?  Do we just tell the cops that you’re a demon?”

Again, Eddie shrugged, though a wince crossed his face, “Well, Hopper knows.”

“WHAT?”

“Yep.  And Steve.  And Robin.  They know.”

“What?  Okay, okay, who else knows?”

“Nancy doesn’t know officially, but I think she’s aware.  Also, you know those kids who come into Family Video like, constantly?”

“Mhmm, the freshmen.”

“Yeah, they know.  One of them was there for it.”

“It?”

“The incident.  I’ll tell you about it another night, we’ve… we’ve been through a lot today.”

“That’s one way of putting it.  I think tonight was my incident.”

“You could definitely call it that.”

You smiled, lacing your fingers with Eddie’s, “If this was my incident, I’m glad you were here for it.”

“Yeah?” he asked, placing his head on top of yours.

“Yeah.”

You let your eyes flutter closed then, knowing that you were safe from harm.  When you woke, there would be no sirens, and no flashing lights.  Just the guy with the sweet daughter, who bought literally all of the Barbie movies and Die Hard.  The former for his daughter and her friend, the latter for his daughter’s other friends.

When you woke, Eddie would be there with you.  His eyes would be brown again, and his wings would be tucked away so well that you would wonder if this whole nightmare had been a terrible dream.  You would feel his hand around yours, and you would know it hadn’t been.  You would know, finally, that you were no longer anyone’s prey.  

You were the hunter.

♥ A/N: I'VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS SINCE SEPTEMBER WHAT THE FUCK. IT'S SO LONG MY EDITING SOFTWARE WOULDN'T ACCEPT IT, SO YOU'RE GETTING THIS THING RAW. happy halloween babes, i hope you enjoyed this. thank you to @mxcheese for reading this a million times, and to my partner for listening to me ramble about various plot points with no context.

[phr3ia]

Fragmented Glass (Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader) [Chapter 7 : Mine]

"See you tomorrow!" you said, giving your workmate a quick wave as you walked out of the bakeshop. It was almost midnight, and all you could think about was getting back to your comfy apartment. "106 missed calls?" you muttered, your brow creasing as you stared at your phone. You sighed and shoved it back in your pocket, "He's a real pain in the neck." you thought to yourself.

You were miserable despite your family's wealth. You loathed their cold, calculating nature, their insatiable hunger for power that trampled over the lives of people. They were infamous for their brutal nature and cruel ways to attain power. Your family's name had a reputation for being 'savages' in the Jujutsu world.

While your siblings excelled in other ways, You were the only one in the family with the power to bend time, space, and gravity to your will. Your cursed technique was unlike any other. The only CT capable of breaking Gojo Satoru's Infinity for five seconds.

You knew your clan's true motive. They didn't just want you to have a child with Satoru, they wanted him eliminated, replaced by someone capable of defeating him. You knew the truth, and it filled you with dread.

Refusal means trouble, not only for you but for the people that you genuinely care about. The strain of your situation was pushing you to the brink of madness.

Satoru, blinded by his hatred, failed to see the truth. He saw you as an extension of your clan, the puppeteers who controlled the higher-ups from the shadows. And the way he looks at you were like daggers, the disgust and disdain in his eyes shattered your self-worth, leaving you with a burning hatred that you couldn't extinguish.

You had hoped for something different, but the moment your eyes met, his look of contempt made it clear he saw you as nothing more than the lowest of the low.

The blood of innocents stains the hands of your clan, and you, a member of that lineage, cannot escape the consequences of their actions. Can you truly blame Satoru for his reaction?

[Underpass]

A sense of unease intensified as you approached the underpass. Something was terribly wrong, and you couldn't shake the feeling of impending danger. The darkness was suffocating, the silence deafening. And as you stepped inside, a surge of raw, malevolent energy washed over you, sending shivers down your spine.

Time seemed to warp and twist as the Cursed Spirit suddenly appeared in front of you, its razor-sharp claws poised to strike.

Your instincts took over and you evaded the attack, leaning back just in time to miss it by a fraction of an inch.

Your Special Grade status is solely due to your Cursed Technique, but your combat skills are still far from matching that level.

"Shit! That was close!" you hissed. "There's no question about it. This is a Special Grade Curse." you thought, your eyes fixed on the creature as you maintained a defensive posture. The Cursed Spirit's power was undeniable, and you knew you had to find a way to defeat it. "What should I do?" you wondered, your mind racing to find a solution. You knew this wasn't the right place to fight as cars are passing by. You couldn't risk endangering the lives of civilians. You needed to find a secluded area where you could fight the Cursed Spirit without putting anyone at risk.

Just as you were about to activate your CT "Gravity Removal" the Cursed Spirit unleashed a deafening roar that threatened to shatter your eardrums. The thunderous sound sent a wave of pain through your head, forcing you to cover your ears as you collapse to your knees.

The situation escalated quickly as the Cursed Spirit grabbed your leg, flinging you against the wall with bone-jarring force. You felt your ribs cracked, causing you to cough up blood as the pain radiated to your chest.

Despite the impact, you managed to push yourself back to your feet, but just as you regained your balance, a car slammed on its brakes, its tires screeching against the pavement, a sound that drew the Cursed Spirit's attention away from you.

"NOOOO! GET OUT OF THE WAY!!!" you screamed. The Cursed Spirit's strength was terrifying, as it tossed the car like a toy, sending it crashing several meters away. You didn't waste a second, sprinting towards the car, driven by the need to help the people trapped inside.

You saw a young boy wedged between the seats, his cries muffled by the debris. His parents' bodies slumped motionless in the front seat, having absorbed most of the impact. Time was of the essence-you had to act fast. Adrenaline pumped through your veins. Driving your hands into the tangled wreckage, you pushed and pulled with all your might, trying to create an opening. Sweat dripped down your temples as your breathing became more labored. The child's cries increased in volume, his fear seeping through the racket of metal grinding against metal. The car was already burning! And as you struggled, the Curse reemerged. You knew you couldn't deal with both the Curse and the car wreck, but you couldn't afford to leave the child to his fate. Your discretion became clouded, replaced with a singular purpose-save him.

As the Cursed Spirit lunged once more, you reached your limit. The metal relented, giving way to a small passage just large enough for the child to slip through.

"Hurry up and move. I'll cover you." you told the child, dismissing his trembling form and positioning yourself in front of him.

"Space Time Ripper." you whispered, warping the space by directing both hands in opposite direction simultaneously. A surge of energy pulsed through you as you tore a rift in the fabric of reality. You could feel the space stretching, bending to your will. With this technique, you could redirect and evade attacks, and even tear apart the space between objects.

The moment the Cursed Spirit stepped into your rift, you closed the gap in a flash, slicing the creature in half. By stopping the Cursed Spirit's time for five seconds, you gained a tactical advantage, allowing you to close the gap and use "Space Time Ripper" effectively.

Stopping time, however powerful, had its limitations: it could only be used once a day, and required physical contact with the target.

The sense of victory was short-lived as the second Cursed Spirit manifested.

"FUCK! THERE'S TWO OF THEM?!!!" you swore, feeling the waves of exhaustion course through your body.

The creature snarled, lunging at you with surprising speed. Despite your best efforts to evade, the creature's claw grazed your arm, sending a jolt of pain that made you gasp, and leaving a trail of blood that stained the ground.

You stumbled backward, your vision blurring. "Dammit!" you gritted your teeth, wiping some of your sweat off your forehead.

The previous attack had left you depleted, but you couldn't afford to back down, not when the child's innocent life depended on you.

The Cursed Spirit ignored your presence and fixated it's attention on the terrified little boy a few feet away from you. Its wretched grin morphed into a menacing snarl, as it lunged towards him.

With a pained grunt, you threw everything you had left at the approaching Cursed Spirit, leaping between it and the child. The razor-sharp claws pierced through your side, sinking deep as you clung onto life, your hand desperately reaching for the little boy. "Run." you gently whispered. You atleast wanted him to survive.

Blood gushed out from your body, painting the concrete floor beneath you in red. The creature loomed over you, gripping your leg. The Cursed Spirit was seconds from delivering the final strike when Satoru appeared behind it, his eyes blazing with anger at the sight of it clinging to you. "GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY WIFE." his voice cold and eerie.

Satoru's power was inconceivable. After all, he is the strongest Sorcerer alive. There was no need for subtlety, no need for strategy, just sheer dominance.

As the Cursed Spirit turned towards him, it was confronted with the full extent of Satoru's power, a force that made it tremble in fear. Satoru used his infinity like a hydraulic press, snapping its bones, tearing its flesh, the creature's screams was muffled by the weight of Satoru's power, until it was nothing but a bloody, pulp of mess.

The relief you felt when Satoru arrived was undeniable, but the way he claimed you as his wife, sent a jolt of something unexpected through you, leaving you surprised and strangely captivated. A feeling you couldn't quite understand.

You attempted to push yourself up, but the strength simply wasn't there. Your vision was fading, the buzzing in your ears threatening to shut off the rest of the world. It was only then, that you realized the extent of your injuries. Ignoring the pain coursing through your body, you still forced yourself to speak "T-there's a child... not far from here. N-needs h-help..." you choked, the taste of blood filling your mouth.

Satoru knelt beside you, his eyes filled with concern that contradicted his usual playful demeanor.

"Stay awake, please." he urged, his voice shaky, an emotion that was foreign to his usual self. "Hold on." he urged softly as he tightly squeezed your hand.

"I'm not afraid to die, Satoru. It's just... I wished for something better..." you whispered, tears forming in your eyes.

"Don't say that. You'll pull through. I won't let you die here tonight."

Satoru didn't wasted any more time. He scooped you into his arms and teleported out of the underpass. As you were carried away, you soon lost consciousness, your troubled thoughts giving way to darkness.

The next thing you knew was waking up to a bright room, surrounded by medical equipment. A concerned face hovered over you, Shoko gently touched your forehead. "She's awake." Shoko called out, a smile of relief spreading across her face.

"How long was I out?" you asked, struggling to sit up. Satoru stood nearby, his expression unreadable.

"A few days." Shoko replied, placing a hand on your shoulder. "You lost a lot of blood, but you're recovering well."

"And the boy?" your eyes worriedly flick to Satoru, seeking assurance.

Satoru crossed the room, standing by your bedside. "Safe. Living with his grandparents now. They were out of town when the incident occurred."

You breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Satoru." you mouthed, noticing the contrast between the coldness he showed outside and the gentleness now.

As Shoko left, the sudden quiet left in her wake tempted a silence that neither of you dared to break. Only the hum of the machines in the room filled your ears.

Satoru shuffled around, clearly unsure of how to approach the topic that hung heavily in the air. But then finally, he spoke, his voice barely a whisper. "I shouldn't have treated you like I did before." A rush of emotions caught in his throat as he met your eyes, searching, begging for forgiveness.

"Why? What did I ever do to you?" you asked, staring at him.

His fingers tightened around his palm, knuckles turning white. "You didn't deserve the coldness, the dismissive attitude. In all honesty, I never truly saw you as a person worthy of kindness, let alone attention." He hesitated, briefly averting his gaze before looking straight into yours once more. "But after seeing who you truly are, I realized that I let my pride and prejudice blind me. That was hell of a mistake on my part."

A look of shame passed through Satoru's eyes. "I can't change the past, but I want to redeem myself for being so harsh. I want to show you the respect and kindness you deserve. Will you give me that chance?"

You let out a shaky breath, processing the confession. In that moment, you saw a glimpse of vulnerability in Satoru that you hadn't expected. 

"Satoru." you softly said, your voice captivating his gaze. "Just because I came from a ruthless clan doesn't mean that I am the same as them. My blood may carry hate and aggression, but it is not who I am. I have my own values, my own heart that longs for a world free of fear, bloodshed, and corruption. I may have been born as a tool of my family's ambitions, but I choose to be more than that, to strive for what is good and just. It's easy for my family to seek power at the expense of others, but that has never been, nor will it ever be, who I am."

Your voice shook slightly, revealing the pain in your heart "It's not fair for you to judge me without knowing me, but I can't blame you either. The rumors and stories about my clan aren't exaggerated. It's the truth. And I know that trust isn't something that grows overnight."

Satoru bent down, deactivating his infinity as he took your hand, it was warm and reassuring. "I promise to make amends. To treat you with the respect you deserve, and to get to know you on your own terms. This time, without any preconceived notions. I owe you that much."

A gentle smile graced your lips as you gently squeezed Satoru's hand in return. "Thank you, Satoru. And yes, let's start all over again."

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

End of Chapter 7 🥀...

@kalopsia-flaneur @thatmartinkitten @staruus @miizuzu

[starpirateee]

curtwen prompt!! you brought it up in the last curtwen fever prompt so now I’d actually love to see reluctant post-banana sick fic care (going either way, but owen having to take care of the man he thinks he hates lives a little rent free in my head) if you’d want to write that :)

Funny you should mention that, actually 👀 because I literally got asked this not half an hour later:

Same brain, huh? At this point, it's too much of a coincidence not to write, so the two of you can have your way with this reluctant caretaking

"Come on, Curt, we don't have the time to stay here!" Tatiana made sure to keep her tone a mix of insistent and well meaning. It was her fault that Curt had ended up in this mess. Since finding out that he was arriving in Monte Carlo, the Deadliest Man had requested that they make things a little interesting, that they should manage to get agent Mega alone for even a moment.

Now, Curt was at a level rather closer to death than she would've hoped, and she was glad that she'd arrived now instead of a minute later, otherwise she was sure that she'd have found him in a much worse state.

Curt stumbled to his feet, shooting a glare over his shoulder that spoke of all the betrayal he felt. Near enough all the energy he had left was being used on trying to keep himself upright, but he could always spare a little on making sure she knew how offended he was that she'd essentially left him to die.

"What, you expect me to trust you, after that?" He snapped, glancing back towards the Deadliest Man, who was still trying to recover from that blow to the head he'd been dealt.

"I don't care if you do or not, we have to go!"

She reached out. Instinct took over, and Curt reached out too. When her hand clasped around his forearm, his breath caught in his throat. There was a light set of footsteps across the room that he was absolutely sure that nobody else would hear. Every instinct within was telling him not to look, this wasn't the time for-

"Owen..?"

Despite everything, he looked up anyway, across the room, straight into the colourless, blank stare of Owen, who was leaning against the wall by the door. The bastard even had the audacity to lift a hand and wave, like he was fully aware that Curt couldn't take his eyes off him. This was the Owen that resided in his head. He had been at once familiar and entirely unwelcome, like finding out that a stowaway on board a vessel was actually your closest friend, and having to choose between selling them out or leaving them to a potentially worse fate by not saying a word. Part of him really didn't want to see Owen there at all, he was nothing more than a reminder of his fate, and what he could've done better.

The other part of him knew that his mind was just making up an image of Owen that was so unfailingly unscathed, because he simply couldn't handle the idea of him being marred in any way. It hurt to try and imagine what kind of injuries he must have accrued during the fall. During the explosion. During the moments before he took his final breath…

He was so caught up in the moment that he barely registered Tatiana drop her arm and start running out of the door, under the impression that he was hot on her heels. The more space they put between themselves and the likes of the Deadliest Man, the less likely they were to be traced, she knew that. So when she'd told Curt to get going, she'd really meant it.

But that did mean that she missed the Deadliest Man— missed Agent Owen Carvour— take a gun from the holster at his side and offload, striking Curt just above the hip. She missed Curt bite down a cry of pain, whirling around just in time to see the assassin rising to his feet. And the way that Curt looked down on himself to examine the wound. And the fact that his fingertips came back bloody, the way his eyes went wide, and the way he hit the floor within moments of registering the dark red substance that coated his hand.

Tatiana may have missed that, but Owen didn't.

Curt collapsed, and it took a long moment before he worked out the reason why. Of course. That bastard was terrified of the sight of his own blood. Of all the things for a man to be afraid of…

Of course, that wasn't the only injury he'd managed to sustain. The last few minutes had been a rather interesting ride, and Tatiana had come dangerously close to not finding Curt Mega alive at all. If he had his own way, he would've made sure he kept that arrogant son of a bitch alive for months, right on the delicate cusp between being alive and being dead. To watch him suffer, to see him experience something even close to the level of pain he himself had endured over those few painful months… Those months he had spent stupidly wishing Curt would come back for him, where he would hold himself strong, forcing himself to remember there was something on the other side worth surviving for… It hurt like hell, and he wasn't going to pretend to ignore any of the scars it had given him. He would never be the same, so why should Curt be?

All the same, whether he was able to get his own way or not, the truth of the matter lay in the here and now. Curt— supposedly the best spy this side of the Atlantic— had just passed out on first sight of his own blood. And Tatiana was gone. Of course, it was only a matter of time before she realised Curt wasn't actually behind her— even in the bustle of the casino hotel. Then, she'd make her return, no doubt. Until then, though, Owen had a bleeding Curt on the ground, and a certain idea in his head that he would rather not see him dead, actually. Maybe some other time he could get into the making him beg for death part… He deserved as much.

He sighed deeply. "God, Mega, you really need to work on that fuckin' issue of yours…" He muttered stiffly as he crouched and began rifling through the bag under the bed for his own supplies. Those kind of things were always needed in an emergency, sure, but he didn't expect this emergency to involve the patching up of the man he hated with such a fiery passion…

That was a matter for another moment. Curt couldn't work on his issues, because he wasn't conscious. He couldn't call him out for caring even slightly, because he wasn't conscious. He couldn't even figure out that the man behind the mask— the one that had been promptly removed and discarded on the bed— was the man he'd been searching for, because he wasn't conscious.

And that was the issue that needed dealing with right now.

Owen reminded himself that he couldn't care less what happened to Curt, so long as it happened by his hand. And by his hand, this had happened, so there was always that. As he pulled Curt's tuxedo jacket from his shoulders enough to be able to lift his shirt and start working on the bullet wound now causing blossoms of red against the fabric, he wondered to himself just what was making him do this. He didn't care. Especially not about Curt. He'd been told one too many times that he was cold, and callous, and all of those things they wanted a perfect operative-slash-weapon to be. If all of that was true, then there was no way that he could possibly have any room left for caring about Curt.

But, on the other hand, four years was a long time to be missing what was essentially a piece of himself.

And now here he was. Right there, at his disposal. Missing a tooth, clearly missing some brain matter, and missing a fair bit of blood that just… Would not stop coming.

The bullet hadn't even lodged in, it was a surface wound at best. And yet, Curt bled and bled and bled. Something wasn't entirely right here…

Owen decided not to think about that. He applied the first layer of gauze, and started to wrap the bandage around Curt's midriff. Periodically, he kept looking up at the door, to make sure he wasn't going to be spotted or caught in this position. He imagined it looked rather strange— a man with a knife at one side of his belt and a machete at the other, kneeling by the side of another and applying layers of bandages to a bullet wound. By all accounts, it didn't make sense, and thinking about it brought the slightest of smiles to his face.

"Look at you…" He hummed. Filling the silence was the best bet here, otherwise he'd start thinking about the few times he could remember doing this before… The moments he'd spent in the dead of night on the floor of some shitty motel room, making sure Curt stayed alive. And he really didn't want to think about that. The tenderly spoken words, the way their hands brushed against one another, the meaningless teasing about how he should've been more careful…

God, he missed the old times.

"… You're an absolute mess, Curt. It's absolutely fine for you to play the damsel in distress, though, isn't it? When you need saving, look at how there's always someone there to pick up your slack, and look how often it has to be me… Where the hell were you when I needed you, though?" He asked quietly, shaking his head. He wasn't so deterred by the sight of blood at his fingertips, but ironically, it had disturbed some inner part of him for exactly the same reason that it had disturbed Curt.

Because… Well, because it was Curt's.

And there was some inner part of him— that same man he'd spent the last four years trying to push down within himself— that was concerned. Concerned about the fact that the blood wouldn't stop. Concerned about what would've happened if he wasn't stopped. He didn't care about the aching in his own head left over from the blunt end of the pistol… That didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. Apparently, what really mattered was this stupid, selfish— loving, grounding, gorgeous— American agent spreading blood all over the hardwood floors.

What would've happened if he wasn't stopped? Would he have actually dared to go so far as to kill Mega? Would he have gone that far, here in this hotel room, only to pack his bag and leave immediately after like he didn't just leave the body of his partner in the room?

Curt is not your partner. Not anymore.

He sighed to himself. "Where were you when I was calling your name with all the energy I had left?" His hand pressed down against the wound, just above the primary source of pain. He reached for another layer of bandages.

"Where were you when I was bleeding out on the floor of a cell, sparing a thought to the last hope I had that you might come back?" He watched the blossom of red seep in through the bandages and bit his lip, letting his apprehension show for a fraction of a second. He had no right to be nervous right now. He had every right to be pissed.

"Where were you when your shadow sat at the other side of the room, huh? All the time I spent wishing that was really you, even if you'd come to do nothing but observe while I made sure I lived to see tomorrow… You weren't there. You never were. This…" This life he had been given. This life he knew he should be grateful for, because at the end of the day, it wasn't his to have and never was…This had all come from that fall, the last time he trusted Curt to have his back. "This is your fault."

And yet, he kept winding bandages around his waist, administering all of the care that he knew he could muster, especially towards Curt. On one hand, this was his fault. He had walked away when Owen needed him the most, and yet… He didn't really have a choice, did he? There was a good chance that he would've died as well…

But he'd never come back. He'd never bothered to check whether Owen was alive. Because he would've found nothing, and he would've known something was wrong, because nobody's body just disappeared…

The only time Owen stopped working was the brief moment he reached up to scrub a furious tear from his eye, as if Curt deserved the satisfaction of knowing that he was close to breaking over just the thought of him. He left in his wake a smear of red that he didn't think twice about. Like he hadn't felt the chill of blood against his face before… As if he'd never had to wonder if a particularly bad round would leave a stain to his cheeks.

He'd been lucky so far, but it was only a matter of time, he supposed.

"Y'know, this isn't so fun when you're not around to listen…" He whispered, leaning in close. Another check of the door. Another show that nobody was there waiting for him. Another sigh. "I never wanted to kill you, Curt, you should know that. And I know, that's absolutely nothing when it comes down to it, but I digress…"

He made a final check to ensure that the bandage was tight enough, that it would hold if and when Curt got on his feet again, then stood up, towering over the unconscious form of the man who used to hold the title of partner… Of lover.

"I guess you'll never know what really happened here tonight. And I know you can hear me, but I know you're just like me. You always have been. You've been hearing me for the last four years…" A dry, humourless chuckle left him, the only barrier against the floodgates opening. "And that's someone else's song, I'm afraid… This? This is one of those. Think of it as someone else's song, it'll make things a lot easier when I do what I have to do… For both of us, I think."

When Tatiana found Curt, he was barely conscious, trying to button up the shirt that someone had left wide open, and trying to make himself look in the least bit presentable. He had pretty much stopped bleeding, but it didn't take a genius to notice that someone had bothered to patch him up with a few layers of fresh bandage. He could feel it against his skin, taut and securing. A professional's job— or at least, someone who really knew what they were doing.

His memory held onto the ghost of a voice. Chiding him. Telling him that it was all his fault. Telling him that he wasn't there. That voice had a name, and that name belonged to a ghost. He knew it. The ghost knew it too, it seemed.

But there was no trace of him.

[nelapanela94]

A blessing or a curse?

For others, an incalculable amount of cursed energy would be considered a blessing, but for him, it has been nothing more than a curse. He’d trade every ounce of it for freedom. What’s the point of being granted an immense power if you have to be locked in a prison? In exchange, he had to sacrifice a healthy body—one missing arm, useless legs, skin so sensitive that is constantly burning, sentenced to an eternal confinement connected to a life-supporting system to continue breathing.

Until today.

“I’ll come see you soon.”

He never mustered the courage to say those words through Mechamaru. What will they—she—say when they find out what he has done? A traitor. At least he will see their reaction with his own eyes.

On his forearms, he crawls out of Mechamaru’s head, grimacing and groaning, pain bursting through every inch—a different kind of pain. His eyes flutter open, protesting to the sun, and for the first time, it doesn’t scorch his skin. He no longer stands in the pyre. He focuses his energy in his breathing. In, out, in, out, the grass pricking his back through the frayed uniform, the sun bathing his skin.

And he laughs. The scabs of blood on his lips sting, and he laughs harder.

Damn it! He actually managed to survive the night.

And now he has to warn everyone, confess and face the consequences of his betrayal.

His phone was crushed, and he doesn’t have a penny in his pockets, nor an ID. So, he limps. Uses his own legs to move around. He wanders around the busy streets of Kyoto catching his reflection on every tinted glass or steel surface. The sound of traffic, people talking on their phones. The mouth-watering smells from the bakeries and restaurants. The stench of a sanitation truck passing by. The sun is slowly going down to the west when he finds himself at an intersection he had seen before through the eyes of Mechamaru. He recognizes the advertisements, the shops’ displays. He hesitates, and sets foot to the place where he can find her.

Hi, Miwa. It’s me, Mechamaru.

That’s too lame. What will he say when she opens her door? He’s not supposed to enter the girls’ dorm in first place. The big clock reads five pm. He can’t let anybody see him before her. Kamo-sempai must be studying in the library, Toudo rewatching some Takada-chan old special, Mai and Nishimiya, who knows, and Miwa?

“Who are you?” A voice calls from behind and he immediately recognizes it. His eyes widen, it is sweeter than through a speaker. He rubs his clammy palms on the sides of his hips, closes his eyes, opens them again and turns around.

He opens his mouth as to say something, but nothing comes out.

Her eyebrows sag into a frown. “Where did you get that?” She points at his wrist and he raises his forearm at eye level. A cheap scrunchie cinches around his wrist, a burned capsuled toy hanging from the key-chain attached to it.

You.

“A… friend?”

She tilts her head to the side. He’s paralyzed on the spot as her navy-blue eyes scrutinize him.

“Miwa, listen, I—”

Her eyes snap open, and unconsciously, she takes two steps back, her hands landing on the pommel of her katana. “Who are you?” She raises her voice, and he looks around, alarmed, afraid that someone else might come in to take him away from her. He bites his lips, raking his head for anything.

“You said you wanted to come see me. In the teacher’s room.” He gulps, and realization dawns. What happened to Mechamaru’s body? Miwa makes a face, as if unraveling the mysteries of the universe. Tears pool at the corners of her eyes; her bottom lip quivering. “It’s me.”

“You can’t be him.” She looms close to him and lays her palms on his chest. “You can’t.” Her feeble fists connect to his torso, amplifying the pain of his battered body. The adrenaline rushing through his veins is what keeps him standing. “You can’t, you can’t!” She keeps pushing, but he doesn’t move. “Yesterday, I said…” She brings her hands down, and looks up into his eyes. “He said he’d take a nap.”

“I wasn’t taking a nap, Miwa.” His eyes drift to the lamp in the ceiling, the corridor is empty except for them two. “I was fighting.” For the first time, others can see the expression on his face. He looks at her. “And now, I’m in big trouble.”

“Are you… are you the person…behind Mechamaru?” Tears run freely down her cheeks. “What did you do?” Her words crackle at the edges. She tucks her face on the curve of his shoulder, and he can feel the moist wicking through the weave. Her tears soaking his skin. He wants her to forgive him, but that would be too selfish to ask for.

But nobody else knows his suffering and despair. What would anyone do to break free from those chains?

They will come after him. He knows that. And whatever punishment, he’ll take it. Is it possible to make a deal? What he knows is valuable and delicate, though he was the cause of it all. “I can’t tell you now. I just… there is someone I wanted to protect.” His eyes thaw, looking down at her. How many times did he dream of being this close to her? Was it worth it?

Yes.

She snivels, peeling away. “At least, can you tell me your name? Your real name?”

“Muta. Muta Kokichi.”

She chuckles, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her suit. “That’s a pretty name.”

Gazing down, he blushes, scuffing one foot on the tile. The beats of his heart entangle with the heavy footsteps.

“They will come any moment, Miwa.”

“Me—Muta-Kun.”

He flinches at the sound of his name in her mellifluous voice.

“Let’s get you to the infirmary first and clean your wounds. This body takes longer to heal and you can’t replace the broken parts as easily.”

A chuckle escapes from his lips, he shakes his head and his smile falters. “Whatever they say, Miwa, I promise I’m not an enemy.” He wants to touch her but fights the urge to take her hand.

“Whatever they higher ups say, I will never see you as an enemy.” She reaches for his trembling hand, fiddles with the encapsuled charred robot figurine. “I’m glad you kept this.”

He snorts, a teardrop glinting in the corner of his eye, his lips curving into a smile. His gravity spot. “It means a lot to me.”

Hi guys!

As you know, this blog is mainly dedicated to Levi since he is the only character I feel confortable writing for, but I wanted to venture and write for other characters as well. I don’t plan to do it often, and I don’t thing I’m that good at drilling into other characters’ minds. Even though Levi and I have different personalities, when it narrows to processing emotions, we share similar mechanisms.

This particular work has been nagging my mind for a while ever since I watched that farewell scene in the train, and I wanted to give myself a not-so-tragic ending for this tragic love story. Unfortunately, I haven’t come across enough information about Miwa and Mechamaru, thus, I hope I didn’t make them too ooc. I just wanted them to meet because at least, they deserved that.

[mire1li]

Oh, no it's not causing any issues!

Ever wondered how everything looks like from the eyes of a background character?

You, just like Huohuo, had a heliobus sealed in you… though you’re a simple Vidyadharan, the heliobus managed to manifest itself in the form of a dragon tail… which made you look… odd, to say the least. 

Every time you leave your house, people would come up to you and question why you have a dragon tail, after all you aren’t a high-elder so you don’t have the horns to match your new-found tail. 

Miss Hanya told you you’d only have to have this heliobus for a few weeks so they could see how other species reacted to being possessed (unsurprisingly, for the first few weeks, you were completely drained of your energy), though on your 5th week, you felt… stronger? No… your energy levels were higher than they had been for the last few weeks. 

Immediately, after making his discovery you went and told Hanya, who told you to “last a little while longer” and so you did… 

Now, you’ve had this heliobus for a little under a year. 10 months, to be precise. The heliobus had been largely inactive and you were feeling better than ever! Whilst doing chores, it would talk to you, it was pretty fun and you didn’t feel as lonely anymore.

You were sure it took most of your energy when you were asleep, as to not disturb you during the day, that probably explained why you no longer got a good night sleep… but it didn’t matter as you felt energised in the morning. 

Today, you were cleaning your house when suddenly your ‘tail’ smacked the broom out of your hand. 

“Hey” it spoke to you, changing into a more typical ‘heliobus’ form, though it still looked like a dragon… which scared you… a bit. 

“Hey?” 

“When am I leaving? That lady, Hanya, said this’ll only last ‘a few weeks’.” It’s face didn’t change a centimetre, although you could practically see the eye roll…    “I don’t know, I haven’t gotten any updates. Do you really want to leave?” 

“Well, I don’t know, sure it’s nice here or whatever but being bound to someone restricts me!” 

“I mean… you’d be sealed away either way, whether it be with me or in Fyxestroll garden.” 

It sighed, a disappointed look painting it’s draconic face “I know.” “Would you prefer being stuck with other heliobi? I assume some of them can be quite annoying.” 

“…” 

“I’ll take the silence as a no. Anyway, I need to continue cleaning.” You went to get the broom back, the heliobus knocking it further away from you. 

“…”

“…” 

The heliobus wrapped around you, essentially trapping you… you tripped over your own feet and landed on the floor, groaning in pain. 

“Do you wanna explain what this is about?” 

“… you humanoid species call it a ‘hug’ I think” 

You nearly audibly let out an “aww”, not expecting a heliobus to… hug you. 

You hugged it back, lightly petting its ghostly head. 

Eventually, the heliobus retracted from your body, seemingly smiling in content and returned to it’s ‘tail’ form. 

You chuckled and went to pick up the broom, finally able to clean in peace… or so you thought. Abruptly there came a knock from your front door. You sighed and placed the broom in it’s place, now making your way to open the door. 

Upon opening it, there stood Miss Hanya and Huohuo… you could tell where this conversation would go.

Your heliobus tail basically hid itself from sight. 

“Hello Hanya, Huohuo. Would you like to come in?” 

“Yes, that would be appreciated.” 

Hanya and Huohuo entered your home, you shut the door and led them to the living room, waiting for them to sit down on the couch, before sitting down yourself. 

“So… I’ll, uhm, assume you know what we’re here for?” Huohuo spoke timidly, looking around your home. 

You nodded “Yes.” 

“Let’s get to business then.” Hanya chimed in, standing up again.

“Uh- actually… it hasn’t been of any trouble… and we’ve… sort of grown attached to each other.” You chuckled awkwardly, hoping you could keep the heliobus. 

You could tell it also didn’t want to really leave by its timid actions around these two. 

“But… doesn’t it exhaust you?” Hanya looked… incredibly confused, you started feeling awkward, it’s fine though, you just had to tell her your thoughts! Surely she’d let you keep it! “Not necessarily… I’m pretty sure it stopped draining my energy during the day as to not disturb me.” 

“What an odd heliobus…” Huohuo spoke quietly “why don’t you do that, Tail?” She added, looking at her tail.

“Psh, why should I? I don’t need to accommodate you, you’re doing just fine!” 

“Ahh! Don’t be so harsh…” Huohuo cried out, slightly pouting. You could tell they were on good terms. 

Hanya cleared her throat, bringing everyone back to the situation at hand. 

“You’re saying you wouldn’t mind being possessed by it?” 

“That’s right, I understand it was just for an experiment, however… I don’t really feel as lonely anymore, it’s nice having someone… something(?) around to keep me company, I’m sure it’ll agree.” You mentioned your own ‘tail’, which transformed into its normal form.

It nodded, proving you right, causing Hanya to sigh and think for a moment. You were sure this was the first and only time she’d have a situation like this… 

“I mean… are you sure? Truly sure? This decision will make your life tougher!” She spoke, subtly pointing at Huohuo, who was currently trying to reach one of her talismans which was… mysteriously floating high above her….

You tried not to laugh at the sight… clearing your throat you looked back at Hanya who was leaning back on your couch with her arms crossed. “I’m sure I can handle it. It hasn’t caused any trouble for me in the past few months, I think it’ll be fine.” 

“Yes, that may be so, however, this is a heliobus we’re talking about, it’s personality could change just like that!” Hanya clicked her fingers as a visual representation. 

“It could, I understand the risks and I’ll be sure to take all responsibility!” 

“Um… what about something along the lines of a test run…? We monitor those two less but still get weekly reports? If all seems fine… then I don’t see why we shouldn’t allow it…” Huohuo added, probably getting the idea from Tail… who knows? 

Hanya looked at Huohuo, then you, then Huohuo again and sighed. Eventually caving.

“Okay… sure, we can try that.” 

The lady sat down, sighed and placed her head in her palms for a moment. She looked up at you a few minutes later, smiling.

“Well, alright… I suppose… it’s about time you give it a name then!”

[art-blogge]

pink thing, cut it down Now

There was a level of caution required when handling any E.G.O. or associated gift. They knew this. There had been enough errors with the Sinners before, enough headaches and everything else-aches to last them a lifetime. They KNEW this.

So when Faust left them for the night, leaving them alone with an E.G.O. to finish Threadspinning, they hesitated on touching it. They knew better than this. If anything happened to them- Their clock, more accurately- It was over for the team.

And yet.

And yet… They had to fall to curiosity eventually. Better this than something like Blind Obsession. A nice, low-ranked EGO that the team-- No. The Sinners knew how to handle easily.

Better write this down before committing.

---- "It's like they vanished!" Rodion exclaimed, broadly gesturing to the office. She hadn't been the first to notice the Manager's absence, but she Was the second loudest. The first loudest would be pummeled for yelling this early in the morning. The first loudest was also snooping around the office, peering in all sorts of places for her missing Manager Esquire. Nope, not in the vent. Nope, not under the desk. Nope, not between the desk and the wall.

"Impossible. They did not leave the Mephistopheles," Faust plainly stated, glancing upwards before walking away. Rodion stared after her while Ishmael irritably huffed.

"She knows something."

"Of course she does, Ishy. She wouldn't be Faust if she didn't."

The two went back to watching Don Quixote check increasingly illogical spots.

"You know, Ishy, Dante left a report behind before going poof."

"Yeah, I saw it. Messing around with an E.G.O.? Have they lost their mind?"

"You're not the bloody paragon of rationality either, lassie."

"Shut up, bastard."

----

An indeterminate amount of time later, Don Quixote had given up exploring, allowing Ishmael and Rodion to check the actually reasonable spots the room offered. She was exhausted, having wasted all of her limited energy on running back and forth. Not really caring if she was in the way, Don Quixote flopped onto her back on the cool carpet.

Ishmael cared Very Much, and started to drag Don Quixote out of the room by the leg. She didn't stop for anything- Not Don Quixote's sudden "AH-HA!" or announcement that she'd been struck with… Whatever the rest of that sentence was.

This left Rodion alone, and she looked up.

"I wasn't gonna hide you forever, Dante. Can't you come down here?"

And gently down they came from the ceiling, lowered by the pink ribbons strapped to every feasible part of them. They didn't quite touch the ground, the Pink Shoes seemingly avoiding a landing.

<"Rodya, I don't want to work,"> Dante quietly ticked. They and the Pink Shoes could do anything they desired. And right now, what Dante desired most was… Taking a break.

Rodion gently pat Dante as they plopped their head on her shoulder. She couldn't relate to Dante completely, but she was an excellent bluffer.

"I know, Dante. We're not going to. Hey, could you make a hammock out of those?"

----

"Rodion, this is absolutely insubordination! Using an E.G.O. in this manner?! Without the Executive Manager's--"

"Chill out, grandma!" Rodion interrupted Outis' bootlicking smoothly, causing Outis to fail the rest of the coin flips and the encounter overall. "Dante's right here. The hammock was my idea but they did it!"

Dante sat up slightly and gave Outis a giddy wave to prove Rodion correct.

<"Hello, Grandma Outis! We're taking a break today! It's quite nice! Very nice!"> they chirped, tilting their head. Pink flames got into Rodion's face, giving her a single count of Offense Down as she fanned them away.

Before Outis could finish regaining her composure from that Stagger, Dante continued speaking, going from cheerful chirps to quick ticks mid-sentence.

<"I don't have to feel like a tool!">

A pause, and then a growl that naturally wouldn't come from their mechanical head.

<"Or all of you idiot's endless pain over and over and ov--">

"Thaaaat's enough, Dante!"

Rodion smacked Dante on the back of the head, completely derailing their train of thought. That didn't stop them from speaking anyway.

<"Anyway, you should join us! I'd like you to! Are you going to deny your Manager?">

Even if Outis believed she had a choice, she absolutely didn't. Lust 31 heads vs 20 Pride heads. Get over here!

----

"Do you mean to tell me one inexperienced Sinner has managed to incapacitate seven others, Faust?"

"Yes. Dante seems to be very adept at controlling this E.G.O., even though they have been handling it for over two hours. There has not been a Sanity drop of more than five since use began."

"You're really tellin' us it's that bloody bad? Why don't you go deal wit' it?"

"Why don't you, Heathcliff?"

And so, Heathcliff groaned and dragged himself out of his seat. Fine. Fine! He'd be the guinea pig again! Whatever those were.

Two slams on the office door with his fist.

"Like it or not, I'm comin' in there!"

The door swung open before he could threaten to break it down.

The Sinners Dante had "incapacitated" were sitting around the room, engaged in various small talk unless their name was Outis. Outis had Actually been incapacitated, strung up and tied down to the chair for her crime of refusing to relax on a work day. That Bind would take a few more turns to wear off if she kept fighting it.

<"Hi, Heathcliff!!"> chimed Dante, scaring Heathcliff by dropping in front of him like a spider in an old mansion. <"Welcome! I don't wanna work so we're not doing that!! Come on in! There's a very cheap fee!">

"Uh," was all Heathcliff could respond with, stepping in before fully realizing the rest of what Dante said.

"What fee?"

Heathcliff was given a tight hug from Dante as a response. See, that he could do. That he could do real good!

"Eight," stated Faust from down the hall, unmoved from her last spot and cleaning glasses that belonged to her 7 Identity while watching vitals. "Physical contact made. Offense Level Down by five."

Vergilius sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Once a nuisance, always a nuisance. First them, now Dante. Nuisance. They were lucky they were otherwise tolerable.

----

It wasn't long before all of the Sinners barring Faust were present, not even attempting to work. Dante in particular had stolen Meursault's coat and planted themselves tightly between Yi Sang and Gregor. It was nice. It was warm. They weren't hurting. They were being treated like a person. Had reaching their desires always been this easy?

No.

Dante shook their head. They couldn't fully fall to it. That's how they'd Corrode, and then the fun would be over. They knew this, and the Abnormality seemed to know this too. Some of the mental pressure lifted, letting Dante relax again. Better. They wouldn't mind staying here like this for a while.

They didn't get to stay there long, instead being pulled out of the warmth and into the air.

"Did you think this through, Danteh?"

<"Hi Vergie!!!"> Dante chimed, genuinely pleased to see Vergil. A few Sinners suppressed laughter at Dante's cutesy nickname.

<"Are you joining us? You are, right? Please?">

Dante reached out to try and hug Vergil, only to be foiled by Vergil's arm being longer than theirs- They couldn't reach.

"I don't know what you said, but no. End this."

Dante drooped the way an undernourished plant would, in a way easily called sad.

"This madness needs to end, Executive Manager!" shouted Outis, finally freed from her bindings by Faust. Dante didn't respond to her, instead slowly turning to stare at Faust.

For a few moments they said nothing, like they were studying her. She did the same back, causing a net gain of nothing.

<"Faust. I desire answers."> Dante plainly ticked, already knowing the answer they were going to get.

"No. Kill Faust over it."

Before any Sinners could blink, Faust was bound in ribbons and brought close to Dante. They'd moved… Surprisingly quickly, even considering Vergil was holding them by the ribbons.

<"I don't want to kill you. I refuse. The Abnormality wants blood but I don't.">

Faust was then simply released. The only damage done had been to the smoothness of her sweater, which she fixed. She then looked to Vergil, who hadn't moved. He wasn't affected by Urge, but his Offense Level had certainly tanked from maintaining unprotected contact with a ribbon. She'd have to deal with this herself.

As soon as Dante looked away, she withdrew Walpurgisnacht and slashed through the ribbons Vergil was holding. That was enough to snap him out of whatever light trance he'd been under- A mistake on his part that he knew he'd never hear the end of. Instead of dwelling on that, he went with the flow and took out his own sword. Dante's blare of displeasure went ignored by both of them.

"That's the end of that, it seems," Meursault observed while moving to the side, "We are beginning an Abnormality Suppression."

<"But I don't want to!"> Dante complained, crossing their arms with some difficulty. They didn't seem to realize that THEY were the one about to be suppressed. They looked around for the "Abnormality" and saw nothing but Friends and Ribbons. Dante wasn't at all concerned with the Sinners withdrawing weapons- Why would they be? The Sinners would never target them. They wouldn't. The clock was too important. More important than they would ever be. They weren't important. They--

--They noticed some Sinners slowly edging out of the room, intending to make space for the other Sinners to fight. This caused an immediate train horn to erupt from them as they combination swung and leapt across the room to try and block the door.

<"You're leaving?! Please don't. I don't want to be alone!">

"We will be in your sights, Manager Esquire!" Don Quixote announced after slipping past them, sitting down in the hallway. Dante COULD still see her if they turned their head enough. She was right. They weren't alone if they were in sight… Right?

Someone cut down another ribbon, making Dante whip back around in anger.

<"You're all just going to leave! I won't let you!">

Faust was bound a second time that day, this time far tighter than before. Don Quixote rushed back in to pull her down, pleasing Dante. She came back! Everyone was here!

Time to block the door!!

Ribbons were pulled away from the room and into the doorway, blocking it off. Sinner complaints got completely ignored.

<"Now no one can leave me alone!"> Dante chirped, unaware of how awful that sounded, <"I can't lose anyone if no one leaves!">

Heathcliff groaned and Gregor shook his head. Outis firmly placed her gaze towards the wall and Sinclair did the same.

"Insubordination!" Ishmael announced before launching her harpoon. It cut through several of Dante's left arm ribbons, freeing it and letting it fall limp. Dante shrieked on impact as if the harpoon had impaled them, curling in on themselves as if that'd numb the pain.

<"No no no no no no please no! I don't want to hurt! I don't want to fight! Please no! Please please please!">

They were losing. They were struggling to hold onto coherent thought, the Pink Shoes threatening to win out. The Sinners were all staring at them with the intent to fight (or so Dante believed). One more try to appeal.

<"Please. I don't want any of you to leave. I don't have anyone else. I don't know if I had anyone else. I don't know. I don't know. I don't….">

The ribbons around Dante tightened, eliciting a loud whine from their head. It hurt! It hurt it hurt it hurt!

Oil tinged with pink started leaking from their head like tears. Oh! That was new! They'd never gotten to cry before!

"Should we really be doin' this?" Heathcliff asked uncertainly. He'd definitely heard the way Dante had been talking about themselves recently, and he wanted no part of it. He knew how it felt to be treated like this.

Sinclair raised his hand.

"Manager, you're hurting Faust!"

Dante whipped around to see, and then immediately released her again.

<"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I don't know why that happened! I don't….">

"Now!" someone shouted, and several weapons tore through Dante's ribbons with ease. In the brief moment before hitting the ground, Dante hoped the clock would take more damage than they would. They didn't remember anything else after impact.

--------

"-Severe lacerations. Physical damage to the outside of the clock but none to the internal mechanisms or the hands."

Faust was reporting the incident over the radio when Dante finally showed signs of life- Pulling the blanket they'd been wrapped in over their head to hide their shame. Faust seemed to pause seeing this, causing Dante to peek back out.

"Get that off of your head. You'll overheat."

With that said, Faust went back to reporting.

"I'd like to forward a request for time off--."

"We're getting a break?!" yelled Rodion as she jumped up, sending Gregor to the floor where he thought he belonged.

"Finally! We shalth journey forth not as a company but as do-gooders! And we shalth obtain treasures such as this ice cream!"

Faust stared at them. This wasn't enough, so Vergil cleared his throat. The two loudest Sinners instantly shut up.

"Faust is sorry about the interruptions. As I was saying…"

Faust was sure to step outside this time so she couldn't be interrupted.

"I would like to request time off so that Dante does not mentally break more than they already have. They have finally reached their limit…. Yes, of course. I always keep an eye on them. Could you also request that the current team not be moved to other projects once we've finished- No, no. This is not Faust's idea. You understand. Thank you. I will be in touch again soon."

Call finished, Faust got back onto the Mephistopheles.

"Sad lonely little gremlin bloke," Heathcliff teased, poking Dante's better shoulder, "Soppin' wet bloke who does fuck-all."

<"Piss off, you rabbit,"> Dante teased back before lightly headbutting Heathcliff. <"Dodge this.">

"Oh, good, we're finally killing him," Ishmael added before coming in hot with a pool noodle. Dante only knew what this was because of an incident involving Don Quixote (of course), Charon, and a flooded bathroom.

Outis looked up from wrapping Sinclair's arm wound but said nothing, instead scowling as the younger Sinners started roughhousing right there in front of her.

Also saying nothing was Yi Sang, standing nearby as his seat was currently occupied. He had nothing to add and so added nothing, simply glad to be there and not be beat on mercilessly. He got hit with a pool noodle several times after that as if karma had it out for him specifically. He didn't mind all that much. The karma was Ryoshu, angered about something-or-other, pool noodle on her sword in a brave attempt to stay nonlethal.

Hong Lu attempted to gift Dante a roll of present wrapping ribbon, much to Outis' dismay and Dante's amusement.

"Clockface can be our Christmas tree," Charon muttered, sticking a ribbon bow onto Dante's head.

Vergil kept watching, mostly focused on Dante as they laughed like bell chimes. Tolerable, he'd say if asked.

And if Dante was asked? This was their family. This is exactly where they belonged.

[watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees]

Run, rabbit, run

this had been bouncing around in my head for like 3 years now, i finally wrote it down properly, a little early Aly stuff <<3

masterlist

taglist: @risk606

TW: captivity, implied pet whump, escape attempt, manipulative whumper, restrains, gunshot, mentioned scars, very mild gore (wounds, injuries), recapture

"Seriously?" Luke sounded annoyed more than anything, a little exasperated even. Neither of which emotions he had a right to feel in Alyssa's opinion.

She managed to twist left wrist out of the metal cuff and was diligently working on freeing her other hand.

Both her lower arms were covered in blood, the restraints didn't give easily and first chafed the skin raw, then bloody. It made her left wrist slick enough to pull through at least.

The pain started to catch up with her though and the more time she spent on her right hand, the more it swelled, and it made her escape attempt practically impossible.

That's how Luke found her, he rushed down the stairs and grabbed her by the freed arm.

"This is your stupidest attempt so far" he yanked her arm closer to inspect it.

"Let me go" she tried to pull back, but he was so much stronger. The burst of adrenalin that had kept her going since she managed to free one hand had started to fade leaving only despair in it's wake. She didn't want to start crying.

"I mean you only managed to hurt yourself and for what exactly?" he scolded her with a frown.

"Fuck you, I almost did it" It was a blatant lie, fuelled by the last kick of energy she spared.

Luke glanced down at her very much still cuffed, swollen wrist and didn't feel the need to comment on it. Instead, he shook his head with a sigh.

"This can't go on forever"

"I won't stop, until I get the fuck away from here!" She struggled once more, trying to shake off his hold. This time even weaker than before.

"You're really set on that, huh?" He finally let go of her and Alyssa collapsed. She managed only a tearful glare as a response. What do you think, you monster?

"Okay, then let's make a deal" he crouched down to her level.

"What deal?" Aly asked carefully.

"Be on your best behaviour tonight, and I'll let you make a run for it tomorrow," he cupped the side of her face with one hand, almost affectionately. Aly, was much too taken aback to pull away or even notice.

"I can go? That- Why- How-?" she stammered. It couldn't be true. "You said you would never... You wouldn't. What?"

Luke chuckled with an amused smile plastered on.

"I know, what I said, but look at you" He let go of her face and gestured to her left hand "You clearly aren't going to learn, and you're so miserable you hurt yourself"

Aly noticed the slight change in his tone, that something isn't right about the way he spoke, but she couldn't ponder about it. She'd be free.

"You mean it? You really mean it?" she asked, and a fresh wave of tears welled up in her eyes, for the first time ever since she was there, they were tears of happiness.

"I mean it, you can run to your hearts desire, tomorrow morning. On the condition that you behave for me for the rest of today" She nodded eagerly.

"I'll be good. I'll do anything. Please" He laughed and let her still chained wrist free.

...

She expected he'd order her around, or make her do something horrible and humiliating to get a last kick out of her before the next morning, but all she had to do was follow him upstairs and sit quietly while him and Cole watched a movie, cuddled up on the couch.

It would've been peaceful, if she didn't feel her heart beat in her throat with excitement. She could barely focus on staying still.

She'd be free to go. The nightmare would end, and sure, she'll have the scars that will never fade, but she'd be free.

She planned to get home first, by any means, and later to the police. It made absolutely no sense that they'd just let her do that, so she'd play it safe. And go home first and foremost. She missed her family, her parents and her little brothers.

When the movie ended Luke sent her back downstairs. She barely slept a wink, and the morning light came through the small window of the basement almost too soon for her to prepare for it.

She waited with a tight knot in her stomach to hear any noise from the house that would indicate the guys were up.

Alyssa would be free.

...

She practically offers her hand for Luke to lead her out by, when he finally opens the door and walks down. He laughs at her softly and that sound twists itself into her chest like a dagger.

It still makes no sense, why the sudden change of heart, but he does lead her upstairs, gives her her pair of shoes back as promised, and through the door they go, outside the house.

She breathes in the cold autumn air as if this is her first time to experience it.

"You get a half an hour headstart" It all comes crashing down and she freezes up.

"What?" There's still a smile playing on his lips, but it turned into something sinister and cruel. There's no softness in it anymore.

"You didn't think, you could just leave that easily, right?" he asked. She did and she had never felt more stupid.

"No, you promised, if i was good..."

"...That you can run. Yes," he finished her sentence "if you get out of the forest and on the nearest road, you're free" he explained, and his smile grew into an amused grin as Alyssa seemed to shatter more with each word.

"If I catch you before that," he continued "you're coming back, I think that's fair" She paled at the thought, her face suddenly felt ice cold just mere seconds after it had burnt with shame.

"None of this is fair" she muttered in protest.

"You're right, it's not" Luke admitted with a content sigh. He stepped closer, invading her space, and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "But it's a lot of fun"

She shook her head, it was a silent plea for him to be joking, but he wasn't. Half an hour through the forest she knew nothing about.

"Which way, uhm, where- which way do I go?" she looked around anxiously.

"Any way you want, love" The answer stung like a slap.

"I mean, where's the road?" she tried again. Desperate to get at least a crumb of help that would raise her chances.

"That way" he gestured to the direction of the dirt road that led to the house through the forest.

She nodded and took a deep breath, "So what now?"

"Run" he winked and crossed his arms in front of himself lazily. "Timer starts now" Alyssa bolted.

...

She'd fallen, scratched and bruised herself up more times than she could count. She was clumsy and not used to this type of physical exertion.

The road was right there she saw the unnatural grey of the asphalt peeking through the browns and greens of the forest.

She almost started crying. She was there.

And then she hit the ground the same time as the sound of two shots fired caught up to her.

It was hard to make out what happened, she prayed, something had fallen on her head hit her head and that caused the horrible ringing in her ears. It would explain why she was on the ground all of a sudden. But her head didn't hurt.

What if she got overtly excited to see the road to freedom and tripped over her own feet.

The rustling of the leaves, crushed under a someone's boots ripped both theories to shreds immediately.

"You were so close, Aly," came the voice she hoped to never have to hear again. Luke was so close to her.

She started shaking, as her brain caught up to what had just happened. The pain from both her legs radiated through her in waves. Her heart worked in overtime to keep her alive and keep the oxygen running, she felt it beating against the ground.

"See? The road is right there," he probably pointed to the direction she was still focused on. "It only would've taken you a minute or two"

"You- you promised to let me... I ran, please, I can't-" She gathered her strength, as much there was left of it and pushed herself to crawl forward. She noticed her legs were dead weight, and the burst of energy could only take her so far pulling herself forward on two arms.

He sighed as he watched the struggle, but not didn't make a move. It was a pathetic and ultimately pointless attempt to get away after all.

He was a good shot, he hit both her legs, the right on her thigh the left on her calf. She was dragging two horrendous trails of blood behind herself, and only managed to gain a few feet of distance before her arms gave out.

"You cant do this-" she burst out, sobs bubbling up from deep down in her chest "I didn't- that's not f-fh-fucking fa- it's cheating" she cried. They had agreed it wasn't fair, right.

"Cheating?" he laughed in earnest, and he sounded much closer to her. She didn't notice him crouching down next to her over her own sobs. "Baby, I made the rules, this is just how it is"

"Fuck you" she managed, broken.

"I'm calling Cole to bring the car, those wounds look bad" he reached down to trace the outline of the growing red stain on her jeans over her thigh. Alyssa shuddered.

"No, just, let me go, please, let me go home, I can- I'll crawl, you don't have to- just, please" she begged with a last ounce of effort before succumbing to hopelessness.

"No, darling, this was your chance and you lost it, we're going back home"

[judas-is-scary]

So I really liked Zoom Academy for Superheros as a kid, a widely panned kids movie from 2007 starring Tim Allen. I rewatched it fairly recently and wrote a little thing, I never ended up posting it. But here it is for funsies, I've never posted any fanfic before and I have no spelling skills. I hope anyone who also remembers this weirdly dark childrens movie likes it.

Its similar to the story you know

It starts the same, a lone survivor barely 17 powerless in the desert. The bodies of three friends scattered around him and a brother gone. Nothing left to bury.

The sheer amount of nuclear energy released by the vortex jack creates finds it's way into the atmosphere. Resulting in a generation of children born with powers. Not enough to cause a fuss but the neighbours aren't too surprised when Cindy uproots a tree to shake out her frisby. Kevin down the street can make little wind gusts, Cindy's power level though is enough to catch attention.

As is Dylan's, Summers and Tuckers, when he uses it that is.

So they all end up in that miltary base. Jack with the promise of money if trains them, he rather take the carrot than stick. The jail he'd end up in probably looks less like a prison and more like a fresh ditch and bullet in the head.

The kids go of course because they're parents say so and so does the military. Their parents sign waivers and are fairly compensated for their loss. On that day they go from children to military assets, an important distinction where legality is concerned.

The story is much the same, jack is jaded, the children adjust as best they can to their environment. Holloway gives encouragement as best she can knowing she is likely sending children to die.

Better a heros death she tells herself, they'll get comic books written about them just like jack. The comic books don't mention that he's always late thinking he'll get there faster than he can, or that he's deaf in one ear, or that below the left knee he is metal.

They expose the children to gamma, of course they do. One child's life is not worth what Concussion could do. Dylan is the first. They reason better the invisible kid go crazy than one that can lift a truck. It unlocks his clairvoyance `mindsight` jack calls it. He vomits for days afterward but he does not go crazy and he does not die.

Concussion shows up before the military can dose the rest. Jacks powers reactivate to save Cindy. To this day there is still shrapnel in her arm from shards of the metal net, too small for the surgeons.

Concussion sends back the rocks that summer throws at him, most miss. One doesn't, it hits her right in the eye. Cindy thinks the eyepatch she wears after is cool so summer does mind too much.

Tucker manages a good hit in before a blast sends him into rocks that leaves him paralysed from the waist down. He always says it could be worse, if he lost an eye like summer, that would be it. God forbid the world be deprived of his baby blues.

Dylan comes out relatively unscathed. The gamma damage stays however, it was a miracle that jack lived past 40 and it will be another if he does.

Connor is saved. Thanks to jack, Concussion is just his big brother again. Still 19 and no longer trapped in a space between here and now.

Jack however, there is a reason his powers stopped working. It isn't a mental block caused by the pain of losing his family. It was self defence. The speeds he could move at weren't sustainable on his body, especially after the first vortex. So his body shut it down.

He is nearing 50, he is not 17, his body gives up. Jack is Zoom for a fight, jack gets to be Zoom once more before he drops from exertion and does not get up.

Summer and the rest take the ship and Connor. You can't track space tec, staying hidden helps when you've got a friend that can see around corners. They live in a house a little bit too small for them in a city easy to get lost in and try to adjust back to civilian life.

Connor is old enough to pose as an older brother and the kids get to go back to school. It's easier to make friends now at least, high school bullies aren't very scary anymore. Connor disappeared in the 80s so the all the technolgy is a riot. He misses he brother and blames himself for his orginal teams deaths.

The new family helps him move on. When Cindy finishes high school they move out to a farm. Summer finds business is easy when you can sense emotion, so money isn't a problem.

Cindy can lift all the heavy objects she wants. Summer loves the animals and tucker is a mean cook. Dylan learns to garden. Connor fixes stuff when it breaks and retrofits tuckers chair with tracks and others gadgets inspired by the ships design.

There is a horse named jack because he's the fastest they have and whenever the gang needs a break they go brush him. Everyone knows it means to leave them be. They all have their own demons.

They sell things at the famers market. The community is endeared if confused by the odd family. They don't ask questions, they are all out here for their own reasons and tucker makes the best pies in town.

They heal, away from the military. They are not heroes. They are a family and they are happy.