#it's so eerie outside. there's no light. there's no sound. the atmosphere is wrong.

[snowballseal]

Hello! I love your writing sm!

If your requests are open may I rq mc taking care of a burned out or overwhelmed Rafayel? I feel like he's always there for mc but she doesn't get to return the favor often.

Maybe her figuring out how to make him relax and feel better after a particularly bad day/week. ty! <3

Taking care of a fishie

Rafayel X Reader

Summary: When you go to visit Rafayel during a storm, you realize something isn't quite right. He's upset, dealing with a storm of his own as he works, and you decide he needs to take a break. It's up to you to take care of him.

Word Count: 3892

Note: So..........this kind of took on it's own life. It got a little angstier than I'm sure you intended for in your request, anon, but it's still mostly just a lot of fluff and comfort. I really enjoyed writing it, though his dialogue takes time for me to work out. Still! I hope you like it!

Also, I will die on the hill of calling Rafayel "fishie". Sorry not sorry, I think it's so cute.

---

Stepping into the studio is like stepping into a storm. Instead of its usual light atmosphere, the air feels thick and heavy. You can almost feel the static tension crackling along your skin. An actual storm can be seen out the windows, creeping along the coast outside at a threatening pace, casting shadows that make the space feel cold and eerie.

“Rafayel?” You call out into the dimly lit front hall.

No response. All you can hear is the distant sound of harsh brush strokes on a canvas. 

Of course he’s working. The world could end and Rafayel would still be working. Though he doesn’t sound…happy about it. Concern slowly twines around your chest as you make your way deeper into the studio, towards the sound. The usual mess is somehow worse - fruits, paints, and brushes scattered everywhere, along with crinkled balls of paper and tape. You guess this storm was a tornado.

As you expect, you find Rafayel where he usually works. He’s deep into a painting, his brush moving ruthlessly across the canvas. His movements are jerky and unnatural, yet robotically precise. Almost…apathetic. 

Unease prickles under your skin.

It’s nothing like the evenings you’ve spent watching Rafayel paint, when his motions are slow and hypnotic, his focus always so intense but gentle. You could watch him for hours as he brings life to a painting, each brush stroke a breath into existence. This - this is nothing like that. This feels more like anger, bristling and hot, just like the colors slicing across the canvas. There’s no hint of the beautiful, dulcet tones of blue he loves to use. Instead, it’s almost a violent clash of fire and steel and blood. 

Your unease grows with each strike he adds.

Something is definitely wrong.

He’s so focused, Rafayel doesn’t even notice you coming up behind him, not until you curl your arms around his waist. The artist goes tense under your touch, brush freezing against the canvas.

“Hey, fishie,” you greet, voice impossibly soft, hesitant, “I think maybe it’s time to take a break…”

Oh, that’s a tempting thought for him. Rafayel’s eyes flutter shut as he takes a moment to focus on the feeling of your body against his. Your touch is so warm and comforting, like being enveloped by the perfect heated blanket, drawing his attention to just how sore he feels. A bone-deep ache settles in his muscles, reminding him of the deep-set anger simmering in his blood. 

His jaw clenches as he levels the painting with a glare, “No time. I have to finish this.” 

You don’t even blink at the bite in his tone. It’s not meant for you.

“Raf, you look like you’re seconds away from stabbing the painting. And like you haven’t slept in days,” you note, scanning the bags under his ocean eyes. A frown flickers across his lips as he looks away. “You need a break and you know it. Come on.”

“This is just the way artists work,” he grumbles, waving his paintbrush dismissively, “There’s no such thing as time when it comes to inspiration. Unless there’s enough money, apparently.”

His comment makes you tilt your head, eyes narrowing. It’s not playful or simply dramatic like he usually talks. Instead, you hear a thin note of bitterness, as sharp as his wit. And it tells you all you need to know.

“Nope.” 

You click your tongue and snatch the paintbrush from his hands. Rafayel squawks, turning to you with an almost offended look as you drop it in a nearby can of paint. His lips part, and you can tell he’s getting ready to put up a fight, but you don’t even let him start, shooing him off the stool.

“Nope, nope, off you go. You’re going to take a break and a shower,” you insist, pushing him towards his room.

Rafayel gapes at you, and then tries to duck out and around your firm grip, “Cutie, I really can’t-”

“Nope, I’m not hearing it, Rafayel,” you chirp, not unkindly, and block his path when he whirls around. 

The man can be more stubborn than a mule sometimes, and it’s best to fight fire with fire. He plants his feet, crossing his arms over his chest with that exaggerated pout, the one that usually makes you give in to all his whims because you can’t deny such a cute, little fish. You hold your ground, though, raising a brow at him. It’s a stand-off. His stubbornness against your desire to take care of him. And you’re going to win.

After a few seconds, Rafayel scrunches his nose, glancing between you and his unfinished painting. If he really wanted to he could probably overpower you, if only for a second, and get back to his work. But the look you give him, eyes wide and earnest, a deep ocean of concern that threatens to pull him under, makes what little is left of his resolve crumble.

“I really need to finish it,” he tries again weakly.

“You need a break,” you respond decisively, “so we’re taking a break.”

“But-”

“Nope.”

“I just-”

“Nope!”

The artist wilts like a kicked puppy. For a moment, though, you swear a flicker of relief passes through his tired eyes. Like he didn’t really want to keep working anyways. It makes your heart clench.

A little more gently this time, you turn Rafayel around and lead him to his bathroom. He doesn’t put up a fight this time, allowing you to leave him perched on the counter of the sink while you go about preparing the shower. You can feel his eyes on you as you move around, the only sound in the room coming from the water steadily hitting the shower’s glass walls, and the distant roll of thunder.

There aren’t many times you’ve witnessed Rafayel being quiet. He usually likes to chatter, no matter what you’re doing, whether it be about a painting, or something he saw on a trip to the city, or a story about Lumerians. This silence is unsettling. Another storm, on the brink of breaking. That feeling grips your chest, tight and cold, despite the warm steam curling around you, filling the room.

When you glance back at Rafayel, your eyes meet. He’s still watching you, an indecipherable look on his face. He looks somehow more exhausted, his skin ghostly pale, eyes dull with a look of…defeat. 

It’s wrong. Everything is wrong. And you want to make it right.

Stepping over to him, Rafayel spreads his knees a fraction wider so you can settle between them. One of your hands finds the line of his hip, the other resting against the soft curve of his cheek to draw him close. Rafayel lets out a stuttering breath. You touch him with such tenderness, such love, it makes his head swim, makes him feel like he’s drowning yet undeniably safe, all at once. Everything else fades away, leaving just the two of you, surrounded by a soft haze of steam and the low light of his bathroom.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you murmur, so quiet he can hardly hear you over the sound of the shower, “but you know I care about you, right? I’m not trying to be mean to you, I’m just….”

Worried.

Rafayel softens. Of course you’d worry. You’re the only one that would for someone like him. His own personal angel, sent to drag him from the depths over and over and over again. Reaching up, he traces your brow almost reverently, easing the wrinkle between them.

When he talks, his voice is raspy and low, “What a fool I must be, making such a beautiful face look so concerned.”

“You’re not a fool,” you chide disapprovingly, “You’ve never been a fool, Rafayel. You’re just…a little self destructive at times, like we all are. But that’s why I’m here. I’m happy to be the one worrying about you, fishie. I’m happy to take care of you. If you’ll let me.”

Another emotion you don’t recognize flashes behind Rafayel’s eyes. He hums quietly, the tension slowly dripping from his shoulders, and turns to nuzzle into your palm. You inhale sharply, heart fluttering when his lips press against your skin, lingering yet hesitant. And when he looks back at you, there’s so much warmth, so much affection in his gaze, that you almost feel yourself melt.

“Please take good care of me then, miss bodyguard,” he murmurs, a ghost of that familiar smile on his lips, “ I leave my wellbeing in your capable hands.”

The heat that creeps up your cheeks matches the blush warming his ears. What a pair you are. 

“Then let’s get you in the shower,” you hum, voice a little shaky (though you’ll deny it), and card your fingers fondly through his messy hair. “I’ll get you some comfy clothes and make you some food. I’m sure you haven’t eaten all day.”

“Mmm, am I that predictable?”

“Only to me.”

You lean up and press a chaste kiss against his cheek. As you pull away, though, Rafayel catches your chin, slotting his lips over yours. It's a slow and overwhelmingly gentle kiss, devotion bleeding with fondness, raw and vulnerable and filled with a yearning that makes you dizzy. You can barely catch your breath when you pull away, the heat in Rafayel’s gaze nearly making you toss out the rest of your plans for the night.

“Take a shower,” you whisper, breathless, quickly separating yourself from the tempting man in front of you.

You still catch a glimpse of his smirk as you dip past the door, though.

Closing it behind you, you steady yourself against the wall, taking a deep breath. The sounds of him shuffling inside, followed by the soft clink of his shower door closing, lets you know that he’s at least listened to your instructions. Your racing heart gets a slight reprieve, then.

Alright. 

Slapping your cheeks lightly, you bring your focus back to the present. Even if he seems a little more himself, there’s still a lot to do. Rafayel deserves the world, and you’re determined to give it to him. As much as you can at least. Starting with comfortable clothes and a good meal.

You duck into his closet, picking out a particularly soft looking pair of sweats and a light button up. Maybe some socks too, you think as you remember just how cold he felt. Rafayel usually prefers to go barefoot, but you pick a pair of thick socks, just in case he wants them. Everything gets laid out on his bed, ready for when he finishes his shower.

Next - food.

Digging through Rafayel’s fridge is a mostly fruitless effort. Well, not fruitless. In fact, there’s plenty of fruit, only fruit really. Amusement curls in your chest. You’ll have to take him grocery shopping tomorrow and maybe have a conversation about a balanced diet. Luckily, you find some pasta in the pantry, and the basics you need to make a decent sauce. Maybe you can cut up some of the fruit too and make a little snack board.

Plan devised in your head, you set about making it happen. 

You’re in the middle of finishing the sauce when Rafayel silently pads into the kitchen. He looks a little more lively, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with curiosity as he shuffles up behind you. Slowly curling his arms around your waist, he draws you back against his body so he can nuzzle into the crook of your neck.

“Smells good,” he murmurs, breath tickling your skin.

You hum, one hand falling to rest over his, “I hope so. It’s nothing special, but it should help you feel better.”

“Anything these hands make can be special.” His fingers trace over your knuckles lovingly. “It just has to mean something to you. It’s only when it means nothing to you that a creation becomes insignificant.”

A part of you wonders if Rafayel realizes how transparent he is being. That, or you’ve just become so familiar with all his habits that you can just tell. To you, reading him is like reading your favorite book, and this is as obvious as a missing page.

But you don’t want to address it just yet. “Ready to eat?”

“Hmm, will you feed me?” He draws back to look at you, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

It takes everything in you to smother a smile. While you don’t often entertain Rafayel’s games, sometimes it’s nice to play along, if only to see him blush when you turn it on him. And today feels like one of those days. So you plaster on the most exaggerated, concerned look you can muster, flipping in his arms to cup his face.

“Do you need me to? Are you that tired?” You coo at him, satisfaction washing over you when his ears burn vermilion red. How cute. “Aw, my poor fishie. You’ve been working too hard, I knew it. Guess I’ll just have to tell Thomas that I’m holding you captive to make sure you get enough rest.”

“You’re teasing me,” Rafayel whines, the rest of his face flushing.

“Only partially,” you giggle, leaning up to peck his lips, “You always turn so red, it’s adorable.”

“I’m not adorable,” he grumbles back, “I’m handsome. Some would even say dashingly so.”

“Of course.” Mirth dances in your eyes. “My dashing prince. So I guess that makes me the knight coming to your rescue.”

He turns somehow darker, gaze darting away, “Even a prince needs caring for sometimes…”

“Yes, they do,” your voice softens, and you press another kiss to his cheek, “Now come, my prince, let’s eat and then we’re going to lay down on the couch and watch a movie so you can relax, okay?”

Rafayel is surprisingly cooperative for the rest of the night. You do end up feeding him a few bites, teasingly wiping at his mouth just to watch him blush again. But with every tender touch, no matter how teasing, you can see him slowly start to relax. His smile becomes a little more genuine, what’s left of the tension in his shoulder melting away. And you love it. You love taking care of him, spoiling him, if only for the night.

By the time you’ve finished dinner and cleaned up, the storm has finally made its way over the studio. Rain drums against the windows as you lead him to the lounge, streaks of lightning filling the room with flashes of light. It’s just the two of you, isolated from the outside world, lost in the warmth of the coastal storm. No one’s going to bother you tonight.

Or so you thought.

You curl into the corner of the couch, holding your hand out for Rafayel, waiting. Just as he’s about to collapse onto you, to finally put the day behind him, his phone comes to life on the side table. Its ring pierces through the relative quiet of the studio, startling both of you. Thomas. Rafayel’s face immediately falls at the name, and he hesitates at the edge of the couch, so close but still so far. In the dim candlelight, you watch his eyes waver, glancing back at the doorway.

“Rafayel.”

They flicker back to you. A flash of lightning illuminates his face, and for an instant, you see dread stain his beautiful features, pleading and desperate. It breaks your heart. 

“It can wait, Rafayel,” you whisper, somehow feeling just as desperate. Desperate to take him away from whatever it is that’s making him feel like this. Desperate to let him know he can rest. “Whatever it is, it can wait. Just…stay. Please.”

He glances back at the phone. It vibrates against the marble table, over and over and over, and you wait with baited breath. Until it goes silent. Still, he doesn’t move.

Slowly, so slowly, you reach forward. When your fingers tentatively intertwine with his, Rafayel takes a deep, uneven breath. And when you give his hand a gentle pull, he crumbles.

Rafayel lets you pull him onto the couch wordlessly. You make him lay down, head on your lap, while his arms curl tightly back around your waist. His grip is almost crushing, his fingers going pale as he wraps them in the back of your sweater, like you’ll disappear. Or like someone might try to tear him away.

Not that you would ever let that happen.

A heavy silence rests over the two of you. Not suffocating, but thick with unspoken words. What words, you’re not sure. They seem to rest at the tip of your tongue, but you can’t make sense of what you wish you could say, or even if you should say anything at all. It doesn’t quite feel right.

So you settle for waiting and start brushing your fingers through his unruly, damp curls, working out the tangles. Rafayel shivers at the sensation, the gentle tug at his roots, the pleasant tingle it leaves behind. He focuses on it, breath catching whenever your nails trace along the back of his neck. Desperate for another anchor point, his hands slip under your sweater to press against your skin. 

You gasp at his cold touch, movements wavering.

“Don’t stop,” Rafayel immediately pleads, voice cracking.

God, the things you would do for this man.

You continue without a word, and the artist hums, practically purrs. He’s remarkably like a cat, despite how much he hates the animals. Clingier, though. Much clingier. And you will never admit how much you love it.

You’re not sure how much time passes like that. Time never works quite the way it should when you’re with Rafayel. Seconds feel like days and days feel like seconds. His hair is dry. The rain is light, now tapping a quieter rhythm against the windows. The thunder sounds farther off. His chest rises so steadily, you almost wonder if Rafayel has fallen asleep.

Until he finally breaks the silence.

“It’s a commission from the mayor.”

You blink. The words process slowly in your mind, a frown forming on your lips. He continues before you can say anything, though, and once he starts, it seems he can’t turn it off.

“Thomas accepted it without asking me. He said the money was too good to pass up, as if I don’t have enough already.” Rafayel’s voice bleeds with such pure vitriol, you’re almost taken aback. You’ve never heard him so…angry. “It’s for his nephew. You’d hate him. He’s no better than a wanderer, preying on helpless people for profit.”

Understanding washes over you.

No wonder he’s upset.

Rumors have spread like wildfire about the nephew of Linkon City’s mayor. Sexual assault allegations. Financial fraud. None of it has been proven in court, but that hardly means they’re not true. It just means he has the power to avoid the consequences.

“I told Thomas to refuse it, but he insisted business is business and he’d already taken the money. As if my art is just business and money. As if inspiration can be bought. Like I can be bought.”

“Rafayel…” You start, a lump forming in your throat.

“It’s like when they used to capture us.” His voice remains thick with bitterness, shaking as he talks. “Humans would pay such high prices for us Lumerians.  Just for entertainment, to show off their status and power. Dead or alive, it made no difference, we meant nothing to them. This painting represents the blood of my people, but to him, it will mean nothing.”

You’re not sure if an aether core can break, but you’re certain you feel something shatter in your chest. It hurts. Seeing Rafayel like this, feeling him shake in your arms, hurts. You’ve never seen him so fragile, so trapped.

And you hate it.

“Rafayel, listen to me.” 

You touch his chin, drawing his burning gaze up to you. He looks torn between tears and brutality. The man who’s held you through your worst nights, and the one who can take life as easily as he creates beauty. Always torn in two and living under the weight of expectation. You can’t stand it.

“You have a choice here,” you murmur, tone insistent, “This is your work. It’s the way you speak to the world. You don’t have to share it with people who don’t deserve it. If this is the hill you want to stand on, then I’ll stand with you, and I’ll make sure you always have the freedom to choose.” A weak smile pulls at your lips. “I wouldn’t be much of a bodyguard or partner if I couldn’t do that for you.”

Rafayel’s brow furrows, sharp and conflicted, “But Thomas-”

“-Is a smart guy,” you chirp, “And you pay him well. I’m sure he just got swept away at the business prospects. If we sit down with him and explain the best we can, I bet he’ll understand. And if he doesn’t, we’ll just find a…creative way to fix this deal. Like delivering a blank canvas with your signature. We can say it’s a commentary on the emptiness of human gratification or something”

That gets the artist to snort despite himself.

“Or we could take it a step further - deliver an empty frame. They’d probably force Thomas to return the money at that point.”

His snort turns into a low chuckle. You grin, ruffling his hair.

“Humans may suck, but we’re good at being petty and coming up with ideas for revenge, huh?”

“Mmm, not all humans are so bad,” Rafayel hums, eyes dancing with amusement as he looks up at you. “I know a hunter who never fails to remind me how good some can be. She’s bold and selfless, not to mention compassionate, even to cats. The world is brighter when she smiles, and her touch chases away even the worst of storms.”

Thunder rolls through the house, perfectly timed, and you giggle when Rafayel frowns.

“Well, maybe not real storms. Though I’m sure she would try.”

“For you, I would do anything,” you promise and he softens even more.

“I know, cutie.” Rafayel catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. He then moves to start getting up. “And knowing that gives me the strength to finish what I need to do. You’ve inspired me.”

“Nope.” The artist grunts as you suddenly wrap yourself around him like a koala, dragging him right back down onto the couch. You flip the two of you over, so you’re laying on top of him, chin propped on his chest. Stuck once again. “You agreed to listen to me about your health today. And now that we’ve talked about it, you’re going to actually rest. Whatever you have to do can wait until tomorrow, okay?”

“Ah, my apologies,” he says, voice lilting with hardly concealed laughter. “It seems I forgot about our arrangement.”

“Uh-huh. I’m in charge tonight, and that means we are going to cuddle and watch a movie, and then you are going to sleep. For the whole night. Understood?” You try to speak with an authoritative tone, but it also breaks with laughter.

“Of course.” Rafayel leans forward, and seels your deal with a brief, but ardent kiss. It leaves your heart fluttering as he draws back to whisper, “Thank you for taking care of me, my treasure.”

“Anytime, fishie.”

---

This ended up being sooooo long! I wanted to get the atmosphere and stuff just right, and then poof, nearly 4000 words. Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed a bit of Rafayel angst/comfort.

[dnd-writes]

Boulevard of Broken Dreams - Pt. 1

AO3

Tags: Non-con, this whole fic is just one whole degenerate lump of non-con, so warning all of you already at the beginning. BFH, very degenerate, unedited, Third-person PoV (cause easier that way), sex slave!Julie, sex slave!Natty, sex slave!Belle, sex slave!Haneul, sex slave!Kiss of Life, sexual slavery, sexual exploitation, contract manipulation, clothing control, slapping, punching, kicking, spitting, deflowering, anal deflowering, painal, dry vaginal sex, facefucking, cum on food, frozen dildos, I think that's all or most of it but you get the point

A/N: 1. First of all, thank you to @fillinforlater for the fic idea. Idk what the fuck happened, at first I was following the plot he laid out, then I changed this part, then I added this part, then this, then that, and I blink and all of a sudden I have this monstrosity of a fic 2. Fic has nothing to do with the song, just thought it would fit as a title 3. If anyone asks, for this fic I "changed the timeline" of KIOF's pre-debut stuff to essentially fit in June 2023, cause y'know, Haneul. 4. Part 1 cause Smite's prompt had a second part that I also want to write but it's gotten so long I decided to split the fic into two? parts.

It’s finally happened, she’s finally done it! After years of hardships and struggles Natty has finally achieved her goal of being in a K-pop girl group, the dream she once thought to be impossible now becoming a reality as she takes the pen and puts her signature down on the contract with tears filling her eyes. Some might call her crazy or an overreactor for bawling out but for someone who has gotten eliminated in the finals of not one but two survival shows, tears of joy sound like a reasonable reaction. 

Although Natty has already spent nearly a decade training, she is still looking forward to training more with her new groupmates. Even if it might take a decade more, as long as her dream comes alive, to her it’s all worth it. 

Natty expected to be surprised on her first day but she wasn’t ready to face what was in store for her. Having been a trainee for almost half her life, there’s no doubt that Natty has heard rumors about the industry, the drastic measures required to stay in form, the horrible things that happen away from prying eyes, the exploitation, the harassment. Though to her, they were all just rumors, just silly little things that people made up, little did she know that the rumors were just a teaser of what’s to come.

Natty goes through the front doors but instead of the vibrant and cheerful place she visited not long ago, the company now has a faint and eerie atmosphere. Lights are off, not a sign of any person in the immediate vicinity, it’s like the place never was alive to begin with. “Maybe I just came in at a wrong time,” she thinks as she navigates her way to her destination. Natty ascends to the fifth floor and as she makes it there, she hears subtle heavy breathing echoing along the halls. She decides not to get too curious and instead looks for the meeting place.

Natty stands just outside the door with a large smile prepared on her face, “This is it,” she tells herself as she gets ready to meet her new sisters. Her jolly expression quickly fades as she breaches the door, sitting inside are two of her three new groupmates. While very excited to finally meet them for the first time, what catches her attention the most are their outfits—both of them revealing way too much skin, a stark contrast to the jacket and jeans she has on. One of them is wearing booty shorts and a crop top cut short enough to barely cover her nipples and Natty notices that she doesn’t seem to have a bra underneath it. And all she can see on the other is a large red shirt barely making its way past her hips. 

Natty forces back a smile, trying to regain the excitement she previously had. There’s just four seats in the middle of the room all facing each other and Natty takes one of the two empty ones. It was awkward at first but the tension slowly dissipated as the three began talking, though a sense of eeriness still lingers behind. They start off introducing themselves to each other and Natty quickly learns that it’s Haneul who is wearing the crop top and Belle is the one wearing the red shirt. Once they got the awkward introductions out of the way, they proceeded to talk about random things. They start to talk about their lives now, their lives as trainees in previous companies, how the two knew of Natty in her time in survival shows. Although, every time Natty would try to talk about their outfits, they would pause and take a deep breath but then they would either play it off as if it was a normal thing or just change the subject entirely.

With no obstructions between them, Natty can’t help but notice some details with their apparent choices of clothing. Natty doesn’t know if she’s just imagining it but when she looks at Haneul’s crop top, she swears she can see a hint of darkness which she can only guess to be are areolas. Then there’s Belle who is sitting in the chair across from her, her short red shirt hikes even higher up her body while she sits down and Natty can see, clear as day, Belle’s pussy just hanging in the breeze. Natty tries to ask her about it but Belle just looks at her as if she was a crazy person.

Eventually the last member arrives, Natty somewhat expected her to also be similarly dressed which she is but the state she came into the room in was what shocked her the most. The last member arrives wearing a yellow sundress though from the looks of it, it might be a size or two too small. As she stands there trying to introduce herself to Natty, she keeps on adjusting her dress, struggling between pulling it over her chest or pulling it below her hips. But her attire is the least alarming part, her hair is all frizzled, her lipstick is smeared, and there’s drops of liquid dripping from between her legs. Natty forces another smile as all four of them start to talk together. The mystery girl introduces herself as Julie, their new leader. Julie takes the remaining seat and, similar to Belle, her dress hikes up, even higher compared to Belle’s shirt, and Julie’s pussy is visible to everyone. No one comments on it but Natty quickly sees that a pool of white is forming between Julie’s legs and it seems to come from her pussy and her butt.

Natty was right in that her first day would be full of surprises, though she did not expect to be such horrible and gut wrenching surprises. On her way home, she starts to recall the rumors she has heard over the years and after thinking back to what she saw earlier, they’re starting to become less like rumors and more like the harsh reality of the industry. But Natty brushes the thoughts aside, thinking to herself that her dream of being part of a K-pop group is being fulfilled and if it means even worse and troubling obstacles, then she will just overcome them too. She has had years of training, what’s a questionable dress code compared to that?

The next day arrives and Natty tries to remain optimistic, wearing another bright smile as she enters the practice room, though just like the day before it quickly drops. There’s a fifth person joining them that day and Natty can only assume he’s their choreographer only except he’s wearing nothing but shorts. While his toned body is in no doubt hot and amazing, given the situation and the very very prominent tent he’s sporting, Natty is deeply disturbed.

She says hi to him and then at her group mates who she has just noticed are still wearing the same outfits as the day before albeit with some slight changes—Haneul’s isn’t even covering her chest anymore, just dangling like a necklace above her shoulders; Belle’s red shirt has streaks of white all over the front; and Julie’s dress has a rip at the top as if her breasts were breaking free. Natty couldn’t even find the time to feel sorry for them as the man starts to talk to her as she comes in. “Hey, you’re the new girl right? What are you wearing?”

Natty stands frozen in place. She hasn’t gotten any sort of instructions or clothing to wear. Has she missed something? 

The man carries some papers over to her. “Did you not read this?” Natty recognizes the papers he’s holding, it’s the contract she signed. He flips through the pages and gives it to her, “See? Right here.” He points at the clause labeled “Attire” and Natty reads through the fine print. “In the company, the members should wear what is given to them or any clothing that they have. Provided that their tops have sleeves not longer than 10 cm and bottoms not longer than 20 cm.” With just her luck, she’s wearing a sweater and jeans that day. Natty couldn’t believe this, she remembers reading every detail of the contract but not once has she seen this. Natty continues to read the page and the next clause is labeled “Sex.” It reads, “The members cannot object to their bodies being touched or used by the employees of S2 Entertainment. The members must follow every order given to them, whether they are willing to do so or not. If the task is impossible to do, the members must accomplish it to the best of their ability. None of this can be mentioned to anyone outside of S2 Entertainment.” Natty could not believe her eyes, such inhuman clauses on her own contract. She hastily checks the last page and there sits her signature, bright as day. She looks at the others in disbelief but they can only stare right back at her with empty expressions.

The man grabs the papers back. “Well? The clothes we have are still in the laundry, so unless you have spare clothes with you or something, the only solution is to undress.” Natty looks at the others again for help but they just shake their heads and Julie mouths “Sorry” to her. “Are you going to do something about it or do you want me to take care of it?” Driven by fear of getting manhandled, Natty turns around and rushes to take her clothes off. Even with her back to everyone, she can feel the stares stabbing into her back. She feels so sick and dirty as she takes her sweater off and as she shimmies her pants off of her hips, she doesn’t realize she was involuntarily shaking her ass for everyone not until the man squeezes her butt.

Natty shivers in the cold room but it pales in comparison to being just in her underwear. Though it’s just the choreographer she has to be worried about, the lustful stare he gives her is enough to make her cry. Julie tries to console Natty but not a second later Natty hears a slap echo in the room, she looks up to see the choreographer in front of Julie who’s holding the side of her face.

The rest of the day goes pretty ok given the circumstances, mostly just going over the song and the choreography that went along with it, though their instructor occasionally helped himself to cop a feel while teaching and he seemed to be most interested in Natty, always focusing on her mistakes, groping and feeling every inch of her body as he “teaches” the dance.

The next day, Natty moves into the group’s dorm. “This time, it will be better,” she tells herself, maintaining that bright and optimistic perspective on life. She hopes that in the dorm it will be much funner and freeing, just her and her group mates living together and hanging out all the time. 

She opens the door and peers inside, to her surprise it’s really clean and quiet. Although she’s been very optimistic about things, deep down she was expecting similar horrors to what she has seen the previous days and seeing such a pristine and spacious living space is enough of a relief for her. After bringing her things through the door, Natty explores the place. In the living room there’s a huge flatscreen TV and a couch big enough to fit more than four people, and in the kitchen there’s lots of space available and a big fridge. Natty checks the fridge and salivates seeing lots of veggies and drinks inside, then she checks the freezer and almost falls to her knees from hunger seeing all the meat. Natty was about to slam the door shut when she notices a red dildo slightly hidden in one of the layers, she gives it a touch and confirms that it is ice cold. She blushes slightly, thinking that one of her group mates is kinky like that.

Natty hops over to the rooms, excited to see what those are like after seeing how extravagant the common areas are. She first checks on the room to the right, as she goes in she’s met with a very odd-looking room, half is very bland and empty while the other half is very decorated. “This must be my side,” she whispers while looking at the empty space. Over in the decorated half she sees Haneul fast asleep in her bed, seeing her wearing pajamas and not some skimpy outfit brings a smile to her face.

Natty closes the door gently as she makes her way to the next room. She barges through the door and immediately regrets it, the dorm which she expected to be their “safe space” away from the shit they have to go through at the company, turns out to just be an elegant looking prison. Natty was so happy about the place but unfortunately, it was too good to be true.

Natty sees three people all in one bed. Nearest to her is Belle, lying on her back and sobbing into her hands while a red dildo is shoved in her ass. Next to her is Julie and some man relentlessly pounding into her from behind. Only the man reacts to Natty’s arrival, looking over his shoulder to smile at Natty, it’s a different man, one Natty hasn’t met before. “Hi, Natty… I’m your… manager… Will you be a good girl and… pull that out of Belle?”

Natty should feel offended by such a crude question but after a week of “training,” she’s gotten to know better. Disgusted and disturbed yet Natty still drags her feet across the floor towards the three of them. “Just pull it out but do it slowly, don’t want to hurt her… even more,” he quickly adds the last part, chuckling as he does so, clearly enjoying himself at the expense of Julie’s and Belle’s pain. 

Natty glances at Belle, her face hidden in her hands, her body red and blue all over, her ass adorned with a bright red toy. She touches the base and immediately recalls her hand, it’s cold, ice cold. Natty considers herself a fool for even thinking for a moment that the freezer dildo was a kink thing, perhaps it might, but not for the person she thought it to be.

Belle’s quiet sobs turn to whines as Natty starts pulling the dildo out, the sound alone is enough to bring tears to Natty’s eyes, knowing that even though she’s helping, she’s still causing some pain. Natty continues to pull but at her slow pace it feels like it would take forever, she doesn’t even know how long the dildo is and as more inches get pulled out, the more worried she gets knowing how far it was in Belle and how much it could have hurt. 

Finally she pulls the thing out which calms Belle, her asshole closes back up, her body relaxes, and her cries die down. Natty looks at the dildo in her hand, the thing is almost as long as her forearm, she quickly throws it away and out of her sight.

Their manager turns to see that Natty has done what he requested, he gives Belle a slap on the ass and then Natty a pat on the head. “Oh nice… you’re a good girl... Natty… So here’s… your reward…” Before Natty could process anything he said or did, she feels her hair being yanked and her face quickly diving towards the bed. He makes her face to the side and starts to paint Natty in his cum. She hasn’t felt cum yet, let alone seen a dick in person, but the warmth and stench it leaves is enough for her to hate it.

“Wake Haneul up and have her clean you up, or you could just drink it all yourself, I wouldn’t mind. Just make sure to record, ok? When you’re done, Natty, meet me in my room, it’s at the end of the hall.”

And just like that he leaves, satisfied and so full of himself, while the three girls lay exhausted and broken.

Julie is the first one to recover among the three of them. “Let’s get you cleaned up. I’ll go get Haneul, he hates waiting too long.” Before Julie can step away, Natty grabs her wrist. “N-No! I’ll do it. I’ll… try to do it.”

“You sure? Alright then. My advice is just do it quickly. Hwaiting.” Julie flashes a weak smile and raises her fist for encouragement and Natty reciprocates the action. 

Julie takes her phone and starts recording. Natty sits at the edge of the bed with Belle just slightly out of the shot. Natty scoops up all the cum on the side of her face, just doing so disgusts her immensely. With most of the white liquid in her palm, she puts everything in her mouth and gulps it all down. For a second all is well but the aftertaste hits her like a truck and she starts coughing again and again. She expected to hate it but it was beyond awful. Only when Natty calms down does Julie stop recording.

“Go to his room, it’s on the left. I’ll just put this back in the freezer,” says Julie as she picks up the dildo from the floor.

“He hates waiting.” Natty repeats, with no time to rest, she gets to her feet and moves to the manager’s room. Natty’s hand reaches for the doorknob but she stops herself before she can even touch it. This time around she opts to knock instead of just barging in. “Come in,” says the voice from the other side. Natty enters the room, it looks much bigger and more grand than the other rooms, a bigger bed, a TV, a mini-fridge, it was practically its own apartment. “So nice of you to knock, you’re still dressed but that’s an easy fix.” 

She notices him ruffling through some stuff in his drawer, she tries to take a peek but he closes it before she can see what was inside. In his hands are a remote and a collar with her name on it. “We just met a few minutes ago but I think you’re my favorite already.” He puts the collar on her, tightening it so it fits exactly around her neck. “Whenever you’re here at the dorm, you have to wear this, ok? And everytime I press this button.” He raises the remote and clicks it, sending a small stinging sensation to Natty’s neck. “You have to come to me. It’s only at one right now but if you’re not here within five minutes of me clicking it, it goes up by one, permanently.” Natty gulps but with the collar snug around her neck, it made it a little uncomfortable. 

“Ok so where’s the video?”

“Ah, Ju-”

As her name is mentioned, Julie barges into the room, phone outstretched with the video ready to play.

“Ah, there it is. Thank you, Julie.” Julie hands her phone over and stands in place, like a robot waiting for her next command. “Aww, look at Belle sleeping so peacefully. Oh wonderful, drinking it all by yourself. See, I knew you would be my favorite.” He hands the phone back to Julie and she starts to leave but before she makes it out he issues one final order for her. “Julie, be a dear and get Haneul. She’s been sleeping all day, I haven’t had my fun with her yet. Actually, you know what? Now that Natty’s here, just get everyone.”

With just the two of them left in the room, he walks over to Natty. Seeing his erect dick twitching so much causes her to involuntarily step backwards and his brows suddenly furrow. “Now, now, Natty.” The sudden change in his tone and expression is enough to strike fear in her heart, afraid of a punishment she puts her foot back to its original spot causing his smile to return. 

“Sweaters. Always so annoying, I heard you’re huge but I can’t really tell with that stupid thing hiding your tits. From now on in the dorm, Natty, only wear tight tops. Oh, better yet, no tops at all. The only thing I want to see you wearing above your hips is that collar.” 

Instantly Natty’s hands start to move, getting rid of any clothing on her torso as soon as the new rule is implemented. She can see it in his eyes, hunger ever growing with each article of clothing she removes. As soon as her shirt comes off, he starts salivating. “My, oh my, you’re huge. Looks like Julie’s got competition.” Natty reaches behind herself to unhook her bra but pauses for a moment, she realizes this is the first time she would show her breasts to anyone, many have touched and played with them at the company but not one has unveiled her boobs. As her bra falls, his dick twitches in excitement. 

The rest of the group arrives. Belle is the first to enter, her legs very tired and her ass still very sore. Next comes Haneul, yawning and rubbing her eyes. Last is Julie, her head held high and her face serious, looking like a guard rounding up the inmates although she isn’t any less of a prisoner compared to the other girls in the room. The four just stand in silence like mannequins and their manager walks around and gropes whatever he pleases as if doing some inspection. 

“Haneul… what did we say?” says the manager very disappointedly. His tone shocks her awake, “I-I’m sorry,” she bows then starts getting out of her clothes. He scoots over to her and slaps her in the face. “I’ll let you off easy this time since Natty’s finally here but I’m doubling the next punishment.”

After Haneul, he moves over to Belle, whose legs are barely keeping her standing. “You cross me again, I’ll make sure you won’t even be able to walk for the rest of the day.” He punches Belle and she easily drops to the ground sobbing, he kicks her while she’s down to add insult to injury. Natty can only shiver upon hearing everything happen behind her, does she even want to know what Belle did to make him so mad?

He moves over to Julie and the first thing he does is spit on her face then he uses his fingers to smear it all over. Julie keeps her composure, just closing her eyes as he plays with her face, not flinching or whining at all. “You should thank Natty for being here, ‘cause you’ll finally have some time to rest.” His hands cup her breasts, giving them a proper feel before he moves on to a bigger and better pair. 

Finally he comes back around to Natty, the only person in the room with any piece of clothing still on. “Tell me, Natty… Have you fucked before?” Natty gulps again knowing the implications, though it was bound to happen eventually. She shakes her head and he smiles. “Oh, a virgin? So many people in that building and not one has fucked you? Well their loss, we’re gonna have so much fun together.”

“Change of plans girls, looks like I need some ‘catching up’ to do with Natty. Go do whatever you want for now, we’ll be here for a full day or two.” 

But just before he dismisses them, he goes back to Belle, still on the ground holding her side. He spits on her face too but this time he uses his foot to smear her face. “Don’t think I’m done with you just yet. Be ready for your final ‘lesson’ when I’m done with Natty. Now go, all three of you, leave.”

It’s wicked really, how sick and twisted all of this is, all the expectations Natty had, completely flipped around. Shining eyes looking up to her turns out to be lustful stares looking down, helping hands turn out to be forceful gropes, and managers turn out to be owners. Natty looks over her shoulder with tears starting to form in her eyes, though her hands remain still, her stare acts like a hand reaching out to save her from the depths of hell but alas, all Haneul and Julie could do is return similar sad gestures as they carry Belle away.

The manager locks the door as the three leave and immediately gets back to Natty, even with all the time in the world at his disposal, he wouldn’t want to waste a single second. With the rest of the group gone, Natty feels even more miniscule and useless, even more of a toy as his gaze is solely on her. He comes up behind her and fills his hands with her tits, with Julie’s he can still grasp the whole thing in his hands but Natty’s can barely be fully contained. He starts to fondle and play with her nipples while slowly moving his mouth closer to her neck.

Natty easily starts to moan loudly, she wants to keep quiet to avoid giving him that pleasure but her complete lack of experience and the resulting lack of tolerance betrays her. He sniffs along her neck, “You smell so good and your tits… so fucking soft.” He finds a patch of skin along the front of her neck and starts to kiss and suckle on it, Natty explodes into a moaning mess, shouting in pleasure as if she’s having the time of her life.

The pleasure gets cut short as his hands move down to her waist. “Sweatpants… another cock blocker. From now on, just don’t wear anything, Natty. Your body is so hot and irresistible, wouldn’t want any clothes hiding your beauty. Don’t worry about getting cold, just come to me and you’ll be warmed up in no time.” His fingers slip into the waistbands and he slides both her underwear and her sweatpants down to the ground. He’s the first one to see her tits and now he’s also the first one to see her bare ass and pussy. As much as she doesn't want to think about it, he probably will be the first dick she takes in every hole.

The manager circles Natty slack-jawed and wide-eyed as if admiring a sculpture he has just made. “Fat ass, soft and heavy tits, pretty face. You’re just the perfect little toy, aren’t you? And a virgin too, just the absolute best, if I could I would just own you forever but sadly I’ve got a job to do. Although… maybe I can have you be my roommate instead of Haneul’s, that’s probably the closest I’ll get.” He leans down and frowns at what he sees. “Unshaved, unfortunate, guess you can’t have absolutely everything but it’ll do. First thing I want you to do when you’re out of this room is get that shaved, got it?” Natty’s been unmoving and frozen in place for so long that it takes her a second before nodding her head.

The manager pushes Natty onto the bed then flips her to face him. Her full body is on display for him, each delicacy just sitting idle like food in a buffet, up for grabs at any time. He licks his lips as he considers his options. 

“Two virgin holes, which to try first? The other three bitches came here already used, so this will be a first for you and me.” He slaps his dick against her pussy, grinding on it and feeling the slight hint of wetness it’s giving off. Next he considers her asshole, very puckered and looking very small compared to the head of his cock as he pokes her with it. He licks a finger and prods inside, the way his finger barely pushes through excites him and the way Natty winces seals the deal for him. 

He lifts Natty’s legs up and hooks them over his shoulders, giving him a perfect angle to ravage her ass. He lines himself up and slowly pushes his way in, not even bothering to spread her cheeks to mitigate the tightness. Natty is already breathing heavily as she feels her asshole stretching to accommodate him. “Please,” she begs. “It… It won’t fit.”

He just smiles and caresses her cheek. “That’s the fun part, a tiny virgin asshole broken open by my cock. I’m gonna remember this forever.”

As soon as Natty’s sphincter spreads wide enough for his girth, he shoves the whole thing inside. “AHHHH!!! TAKE IT OUT! TAKE IT OUT!” Natty fires a blood-curdling scream as his cock swiftly overwhelms her. It hurt for him too given how dry her butt is but only barely, plus her cries only work to alleviate him. 

He locks her legs in his arms and her hips in his hands to keep her from moving. Her hands might be free but Natty doesn’t have the strength or the courage to lift them up. Her ass feels like it’s on fire from the dry friction between the two of them. To her, it’s like hell. To him, the fire feels like an invigorating force. 

Her anal walls hug him so tightly, it’s like Natty’s ass is begging him to fill her up and who is he to turn down such a request. Her ass is so tight, it’s practically milking him dry, any tighter and he might not be able to pull out. In just a few minutes he starts to orgasm, the hardest and fastest one he’s had with any of the four girls. He pulls out and scrambles to find his phone, wanting to cherish this moment forever. “Second load of cum and many more to go. You’re gonna be such a wonderful cum bucket, Natty, milking me everyday. You’re going to love my cum and my dick in no time.”

Natty tries to stand, to do something, anything, but her body is just worn out already, completely exhausted, completely given up. The manager, on the other hand, is the exact opposite, even after tearing Natty’s asshole apart, he’s still hard and ready for another round. This time he has his eyes set on her cherished virginity. 

He hooks her legs back onto his shoulders but this time he carries her then pins her to the wall with her wrists bound by his hand above her head. While flexibility isn’t a problem for Natty, she is now face to face with her assaulter. She closes her eyes and looks away but that doesn’t stop her from feeling his hot breath on her face. His tongue pokes out and licks along her cheek, tasting her tears and her sweat, he leaves a trail of his saliva as he travels from her jaw to her ear. “So salty, so delicious. Everything about you is so delicious, you know that? Now I’m gonna enjoy fucking your pussy, I’m gonna see just how tight you fucking are.”

Tears fall nonstop from her eyes. Natty’s sobbing grows strong as she feels his heat pressing against hers. She so badly wants to beg him to stop, to let her rest, but her voice can’t manage to form words and she knows he wouldn’t listen anyway. 

He lines himself up with her folds and in one swift motion, he pistons his cock inside. “AHHHH!!! FUCK! PLEASE!!!” her voice only manages to come back during moments of intense pain. “Oh, Natty, your cunt. Fuuuuuuck, that’s the best pussy ever.” Her pussy is heavenly, it’s so tight that it’s almost orgasmic when he penetrates her. He just loves the way Natty squeezes around him. He also loves hearing her cry out in pain, to him it’s like a choir of angels. He relishes in the feeling of Natty’s pussy, living in his own twisted version of heaven.

As he pounds into her from below, Natty’s tits bounce freely in front of him and he doesn’t waste a second as his mouth latches onto her chest, after all, a little side dish won’t hurt while he enjoys the main meal. He bites her nipples, pulling and squeezing them with his teeth, only adding more pain to what Natty is already experiencing.

The two of them fucked endlessly in that locked room while the other three finally got some rest, though they couldn’t quite live in blissful harmony as Natty’s screaming kept them aware of their situation, the walls were thin enough to let Natty’s wails of terror flood the whole dorm. While the other three girls were able to sleep through it, in the morning they still heard Natty screaming and begging, though her voice much weaker and hoarser. 

There’s just so much to do with Natty, just pure lust and adrenaline fueling the manager all throughout the night. All the positions he could take her in, all the things he can do, all the possibilities, everything that Natty’s body can offer, he takes. He fucked her all over the room, didn’t even matter how or where, he just slams her down somewhere and fucks her in whatever hole he felt fit. He fucked her face against the wall, then fucked her ass while he pressed her face onto the floor, then fucked her pussy while missionary on the floor, then fucked her ass doggystyle on the bed, then fucked her face while her head hung off the bed, then fucked her ass in the shower. Just so much cum in and on her body in the span of a couple of hours and yet he is still going strong.

The next day comes around and there doesn’t seem to be any lapse in their action. Stretching from before the rise of the sun all the way to after it set, just endless screaming of pure pain and agony coming from Natty. The only time the manager interacted with the rest of the girls was when he asked Julie to cook up a meal for them. The door finally opened again for the first time in two days as Julie brought her cooking.

“Ah, pork belly, I’m starving. Thank you so much, Julie. I see you’ve gotten comfortable without me pestering you all the time,” he says as he sees Julie wearing some pajamas. “Oh, two plates? We won’t be needing that,” he chuckles as he returns the second set of utensils as well. Just before the door closes, Julie takes a peek over his shoulder and sees Natty practically lifeless on the floor. The manager gives Julie a quick smile, proud of his own work, then locks the door.

The manager walks over to the bed and nudges Natty with his foot before getting himself comfortable. Natty, almost void of all energy, springs to life as she smells the delicious food. Natty sits patiently, silently jealous as she stares at her manager eating all by himself. He points to his dick and Natty can only sigh as she lowers her face in front of it. 

The manager puts his hand on the back of her head and Natty opens her mouth, but instead of pushing down he says, “Let’s play a game, Natty. If you make me cum before I finish the food, you can have the rest of it.”

Natty doesn’t exactly have much knowledge on how to pleasure a dick, her only experience being the one dick that’s been forced in her body the past two days. She’s already come to terms with the fact that she might not eat for two days straight but regardless she tries her best. 

Natty employs the small pieces of advice she’s heard him tell her. Even though she’s basically just moving her head along his length, judging from his moans he seems to be enjoying it so she goes faster. 

“Fuck, Natty. Fuck… I’m gonna cum…” He takes over this time, gripping the back of her head as she immediately chokes. “Don’t… swallow it, fuck.” He struggles to squeeze his words out of his mouth as another orgasm makes its way into Natty’s mouth, only this time around it pools on her tongue. She already hates cum to begin with, cringing inside whenever she would taste it but with a whole load lingering in her mouth, revolting is an understatement. She struggles to hold it all in, not just because of the taste but also because of how much he gave her, her cheeks are full and just a little more it would probably overflow. 

He holds the plate of what’s about a quarter of the total meat still left on it. “Spit,” he commands and without hesitation she opens her mouth and deposits the batch onto the plate. “Go on, everything, spit into it.” She does as ordered, mixing the remnants with saliva and spitting onto the food. He spits onto the plate as well and mixes the meat with the “sauce” then puts it on the other side of the bed from her. “Go eat.”

Natty tries to get up and walk to the other side but the manager has other plans. He grabs her hair again and pulls her across the bed, forcing her to kneel down. “Come on, eat up.” He moves over behind her and lines up with her pussy. “Don’t waste anything, when you’re done I want that plate clean.” Natty stares at the disgusting abomination in front of her and she feels even more disgusted and degraded knowing that even when it comes to food she’s being treated like a dog. Her stomach gurgles, no matter how disgusting the food may be, she still has to eat. Natty tries to look at the brighter side of things, at the very least she’s eating actual food and not some slop that looks inedible. 

On the third day of her imprisonment, Natty is completely exhausted and broken. She just lies on her back, barely even reacting to anything her manager does anymore, there’s cum on almost every inch of her body and yet she doesn’t bother to clean it. 

Julie knocks to bring them breakfast, the manager gets the door but instead of just taking the food he tells Julie to give it to Natty. “She’s not fun anymore so I’ll be going back to you guys. And besides, the company is looking for her, can’t have her here forever.” As soon as the manager leaves, Julie rushes over to Natty and tends to her. 

The manager, clearly unsatisfied with Natty’s unresponsiveness and clearly needing a release, turns to Belle for release.

“AHHH!!! Wait, no, please… I’m sorry.” He barges into her room and she immediately shrieks upon seeing him. In the short span of two days, she’s gotten used to not being around him but here he is to remind her of her place. “I promise I won’t do it again, I—” She tries to get away but she’s stuck in the corner and all she can do is sink herself further into it. He doesn’t stop or even think for a second about what he’s doing, he just walks up and punches her face, adding another bruise to the multiple he’s given her. 

“Haneul? Get in here!” he shouts at the top of his lungs. While waiting, he pulls Belle’s face to the edge of the bed and starts facefucking her, all the while alternating between slapping her tits and punching her pussy. 

“Haneul?!” he calls again after a few minutes. After cumming down Belle’s throat and Haneul still hasn’t arrived, he marches over to her room. Not really to his surprise, he finds Haneul sleeping soundly in her bed. For one second he smiles, admiring her beauty before proceeding to ruin it. 

He punches her which brings her wide awake. He tugs her hair to bring her face close to his. “Always sleeping, you lazy cunt. Maybe you need a lesson too.” Haneul screams and thrashes as she’s dragged across the floor by her hair towards Belle’s room.

The next few days and weeks go by with the members somewhat getting used to and coping with the treatment that they are going through. Lots of practicing and “training” happens at the company, mostly the latter, then their manager has fun with them at the dorm. At the very least their manager is kind, all things considered, just as long as they follow his orders, so they still get to somewhat relax at the dorm. And whenever no one is using their bodies, the girls hang out, talk with each other, and comfort each other, growing a bond and giving each other hope to carry on until they debut.

The month ends and it’s finally time for Kiss of Life to debut. The four are no doubt incredibly excited, they finally get to wear clothes that cover most of their body, finally have some time away from the perverts, and most of all, they finally get to debut and live out their dreams of being K-pop idols, though little do they know what their company still has in store for them, even in public view.

A/N 2: So if you made it here, congratulations, you're as much of a degenerate as I am :). Anyway, while part 1 is mostly focused on Natty, part 2 would likely be four "mini-fics" in one, each focusing on one member. Subject to change but most likely it would be like that

[starheirxero]

I've just watched Lunar's nightmare, and I don't even know, where to begin!

First of all, there is the "You're a disappointment" line from Castor. I really, really hope, this was just Lunar's imagination, because I will cry otherwise-

The dream itself though? Terrifying. There's something so unsettling about the warm atmosphere as Lunar is chased by their nightmares. It gives off a false sense of security. The lights are warm and comforting, the place is cozy. They went there for safety, and yet, they ended up found, and chased in a scene that could be out of a horror movie, only to end up dead.

Then there are the things they saw, the people they encountered. The very personification of their fears and insecurities.

Earth and Monty's scene in particular made my heart sink. They are so afraid, that Earth is still scared of them. To make matters worse, Monty seemed just as terrified, and this hits honestly horribly. They were the first to reach out, to treat them with kindness. They were always a protective barrier, and an emotional support. Hell, they were the one to witness their death, and brought them back! They were the one, who made Lunar doubt Eclipse, simply by treating them kinder than their own brother! Seeing them nervous and scared is…honestly? I'm not even sure how to describe it. The idea, that Lunar thinks Monty, strong, protective, fierce Monty could be afraid of them, when she really loves them so much is…painful, to say the least…

Then theres Gemini. Oh, dear, sweet Gemini… The way they mocked them, spoke out the words Lunar thought about themself… Pollux in particular made me nervous, she was pretty much chirping out her words, sounding delighted as she mocked him…its incredibly eerie.

And then there's Eclipse. Oh. My. God. Eclipse. Where does one even start with him? I think, this dream perfectly represents to us just how fucked up their relationship is.

Of course, he started out as the backup in Solar Flare's body, lurking outside the window. Just like last time. It's a direct callback to their trauma, same as when they avoided the room in which they was caught. It's the day of the hunt again, the day of Lunar's death.

What I find interesting though, is Eclise's role. Because Eclipse is the most prominent, of course he is, he is the cause of the trauma. But I find it interesting, that he talks in the same breath as Gemini. The two/three of them talk together, switching as they throw insults. It feels big. It makes sense as well, I don't think, Lunar cares as little about Eclipse as they'd like to admit. A deep rooted part of them, one they keep hidden away, seem to still care about what he has to say.

There's also the room in which they were caught. They go in, and immediately leave, only for Eclipse to chase them inside again. It feels as though it is saying, that Eclipse still has control, still has influence, though I could be wrong of course!

There's also the way he speaks to them, almost like talking to someone younger. Not a child, exactly, but someone who operates similarly. Given, that he designed them to be younger though, it makes sense. After all, how would Lunar be able to leave him, if they are young, and need to depend on their big brother still?

And then comes the first Eclipse, the original Eclipse. And man, this truly shows their old dynamic, the absolute terror it was, the way it made Lunar feel! Eclipse talks so casually, as though that's all they are, brothers. But then he locks the door, because Lunar could never escape from him, not from him. And then he starts yelling, making them feel bad for leaving, because of course, of course Lunar harbors guilt for it. After all, there were good moments there, moments that made them wonder, if they were really in the right. And of course Eclipse would guilt drip them, because that's what manipulators tend to do. One could also bring up Lunar's wish to understand Eclipse, their realization, that he's as fucked up as the rest of them. It may make them wonder, if they were in the wrong after all. Most tragically is, how they listen to him though, soaking in his words like the truth, and simply going with what he's saying, even answering him, thinking it's exactly what Eclipse wants to hear, just like they used to.

It's the haunting realization, that Lunar may never be free around Eclipse. If they are angry, they'll be controllable. But if they aren't, then they'll be afraid, and then they'll listen.

"I'm a monster" "A monster? Oh, you're worse than that. A failure." This line drives me insane, actually. There is just so much you can interpret into this single line.

On one hand, it could be "I may be a monster, but you are a failure, who can't do anything right."

But it could also be: "I am a monster. But you can't even be that much, you fail in doing even that." And this is what makes me insane. This is what drives me up the walls.

Just hear me out here: The meaning of what a "monster" is, can be incredibly subjective. However, there are two people that Lunar views as such.

Their first brothers, their original brothers. Bloodmoon is a literal monster in the sense of a bloodthirsty beast, craving only violence. Eclipse is a metaphorical monster. He is what Lunar fears most.

Lunar loved his brothers. He was so excited when he met Bloodmoon. He only ever wanted with Eclipse what Moon and Sun had. He wanted the three of them to be family.

But they are monsters, and he fails in being that. He could never be a part of them, no matter how much he'd wish for it, because he is not like them. He is a failure, for he can't even be a monster, feeling remorse and spiraling when he kills someone, even if it's someone, who hurt him deeply.

Last but not least is the conversation they held with themself. Interestingly enough, the other Lunar reminded me of the time, they were still stuck in Moon's head, and only had one official brother. Except they are bored, and are waiting for something to happen. How ironic, that this version of all mocks them, and tells them to grow up.

However, they managed to pull themself up, and that's all they can do for now. However, if dream Sun is to be believed? It's still just a mask again, they may be relapsing into old habits soon…

And then the Adhd took over, which is relatable-

HOLY SHIT, THIS IS SO DAMN LONG- I AM SO SORRY, MY MIND IS JUST IN OVERDRIVE RIGHT NOW, AND I WANTED TO SHARE MY THOUGHTS WITH YOU-

-Stardust

YEYSYSYEYYSYSYSYSHAHAHAHHHA!!!!!!!! YEEEEESSSSSSS YOU TORE THIS EPISODE APART DON'T APOLOGIZE I LOVE YOUR THOUGHTS!!!!!!!!!!!

I don't have many additional thoughts you are just so correct on ALL OF THIS. Episodes like this that give insight to a character's feelings and fears and thought processes are just EVERYTHING 2 ME. Especially with the fact that this dream had a theme of 1) being a failure and thus, a disappointment (Eclipse and Gemini) and 2) being a monster and thus, too scary to be around (Earth and Monty).

AND GHOD. ECLIPSE AS A WHOLE IN THE DREAM YEAH. I HONESTLY FELT MY HEART DROP WHEN HE SHOWED UP IN THE GLOWY SUN MODEL I FELT LIKE I JUST GOT BLASTED A MILLION YEARS INTO THE PAST. And yea omg the fact he locked the door scared me so bad. Especially with the fact that, like u said, he spoke so casually to Lunar as he came up the stairs. But literally behind closed doors it's an immediate barrage of insults!

AND GHOD. GHOOOOODDDDD BOTH THE WAYS TO INTERPRET ECLIPSE'S LINE TO LUNAR YEAH!!!!! "A MONSTER LIKE THE REST OF US" VS "TOO MUCH OF A FAILURE TO EVEN BE THAT." AUGH I'M GUNNA THINK ABOUT THAT FOREVER

AND WITH THEMSELVES,,, YEAH. YEAG. Seeing that version of Lunar come through the door IMMEDIATELY made me tear up I get so emotional for any variation of "same person talks to a version of themselves from a different point in time" and that HIT for me. Their words reminded me of when Lunar told Earth they don't like how they see themselves (before the Eclipse thing even happened), and I can only guess that old Lunar's words are an extension of that </3

AND THEN SUN AND THE DRAGON YEAHAGWJSGSKWGJCSM SUN'S WORDS WERE RLLY INTERESTING BUT THE DRAGON DISTRACTED ME SO BAD I DIDN'T EVEN PROCESS THEM THE FIRST TIME THROUGH. Sun voice stop lying to yourself stop masking so hard you don't even process your emotions stop feeling like you're exempt from the basic living experience of mistakes [dragon scampers by] what was that

[cyllres]

Devil | JJK x Makima! Reader

Chapter 18

You closed your umbrella as the four of you began to walk towards the building. “Be careful,” Ijichi said sternly. “I'll pull up my veil.” He added as he glanced back towards the sky, putting two fingers up. “Emerge from darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure.” Suddenly, a dark barrier with a large dome-shaped outer shell emerged from the sky, surrounding the area.

“Huh?” Yuuji glanced around, his eyes widening with a mixture of awe and curiosity. “It's becoming night!” he said, with a hint of enthusiasm.

“It’s a veil,” Megumi explained, his tone measured and calm. “There’s a residential area nearby, so this barrier conceals us from the outside world.”

“Cool!” Yuuji said, his excitement evident in his voice, which Nobara only deadpanned at.

“Ignorant,” she exclaimed, her voice laced with disdain.

“Demon dog.” Megumi placed his hands together, summoning his shikigami. From the shadows emerged a white wolf-like dog, its coat shimmering with an ethereal glow as it howled loudly. You held the umbrella tightly, fighting the urge to pet the large canine. Its presence was both imposing and comforting. “He’ll let us know if the curse gets close.”

“I see, I see.” Yuuji crouched down to the demon dog, his face lighting up with childlike wonder. “Good boy, good boy! We’re counting on you, okay?” he cooed as he petted it, his hands running through its thick fur.

Opening the door slowly, Nobara, Yuuji, and Megumi stood on guard, letting the demon dog go in first. “Let's go,” Megumi said as the three of them followed. You took one last glance outside before calmly following right behind them. The oppressive atmosphere of the place settled heavily around you, pressing down like a dark, tangible weight, making every step feel like a struggle against an unseen force.

“Wait!” Megumi said, making all of you stop abruptly. You glanced up, seeing an almost infinite void above you all, an eerie sense of emptiness that seemed to swallow all light and sound.

“What is this?” Nobara exclaimed, her voice tinged with anxiety as she scanned the area.

“W-what’s going on in here?” Yuuji stuttered, his earlier enthusiasm giving way to confusion. “This is a two-story dorm, isn’t it?”

“C-calm down! It’s a maisonette,” Nobara said, her voice wavering as she tried to rationalize the unnerving sight.

‘Wrong,’ you thought to yourself, looking up at the void with a mixture of intrigue and caution. ‘It’s the deployment of an Innate Domain due to cursed energy. I’ve seen Pochita try doing this and other curses. It is my first time seeing one this big, however.’ You mused, the faint flicker of excitement in your eyes betraying your calm facade.

“Where’s the door?!” Megumi suddenly said, cutting off your thoughts. Glancing back at where you four entered, you smirked a bit.

‘As expected,’ you thought to yourself. The complexity of the domain was both a challenge and a puzzle to be solved.

“Th-the door’s gone!” Yuuji was the first to react, his voice tinged with a mix of disbelief and alarm.

“How?! We just came in through here, didn’t we?!” Nobara panicked, pounding at the wall in a futile attempt to find the vanished exit. Yuuji only nodded, equally bewildered, his hands pressing against the smooth surface.

“What do we do? Ah, what do we do about this?” The two of them said in unison, comically marching around in a circle, their earlier bravado fading into nervousness.

“It’ll be fine,” you reassured them, your voice steady and soothing amidst the chaos. “Panic will only make things worse. We need to stay focused.”

“The dog remembers the scent of the entrance,” Megumi reassured them, his composure unwavering as he gestured towards the demon dog. “It’ll lead us back once we’re done.”

“Oh my.” Yuuji and Nobara’s eyes sparkled with relief. “Good boy! Have some jerky!” they said as they petted the dog, with Yuuji hugging it out of gratitude. The dog’s calm presence seemed to anchor them in the midst of the unsettling surroundings.

“You really are dependable, Fushiguro-san,” you said in an almost teasing tone, “Thanks to you, we’ll be able to save ourselves.” You added. Megumi glanced away, his cheeks dusting with pink for a moment before walking away, his focus returning to the task at hand.

“Let’s keep moving,” Megumi said. Walking further into the building, you let the three of them walk first, glancing around with a calm smile on your face. The air was thick with a sense of foreboding, and the flickering lights cast eerie shadows on the walls, adding to the unsettling atmosphere. The sound of distant, echoing whispers filled the corridors, heightening the tension.

As you entered a room, Yuuji saw something, running up to it with a sense of urgency. His eyes widened upon closer inspection of the corpse. Its body was mangled, bones sticking out grotesquely in unnatural angles. There were also bones and other body parts smashed together into a ball, creating a grotesque amalgamation that was both horrifying and pitiful.

“Atrocious,” Nobara muttered as you also walked inside the room, your gaze sweeping over the scene with clinical detachment. The sight was gruesome, but it was a stark reminder of the reality of the world you inhabited.

“That’s… three people, right?” Megumi asked, his voice tense as he tried to piece together the macabre scene.

Kneeling down at the corpse, Yuuji looked at the name tag on its left chest. “Let’s take this body back,” Yuuji said, seeing the name. “It’s that woman’s son. His face isn’t too mangled up. His mother won’t accept it if we tell her he’s dead, but we don’t have a body.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you interjected as Megumi walked to Yuuji, grabbing his hood to stop him from moving. “We have to find and verify two more. A body would slow us down,” you added, your voice cold and pragmatic, cutting through the emotional turmoil.

“Stop joking! We turned around, and the way we got in here was gone! We won’t be able to come back for it later!” Yuuji argued, glancing at you with a mixture of confusion and frustration. His grip on the corpse tightened, his determination clashing with your practicality.

“She did not say to come back for it! She said to leave it behind,” Megumi added, a hint of frustration in his tone. His eyes met yours briefly, a silent understanding passing between you.

“I have no intention of risking my own life to save someone I had no intention of saving in the first place!” Megumi’s words were sharp, cutting through the tension with a brutal honesty that left no room for argument.

“No intention of saving him? What do you mean?!” Yuuji asked, his voice rising in indignation, his eyes searching for answers in Megumi’s steely gaze.

“This is a juvenile detention center. Jujutsu sorcerers are granted access to all information about the scene beforehand.” Megumi started, his tone stern and unyielding. “This Okazaki Tadashi hit a little girl on her way home from school while driving without a license. It was his second offense of driving without a license.”

“I know you’re stuck on saving lots of people and guiding them to proper deaths. But what are you going to do when someone you save kills someone else in the future?” Megumi asked Yuuji, his voice challenging and unyielding, the weight of his words pressing down on Yuuji like a physical force.

“Then why did you bother saving me?!” Yuuji retorted, his voice cracking with emotion, his eyes burning with a mix of confusion and pain.

“Cut it out!” Nobara said in annoyance as she walked towards them. “Christ, what are you two doing?! You’re both idiots!” She ranted. “Think about the time and place if you-” Suddenly, a black blob formed under her, sucking her in. Acting immediately, you ran towards the blob, but it closed before you could get close to it, leaving a gaping emptiness where Nobara had been.

“Kugisaki!” you said in frustration, your voice tinged with a rare hint of genuine concern. Your eyes scanned the floor, searching for any sign of her.

“Y/n, Yuuji. We’re running,” Megumi said urgently. “We’ll search for Kugisaki la-” Megumi was cut off when suddenly a curse appeared right beside them. Its presence was like a wave of malevolence crashing over you. Quickly standing up, you pointed your index finger at it. Before you could even let out a bang, Yuuji swung his cursed weapon at it, resulting in his hand getting cut off. You clicked your tongue in annoyance, the sudden surprise throwing off your focus.

“Bang,” you said loudly. The curse reacted quickly, dodging the force with its arm getting cut off only. It began to charge at you, but you let out another bang, its other arm cut off. It jumped away from you, regenerating its limb as it stared at you with a malevolent grin.

“Hey, Sukuna! If I die, you die too, right?” Yuuji shouted, his voice echoing with defiance. A sinister grin crossed his face.

“Nope,” Sukuna’s voice slithered through Yuuji’s lips. “Even if the pieces of me inside you perish, there are still eighteen fragments of my soul out there. But I don’t control this body. If you switch, I’ll kill that brat before the curse can!” He threatened, referring to Megumi.

“Then I’ll go for your sister.” Sukuna added, his voice dripping with malicious glee. “I’ll have so much fun dissecting her.”

“I won’t let you!” Yuuji’s determination burned brightly. As the curse regenerated, you prepared to attack again, but it dodged your assault deftly.

“I bet! But if you’re too focused on me, your friends and your sister will die,” Sukuna mocked. The curse exhaled a gout of flames toward you. You dodged quickly, the scorching heat licking dangerously close.

The curse laughed mockingly as it saw the severe burns on your side, the fabric of your white jacket now singed and torn, leaving you in a white undershirt and partly scorched pants. Your smile wavered as your eyes looked at it with the intent to murder.

“FUSHIGURO!” Yuuji called out to Megumi as he quickly took off his own jacket, leaving him in his red undershirt hoodie. “Take Kugisaki and Y/n and get out of here!” he said as he helped you wear his jacket. The fabric was warm and smelled faintly of Yuuji, a small comfort amidst the chaos. “I’ll keep this one busy until you three are out. As soon as you three are out, give me some kind of signal. Once you do… I’ll switch with Sukuna.”

“You know you can't do that!” Megumi argued with Yuuji. “Not with only one arm against a special-grade!”

“Look closer,” Yuuji insisted, his voice strained but resolute. “It's having fun. It's obviously toying with us. I can at least buy us some time.” He added as he placed you on Megumi's arm, being gentle not to put pressure on your burns

Megumi hesitated, torn between the urgency of the situation and Yuuji's desperate plea. He glanced down at you, cradled in his arms, blood trickling from your wounds. Despite the severity of your injuries, your eyes held a fierce determination, urging them to make a decisive move.

“No,” Megumi finally said, his tone conflicted but firm.

“Fushiguro! Please,” Yuuji pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion.

With a heavy sigh, Megumi reluctantly agreed. He adjusted his grip on you, preparing to make a break for the exit. But before they could move, the curse reappeared, blocking both of you and Megumi’s path with a menacing smile.

Clicking your tongue in annoyance, you pushed yourself up slightly in Megumi's arms. With a swift motion, you pointed your index finger at the curse, unleashing a blast of energy far more powerful than before. The force tore through the curse's left arm, severing it cleanly.

“Y/n!” Yuuji cried out, a mix of relief and fear in his voice as he saw you were still safe.

The curse, infuriated by its loss, attempted to regenerate its limb but failed, its frustration evident. You smirked widely, a flicker of satisfaction crossing your face.

“You should know your place.” You said sternly, glaring at the curse. “Dog.”

The curse, realizing that this attack now slows its Reverse Cursed Technique by tenfold, decided to focus on you first. Realizing it's either going to die or kill you.

Frustration mounting, Megumi attempted to dash past the curse again, but it anticipated his move, blocking his path with a swift strike. You could feel the tension rising, your instincts pushing for action. Clicking your tongue, you unleashed another blast of energy, this time severely cutting off the curse's leg.

“Put me down,” you commanded Megumi, your voice steady despite the chaos around you.

“Don't be stupid,” he retorted, his grip tightening protectively. “We need to stick together.”

“Put me down and let's split up,” you insisted sternly, your eyes locking with his. “We won't get far if we stay together.”

Megumi hesitated, torn between his concern for you and the practicality of your suggestion. The curse, sensing his hesitation, launched another attack. Megumi barely managed to evade it, his breath catching as the curse's claws grazed dangerously close.

“Hey! Leave them alone!” Yuuji shouted, trying to draw the curse's attention away.

“You're smart, Fushiguro-san,” you added, your voice calm but urgent. “You know the curse is targeting me first. Now put me down—”

Before Megumi could respond, disaster struck. The curse unleashed another ferocious attack, faster than before. Megumi reacted swiftly, attempting to dodge, but the curse's claws found their mark. You gasped in pain as you felt yourself being torn away from Megumi's grasp.

“Y/n!” Yuuji's anguished cry echoed through the room as he witnessed the horror unfolding.

In an instant, your body went limp, severed from your head by the curse's brutal strike. Megumi, stunned and grief-stricken, held your lifeless form in his arms, disbelief and sorrow etched on his face.

“Y/N! No!” Yuuji's voice cracked with despair as he saw your severed head roll across the floor. Tears welled up in his eyes as he stared at the ashes where your head lay moments ago, consumed by the curse's fire.

Megumi's grip tightened around your lifeless body, the shock and horror evident in his wide eyes. The weight of your death pressed heavily on him, but he knew he had to act swiftly to save the others. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay focused.

Yuuji, meanwhile, was paralyzed with grief and rage. The sight of your severed head turning to ashes burned into his memory. Tears streamed down his face, but he quickly wiped them away, steeling his resolve. He had to honor your death..

"Fushiguro! We can't let her death be in vain!" Yuuji shouted, his voice cracking with emotion. "Get Nobara and get out of here! I'll handle this bastard."

Megumi, still reeling from the shock of losing you, hesitated for a moment. But seeing the fierce determination in Yuuji's eyes, he nodded silently. Gently laying your body down with utmost respect, he whispered a quiet apology before turning to leave, his heart heavy with grief and guilt. “I'm sorry, Y/n," he muttered under his breath before turning to Yuuji. "Be careful," he urged, his voice tight with barely contained emotion.

Yuuji gave a small, resolute nod. "I will. Now go!"

With that, Megumi dashed off, calling his demon dog to aid him in finding Nobara. He knew he had to be quick, or the curse would finish them all.

The curse spirit, sensing the shift in Yuuji's demeanor, grinned mockingly. Yuuji's gaze hardened. "I need to buy time."

-

Kape?

[bananarose]

FFXIV Write - #21 "Grave"

I started writing something angsty and then I decided - no, actually, I wanna write something fun! So I chose to write about All Saint's Wake, and what some of my characters might be getting up to during the celebrations!

Masterlist

Banana rounded up as many of her companions as she could (the ones who would agree, anyway) and made her way to Gridania for the All Saint’s Wake celebrations. Some of them had refused to wear costumes, but she convinced most of them to dress up for the occasion to some degree. For herself, she had chosen a pumpkin-themed costume. Little brown boots, an orange set of overalls over a slightly lighter orange shirt, all topped off with a green bow atop her head. She even smelled somewhat like a pumpkin, having helped pick and carry a bunch of them to the amphitheatre earlier in the day. 

She always enjoyed helping setup for events like these, and there was almost always some crisis or another that needed solving anyway. So she would check in with Mother Miounne in the Carline Canopy, and the usual event organizers if she knew them, inquiring on what she could do to help. Any and all crises had been averted at this point, and they were all free to enjoy the festivities.

Banana’s friend Lhili, whom she had trained with at the conjurer’s guild, had chosen a witch costume this year. Black dress with spiderweb accents, some rather less than sensible boots, complete with a witch hat, specially tailored for her miqo’te ears so she would be comfortable. 

Banana was rather proud of the costumes her friends had chosen, especially the ones she had helped with. Like the costume she had picked out for Lavandin. She was quite proud of that one. He was decked out in the frilliest, cutest maid dress, special-ordered from none other than Tataru Taru herself. 

The three of them decided they wanted to check out a haunted house they had seen advertised, situated in Gridania’s Lavender Beds. After a short boat ride full of laughs - and some stolen bites of candy - they walked hand in hand (in hand) down the pathways, looking for the correct address. Eventually they found it, a rather normal looking house from the outside if a bit dark and dreary. Upon entering they were met with a ghostly greeter who, silent as the grave, gestured simply to the stairs beyond. 

The first rooms of the house were well-decorated, dim, with an eerie atmosphere. They weren’t scary per se, but it felt as though they had stumbled into the abode of an actual vampire or some such creature of the night. Slowly, before they realized it, the rooms they were walking through were becoming… wrong. Furniture was askew, as if something had warped the shapes. Wallpaper appeared to be dripping down the walls, exposing worn, old wood underneath. There were unsettling noises surrounding them; skittering and whispering, and they couldn’t see where the sounds were coming from. 

Suddenly, a CRACK of lightning overhead! The three screamed in unison as there was a flash of light before the room was plunged into darkness. The skittering got closer. The whispers, more persistent. They stood, huddled together in the dark for what felt like an age. Until eventually, they saw a small speck of light coming closer to them. As it got closer, they discovered it was a lantern, held by a cloaked figure, a figure who beckoned them closer with their other gloved hand. The three looked at eachother, before nodding nervously and following their newfound guide.

The cloaked figure led them through more rooms of the house, which seemed to contain far more rooms than the outside would suggest. Gradually the rooms became less and less warped, until they began to resemble the first rooms they had walked through. They collectively sighed a breath none had realized they were holding - causing the three of them to laugh at themselves. It was just a haunted house afterall. 

Eventually they were led back to the entrance of the house, and they thanked their guide before cloak disappeared into shadow - and the figure was gone. They hastily thanked the greeter as well, who cracked a creepy grin at them as the group left.

Another short boat ride, this time complete with ghost impressions, and they were well on their way back to Gridania to meet back up with their companions, to enjoy more All Saint’s Wake festivities.

Divider Credit - @cafekitsune

[justafrogandherumbrella]

Welcome to Nowhere: Teeth

You’ve gone back to wandering the arcade. Leaving, actually. You’ve decided that you are feeling far too disturbed to stay here. You don’t like this place— not anymore. After… you did what you had to, the atmosphere has changed. It’s eerie, maybe even malevolent now. Or maybe it was always like this, and you just didn’t notice. 

Even more disturbing is that the way you came in seems to have vanished. You’re sure you retraced your steps correctly— but the doors you had walked through when you entered the building are gone— the windows as well. Things don’t just vanish though… you think? Maybe you're wrong. You hope not. For your own sake, you’re going to assume that the door has simply moved, rather than having dissipated. If the door has moved— then all you’ll have to do is find it.

And so, you’ve gone back to wandering around the empty arcade without direction. You’re sure you’ll find the exit eventually. 

As you walk, you hear groans and creaking sounds come from the ceiling. The floor beneath you is rumbling as well, and there’s more and more water dripping from the ceiling. You hear the loud crashes of thunder outside… but they don’t sound right. There’s the usual loud boom, but woven within the sound is a strange, quiet scream. 

Now you can’t decide what’s worse: being stuck here, or going out there. 

You hear footsteps behind you. You whirl around, tuning to face… no one. There’s no one here. After searching for a moment, you hesitantly turn and continue down your path. Your eyes stick to every shadow, waiting for the mystery being to show itself. Although, you suppose there’s a reasonable chance that you had imagined the footsteps— you’re feeling rather jumpy at the moment. 

One of the machines comes to life beside you, startling you with its impossibly bright light.  You shield your eyes, squinting at it. Why did it do that…? Slowly, you approach it. The light is so bright that you can’t even see whatever it is the screen is trying to display. Almost as if reading your mind, the screen dims. There’s nothing there, except for one little arrow, and bright green text.

“MOVE THE ARROW TO THE TOP RIGHT CORNER.”

You look around for a moment, listening for any more footsteps. Nothing. …Should you? You’re curious, but at the same time, the machine is far too demanding. You almost don’t want to, just out of spite. 

More text appears. 

“PLEASE MOVE THE ARROW TO THE TOP RIGHT CORNER…?”

That’s much better. Because the machine is being so polite, you decide to throw it a bone. Throw it a bone? You don’t have any bones… why would you think that? Strange. 

You reach into the screen, pinching the pixilated, blinking arrow between two fingers. It kind of tickles— but it hurts at the same time. If you hold it for too long, it might cut your finger. You set it down in the top right corner of the screen. 

“THANK YOU,” reads the screen. “YOU WILL NO LONGER FACE YOUR DOOM BY MY HAND.”

“You’re… welcome?” You respond. 

The screen dims, and you continue down your path, puzzled by your interaction. The sounds of the storm stops outside, and there are no more signs of footsteps. The pathway comes to a stop, and you find yourself standing in an empty, circular space. All around you are the machines, forming some kind of wall.  In the center of the circle, there stands what appears to be an air hockey table. You approach and feel the surface. It's squishy, like skin. How… charming? Perhaps? No— not charming at all. You’re pretty sure it’s not supposed to be squishy. You back away from it— something is wrong. You hear a soft growl from the table. It begins to split open, revealing its jaws… that’s when the floor opens up and you find yourself falling. Down, down, down, and down. Right into its teeth.  There's so much light, so much noise. It hurts. It hurts really bad. Too much. It hurts. it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurt it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it–

[shirophantomvox]

“Longing for Attention” Illumi x Reader

Hello anon! Thank you for this awesome request! This story consists of a little angst and fluff towards the end. I can truly say that this story is the closest to Illumi’s canon characteristics. If you all did not know, I am celebrating my 100 follower goal! If you’d like to participate in this event, click this link. Please note that requests for this event will close on July 15th at 12 AM EST. The post will have all of the rules and prompts!

👁 👁 👁 👁

“I swear I’ll haunt you in your sleep, Zoldyck! ‘Ya hear me, boy?!”

A body thudded as this man’s speech was cut short. A tired Illumi Zoldyck came calmly walking towards his target with the straightest face ever. Even at the sight of blood, darker than any he had seen, his lips remained neutral and his eyes remained half-lidded as they were. The sound of the mini heel on his green loafers echoed as he continued to approach the deceased man before him. The ballroom was completely empty, leaving Illumi all by himself for who knows why and what else could happen.

Being a bounty hunter was challenging in itself but being a bounty hunter and dating an assassin is a totally different story. Criminals began to spread the word of your alliance with the Zoldycks and formed many gangs to retaliate against you both. Both of you have been shot at, stabbed a few times, and even been robbed! After being robbed at gunpoint and dealing with trauma, it nearly made you quit your job because of the stress and life endangering events faced almost everyday but for Illumi, it didn’t phase him at all. Not in the slightest. After being robbed of his engagement ring, he simply went to another jewelry store and bought another. He did not cry, quiver, or shutter.

After Illumi phoned his father and gave him a brief overview of his success, he proceeded to the exit. The light flickered, giving the impression that an eerie figure stood at the end of the hallway. Electricity hummed the closer someone approached it, sounding like a fly trying to find its way back outside. An atmosphere like this one did not bother Illumi in the slightest but he did not like being there no longer tha needed.

“Y/n! Y/n! I know you can hear me!”

“Now is not the time to play around. We need to vacate the premises immediately,” He thought to himself. He began to bang on doors, opened them up, and yelled your name to the heavens trying to find you.

“Oh! I know,” he said out loud, snapping his fingers.

He opened a tracking app on his iPhone that displayed all of his contacts that had recently shared their location with him. Once he began the search, it revealed that you were 400 kilometers away. Tracking your phone was something he did every time he could not find you. At times it was adorable and sometimes it was weird and intrusive. Illumi’s intrusive behavior stems from his mother, Kikyo and no matter how you put it, it is very unhealthy. Caring can easily turn into an obsession that can make you do unsound things.

“Illumi! I am in the bathroom. Can you give me a second,” you ask, slightly irritated, washing your hands quickly. You did not want to keep him waiting any longer. It was always a mystery if it was his anger or anxiety that prompted him to bust the door down just to make sure you were safe. Poor Illumi Zoldyck. His expression of love and how he cared for others was rather odd and unusual. It is safe to say that you were the best thing that has happened to him.

As you open the door, he stands with his long arms crossed in a huff, his long legs creating an upside down “V” shape gazing at you a slightly angry about your disappearance halfway through the mission.

“Where were you,” he asked, moving closer to you. “While I had to complete both of our jobs, you have been playing around in the bathroom.”

“Illumi, you’re—“

“Shhh—“ He placed his index finger over your mouth, bending down at eye level, and smiled devilishly. “—I’ll still pay you but you owe me a favor.”

“—But I wasn’t playing in the bathroom!”

As you were pleading your case, Illumi nonchalantly typed away on his phone. He quickly showed you his screen that listed your every step within the last few hours. It displayed where you were, the longitude and latitude, who you spoke with, and if you took any pictures. You had no idea that a smartphone could disclose so much personal information and since you have shared your location with him, he has access to it all.

“—Care to tell the truth?” Illumi raised his left eyebrow, using his somewhat intimidating tactic used when he was a child.

“Fine. Ugh! Why do you have to be like this?”

“Like what?”

“You’re…too overprotective. Give me some space sometime! Hell, you might be pleased to know where I was.”

“Pleased?! I nearly had a heart attack when I realized you were not by my side! Are you satisfied that my heart weakens everyday?”

“You’re so dramatic. You might want to take up acting, you know.”

“Ha, ha, so funny,” he said flatly.

As you roll your eyes in irritation, Illumi closes the leftover space between you two. Still bent over at eye level, he places his large hand on your cheek, blinks twice, while his straight face remains. His cold hearted personality seemed to always overshadow his body but all of his warmth seemed to be omitting from his palm.

“I care about you deeply. I cannot have you running away doing God knows what while we are on a dangerous mission like this one.”

“Illumi, I—“ He places his index finger over your mouth again, shushing you as he continues to, as they say, pour his heart out for once.

“I understand that you are a bounty hunter, but if I’m being honest it is a much different line of work than being an assassin. It is my job to care for you while I complete some of the harshest tasks on Earth.”

“I’m not a child, Illumi. Do you want to know what I was doing? Those longitude and latitude readings are very wrong, by the way.”

“Huh? Ok…where were you then?”

Still, your face was placed in his palm, his large eyes staring in yours somehow made you feel lost. Your delayed answer made his palm involuntarily tighten.

“I bought you this pocket sized white teddy bear…?” This statement was propositioned as a question rather than a statement because you were afraid of how he’d react. He was already startled and giving him a plushie would only make it worse. Instead of reacting calmly he would assume that giving him a plushie would imply that he was weak.

“…Valentine’s Day is a few days and I know you’ll be in Las Vegas handling business so I decided to buy you something that will remind you of me while you’re away.”

The small plushie was a white teddy bear holding a heart. It’s eyes were as big as Illumi’s. Before you could hold it up to him, he grabbed it rather gently, stood up straight, and held it in front of his eyes for examination. He turned it around a few times as if it was on a rotator. He placed his index finger inside of the keychain loop and finally smiled. He placed this small object against his heart just before he bent down to meet your eyes once again.

“I always think of you. Come to think of it, that must be why my shots have been off.”

His face scrunches in a humorous way. As usual, his smile fades away and returns to his neutral look. Illumi’s silence signaled that his mind was running a million miles a minute. So many questions and feelings begged to be released but something was preventing him from doing so. You could tell by the look on his face that he wanted to suffocate you with a bear hug but he wouldn’t do it. He has been trained to think that assassins do not need friends, cannot express their feelings, and can only do what is needed to get the job done. It’s ironic; the Zoldyck children are not allowed to have friends but they are allowed to have lovers only so they can reproduce and keep their legacy alive. Love has no part in their marriages; they are only contracts, literally. As in love as Kikyo and Silva were (and still are), it would seem like they’d emphasize the importance of love to their children. As a result, they all have adopted an odd way of showing affection for others.

In this instant, Illumi’s face appeared to be more endearing than before. His face had darkened significantly, his cheeks were fatter like they were stuffed slightly, and his eyes twinkled. You smiled as you have truly found the key to his heart. All this young man wanted and truly desired was to be loved not for his abilities or job, but for him and only him. Your warm hands, now on his cheeks, felt overwhelmed with warmth. Just the sight of him at that moment was breathtaking. The flickering power, the unrest souls in the next room of his targets, and the eerie atmosphere seem to fade while you gazed into his eyes. Pressing his cheeks together, puckering his lips was indeed both an amusing and cute sight to behold.

“You are so adorable, Illumi. Did you know that? This “bad boy” behavior and clutching a teddy bear is too much to take in. I might just send a photo to your mother. She’ll screech and tell the entire world.”

“You wouldn’t dare do that ,” he said, words muffled; lips still puckered. He seemed to flush more and more every time you’d remind him of how vulnerable he is right now.

“Try me!”

“Mother would just embarrass me, you know that!”

“I know. Then I’d be able to see the sweet, soft assassin that I see now. All warm and cuddly. I’m sure you just want to sit in the back seat of your Dodge and just fall fast asleep, am I right?”

“I plead the 5th,” he said flatly.

“I was right! Ha, ha!”

“Would you pipe down already?”

Illumi’s right hand was placed directly behind his torso carelessly pressed against his lower back. He appeared to be in pain but made no mistake. If asked about it, he’d lie just to debunk any statements about him being weak.

“What is in your hand? Let me see it.” Your demanding tone turned into one that a mother has, specifically Kikyo.

“It’s nothing,” he said, slightly wincing in pain.

“Let me see it now, Illumi or I swear I’ll—-“

“Fine! Fine! Just don’t make a big deal about it, alright?”

A promise is a promise; that is what you said to Illumi as you agreed to not over react once you saw his hand. A healed bruise nearly scarred the entire base part of his hand. A light red dotted cut looked as if someone took a exacto knife and grazed it. You gazed back into his eyes. He looked hurt; longing for attention for a cut that had already healed. As childish as it may seem, just the slightest bit of attention is something he craved, even if something like this had been healed a long time ago. Him wincing was something he conjured up to grasp your attention. He raised his hand in front of your mouth, leaving it bent for you to grab.

“Do you want me to kiss it and make it feel better?”

“Please,” he replies, smiling slightly again.

The touch of your soft, moist lips made his smile grow larger, his cheeks flushing yet again. A few overlapped lipstick stains remained on his hand, something he might get tattooed so everyone knew who he belonged to.

“Why can’t you be this way every time we finish missions? We could have sooo much fun.”

“If I have too much fun, I’d abandon my remaining missions and father would not like that at all. He might even put out a contract on me.”

You sigh somberly. Illumi had his moments of anger, roughness, and kept his distance but moments like this, where he wasn’t afraid to allow his softer side resurface made you feel content as if you completed a mission of your own. Gazing into his eyes one more time, they sparkled greatly.

“At least I can enjoy this while it lasts.”

[supremeinlilac]

Into the light (I'll hold you)

Pairing: Coven!Cordelia Goode x Fem!Reader

Prompt: Slow dancing in the greenhouse.

Word Count: 2557

Warnings: Self doubt, angst.

A/n: Canon divergent, H*nk doesn't exist and Delia's acid attack never happened, although she has still had the Sight previously. Was saving this fic but fuck it, I'm posting it now😌

Halloween.

The night of eerie suspense and the lingering sense of being watched. You enjoyed the days festivities when you were younger, skipping excitedly door to door under a white sheet with your friends.

This Halloween would be your second at Miss Robichaux’s, the first you’d all gone out to a party and got a little too drunk, returning to an irritated Ms Goode. It had been the first time you’d kissed her, and she’d rejected you because of the state you’d been in.

Still, it was the night that had started the path of your relationship with the headmistress.

You loved Halloween.

This year, Fiona Goode, reigning Supreme, returned to the academy. You were instantly weary of her, due to the fact Delia never liked to bring her mother up in conversation of her past. When you’d overheard her telling your girlfriend that she was wasted potential in the school, a prickle of icy anger called the hair at the nape of your neck to stand rigid.

You and the rest of the witches had decided to stay in, watch films and play games. It wasn’t often that everyone could get together to celebrate an evening where witches were celebrated, so they wanted to make the most of the friendly atmosphere that surrounded them. It never lasted long in the coven.

Fiona went out to a bar, her witches hat crooked atop her head and you found yourself glaring at her as she left. The woman alit a flame inside you, one that easily spread and engulfed your powers, fire licking hotly at the tips of your fingers and threatened to overpower you.

Cordelia had stayed behind with you, much to her mother protest, to have a quiet night while the rest of the hubbub would be concentrated in the living room. You were both wrong to think that there’d be no disturbances.

The shattering of glass fractured the silence in your shared room with Cordelia. She’d been braiding your hair, an intimacy that the pair of you rarely found time to do together. She hummed the song you were sung as a child, a habit that she’d picked up in your time at the coven, the action now second nature. It no longer only served to soothe you, but now it brought her comfort too.

Her fingers stilled in your hair, head snapping to the door. You heard a couple of loud thuds and shouts, and then her hand was clutching yours protectively.

“Hey Cordelia?” You heard Queenie shout up the stairs, “you best look outside.”

She was off the bed like it had burned her, drawing the curtains back to show the slow advance of the people outside. You heard her shaky inhale, before she fisted her hands in her trousers and turned to you.

“It’s just the locals. Playing tricks on us, you know how Madison likes to irritate them the rest of the year. Lord knows we’re not the best neighbours,” her face looked serious but the waver in her voice betrayed her. She sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than you.

It had been a blur after that, shouting and running, and Cordelia slipped out of your grasp. You’d been fighting, had a kitchen knife pressed into your hand by, Zoe, maybe? No. It had been one of the other girls.

They wouldn’t die, those zombies, if that’s even what they were. You’d slashed at a part of them that they shouldn’t have been able to get back up from. Yet it did, limbs flailing and reaching spindly towards you.

Knocked to the ground, you think you must have passed out. But not before you’d seen Cordelia trying to defend the house, eyes furious and scared and dark.

You remembered the purr of the chainsaw, the splatter of blood. The silence that hung after.

The next day you found Cordelia sat at her usual bench in the greenhouse, frows furrowed in concentration as she mixed ingredients with the gentle crack of test tubes and vials. You could see the anguish behind hooded eyes, it was clear that she’d been restless last night, down here long past when everyone else slept.

You had seen her from your window as you’d been drawing the curtains the night before, standing over the pile of haphazardly thrown bodies of the zombies. You weren’t sure how long she’d spent there, not wanting to disturb her until now.

She’d also been absent at both breakfast and dinner, with the excuse of paperwork, but you could see through the thinly veiled lie. You brought her a sandwich and a yogurt, setting them down on a bench before pulling a chair up beside her to watch her work.

Cordelia could mix potions and restore plants without thinking, her craft a lovingly perfected dance in which he moved around the greenhouse with practised ease, plucking vials off the shelves and balancing glassware in steady hands.

Her hands shook. Slightly, almost unnoticeable was the small tremor but it indicated her unease. There was blood still crusted under her fingernails.

You softly coaxed her to put the glass down with fingers around her wrists, guiding her to look at you before lazily lacing your fingers together. She whispered a greeting with a small smile, almost as if she hadn’t registered your presence until you’d touched her.

“I feel like I failed everyone. My girls.” Her voice cracked languidly, eyes falling to where your hands joined on her lap, her nails scraping at your skin nervously. “How can I be headmistress when I cannot protect you all?”

“It’s not your job to do it all alone.” You reminded her gently, thumb brushing over whitened knuckles, following the dip and contour of her skin. “Cordelia.”

A single droplet of shimmering water does not sink a ship. A single cloud cannot shield the sun. A single parent could spend years doubting their worth, unaware that it takes a village to raise a child.

No single person can bear the weight of the world’s troubles without crumbling.

Not even Cordelia, whom you thought could harness the sun if she willed it, could do everything herself. It simply was an unrealistic expectation that her mother had used to weigh her down with.

“Look at me, baby. You are not alone, okay?”

When her head lifted slowly, the light caught the water in her eyelashes, diamond tears shimmering and rolling down the curve of reddened cheeks. You were quick to coo at her, hand coming to cradle her face so you could lean to kiss them away, salt on your tongue.

She shook her head, refusing to look at you and you felt hopeless, like a bystander on the site of an accident. As much as you tried to couldn’t get close enough to her to help, to comfort her as she needed. Running in a dream, tripping over a mere breath and wading through syrup as you tried to escape.

“I’m a failure.”

You found yourself shaking your head, the phantom of a protest falling from your lips, how could Cordelia think that.

“Everything that Fiona says is true.” She continued, head falling into her arms on the desk. Your hand rested on her back, a gentle reminder of the comfort you could give her if only she asked for it. If only she would accept it when you would give it to her anyway.

“I don’t belong here.” Whispered from under her hair which hid her.

Cordelia didn’t realise her own worth, and you wondered if anyone ever truly does.

Does the night sky know its beauty? Or does it envy the blue of the day? Does it wait for the sun to kiss its head and grant it eternity. The night sky is rich with light, if it would only look deep enough within itself to find it. Burning stars and planets reflecting the sun, a kaleidoscope of colour on an ebony canvas.

Cordelia would often look at pictures of her absent mother when she believed to be alone. She was secretly envious of Fiona’s effortless graceful command and hold that she had over the whole coven. She believed her own magical abilities to be inferior to that of the Supreme’s, but it was an unfair comparison, for a Supreme would always persist.

She thought that it meant hers weren’t strong enough, scared for eventualities like the previous night, that she would fail at the role of protector. But she hadn’t failed, she’d fought just like you and Zoe, and it was just the luck of the draw that Zoe’s fear would trigger her Power Negation.

But Cordelia held such raw natural, burning potential that you’d habitually find yourself staring as she practised spells. Eyes following the deft flow of her fingers as she’d manipulate movement. She’d had the second sight within her, so at least on a subconscious level she must know her power.

“You belong here. And look around you, look at this place. Yourgreenhouse.”

“You made it into what it’s become. It’s you.” You spoke, letting yourself spin to appreciate all the work she’d put into this place, into herself.

Cordelia lifted her head, hair falling from her eyes and crowning her face as she followed your gaze to the hanging planters, the glass vials. To the floor that she’d swept only days ago, leaves starting to litter the stone again.

She watched you run fingertips over the exposed brick on the wall, your attention solely on her work around you. She could see the adoration in the iris’ of your eyes, alight with your honesty. You gaze returning, always, to her as you walked to her.

Tentatively, you reached out for her. Was she yet ready to accept your help, your love as you wanted to give it to her?

Still unsure, Cordelia shied away from your comforting touch, head returning to her hands.

“You don’t have to live behind Fiona’s words anymore.” You whispered into her temple, as if straight into her mind.

Sometimes it is easier to live in the shadows than to confront those who cast them.

She’d spent her whole life cowering in Fiona’s shadow, growth and development stunted from the lack of light. Self-belief fractured into a gaping crack.

She’d been trapped, dark and alone with a mother figure who didn’t love her in a way she understood how to be loved. They both loved each other then, and ove each other now, but sometimes mere love isn’t enough. It isn’t consistent enough to be safe. You can love someone and still hurt them.

You had spent time working on her confidence, creeping back into the light and into herself again. Breaking down the thoughts that had grown to immobile threatening walls that only served to block the light more.

All it had taken was one night of Fiona being back for all that progress to retreat back to where they’d been hidden. Cordelia had urged you then to back away, to leave her and grow by yourself, that she was only holding you back.

But you gritted your teeth and grinned in the face of the devil. You weren’t scared of the dark. And you’d be damned if you were leaving it without your girlfriend. Even if you had to start right back at the beginning, you’d help her to heal.

“You could be the next Supreme.” You urged, pulling her head from where it rested on the table, forcing her to look in your eyes and see your honesty.

“Don’t say things that aren’t true.” She begged, vision hazed by tears.

“But it is true, Delia. You’re so powerful.” You pressed, eyes conveying your severity like your voice couldn’t. Willing her to believe.

You reached to brush the tears that clung to her eyelashes before they fell and stained her face. A lingering kiss to her lips, the feeling of her lower lip wobbling between your own. In that moment, you could feel her fragility.

You didn’t want to push further, knowing that she may never truly believe in her full potential like you did. Instead, you pushed yourself to feet and bounced in front of her. She looked up in confusion, eyes still full with tears that caught the light, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss them away again. They didn’t deserve to dampen her skin.

“Dance with me?” You asked, standing and offering a hand the way you’d so often seen in movies.

A shy smile formed on the headmistress’ lips, cheeks pink and the tips of her ears flushed as she allowed herself to be pulled from her seat. Into the shine of the moonlight, which shone beams of liquid silver through the glass onto the hard stone and the soft of Cordelia.

Your arms secured themselves around her waist while hers stroked the back of your neck. Moments like this made you wonder if perhaps the cliché’s people told you about love had been true. Maybe this could be forever. It always felt like forever when you were in her arms.

You swayed to phantom music, slow and deliberate, soft touches and kisses on bare shoulders. You felt like even a whisper would shatter the perfect peace you’d enveloped you both in, sending ripples of doubt over the sheer water and to Cordelia again.

The moon felt like perfect company in that moment, like a third person, watching and waiting. A witness to the silent change.

Cordelia pressed her forehead to yours, her fingers splayed through the hair at the back of your head, holding you close. You could see the depth of her eyes, searching for the lie in yours that wasn’t there to find. You truly believed that she was the next Supreme, she had to be.

“Say something.” She breathed, hand on your waist dancing under the hem of your top, cold fingers on warm skin.

“Like what?” You asked, pulling back momentarily so you could smile at her. The hand that was behind your head tucked hair behind your ear and brought your hand from her shoulder so she could press lips to your knuckles. The ridge of bone under the soft of her skin and then she was hugging you again.

“Anything, I just want to hear your voice.”

So you told her about yourself. Stories she’d never heard and memories you’d thought you’d forgotten. Whispers of your past shared with your future.

She nuzzled her chin into the crook of your neck and listened, breathing deep the smell of your perfume that clung, lingering to the collar of your clothes.

A laugh.

Rippling up your throat at reminiscing a memory, vibration muffled against her ear at your jaw, and Cordelia swore that she could feelyour emotions. Truly feel you, and she realised that you couldn’t lie to her. Couldn’t will yourself to say something untrue just to still the aching beat of her heart within her chest.

You couldn’t make yourself want to mend her. You didn’t want that. You wanted to help her heal. Heal from her past that held less joy and laughter than yours did.

You wanted to help her create memories of her own, just like this.

Slow dancing in the greenhouse.

Dancing in the dark under the glow of the patient moon.

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[diospore]

With all his safety gear strapped on, Michael was ready to enter the collapsed building. He had gotten special permission from the government to enter and livestream what he finds inside in order to help investigators figure out what caused it. It'd been over ten years since the building collapsed, and although the official story was a gas explosion, that didn't make sense to anyone.

He switched on his special camera and checked his phone to see if it was live. It was, and they had over a million viewers. Everyone was enthusiastic about the search- other than one user named "D'Arby Gaming" but he mostly seemed to be trying to make some sort of creepypasta reference.

He gave a final thumbs up to his friend Shane who'd be waiting on the outside, handing him the phone so he could keep track of the chat. They'd be communicating over walkie talkies anyways.

Michael carefully made his way in, a rope leading to his buddy so he could pull him out if something went wrong After a bit, his flashlight turned on automatically. He could see odd markings and shattered statues all around seemingly depicting some guy. It was all a bit too reverent to be just the president of the company, was there some shady cult stuff going on here? A while before the building collapsed, a lot of rich people were implicated in a cult that'd popped up in the 80s, although some mentions could be tracked all the way to the late 1800s.

It was eeriely quiet, too. The only sounds being from his footfalls and dripping water that'd collected.

Although, over the radio, he could've sworn he heard Shane say something about hearing whispering? Whatever, probably some dying radio from an employee still running on crazy OP battery life or something. He descended further into the wreck, squeezing himself between some steel bars that seemed to have actually been damaged with some sort of... Projectiles? Shane said the chat was going wild over it, so he held the camera on it for a bit before continuing.

Finally they reached a point where it'd be unsafe to continue, the dripping water had pooled in the bottom and although his equipment would continue running since it was waterproof, he didn't have experience with that much water. Not only was the water an issue, he didn't know how sound it was under there. He could cause the whole thing to come crashing down again with the wrong step.

He turned to leave, but stopped. A sound caught his ears.

Micheal blinked, pulling the radio. "Did you guys hear that?" He asked.

"Yeah, sounded kinda like... You know that meme? Where it goes uh... Reee? The frog scream? But like, whispered."

Micheal gulped. "Yeah..." He whispered, not wanting to alert whatever demon that was to his presence. Although every atom in his body was practically screaming at him to run, he turned back around to go further. "I gotta check this out."

"Mike, wait, that's not a good idea!" Shane called over the radio, but Michael ignored it. "It's probably the rubble shifting!"

He had to see whatever the hell made that sound, even if it fucking terrified him to imagine.

He waded into the freezing water, his legs almost immediately tingling as they began to go numb. The further he went, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. Was this because of low oxygen, or something else?

Apparently the chat was going wild, half egging him to keep going and the other telling him to turn around.

Finally, after wading for what felt like an hour, his flashlight caught something.

Glints of reflection, like that of a cat's eyes.

He froze, holding the light there. Past a few steel beams, the light couldn't exactly reach, but he could've sworn...

"Hey..." A hoarse voice called. "Just in time, just in time! I was starting to get worried you'd bail on me."

The radio and chat went wild.

Michael stood frozen for a second, before beginning to approach the figure.

"Hey, what are you doing, Michael?! Get out of there! The oxygen levels down there are fucking non-existent!"

Micheal continued, climbing under the beam which blocked his view.

There, he and everyone saw it. Lying in blackened water, twisted under several tons of rubble and impaled in quite a few places that would've killed any normal person, a body.

"Hey, hey!" The body called to him. "Are you on YouTube right now?! That's hilarious! That's fucking hilarious, I love it!" The body writhed with barely suppressed laughter. "You're so funny, Micheal, my guy!"

... How did it know his name?

"Micheal, fucking run dude!" Shane called ovef the radio.

Micheal almost listened but something hit him lightly in the back of his head and...

He felt his fight or flight instinct shut down entirely. He was perfectly calm for just a moment.

...What was he doing? Just watching it lay there in agony? He had to do something!

"Micheal! Think you could give me a hand here, ol buddy, ol pal?"

His friend needed help.

As he approached, the radio continued to squawk in his pocket. He chucked it at a nearby beam and it cracked, silenced instantly.

He bent under one of the beams, grasping the hand of his friend in the rubble.

"How can I help?" He asked, his heart pounding in his chest and his hand shaking, "I don't think I could pull you out myself, I could get Shane to call--"

He was silenced as his friend laughed.

"Micheal, Mikey, Mike! Hey! It's alright!" He quickly said, a practically unhinged grin on his mangled face. "You brought me just what I needed! You brought it just for me! I appreciate it, I really appreciate your help!" He felt something on his neck again. "You should probably cut the live, though. This isn't very pg family friendly YouTube guideline following stuff!"

Micheal reached up and turned off the camera, and this was the last thing he did.

[stillwinterair]

Engaging with Mass Effect 1 unlocks Secret Emotions that I cannot get anywhere else.

The feeling of landing on an uncharted world. Of walking around the Citadel and doing quests. Of being snowed in at Port Hanshan on Noveria. Of walking around the Normandy, so dim and quiet, like everybody's getting ready for bed but aren't quite ready to lay their heads yet. Of finding the Prothean relic on Eletania, and watching through the eyes of a stone age human observed by Protheans. Of speaking to Sovereign for the first time. Of speaking to Vigil. Of the climax to the geth side quest, and hearing the mournful broadcast of the geth honoring their creators, which totally recontextualizes everything you've seen of them so far. Of solving affairs for far-flung colonists and scouts, eking out their livings on distant, hostile worlds. Of tracking a conspiracy all the way down, to the death of Admiral Kahoku and beyond, picking up the trail of some mysterious group known only as Cerberus.

The clanking sounds of your boots on the metal floor of a prefab building, the dim light glimmering on thickly-molded glass, of the eerie, whispering song that plays on uncharted worlds. The rolling, metallic sound of superheated rounds rolling out of an assault rifle, and the lament of Vigil, and the poetic calm of Uncharted Worlds. The sense that no one has stood where you're standing in billions of years, and maybe no one ever will again. The sense that something is wrong, that nothing in your journey is quite adding up, and the ultimate revelation of the Reapers completely changing your worldview and adding an existential, apocalyptic crisis to your periphery, doom impending who-knows-when -- now, if you don't stop it, and if you do? Then when? They're coming regardless. What can you do to prepare? What will you sacrifice? What alliances will you build, or break?

Every single one of these moments just Does Something to me, and there is a particular something about the design of ME1 that feels both comfortingly at home, and so cosmically horrifying as to excite me and spur me along.

ME1 is one of those games that, I really don't want to erase my memory of to play with fresh eyes, because as good as the first time was, the second was better, and the third even better, and so on. I've played all the way through it well over a dozen times since 2007 and I still get so excited even thinking about its various twists and turns. I play through it like once a year to experience that atmosphere, more than anything else. It feels like home more than maybe any other game I've ever played. New Vegas is close, but something about Mass Effect... it's a world I want to live in; I know the whole game by heart, but the Citadel especially -- I know where every Keeper is intrinsically, I know when every side quests pops up. The Wards on the Citadel and Port Hanshan on Noveria are like, my mental happy places. Even though Noveria is a corporate hellhole, once again, it's just the atmosphere of it. I can practically feel the cold creeping in from the outside.

The rest of the series never quite recaptured The Magic for me. ME2 gets close a number of times, but the dramatically smaller hub space and the reorienting of locations to being more like strip malls and less like actual places really fucked with me. I love parts of ME2; Illium and Omega almost feel real. Certain side quests broaden the universe beautifully. But the complete shift in narrative focus, and this abrupt change from a dimly-lit, soft-edged atmosphere to the blinding brightness of ME2's stark aesthetic sensibilities did not mesh with me, nor did the switch to cover-shooting first and foremost, nor did the complete refocusing of the entire plot away from the Reapers and onto, like... some of their pawns? For the entire game? The complete lack of actual exploration ultimately did it in for me, though, and this was only compounded in ME3, where everything just feels like strip malls and shooting galleries.

But ME1... there's this perfect gem of an idea in that game. It's rough and unpolished, and I think needed a lot more work to make the combat feel dynamic and to make the squad feel like family, but it was heading in a beautiful direction, and I still feel like we never got the series that game's potential had promised.

[sleepdeprivedheretic]

Heart of the Wild (Ch.1)

Notes: Here I am, with my favorite tropes and high-key copying the plot to my other fic, Wild Heart. Oh well, I had fun chilling and plotting it with my friend, @mha-girl674 while listening to Celtic Woodland music :3 This story is basically a little self-indulgent “re-write”, but Wild Heart is still up and it’s own fic <3

Pairings: Taishiro x reader, a little bit of Kirideku, and Miro x Tamaki next chapter

Setting: Hybrid Au in medieval times? Ig? Like they have villages and stuff. Idk, imagination :3

Warnings: Self Indulgent Spicy Plot with consensual and self smut thrown in around here and there. Characters are over the age of twenty.

Trigger Warnings: Heats, terrible parents (of the reader), and fear of non-consent, but there is no no-consensual touching, just chasing from an unknown character.

Hot breaths panted into the chilly air from within your chest. You couldn’t feel anything, other than the white heat burn within your feet and legs from the blistering cold. You’ve been running for who knows how long, heart screaming within your chest at the thrill of finally being free, and what a stupid decision that this was.

 It was in the middle of winter, and you’ve chosen now to escape. It was smart as well as stupid, for your parents, thinking that they had you metaphorically tied to a tight leash, would have never expect you to rush out into the cold dead of the winter night.

 They were wrong, but you were suffering. There was no food, lest hardly any shelter or warmth. Your scrap of a tattered cloak, barely weathered the unforgiving wind and snow. Yet, trudging on was the best bet, it was the only bet.  

 At least the cool weather flushed down your heat, but not the scent. Being within a tundra had scared you; not only that there were more ferocious, bigger hybrids that could smell you out, but as well as it was so open. Nowhere to hide, plenty to run, and you’ve practically already exhausted yourself, your natural cycle to breed didn’t help matters, either, for it drained energy, as well.

 Was this better than having your parents keep a constant watch over you? Planning to hand over you to who knows who, in exchange for some pretty fabrics and seeds? Granted that you’ve thought this through in what seemed to be a million times, but you didn’t know what laid outside of your little nomadic tribe.

 Gritting teeth, leaning against a boulder, you gasped as pain shot through your leg. You were use to traveling with your tribe, carrying things for miles, but not running in constant fear into the vast unknown, perhaps miles away from any place that was safe.

 A low whine had cut you out of your thoughts, your head swerving around as a musky scent had now reached you. A fox was staring at you intently, licking his bottom lip as his hands clenched the boulder just ten feet away. Your own rabbit ears folded back in fear, yet his scent had sent yours screaming. Of course, your stupid inner omega was processing the idea of settling down in the tundra raising fox kits, but you weren’t having it.

 It was tempting to just lay down and rest, but not get bent over by the first stranger that you saw, especially one so wild looking and probably was more feral than your clansmen. You bolted. He gave a short yip of frustrated shock, and he chased.  

 This is what you had been fearing for your whole life. If it wasn’t in the back burner of your mind, it was the hungry looks that your clansmen shot your way, the way your parents were only interested in you as a future bargaining chip, and of course, the prospect of getting used by a stranger, and bearing unwanted kits.

 It upset you, and undoubtedly made your resolve to choose your own mate, even greater, if you wanted one, at this point. You didn’t know where you were going, all you knew was that in your fear, the scent had gotten closer, giving the fact that the arctic fox was practically nipping at your heels. You yipped in surprise as pain shot through your foot, after suddenly tripping over a branch, the ground closed in as you squeezed your eyes shut, feeling the impact of the fall hit your arms and side as you tumbled a little ways.

 It didn’t take you long to recuperate, as you scrambled backwards, fearing for the worst yet to come as your back had hit a solid trunk of a tree. Surprise had hit you, for the fox stopped dead in his tracks. Once a musky scent, was now flooded with dread as he stared onward behind you, and then back at you. As if making up his mind after a mental process, he growled in frustration as he let out one last angry yip, before running off.

 Relief had wafted to you, slightly, but you were left with more questions than answers. The tree of all things against your back, and the way the fox had fled in fear, motivated you to turn around. It was a forest, to your utter surprise and shock. Running in a blind panic, you weren’t aware of your surroundings, just the pure fear mixed in with your inner omegas snapping demands to breed, had made you rushed and unfocused.

 By the way the stretch of lush pines and firs, had the forest itself look so dark and intimidating. You had an inkling that the snow and cold, and possibly even sunlight, hadn’t reached within it’s mysterious depths, and it looked oddly inviting. You knew that the fox had fled for a reason, and that it was a stupid idea to even think of venturing inside, but you were out of options.  

  You didn’t want to freeze to death in the snow, after all. Steadying yourself up against the bare cedar you’ve bumped into, you took a step forward, wincing at the pain from your hurt ankle and sore legs. However, the lure of the possibility of safety, was more strong than your will to just lay down. Inching forward into the darkness, you let the trees within guide you. It was dark, at first, but of course, trees could only give only so much shade. Dim, was the more correct use of the word as you inched closer and deeper within the forest’s heart. Despite the atmosphere, the birds were singing to their heart’s content, as you could hear the sound of rushing water in the background somewhere.

 You jumped a little as your foot brushed up against something soft. Green, you couldn’t help but stare in awe at the little patches of grass and clovers littered across it’s floor. It was cold, yes, but not as cold as it was outside the fortress of trees. In what had seemed eerie and intimidating at first, now had filled you with an odd sense of serenity and calmness. The area around it had an odd, yet highly welcomed earthy smell with a splash of something sweet in which had you relaxed and sated the crawling of your heat.

 Why did the fox fear this place? It had seemed so safe. The hairs of the back of your neck had stood up as you stilled. It had took you longer to realize, that the forest’s unique scent, didn’t belong to the forest at all. Eyes widening in realization, your hands gripped the tree that you were leaning up against. Fate, so far, was kind to you, and although you didn’t want to push your luck, you were hopeless and out of options. Was it a bear? Even then, they usually didn’t let their scents be covered in trees like this. It was baffling, as well as a mystery to you, and you wanted to find out.

 Yet, exhaustion had finally taken it’s toll onto your weary body as you could feel your remaining strength just physically drain from you. Tired, hungry, scared, and hurt through the array of emotions, your body had decided that you were going to rest, whether you liked it or not. As you collapsed onto the forest floor, a shout of surprise echoed as your world turned into black.

…………………

 “-tch. Annoyin’ bunnies an’ their heats.” A huff of annoyance broke out into the silence. Once dark, life had filtered through your senses once again as the scent earlier, was the strongest here. Crackling of fire, warmth, and the scent had awakened you as you cracked open your eyelids.

 A house, you couldn’t help but wonder in awe. The fireplace had created a warm atmosphere against the darkened room, lighting up a place of comfort and furs from non-hybrids. You yourself, were in a bed, bandages were wrapped around your hurt ankle and arms as warm blankets had covered you. What had caught your attention most in the lit room, was the tall figure of a man stirring something within a kettle, back turned against you. What had surprised you most definitely, were the orange and black appendages that were his ears and long, swishing tail.

 A tiger? You had wondered. They were rare, here, and more rare if they were orange, those being in the east, not the north. Oddly enough, fear didn’t prickle you, but your heat, just stirring awake with you, had. If he wanted to hurt you, he would have, already, not literally save you from the cold and bandaged your wounds.

 Not wanting to startle him, you rustled a bit, letting the bed creak a little to get his attention. An ear of his flicked as he then turned around, giving you the full view of your mysterious stranger. Curious amber eyes, soft blonde hair, he wasn’t big, but he wasn’t slim, having a hefty amount of a belly fat on him, due to the winter. Years of work had shown on his shoulders, creating muscle mass as well as around his arms and upper chest. Only what has been covering him, was a loose pair of pants. You had to furiously mentally beat your heat and thoughts down with a stick as he then spoke.

“Ya look like a mess.”

 And there it was, the trickle of slick leaked out of you as your face burned with embarrassment and shame and you then covered your face with a downy pillow. A huff of surprised laughter at your expense made you peep out and give the best glare that you could manage, yet the stranger just gave you a grin.

 “I must say, yer lil’ reaction’s a bit different from a lotta other beings bein’ near a tiger. Name’s Taishiro.” To your utmost surprise, he let out a please little purr as he then turned back to the kettle. You gave him your name.

 “So, why is a lil’ thing like yerself doin’ out in the middle of here?” He pondered, as if he already knew the answer, but for conversation’s sake, you enlightened him, watching his tail swish with annoyance at your parents, and ears flickering with interest as you explored the forest.

 “What about you?” You turned to ask. His back stiffened a little, as if caught with surprise at the notion.

 “Came from the east, lookin’ for a new start in life away from my parents. I knew that a lotta others would fear me, but I didn’t know that they’d avoid a whole forest ‘cause of me,” He then took a wooden bowl and ladle, dipping the curved spoon into the bubbling stew as he continued.

 “-granted, I made some friends, even adopted some younglin’s. Strangers just usually don’t come ‘round here.” He finished, pouring the delicious smelling broth into the bowl, tucking a wooden spoon in it as he turned around.

 It was an odd atmosphere, and you were pretty sure that you weren’t dreaming, but for your sake, you went along with it.

“Are you lonely?” You asked bluntly. He froze, and then gave an indigenous huff as he set the bowl down at the table closest to you. Ears flattened and tail swishing, at first you thought that you made him angry, but he avoided your curious stare as he looked rather nervous.

 “Ye’re pretty wordy for somebody who jus’ woke up. Ya must be starvin’, here. T’s not much, but I figured that ya might be hungry.” He changed the subject as he gestured towards the bowl. Telling him your gratitude, you gripped it, lifted a spoonful of the soup, and took a sip. To your surprise, the sweet taste of carrots had mixed in heavenly with the starchy potatoes, crisp lettuce, and the slight bitter bite of spinach.

 “It’s delicious.” You admitted truthfully, not missing the way his ears picked up at the compliment.

 “Thanks to the trees blockin’ the cold, ‘s not hard to grow yer own food. I might be a predator, but I can live without meat.” He rambled, There was so much to say, and many questions left unanswered, but you knew that you were on borrowed time, until your natural cycle would bite back with a vengeance, later. He must have known it, too.

 “The worried look on yer face is a dead giveaway, Hon. I never housed somebody in heat, before, but don’tcha worry ‘bout it. Ya can stay here fer a while, seein’ that a hurt ankle might take longer to heal. I ‘ave some friends that I can stay with.” He rambled, but you looked at him with pure confusion.

 “You’re giving up your home temporarily? For a stranger?” You asked, baffled. At this, his tail swished, as if a little shy.

 “Temporarily. I don’t know what yer plans are in the future, but the forest doesn’t belong to me, ya can hang around an’ have yer own place, within the depths. I couldn’t just leave somebody there, sufferin’ and the brink of death, anyways.” He murmured lowly, but you could hear it clearly. Warmth that wasn’t heat, clouded into your chest at such kindness from the stranger. He was a stranger, yes, but you felt as if you could trust him fully, giving that his actions of helping you and not asking for anything in return, had screamed volumes.

 “Thank you, for everything.” You blurted out, and the corner of his lip twitched upward at your honest gratitude.

“Not a problem, Sweetheart.”

…………………….

 He knew the dangers of housing a slick, hot-blooded omega rabbit, of all beings, had included. What he didn’t expect, was the general bluntness and forwardness of the little thing. Not as timid or shy, but generally open and forward with emotions. Being in the early stages of heat, right now the bunny was coherent, but he knew that it would only last for so long before the true, ugly nature of one’s natural heat cycle, took over.

 “So, here’s what’s gonna happen, Hon. I’m going to stay far away. It’s fer your safety. I might prowl around my area and scent everything, keepin’ unwanted guests, away, but I’m not gonna barge in on yer privacy or be too close to the house.” He told you, laying out a plan. You nodded, setting the empty bowl aside as you listened closely.

 “-believe it or not, I know somebody who could bring ya rations an’ talk with ya after yer heat spells. He’s a dwarf rabbit, an’ already mated to somebody who I see as a son of mine. Since he’s an omega, like yerself, he should be more immune to yer smell. Green hair an’ freckles, can’t miss’im.” Taishiro explained, and you listened with interest, seeing that you weren’t truly alone in your being as well as dynamic.

 “Sorry that we won’t talk, much, but I thought that I’d best introduce myself ‘fore ya wake up alone and scared.”

 “I’m not scared.” You admitted, and he huffed.

 “Now, ye’re not, but if ya woke up alone an’ in a stranger’s house, ya would be.” He argued, and you let him win, seeing that you were too caught up in emotions, and just wanted to process everything. Noticing your state, he gave out a chuckle.

 “Alright, I’ll see ya later, when yer heat’s over. Ya kinda intrigue me, a lil’ bit, so I’m hopin’ that ya might stay, a lil’ while longer after yer heat.” As soon as he admitted it, his ears flattened with embarrassment as he huffed out a sigh, the apples of his cheeks reddening as he swiftly turned around, opening the door, closing it swiftly behind him.

 You bit your bottom lip. For an apex predator who was lethal as well as dangerous, he was almost as soft as a kitten, and you hoped that, at the very least, the two of you could be friends.

………………

  You were weak, you huffed, panting out hot air as one of your hands gripped the pillow, harshly. Usually, you didn’t have a face, or a body in your images as you tried your best to sate the flash of hot emptiness. It has always been nothing but hot and drowsy images of the blurred shapes of your pillow and furs in the past, leaving you unsatisfied and on the brink of frustrated tears.

 This time, you had kindle to feed that ever demanding fire of yours, licking sharply at the heels of your feet as you were on the brink of the edge. Smooth muscle, soft fat, warm amber irises, and that twinge of a smile, had pinned your focus. You felt guilty, but you couldn’t help it, nor could you think clearly of anything nor anybody else.

 He was so friendly and helpful to you, and here you were, ruining his bedding and furs with your slick, fingers deep within you, wrist hurting from the desperate climb, but no full relief avail. Your body couldn’t had waited, as soon as he left with that calming scent, a spike had hit you in where it had hurt, the empty ache shooting up in full demand.

 Where was this man? Your inner omega screamed, but you harshly shushed it, focusing on the edge, and how to clean the sheets, afterwords. In your blurred state, you knew that you had hardly knew him, but already, he was so far the perfect embodiment of what most beings had wanted in a partner. You admitted freely, that you were no different.

 Letting out a small squeak within the bitten pillow, harsh relief shot through you, as you clenched on your fingers desperately, your body trembling and tears pooling from the corners of your eyes at finally, finding a sudden rush of relief.

 You huffed, calming down from your euphoric high as you palmed your face against the pillow in which smelled exactly like him. You were in too deep, you couldn’t help but think, a little guilty for desecrating the hospitality by literally cumming onto his blankets with him in your mind.

……………………….

[capricornsims]

Strangetown Mystery 15: RUN 

“ We’re stuck here because  you!”

“ I don’t want to argue about this, Johnny. I love you, and I want to keep all of you safe. “

That was the last conversation Johnny had with his father.

Hope was long gone, buried in the cyclone of purple spores that poisoned the air. The streets of Strangetown were silent save for the groaning of spore-infected zombies, most people stood inside these days, too afraid to venture out and encounter their fallen brethren or become infected themselves. The weather that day would have been sunny if the spore clouds didn’t hang low in the atmosphere. 

Unaffected by the bizarre spores, Johnny often ventured out of the Bunker to catch the glimpses of the outside world beyond the barbed wire fence. Looking out into the horizon only drove home the fact that his family was nowhere near freedom, things were only going to get worse and he had his adulthood to look forward to living inside of a concrete box… or being transported to Division 47 to be experimented on… After all, he had not seen his father in weeks and questioning Buzz was out of the question. The General said that PT9 was running experiments, but what if he was being experimented on? He watched his family’s morale deteriorate after their father disappeared behind the laboratory doors. His mother dropped whatever façade she was putting on, choosing to stay locked in her bedroom holding onto the last piece that she had of PT9. Meanwhile, Jill was growing even more restless crying herself to sleep most of the time, and lighting things on fire in rebellion. Johnny did not want to acknowledge the schemes his uncles were plotting, the last time he saw Pascal enter the lab he looked completely insane! 

 Johnny needed to get out. The cement walls of the Bunker only served as a reminder of the freak of nature that he was, the result of an unorthodox union between a human and some extraterrestrial species. Jill even got it in her head that she deserved to be imprisoned, feeling “safe” in confinement compared to the outside world. The thought of being trapped forever instilled a fear that Johnny never felt before, as if the walls around him were closing in on him, so tight that he could not escape and return to the life he made for himself in Strangetown. If he ended up behind the laboratory doors, he would never see Ophelia or Ripp again… he needed to RUN.

He returned to the bunker before he rose suspicion, entering the bleak facility once more. The cell that his family resided in held an uncomfortable atmosphere of dread, masked by Jenny’s failed attempts at keeping things normal. That night she burned the food again because she was spacing out at the wall, too deep in her thoughts to notice Johnny turn off the stove and lead her to the couch.

Johnny: I made up my mind. I’m leaving tonight. 

Jenny: Leaving? Now? I mean- what would your father think if he returned. 

Johnny: If he returned? It’s been weeks… You and I both know that he would visit every day if he was actually working here. 

Jenny: Don’t say such things… he is fine.

Johnny could tell she was at the brink of snapping, her smile faltered as she gripped onto his arm. 

Jenny: He is fine…he’s going to come back.

She reassured herself, but the tears streaming down her face said differently. She turned to her son and nodded in agreement, she had a feeling that something was very wrong with their situation. Jenny had to face the guilt that she failed to protect her husband but she had a chance when it came to her children. If Johnny escaped the bunker, she would know he was safe. Her first son was always resilient and the harsh words he dealt with over the years made sure of that. It was hard enough to see her son grow up so fast, and the thought of throwing her firstborn  out into the dangers of the infected world scared her.

Johnny: I am going to be fine, mom. I swear Ripp is going to get me to Deadtree. That is where Ophelia lives so I can hide out there.

Jenny: I know you will be fine… but I can’t help but worry that my boy is running out into an apocalypse. But whatever it is you have a better chance in Deadtree than in here. Tell Ophelia I said hi...

Johnny: If dad does show up, tell him that I’m okay, and I that I’m sorry for yelling at you guys. 

Jenny: I’m sure he already knows… He’s proud of you. 

Tears welled up in his eyes when she mentioned his father. A pang of guilt struck at his heart knowing that their last conversation had been an argument... and even then his father would still be proud of him. Now was not the time to be emotional, but the tight hug his mom was giving him, let some tears escape before he pulled away.

Johnny leaned down to his little sister, and she wrapped arms around him tightly and hugged him close. She clung to him like a koala so he couldn’t pull away if he tried.

Jill: Promise me that you’ll come back! 

Johnny: Can’t promise much but the next time you see me we’re getting out of here! 

Jill: Then come back sooner !! 

Johnny: Look after mom, and baby bro. I will be back soon.

Jenny: Watcher, protect this boy. Don’t let him get hurt. 

3:00 a.m. 

Johnny approached the general store just as it was about to close, the sight of Ripp leaning against the wall filled him with relief as he approached him. The stars shone brightly in the sky and the sound of crickets and coyotes filled the air as they spoke. He could hardly contain his excitement as Ripp shoved snacks into his shirt pockets and planned their escape. This was happening, he was going to be free or die trying in the process. 

Johnny: Alright Ripp let’s get the hell out of here! Where is the car? 

Ripp: Car? We don’t have a car. The best chances we have is if we run as fast as we can until we reach the edge of town. 

Johnny: RIPP! That’s insane! We can’t run that fast! 

Ripp: Keep it down dude... Look I disabled Tank’s computer, he won’t be able to check the security cameras until someone fixes them... plus we need to at least try. 

Johnny: Fine we will go with your plan just open the gates already so we can get a head start.

3:05 a.m.

Ripp opened the gates of the compound, the loud sound of creaking metal rang through the air as the teens slipped through the small crack that they made. What was the point of being stealthy when their plan involved running for their lives! Johnny and Ripp shared laughter as they bounded through the desert, exposed to the outside world and tasting freedom for the first time in ages. Johnny couldn’t believe that this was actually working since Ripp’s other plan was to “Run faster!”. But so far, They were in the home run!

Tank: Huh... All the cameras seem frozen.. F*ck I need to tell the General about this. 

3:10 a.m.

Jenny: Do you really think head counts at this time is sane?!

Buzz: JENNY NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR GAMES. WHERE IS THAT GREEN BASTARD?!

Jenny: I don’t know Buzz... maybe he’s in the bathrooms or went out for fresh air. 

Buzz: THAT IS GENERAL BUZZ GRUNT TO YOU- I ONLY COUNTED TWO of YOU! Where is the SON!

Jenny: WHERE IS MY HUSBAND GENERAL BUZZ GRUNT?! Shouldn’t YOU be more concerned that he isn’t here!? 

Buzz: I-I know where he is I am asking about your - 

Tank: * over the phone * General, the security cams are tampered with, someone must have messed with them. 

Buzz: * over the phone * Not now, Tank I am with Mrs. Smith....What?! What do you mean messed with,Tank?! ... What do you MEAN THE GATE IS OPEN!?

He heard he alarms blare out, signaling the escape of Johnny Smith. His face grew a deep shade of red, the sound of Jenny’s frantic nagging pierced his ears as his mind tried to conceive what the hell was going on. He escorted Jenny back to her cell, trying to ignore her comments about PT9 and the way she broke down when she was locked inside. “ Don’t hurt him!” Was the last thing he heard as he rushed out of the bunker towards the open gate. 

3:15 a.m. 

The General shoved Tank out of the way, yelling at the top of his lungs about how incompetent's he was, the alarms blared as they stood there, looking out at the expansive desert and the darkness ahead of them. Through the haze of the darkness there were vague sounds of shuffling zombies and coyotes 

Buzz: I’m going after them! Do your job and watch the bunker, soldier!

The cool night air was thick with spores as Johnny and Ripp ran through the infected desert. The cyclone rose into the sky, as lightning struck into the crater, a great rumbling shook the ground beneath their feet as growls rang through the sky. Johnny even spotted one of the infected, dazed and sputtering nonsense as she moved and jerked around them. He had no time to waste taking in the absolute disaster that Strangetown had become. Freedom in this new world felt odd, sure he was safe from becoming a science experiment, but now he was exposed to the infection, the zombies and the townsfolk that knew who he was... He couldn’t wait to get to Dead Tree after all of this. 

3:15 a.m.

Buzz: I WILL CAPTURE YOU SMITH! YOU CAN’T RUN FOREVER!

Buzz: MARK MY WORDS, BOY YOU WILL BE SORRY!

Buzz: RUN ALL YOU WANT BUT YOU CANNOT ESCAPE!

4:00 a.m

Johnny and Ripp broke out of the desert and into the other town located near by. The atmosphere was eerie and a thick fog hung over the neighborhood as they walked through the empty streets, the faint breeze carried the sounds of ethereal groans but the source was unknown. Ripp lead Johnny to one of the creepier buildings found in Deadtree, the Meeting house. The structure was foreboding and held the odd sensation that entering it would get them killed, yet this was where Ophelia lived now, and the only place Johnny could hide.

Johnny: Oh my watcher, thank you for helping me, Ripp. I can’t thank you enough. 

Ripp: Any time bro, I wouldn’t know what to do If I found out that you were vivisected or something. It’s shady as hell so I’m glad I got you out first. 

Johnny: Can you do me a solid and look after mom and Jill, they are still in danger...

Ripp: Heck yeah, I’ll even look out for your dad and see if he’s around. Anyways, I’m sure Ophelia is tired of waiting. Let’s get you inside. 

Ophelia stood silently in the Meeting house, pacing around the small apartment she had above the main hall. She wore a plain brown jacket and the look on her face showed that she had not slept in ages. She turned when Ripp opened the door, a small smile formed on her lips as she asked about Johnny before turning back to the television she had on. 

Johnny: Ophelia, I’m here. I made it out alive. 

Ophelia: Johnny! You’re here! I missed you so much I could barely sleep. I’m so happy that you’re alive! 

Johnny: I’m happy that i’m alive too... I am here to stay for a while so we can catch up a little. 

Ophelia: I wouldn’t mind catching up with you, Johnny.

Johnny: Yeah we’ll get to that too. hehe

Ripp: Alright guys get a room. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight.

Ophelia: Yeah right! Come with us, Ripp. I think we all just need a nice break.

Strangetown Mystery 15.5: Test Subject 

The weeks following Nervous’ disappearance were agonizingly painful and dull at the same time. The moment he returned to the castle he was met with a sharp needle to the neck and the unwelcome prospect of newly designed experiments for him to be subject to. He had heard about the Strangetown Syndrome and the effects it had on the human brain, the way that it spread into the spinal chord and made the body into a vessel as the person remained in a state of unconsciousness. The way that it made the body jolt and convulse made the joints ache incredibly, the spores taking over had to get used to walking on two legs and speaking the way humans do, after all. 

All of these notes were taken down by Loki and Circe during the weeks that Nervous remained grounded in the basement, he could only tell time from the shifting of light in the glass windows and the routine experiments Loki was running on him. His entertainment was swiftly taken away upon his return, and any hand-me-down clothes he owned were confiscated, leaving him in a simple cotton hospital gown. To make matters worse, the Beakers were not holding back on the level of their brutality, as form of punishment they rarely paid attention to his pleas of mercy and continued experiments without hesitation. Not that he was fully conscious most of the time, his mind overtaken with pain killers, sedatives and the spores infecting his brain. 

Sometimes he could feel the world around him grow dark, the welcoming embrace of nothingness enveloping his body and bringing him out of the world of pain and sadness he was in. The cold boney hands of death never touched him, but he begged for him to do so, the more he pleaded for escape the bastard only spared his life, returning him to the excruciating routine of electrocutions and chemical baths. He never understood why Death never came to him, over so many years he’s seen him many times bringing him a few seconds of relief before he woke up to Loki and Circe prodding his dying body. They seemed to enjoy the prospect that even he couldn’t escape through death. 

Today, Nervous wasn’t sure what Loki was doing with him, only mindlessly following orders as the scientist tapped away at machines and made things glow and buzz. Sometimes the machines took a scan of him, sometimes they electrocuted him- he wouldn’t be surprised if it did, his right arm lost feeling long ago because of it. 

Nervous: What are we doing...today..Loki.

Loki: Silence ! You, nervous subject, address me as Dr. Beaker in this lab. 

Nervous: *grumble* Dr. Beaker.. What are we doing today? 

Loki: I’m glad you asked, test subject. We are revolutionizing medicine in this lab. The Curious brothers have failed to produce a viable antidote in the time The Government allotted them. So I, Loki Beaker went out of my way to generously aid the public and produce a vaccine for them.

Nervous: I - don’t think that’s - 

Loki: LEGAL? Well, Nervous, now’s not the time to do things the legal route. People are desperate, and they will come to ME for a cure. Thanks to you, my Nervous subject, people will be cured. 

Loki: Now drink the f*cking antidote!

Nervous: No thank you! I’ve drank enough today. I can’t keep food down...I’m tired. 

Loki: I will be sure to write that down...but THIS is a new formula. THIS will work, So DRINK IT! 

Nervous: No! I said I was tired, Loki...

Loki: DR. BEAKER - How many times do we have to go through this? And you are tired? Nervous, you aren’t the one slaving away at this antidote! I AM! All you do is drink it and puke up all my work! You are Lucky that I don’t throw you out into the street!

Nervous: We have been doing this for weeks, Dr. Beaker, it’s not going to work.

Loki: I have been doing this for weeks. Nervous, we have come so far from the beginning. You don’t cough up blood, break out into rashes, or shake uncontrollably anymore. This. Will. Work. 

The mad scientist forced Nervous to sit down in the chair next to them. His face was a deep seething red as the beaker was tipped into his test subject’s mouth. Nervous had no choice but to choke down the purple liquid while Loki glared down at him, making sure that he kept the chemical mixture in. The antidote tasted sweet at first, then the burning began at the back of his throat and spread throughout his body. He dropped the beaker and the glass shattered across the stone floor, sending Loki in a fit of rage as Nervous doubled over in pain. 

Nervous could not make out the onslaught of Icelandic curses, he could hear the beating in his heart along with an ear piercing ringing. He felt his joints tense and ache as the world grew dark once more, but this was not death... Death was comforting even if temporary, this was excruciating. 

Loki: That’s IT I’ve had it with you! You are clearly nothing but a useless guinea pig.....get out.....you are nothing....die...

Loki’s words were drawn out in between the ringing. The last thing he could feel were rough hands grabbing at his shoulders, lifting him out of the chair and dragging him across the stone floors. 

The cool desert air hit his skin as he crumbled to the ground somewhere in front of the castle. Nothing mattered now....

ŦĦ€ ΜØŦĦ€Ř ĆΔŁŁED ΔŇĐ HE ΜUŞŦ Ř€ŞPØŇĐ 

[crescent-yoon]

only in my lucid dreams

Part 3

★ Seojun's POV ★

all i could hear beneath my feet was the crunching of snow. it snowed heavily the previous night, making it difficult for me if i had chosen to ride my bike. i was finally coming back to this school after so long and i was nervous. nervous to see you outside of these dreams.

your eyes were just as i had seen them every night - dim yet warm and full of life - as you had set your eyes on me with that brightness that was only shown to me. your hair down and eyes full of wonder as always. when i saw you in these dreams, you had always looked as beautiful as ever. even if you were just simply wearing a pair of ripped jeans and an oversized hoodie. ever so rarely wearing something out of the ordinary for you.

even last night you had worn the clothes that seemed to give you the most comfort, while i had wanted so desperately to show you my uniform. the colors that should've been recognizable to both you and i, sparking your curiosity. sparking that wonder in your eyes.

"why are you wearing that?" you asked as curiosity had played on your face. "it's... a bit different from your usual attire, Seojun."

i couldn't help but to mentally adore how that expression made you look so.. cute.

"yes, well, my mom is a bit sick so my sister and i need to switch schools." i tilted my head to the side just a bit, hoping to give off the cockiest of smirks only for a mix of sincerity and playfulness to show in my expression. "why? are you happy that we're going to the same school, Y/n?"

"so happy i could have a heart attack right now from the overwhelming joy that i'm feeling right now?" you playfully rolled your eyes at me as i gave you a light shove in response, just as we had always done whenever we were enjoying each other's company.

"yeah, yeah. no need to go overboard." i laughed as i took your hand into my own. your hand was cold yet comforting at the same time. it had always been this way as i had kept my thoughts, wondering if you had seen me as a man. "besides, i used to attend this school but things got crazy in my life so i had to move away."

"makes sense, i suppose." everytime you always had little to say, but you never strayed away from me. you did zone out constantly and always made me wonder about the gears turning in your head.

"i know that it's a bit strange but.. do you see me as a man or just a figment of your imagination?" i had asked, truly curious. unfortunately for me, you were so zoned out that you hadn't heard a single word.

"earth to Y/n?" i playfully and softly tapped the bottom of your chin to gain your attention as i had always done. "clearly you weren't listening but i asked you if you-"

you disappeared as i was going to ask again and that had only meant that you had woken up. i was going to get ready for the day too when another dream had started.

i saw you in our school uniform, presumably on your way home after school. you were walking alone unsuspectingly when two huge men had grabbed ahold of you and tried to shove you into a dark looking van. i couldn't hear anything in this dream but one of the guys lips had read, "whether we have to threaten her or threaten you, your mother owes us money and we'll just keep hold of you until she finally pays up."

immediately without hesitation, i felt my feet running. of course i'd run to you. i had to save you. but just as i got close, the ringing of my alarm clock had sounded and i had to get ready for school, that dream set in my mind.

the sight, the feeling, the sounds. all of it felt unbelievably... real.

snapping out of my thoughts, i had walked past the snow covered trees towards the school gates. until i had seen... you. i'm glad that you were still okay which had only meant the event was something that would happen in the future, keeping this in mind, i would discreetly keep an eye on you. even as i remembered the dream before that.

the feel of your hand in mine, the racing of my heart, the curiosity on your face. every bit of it felt so surreal. why is it you, y/n? why do you keep appearing in my dreams like this? at first... at first i thought that you were only meant to be a figment of my imagination. someone that i had made up in spite of my loneliness.

but then the dreams had kept occurring and it all felt too real. especially when i had seen you in real life, in the real world. you hadn't noticed me as you had that zoned expression on your face, unaware that you had brushed my shoulder. that familiar warm, tingly sensation had been felt all over my body. it was really you. and i knew your weren't my imagination when i had heard you lost in thought mumbling the words of "who are you" and "why are we connected, han seojun?".

even now, you looked exactly like you did in my dreams. there was no way that this could all just be... an eery coincidence. but when our eyes met, i knew. i knew that we were connected somehow.

should i approach you? no, i'd look strange. should i pretend as if i had never seen you before? but i had seen you before, in person and in my dreams.

then i had noticed it.

i noticed that unlike me, you weren't wearing a winter coat, though the snow continued to gently land on your eyelashes and melt on your cheeks and nose, a slight shiver coming over your body.

those same warm eyes, they were filled with familiarity and they made me wonder. do you recognize me? you seemed to.

i was going to muster up the courage to approach you until a friend had dragged me away with the ring of the bell.

snapping out of my thoughts and out of the cold weather, i'd been dragged to 2b and there our gazes met again.

i don't know what you were doing but suddenly i had seen you put your hands to the temples of your forehead. at first i had thought you had gotten a headache until i realized. you were concentrating really hard on something. i realized that you're acting just as i did when i realized you were real, probably thinking you had some sort of super power and that thought was so funny that it had me holding back laughter.

"um.. are you okay, y/n?" Suho had asked you as Jugyeong felt your forehead to check your temperature. Their concern had made it even harder to hold back my laughter.

"ahaha, yes, well." you had looked down until you had turned around and saw me laughing.

"so weird." i shook my head, genuinely trying to stop laughing but you looked so much like a confused puppy that it was hard to stop. "what are you even doing, Y/n?"

"huh?" your head tilted in confusion. "how do you-"

i hadn't even realized that i had let your name slip from my mouth. of course i shouldn't have been able to know your name without ever truly meeting you, right? trying to find my way out of the situation, i had remembered that every student had to wear a plated name tag on their shirt.

"nametag." i pointed at the silver plated pin on your jacket. creating a quiet atmosphere before looking out into the hallway from the classroom window with a clearing of my throat.

suddenly i had felt a hard pinch on the back of my neck and it hurt badly. it was almost as if you were trying to make sure i was real. i wanted to ask you why you did that in a calm manner but it had hurt so bad that i had scolded you with a stern and slightly raised voice saying, "why? what do you want so bad that you have to pinch me on my neck like that?"

not realizing a had lowered the volume of our chattering classmates, their eyes all turned in our direction. you very quietly and quickly apologized as you headed back to your seat. i has realized that i had probably embarrassed you. i wanted to apologize but before i could, our teacher had walked in and began class. even with the teacher starting class, my eyes only lingered on you.

the day had been over with and as the students began piling out of the building, i noticed that the snowfall had gotten worse and thought about how you hadn't worn a jacket to school today. amongst all my thoughts, i had also remembered that dream. the one where you had been in danger and i don't think that i could've allowed you to walk home. especially because you had told me once in a dream that you had lived alone.

when you had began taking a step forward, i decided to stop you and had pulled you into my chest.

"Han Seojun?" you looked up in surprise at me, those sparkling eyes staring at me once again. "what's wrong?"

"i know it's a bit weird of me to request something of you when we just met but i need you to trust me." i frowned, taking off my jacket and wrapping it around you seeing as that i couldn't stand to see you cold, teeth slightly chattering. "don't go home today. i need you to come with me."

i didn't really expect you to go with me. after all, you only knew me inside of these dreams we shared. who were you to trust a stranger. but then i saw this determined nod you gave and i felt my heart racing as you had told me-

"i trust you"

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

[sunflowerryvol6]

Pigments

Warnings : angst, mentions of blood

WC : 2k

Hey! so I've got all these angsty prompts anywho, hope you like this. This the first time I've had an OC, so let me know if you like that? This came together, quite quickly, so the edit might be a little choppy. Feedback and ideas are always welcome!

Masterlist

happy reading!

"Lovie! You can't be knocking things in your wake, gotta be a little more careful y'know?" He said.

Nylah froze. "I'm sorry, H. I guessed I misjudged the distance?" she nervously giggled.

"S'okay, you good? You don't sound all too convinced about that?"

"Nope. All good, I guess it was a little foggy, nothing too serious."

"Okay, if you say so." That response didn't convince him, though. Ever since the patio incident, he'd been keeping a close eye on you. He had a feeling she'd been hiding something. But he wasn't sure enough to call her out on it. He was waiting to see if she'd come to him first. Even if she was the stubborn one between the two, he would let it go for today, and no one wants to argue on the weekend, right?

He wishes he'd had that argument and taken one for the team because maybe then he could have avoided this phone call altogether. Or that's what he tells himself.

Nylah had taken a significant fall at work, slipped down the stairs and hurt her head, and they said she was bleeding. That's all he heard before he made a mad dash to his car to get to his fiance. His heart was racing; he couldn't piece any information together. He remembered to make a quick call to his mother; asked her to call Nylah's mum and meet him at the hospital. As far as any information went, Nylah was still unconscious, so that they wouldn't allow him in with her.

"Well, I'm her husband. You've got to let me stay with her. What if she wakes up and there's no one beside her? Please, let me go see her."

"I'm so sorry sir; She's getting her stitches now. You can wait outside the procedure room, and they'll let you in as soon as it's completed." the nurse says.

Amid this argument, Anne comes rushing through. "What's going on? have you been in to see her yet? have they given you any update?"

"No. we're waiting on them to finish stitching her up. After that the doctor will come and speak with us, I suppose. I don't know why I didn't pay more attention, maybe she was sick and didn't tell me? I mean, I should have noticed, right?" Harry was finding it hard to not tear up with anxiety.

"Harry, what's happened has happened. You just need to make sure she's okay now", and on that cue, the doctor walked in to greet them.

"Are you with Ms Jones?" The doctor asks

"Yeah, I'm her husband. Is she okay? How bad was the fall?"

"It's not too bad, but my concern is more to how she fell. Do you know if your wife has a history of fainting spells? or balance issues? could be one of the reasons she could have taken the tumble."

"None that I'm aware of. Nylah does have low blood sugar, but she is good at keeping that in check and, as far as I recall, she hasn't fainted from a low sugar spell in a few months. But why is that a concern? I mean, it could have just been that she tripped, right?"

"We're just trying cover our bases, Mr.-" He looks at Harry as if to ask your name

"Styles." He responds.

"Okay, well, Mr Styles, you may go keep your wife company now. The nurses will let us know when's she awake, and we can have a chat then."

"Thank you." and He turns to what he assumes Nylah's room is and walks in to see her still unconscious.

"Hey kid, I'm so happy to see you; gave us a proper scare. I'm going to be right here beside you when you wake up." He coos. Harry sits down beside her bed and reaches for her hand. He's too fidgety from anxiety to stop his knees from bobbing up and down. Still thinking about what the doctor said. Could it not have been a trip up? Could she have fainted, and no one was there to help her break the fall?

She was doing so well with keeping her sugar levels in check, and maybe she slipped up? All these questions were running amuck in his mind, and he couldn't make sense of it.

In his anxiety spiral, he had utterly missed that Nylah was coming to it. She was slowly peeking through her lids as if the lights were too much for her. Harry quickly stands up. "Baby! Are you okay? Does your head hurt? I'm going to call the nurse for you, okay?"

"Woah, slow down, H, I'm okay. Can you please ask them to dim the lights? It's too much for my head right now." She winces.

"Yes, let me call the nurse for you."

"hey! Did you press the call button? Good to see you're awake, Ms Jones."

"Yeah, she just about woke up. Could we please dim down the lights in here a bit? She's finding it a little difficult to open her eyes because of it."

"Okay, sure, let me inform the doctor, and I'll see about the lights."

"Thank you."

"So, what happened? Did you feel lightheaded? missed lunch or something?"

"Okay, so I mean, my vision has been getting kinda blurry of late? I don't know what that's about like I can't see things that might be in my surrounding that well." Harry looked like he wanted to cut her off but let her continue.

"Before you say anything, I didn't want to worry you, and I wasn't worried either until today. I thought I would take the stairs today, and they were white? And I couldn't place my feet. Because I couldn't tell them apart" She was tearing up.

"Hey, it's okay, we'll figure it out, okay? It's probably nothing. Don't worry about it. You're fine, and that's more than enough for now." Harry soothed her. But he really didn't know if it was going to be okay.

When the doctor came, they relayed the same information to him. he suggested getting some tests done to check her diabetes and vision. She's only 25, so it's highly unlikely it's anything major, or at least that's what they thought.

---

Everything will be okay, is what Nyah kept telling herself, but who was she kidding? She had been hiding the blurriness in her vision for quite some time now. Why didn't she want to get it checked and find out what's wrong with her? She can't tell you for the life of her.

On the other hand, Harry had always known, but he thought she would address it sooner or later. He'd noticed she'd totally missed the butter sitting right in front of them at breakfast, and he had to get it for her. She would often take a second to adjust to light early in the morning.

You can't really do anything if you're missing big and obvious things sitting right in front of you, right? But he was wrong, Nylah was stubborn as hell, and she wasn't going to admit herself that she needed help, so it was up to him to figure it out and advocate for her. Had he done this sooner, they wouldn't be in a position like this, right?

---

The white walls of this hospital felt like it was caving in on Nylah. She didn't want to be here, neither did she want to get tested, and she didn't know anything point. This nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach just wouldn't go away. Harry was trying to be as supportive but to be honest, he was scared shitless too, neither of them of any help to each other. So they sat, quietly taking the eerie atmosphere of the hospital, holding each other's hands, hoping that warmth would enough to get through this cold tunnel of uncertainty.

--

After a whole week of a myriad of tests, they were sitting in front of their eye surgeon, who just gave them the news. They call it retinitis pigmentosa, and there isn't a concrete treatment that's shown to work yet.

That's all she heard before Nylah stormed out of the office.

She couldn't sit and hear another word. When the doctor told her about how her children, children who weren't even born yet, would be carriers or sufferers of the same illness. How could she succumb to this fate?

Harry and she were to still get married. They were going to travel the world. They'd been saving up for it, right? And babies? Oh, her babies with Harry, would that even be possible right now? Would he even want to continue this engagement?

She was sitting on the stairs outside the hospital. Crying into her hands, she didn't know what the hell to do anymore. So she would do what she thought was the best for her and Harry.

Harry came running after her. "My! what's wrong? Please come back? The doctor wasn't even finished giving us options on what we could do about this. Petal, you've got to hear him out. Please. " He looks like he's about to cry too, wouldn't you? If you found out the love of your life wasn't going to be able to see anymore? That she would miss arguably the best years of your lives together? He couldn't break down in front of her, though. So he would be the calm, reassuring voice of reason for her right now. Breaking down is for later when she is resting.

Nylah wouldn't budge, so eventually, they drove back home. She jumped out of the car before he could even be done parking. She hadn't said a word throughout the ride, and he didn't know what was on her mind. So he parked the car and walked in.

He slowly approached their room, only to find her packing all her belongings. He was a little puzzled, "Ny, darling? What are you doing? why are you packing?"

She turns around to look at him. That's when he notices her red-rimmed eyes, pooling with tears. She walks over to the dresser, takes off her ring and places it on the table. It was as if she was saying; This is it, you know?

He finally placed what was going on. "Oh no. No. You're not doing that, this is stupid, you're ending our engagement over this? Absolutely not. Please, baby, you've calm down. There's a long way to go still, and we don't even know all our options yet."

"I am going blind, Harry. I won't be able to see your face when I kiss you anymore. I won't give you children that might not be addled with the same disease as me. Hear yourself when you make this commitment, Harry." and go. I'm to packing her stuff. She was furiously wiping tears away. How were you supposed to keep a straight face when the love of your life is not going to be a part of your life anymore.

"I do, I'm in it for the long haul, aren't I? We'll break our savings and go to all the places you want to go to. We'll make audio vlogs, we'll document everything that we encounter, for you to remember. I'll do anything!"

Harry was panicking now. He's desperately trying to get her attention, to get her to see that he'll bring her the moon if that's what she desires. But this silence was too much for him. He could'n;t keep up with her. She was just throwing things into her bag. Finally, it felt like he snapped back into his reality, and he rushed behind her to keep those items back into her part of the closet. Because he wasn't going to let her go that easily. She'd have to fight him for it.

As he was putting things back, she was putting more stuff into her suitcase, and it was this weird limbo of aggressively shoving things here and there.

"Stop putting things back! I have to leave. I'm not going to put you through this, I'm not waiting around for you to decide when you're done with me, when it gets too tiring, No. I'm not sticking around to witness us and our love going sour. " She's screaming now.

He doesn't bother replying to her. He knows she'll ride out this tantrum.

He's crying too, heaving heavy breaths. He doesn't know if this is enough. If just letting her be angry is enough. He's just quietly putting her clothes back. That's when he hears something shatter against the wall. He frantically looks up to see their dresser lamp broken into million pieces on the floor. She goes for the jug of water next and throws it at the wall with as much strength as possible. The cup goes next.

He's screaming at her to stop, but she can't hear anything over her wailing and things breaking. She grabbed a vase from their windowsill and broke that too, it's mad fury, and she's so angry she can't breathe.

She's snapped out of her reverie when she hears him shout in pain. She looks at him and sees that he's stepped on some broken glass, but that's not what he's shouting about; he's screaming to get her attention to make her see that she's, in fact, hurt herself.

The carpet has got blood all over it, and there's broken glass everywhere. He strides across the room to reach her, only for her knees to buckle and take both of them down, she sinks on the floor with loud sobs, and he can't bring himself to stop crying either.

He rocks her gently, and whispers "We'll be alright", over and over again.

[ickle-ronniekins]

tranquility

A/N: i've been real shit at working on my requests and i'm so sorry. i think i've just needed a bit of a break to work on my own writing, my own ideas? i've got so many! and i want to keep that up so i don’t have an interference with... you know....... that thing writers hate so much. anyway enjoy me being a dork, yet again;;;; also trying something new with no dialogue whatsoever

warnings: anxiety, mentions of mental health battles, war, things of the like

tag list: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @georgeweasleyx @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @waschbiber @dreamer821 @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic | message me to be added lovelies

Blackness engulfed the corridors. It was always odd to George, seeing the school so differently after hours. Quiet. Still. Dark. Even after all those times he’d snuck out of the common room with Fred, it still managed to hit him in a strange way. The eeriness of it all. But he liked having the corridors all to himself -- no nosy professors, no chattering students.. no silly talking portraits. At least now all he had to deal with was their rather irritating snoring.

He turned the corner toward the great hall and checked his watch. It was nearing three a.m., and he sighed greatly. He had to be up in just about four hours for lessons, and he hadn’t been able to sleep. For days, even. Weeks, if he was being really honest. The world he loved so desperately, like the hallways surrounding him, was becoming darker. Much, much darker.

Insomnia had never been much of a problem for George. In fact, it hadn’t been a problem at all -- especially all of those times Professor McGonagall would whack him upside the head during lessons when he’d doze off and Fred would very rudely not wake him, and instead he’d have to deal with the wrath of the Deputy Head and the teasing from his twin. But now, in this new world, this new atmosphere, this new school being overtaken by the ministry, impending war on the horizon, after the nightmares had started.. he was having trouble falling asleep at all.

He hadn’t told anyone how scared he was. How could he? If he was being honest, his own overbearing feelings of fear made him feel much like a child, and not at all like an eighteen-year-old. He hadn’t even told Fred. But even so, Fred didn’t need to be told. They were brothers, weren’t they? But even more than that. Fred always joked, ever since they were young and foolish, that he could reach George’s mind. You’re a prat, Freddie! George would laugh. And now, more than ever, it seemed to be true; Fred had seemingly immersed himself right inside of George’s head. It’s going to be okay, mate. You know that, right?

George found himself gliding against the slick corridor floors quite easily in his slippers. He peered into the great hall, at the ceiling, enchanted to look like the night sky, millions of stars twinkling above him. He grinned at it, even though he knew, deep down, that the sky outside was much less vibrant. Grey, even. A dark grey. Dark, mysterious, different.

He began to pull at his hair, the terrifying thoughts he’d been having playing through his mind like a film on repeat. He wondered, more often that not, why this ever-burdening anxiety has overtaken him so. He’d never been an anxious child -- no one in his family had been. So why, now, was this hitting him so differently? Rendering him completely useless in lessons? How was everyone else so much calmer about this than him?

He hadn’t told anyone of his nightmares, the evening he woke up with a jolt, in a  panicked sort of state -- sweat dripping from his forehead, heart racing quicker than he can fly through the air on the Quidditch pitch. He just tried to suppress them, and ignore it.

He just did his best to bite his tongue, and focus on other things. Happy things.

That genuine smile,

that sultry lip curl,

that hair flick of long waves.

That eyebrow raise every time he was up to his usual mischief. That admiring sort of head shake every single time he got caught.

The soft eyes every time he’d shuffle into a lesson after a night full restless sleep, or the concerned expressions every time he’d had a night full of no sleep at all.

It was enough, for him, to make him forget about everything all together. Just for a moment, even. He just needed to be in the right headspace for it.

His body froze at the sound of a pair of nearby footsteps. He felt as though his feet had become cemented into the ground and he stood, absolutely frozen solid in the spot he so wished to vanish from. His heart raced with even more heightened panic. He couldn't afford another detention with Umbridge. Not again. He never wanted to admit it to anyone -- embarrassment seemed to eat him alive at the thought of it, but the pain he felt, the pain everyone felt from her ridiculous stunts as headmistress.. it had caused more than sadness. Tears pricked at his eyes at the mere thought of it. He slowly ran his thumb across the scars embedded into his skin.

Coming to, he swiftly scooted around the corner when he finally willed his feet to move -- he hadn’t wandered far, he just had to make it to the common room without getting caught. His slippers thumped lightly against the floors.. if he could only go a bit faster --

And then,

crash.

A never-ending stream of very rude phrases entered his mind.. phrases he very much knew his mother would disapprove of, and would probably send him a howler for if he’d said them aloud. He took a deep breath to calm any rising nerves and let his eyes adjust to the scene in front of him in the darkness. And then it hit him.

Your perfume.

You reached out and gently pressed your hands to his face. George tried, he really did, to push all of his feelings down, but they had a mind of their own, and before he could fully register what was happening in front of him, he was sobbing quite heavily into your arms.

It took every ounce of strength in him to cry quietly as you pulled him gently back to the common room, and up the stairs to the girls dormitory. You pulled out your wand and muttered some type of incantations he’d never heard of. He noticed the tenseness in your jaw, the concern in your furrowed brow. But when you turned to glance at him in the faded light from the embers of the fire in the corner of the room, all he saw was softness.

You pulled him into your bed, careful to pull the drapes of your four poster around you both completely so as not to disturb anyone else. And then a silencing charm. If he wanted to talk, then he could.

He reckoned there were no more stupid reasons as to why he should keep things from you any longer.

And he did tell you. Slowly, at first -- as you ran your hands through his hair, across his cheek bones, over the scars on his hands and listened -- and then very quickly. It seemed to just sort of pour out of him. He told you how it had all started, all of those nightmares. That restless sleep, erratic breathing, panic attacks in the middle of the night. The impending war. The detention with Umbridge. The fear every single time he received a copy of the Daily Prophet. The plans he and Fred had despite everything happening around them. It was all becoming far too much for him to fully digest.

You asked him why he hadn’t told you, and he skittishly unfolded.. told you he’d been embarrassed. Ashamed. How could someone so carefree, so mischievous, someone with a laugh escaping their lips every single moment of everyday.. become so scared?

And then he asked you, what were you doing out of bed?

And you told him, with a very soft grin lifting your cheeks, I knew something was wrong and needed to come and find you.

George began to sob again, gently this time -- the mere thought of you just waking up and knowing, feeling there was something wrong and immediately coming to find him without worry of being caught by the newest and ugliest headmistress.. it was like a warm, comforting embrace he so desperately yearned for. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed his hair. Ran your fingers across his shoulder blades. Let him nuzzle his head into your neck. And you kept repeating the same three words, over and over and over again. No matter how many times he needed to hear it, or how many times he wanted too.

And he looked up eventually and kissed you, your lips the softest thing he’d ever felt. And he kissed you and continued to silence out the rest of the world around you both for a while -- his hands entangled in your hair, yours across his muscled stomach -- before he grinned against you, whispered things to you, laid back down, and let you press soft kisses to his temple.

You noticed, eventually, that his breathing became less choppy, less erratic, and much more steadied. Much more regulated. And you realized, for the first time in weeks, that George was finally, peacefully asleep.. with no interruptions. No nightmares. No fear.

George awoke the next morning, only to see that you’d fallen asleep in a position sitting up against your pillow, holding him exactly as you had been the night prior. You hadn’t moved, so as not to wake him. His love for you was nearly pouring out of him at the mere sight.

And he realized, watching you as you shifted a bit and tugged gently on his fingers without waking up just yet, that it was the most peaceful, wonderful, tranquil sleep he’d had in months.

[vancilocs]

Im gonna throw some words and see what inspires you, no need to complete all, i know i dont have anything worth publishing for hands but i got a grand idea for sunrise. Beloved, mercy, mightnight? (Again no need to write all)

midnight is smth i wrote a little while ago that i figured i would never publish bc i think it's Bad but oh well (does it fit the prompt perfectly? nah not really but night is an element)

Beloved

The night was harsh and the wind bitter cold. The woman bundled her delicate quarry tighter into the furs, protecting him from the elements, as she made her slow but meticulous way forward with her companion. The taller man held aloft a persistent torch that battled against the wind, bringing some clarity to the path ahead. Not too long after two others joined, coming to greet the travelers from the other direction.

A few pleasantries were shared, quick and hushed. The mission was dire, and delicate. The taller man followed as the two newcomers lead the woman further, to the door of a solitary, silent hut. The man and the locals stayed outside as the woman quietly cracked the door open and stepped in.

The house was cold and dark, but in there was safety from the whistling wind. The woman brought up light with her own magic and the small bundle in her arms stirred, making some small noises. She shushed the baby and sat down to a vacant chair in front of the cold fireplace.

Now she would wait. She calmed her fussy package, the small boy in her arms soon settling down and closing his eyes for another, well-deserved nap.

Time passed. The woman knew these things were not to be hurried. She only wished she had been right.

The wind outside calmed a little and stopped whistling in the crooks of the chimney and at the door hinges. The atmosphere in the dim light became cozy, welcoming - warm, almost, but not in the sense of actual temperature. Mahran had known what to expect, when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.

She looked up and was greeted by the translucent, spectral face of a young woman. "Hello", she said, her voice thin and echoing, but still clear.

"Nesia, was it", said Mahran and the shade nodded. "I am- I was Qharil's wife."

The shade turned her head down in shame and regret. "I never knew", she then said and Mahran nodded.

"I blame you for nothing that happened. It's I who grieves for you", she said. "There are no words for me to express my sorrow for what he did to you."

Nesia nodded, grief still evident on her face - and the vicious wounds evident on her body. The attack had been swift and cruel. "But the most important is safe?" she then said, lifting her eyes to the bundle in Mahran's arms. Mahran gently revealed a bit more of the baby boy she had brought to see his mother.

"He's safe. And perfectly healthy. A beautiful child", she said and Nesia smiled, reaching out a spectral hand to touch the face of her beloved, the one she was ripped away from all too soon. Kaede yawned, eliciting a delighted gasp from Nesia, reaching out his little hands to swish past her outstretched fingers.

"You will keep him safe? You will raise him?" Nesia asked, voice strained, tears already glimmering in the corners of her eyes. Mahran nodded gravely.

"As if he was my own", she promised. Nesia simply nodded, choking back her tears, hand shaking ever so slightly as she reached out for Kaede's small hands. She mumbled something in a language Mahran didn't understand outright, but as a mother, she could guess the meaning.

"Thank you", Nesia whispered.

"And I'm sorry", said Mahran.

"You will tell him of me?"

"Everything he wishes to know."

Nesia nodded a final time and retreated, as Mahran bundled Kaede back into the warmth and comfort, him soon nodding back off into sleep in Mahran's arms. Nesia blew him a kiss, waved, with tearful smiles.

Mahran stood up and made her way to the door, when the lingering shade spoke once more. "Promise me something?" she asked.

Mahran turned, waiting for the request.

"Get that son of a bitch."

Mahran chuckled. "Count on it."

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

Mercy

An eery disquiet held a grip of the barracks as he walked in through the gates. He paid no mind to the gate guards as they let him pass without question, said no word, made no eye contact. He had always disliked the barracks and the nameless, faceless men clad in black and white, ever since he was a child. He would rather not spend any more time in there than was necessary.

Some of the knights stared, some were too involved in their own hushed conversations to pay mind to the man walking past, making brisk headway to his destination, the largest building within the walls of the compound. A knight by the door said nothing as he approached, merely bowed his head and opened the door for him.

The air inside was quite nothing like he had experienced before. He had seen death, yes, but in the confines of his own home, not within a dimly lit stone hall, not where death had took its rawest form, placed on the table right in front of him in the middle of the room.

He hesitated for a moment, for two. He stood in front of the shut door, fists clenched - out of anxiety, maybe. Or out of lingering resentment. He had not seen his brother in months, and the last time they spoke was... not on friendly terms.

It was odd.

Numair had grown to know Mahir as a large, intimidating, harsh individual whose physical presence took hold of a room and gripped the minds of men who were compelled to listen when the man, eldest of the three sons, spoke. He was a man who criminals ducked out of the way from, who stood out on the battlefield not only by his crimson sash, but also by his height and sheer stature.

But here, laid down on the table, still in his blood-soaked vestments, he seemed... almost small. Worn. Thinned out. Numair took a tentative step forward, looking down at his eldest brother's face. Even death had not brought him peace - his expression was that of lingering horror, eyes ever so slightly open and staring dead into the ceiling. The blood was the worst part. The deep, deep crimson pouring from his mouth onto his chin and down his throat only exaggerated his sallow skin and painted a macabre picture of his last moments.

Had it been painful? It must have. It must have been terrifying.

And had he always looked so thin, or had death already begun its work? His cheekbones jutted out compared to his sunken cheeks, dark shadows laid under his eyes and deep wrinkles framed his brow. Numair didn't even remember. Mahir had always had a stern look, and his dark eyes - inherited from their mother, just like Numair had - never held the warmth they should.

Silently Numair reached his hand out and swept a couple of curls off Mahir's forehead. His skin was cold to the touch and Numair almost pulled his hand away, but resisted.

This had been his brother, once. Numair didn't know where the change had happened. During their youth, when they drifted apart? During the years of relentless arguing over who should pick up the sword and who not? Or had it just happened, when the commander, the eldest son, was finally cut down?

He hadn't noticed the tears coming in. This was a hollow husk of the man he had once loved and admired as his brother and protector. This was the lingering ghost of a man who once knew love yet sunk into the bottomless depths of revenge and all-consuming grief, who responded to death with rage and more death, who made it his life to pay back the endless pain he endured not just for him, but for his mother, for his brothers, for his sisters.

It was no way to live.

Perhaps this, in its own, macabre way, was mercy.

"You can rest now, brother", Numair whispered, bent down and placed a soft kiss goodbye on Mahir's cold forehead. Then he wiped his tears, turned his back and left the room.

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

Midnight

The ocean was still. Night had taken over the coast, laid to rest all the little critters and birds who made no sound on the moonlit shore, giving in to the atmosphere of quiet solace and calm. No nearby people, no sound of city hustle and bustle, just a solitary hut with the smoke of the final embers of the morning quietly dying down. In the silence of the hut, one man sat awake, next to the peacefully sleeping form of another.

He had awoken suddenly, twisting himself free from a memory that was still too fresh, too harsh – time had not yet smoothened out its edges, not laid down a fog cloud of forgetting on its raw form that burned when touched. Claws, digging into skin, twisting bone and chilling its depths, teeth rending bare, unprotected flesh, a face so familiar but yet not at all, burned and gnarled and… wrong. The memory still held a grip, of his mind and his heart, which now beat harshly in the still silence of the hut, so loud one could almost hear it.

Slowly, almost afraid Goose turned his eyes to the man quietly laying besides him. Elk was asleep – in the depths of something blissful and calm, his breathing deep, his heartbeat steady. The sight of him both calmed and frightened Goose, because despite his love, his deep knowledge of the man, the stain of the demon who took his form to attack him still crept at the edges of his vision and threatened to cloud his mind altogether.

He wouldn’t, Goose told himself, over and over again; he wouldn’t, it wasn’t him. It had never been him. Elk had told him, his body wasn’t his own, his own memory had faded away from the way of the demon. It wasn’t that Goose didn’t believe him. But what Elk didn’t remember, Goose did, and those memories stuck to him tight in the hours where no other thought was there to push the doubts away.

Almost tentatively he reached out his hand and gently as ever stroked Elk’s cheek – unharmed, untwisted, warm and familiar as it had always been. Elk drew in a sigh, stirring but for a moment in response to the unexpected touch, a shadow of a smile creeping up to the corner of his mouth. But he did not wake yet, he remained asleep, peaceful as ever. Goose smiled as well for a moment, remaining still to ensure the man didn’t wake further. And, confident he didn’t, he as quietly as possible clambered out of their shared bed, careful as to not stumble over Elk’s legs. The previously so comfortable and welcoming warmth of the hut had become oppressing, the shadows in the corners almost feeling as if they had crept closer in the night than they had before – silently, Goose unlatched the door, creaked it open and snuck outside, pressing the door shut behind him.

Once outside, he drew in a deep, long breath, closing his eyes and taking in the sea breeze. The faint smell of salt felt purifying, almost. It smelled like home. It was where he had grown up, where life had offered him its most, given all to him – given him too much, sometimes, more than he could understand, more than he could do with. The small stones underneath his feet clicked and clacked as he walked barefoot towards the shore, until he found a suitably big rock and sat himself on it, facing the ocean and its ever-lapping waves. Somewhere in the horizon he saw birds against the clouds illuminated by the moon, too far for him to recognize. He had always been jealous of birds – what an existence, to just fly with nary a worry about tomorrow. But despite his sometimes less-than-affectionate nickname, he was merely a man, left to earth with his worries, mistakes and the regrets that followed.

Stupid fucking conch. Stupid fucking Goose. Of course they don’t talk to people. Only an idiot would think a conch would actually talk. All it was was just bait for someone as stupid as him to latch on to and for others to get in trouble for. It had always been like that – Goose gets in trouble, does something stupid, and the rest around him have to make excuses and take the blame: give him a rest, he doesn’t get it, you can’t expect Goose to get it. And it was up to the others to pick up the pieces. It was up to the others to put themselves in harm’s way.

To sell themselves to demons.

A demon Goose called in by being stupid, and now had to be protected from.

He didn’t know if his tears were of anger or regret, quite possibly both – he wiped them down to the much-too-long sleeves of his husband’s shirt. He stirred from his thoughts for just a moment to hear the gentle footsteps on the rocks behind him.

“What’s wrong?” Elk asked as he sat on the rock besides Goose and noticed the tears on his cheeks. He raised his hand instinctively to wipe them away but Goose turned his head away, and with a mix of confusion and worry, Elk put his hand down.

“Bad dream”, Goose mumbled and sniffled.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Elk asked, and Goose shook his head slightly. Elk knew if the man didn’t want to talk, he wouldn’t – but knowing him, being silent was either short-lived, or a reason for worry. Elk was content sitting quietly for a time, staring at the ocean alongside his man, pondering what the next thing he would say was. The silence did not end up being long.

“It had your face”, Goose mumbled.

“Was that the dream you had?” asked Elk, and Goose nodded silently, not looking towards his husband. Elk was quiet for a moment, hesitating – “It was just a dream”, he then said.

“It was real to me”, Goose said, still staring at the waves. Elk didn’t argue – Goose had refused to talk much about that day, and even if they had returned to life together under one roof there were hitches in the man’s behavior that had not been there before. Elk had seen hesitation in his eyes, seen him ever so slightly duck out from under his touch.

“I know. I’m sorry”, he sighed. Goose didn’t say anything, just sat there, swinging his legs slightly. The silence had an uncomfortable tinge to it, an awkward flavor that permeated the night, but which both of the men hesitated to disturb.

After a period of silence filled only with the waves lapping at the rocky beach, Goose turned his eyes at Elk once more.

“Why’d you do it?” he said.

“Did what?”

“You gave yourself to a demon. It was my shell. My mistake. It should have been me that the bastard took,” the man answered, voice wavering.

“I felt-“ Elk started, then spending a moment to choose his words. “I felt it was my duty. As a paladin. And I mistakenly thought I could… do something about it.”

“Do what? Kill it?”

“For example.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Elk sat quiet for a second, averting his eyes – Goose could feel the regrets the man had, and felt that he had pondered that same question himself.

“I tried to get through to you before. At this point I… I didn’t know how you’d react. I didn’t know how strong of a hold it already had in you, for it to start communing with me, as well”, he finally answered, meeting Goose’s gaze again. “I was scared for you. I was scared that if I told you, the fiend would make you outrun me – do something I couldn’t predict or prevent.”

Goose sat silent until Elk spoke again. “I’m sorry”, he sighed. “But I couldn’t lose you.”

“I could have lost you!” Goose exclaimed and Elk turned his eyes away in shame. “Weeks, Vragi, weeks – what was your plan? What did it want? You would disap- you’d disappear, I would… what was I to do? No matter the demon in my ear, but you? What would I have done without you?” said she smaller man, fighting back the tears that now tried to once again force their way out.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-“ Elk began, pausing for a moment to pick the words.

“You don’t have to fix my wrongs! You don’t have to throw yourself into danger for me, because I’m too stupid to understand it myself! You don’t need to-“ Goose started before Elk could continue, when the man turned back to him and placed a firm but gentle hand on both of Goose’s cheeks.

“I did it because I love you!” he said, firmly, eyes nailed on Goose’s eyes, the man looking back in tearful bewilderment. “And I was terrified of losing you. Love and fear, they make men do the stupidest things, but I need you to know that everything I do is… I love you, Fégla”, Elk continued with a softer tone, hands still holding Goose’s head in place.

Goose looked back, sniffled, and Elk took a deep breath.

“I don’t have an excuse or explanation that would make sense now. I cannot justify leaving you with no word. I’m sorry, my love – I cannot take it all back. I wish I could”, he sighed. Goose, turning his eyes away from his husband choked back a sob, pulling in a long, wavering breath he then let out slowly, calming himself, collecting himself.

“I wish so too”, he said and Elk sighed deep, lowering his hands to his lap and pressing his forehead to Goose’s. He delicately, almost tentatively took Elk’s hands in his.

“I’m sorry”, he mumbled.

“I can’t imagine-”, Goose said back, but wavering. “If I lost you-”.

“I’m sorry”, was all Elk could repeat.

“I love you.”

They sat together for a moment, foreheads together, Goose holding Elk’s hand in both of his, listening to each other breathe in the rhythm of the gentle waves of the moonlit ocean lapping at the rocky beach. The first squawk of a distant seagull stirred Goose from his thoughts and he looked at the horizon where the soft, pale tones of reds and oranges breached into the purple and blue hues of the night sky, blending into a promise of warmth and life for the new dawn.

Elk took both of the Goose’s hands in his, for a change, giving them a gentle, reassuring squeeze before letting go. “Whatever happens”, he said. “I will be there for you every step of the way.”

And Goose smiled, wiped off the last remaining tears from his eyes and leaned in to give his husband a gentle kiss – a kiss of promise, and mistakes forgiven.

“Let’s go to bed.”