#screaming crying throwing up on the floor soaking in my own tears

[stardatez3ro]

I JUST WATCHED TNG S5 EP4 SILICON AVATAR AND I NEED LIKE 5 TO 10 BUSINESS DAYS TO RECOVER i was like oh yeah let me check in with tng before i go to sleep AND THEN THIS EPISODE KICKED ME IN THE KNEES AND TWISTED BOTH MY ANKLES i hate it here

[unholyhelbig]

Obsessed obsessed obsessed with Firecrest 🥺

Title: Firecrest (Part 2/???)

Read Part One

Summary: Kate Bishop and y/n have an unspoken agreement that revolves around being enemies with benefits. But when Kate's new mentor is someone Y/n is very familiar with, things become complicated.

Warnings: Parental abandonment, horrible parenting, slight mentions of blood, reader has villain tendencies, and horrible grammar because I never proofread!

[A/n: I'm so glad you enjoyed it! I'm honestly really digging writing it. If this is something you guys would like me to keep going, I'll do my best. Just let me know!]

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A sting worked its way through your knuckles before dissolving into a dull ache at your wrist. Sweat had started at your hairline and the small of your back before soaking through the wicked fabric of your tank-top. You could feel your shoulders cramping up. But, you’d stopped crying an hour ago. You feared that if you stopped assaulting the punching bag, then the tears would spill over again.

Lance had told you to take it easy. Your ribs had been bruised after the situation you’d left the benefit for. While you were grateful, said distraction packed a punch and you’d taken a swift kick to the gut and the side of a fire escape digging painfully into your side. It took everything in you not to throw the low-level criminal onto the pavement below.

Instead, you’d cuffed him and left him there until morning, or until law enforcement showed up. You were projecting, you were sure. But if your mother looked at you with pity one more time, you would have shoved him to his certain death.

You’d gotten out of the house and came to the boxing gym. The owner had given you your own key and it gave you enough privacy. If you had any tears left, you’d be able to shed them freely. You clenched your eyes shut and threw a solid round of punches, a scream of anguish ripping through your throat.

Two more hits and the bag became stagnant. Not the same, rocking defense that you’d been punching. You were used to the rhythmic sway and your eyes sprung open at the change in density. You’d ripped a bag before, sand spilling onto the floor.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You shouted, taking a step back. Kate Bishop was on the other side of the bag, holding onto it with a concerned stare on her features. Her annoying perfect features, despite the late time of night. You panted. “Shit.”

“I called out, but you didn’t answer. I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m sorry.”

She released the bag and it swung back and fourth between you both. The chain that attached it to the ceiling squeaked in a rusted effort. Her stormy eyes flicked up nervously and then back to you. You knew that Kate used to come here with her father, her biological father, but you weren’t aware that she had the same key privileges as you.

You worked a hand through sweat-soaked hair and closed the distance to the side of the boxing ring. You used your teeth to pull open the plastic nib on your water bottle, soothed by the cool swallows. Kate watched you carefully. Her eyes roamed over your form, coated in sweat and toned from years of physical exertion.

You couldn’t stop your shoulders from trembling. Violent attempts from your body to assert it’s emotions. You could give in, and you could do so easily. But you would not. Not with Kate Bishop relinquishing her hold on the punching bag that you’d nearly turned to a pulp of sand and shredded upholstery. This wasn’t your dynamic. This wasn’t how things worked.

It was easy to take a lot of things that Kate was willing to give; a ride home from the gym, a doll that matched hers when the two of you were young, soft touches and harder thrusts. But one thing you refused to take was her pity. It leaked from her expression like a broken faucet and for some reason, that angered you.

“What are you doing here, Kate?”

“I came here to work off some extra energy. What are you doing here? I figured I wouldn’t see you for a few more months after you left the benefit early like that.”

“There was no reason for me to stick around.”

The answer fell from your lips in a deadened, emotionless tone. She clenched her jaw and then unclenched it, mulling her thoughts. There was an apprehension to her stance, even as she closed the distance between you both. She stopped just short of your fingers twitching to press against her hip, holding her in place. You lifted an unimpressed eyebrow.

Another swallow of now-warm water seemed to stop the uncertainty of your movements. You hoisted yourself onto the edge of the ring with a sigh, pressing your fingertips to your temples. Kate moved silently and leaned next to you. The quiet she offered was something you took, just like everything else.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Kate asked softly. You looked at her in confusion, lilting your head to the side. “You watched me fawn over Clint Barton for years. I had his posters in my room, and replica’s of his bows, and every news story ever written about him cut out and saved in a shoebox.”

“Because he’s important to you, Katie.”

“He’s your father.”

“He’s not.” You snapped. It was harsh. You forced yourself to relax, softening your voice. “He’s not. Lance is my father, and Clint Barton is far more important to you then he is to me.”

Kate swallowed thickly and hoisted herself up next to you. Her heat was overwhelming you with comfort. You didn’t have it in you to figure out what that meant, past your petty rivalry. She smelled of fresh detergent, of the winter air that clung to her so heavenly.

Her hand tentatively moved to your knee, and you didn’t stop her. You were still trembling and stilled at her closeness. “I’m not going to see him anymore.”

“Kate,” you chuckled sadly. “He’s your hero, and he trusts you enough to take over the Hawkeye name. You can’t throw that out because of his choices, and you certainly can’t throw that out because of me. We hate each other, remember?”

A look of sadness flickered momentarily against her features. The two of you had been in a constant head to head race to prove yourselves since you were young. Kate always came in first, and you had settled with second place; in school, in sports, in forced family outings. It used to end in toe to toe screaming matches.

But, the two of you were older now, and all that built up tension was easily released with stripped clothes and thrown around insults that did nothing but stir the excitement in your gut.

Being a hero was the only thing you were better at, than Katherine Elizabeth Bishop and you were sure that was about to change with Hawkeyes diligent teaching. Lance and Bobbi didn’t need the glory that came with being an Avenger- no, they kept the secret in the term secret agent.

“Right, of course.” She sounded out, nudged you with her shoulder. “But… you can still talk to me.”

You leveled her with an unimpressed stare. Despite her suave playboy attitude that infuriated you, Kate Bishop was not subtle when she wanted something. She chewed her bottom lip, both of her eyebrows raised in an adorable attempt to ease your nerves.

“Right, you’re right, sorry.” She moved to push herself off of the mat, but you wrapped your fingers around her wrist and gave it a tender squeeze. Kate froze in place before scooting back up, even closer this time. Her words reduced to a whisper, as if trying not to scare you off. “Okay.”

“Do you know what Terrigen crystals are?”

“We learned about them last semester, inhuman history. It’s a catalyst chemical that binds with red blood cells that are receptive to change.”

“Impressive.” You gave her a wolfish smile. “When I was growing up, my mom gave up her solo-agent status and conceded to joining a team, and one of their first missions together was to find, and retrieve these Terrigen crystals, the only ones in the entire world. They were meant to contain them, and nothing else, but things rarely go as planned.”

You were sure that Kate knew about the broken crystals that had leaked into the push and pull of the ocean. Fish naturally consumed the microscopic agent and soon, the Terrigen properties were distributed throughout the world commercially. Coulson had called it untamable. You remembered the fear in his eyes, and you had squirmed uncomfortably in the same Inhuman History class a year back.

“The day that things changed, my Aunt Daisy was in solitary confinement in the team’s underground bunker. My mom was busy running tests on her blood after she’d been exposed to the chemical agent. I knew how to stay out of the way, but happened to be in the lab with her when everything started to shake.”

“Shake?” Kate quirked a brow.

You nodded “The Terrigen crystal gave Daisy control of vibrational forces, but none of us knew that at the time. We just knew that something was wrong. The shaking startled everyone and my mom, she grabbed every Terrigen crystal but one.”  

If not for Jemma, if not for her quick reflexes and wrapping her arms around Bobbi, sending them both from the lab before activating the safety seal, then neither of them would have made it. Indigo mist rushed from the shattered crystal and you remember the acrid floral taste that coated your lungs. It suffocated you.

“The last thing I remember about that day is my mother sobbing. She had both of her hands pressed against the glass surrounding the lab. She wailed like I wasn’t coming back, like she had failed me.”

Kate whimpered your name “Y/n,”

A tear drop hit the collar of your shirt and wicked nicely with the drying sweat. You used the base of hand to delicately wipe the rest away and came to the startling realization that Kate Bishop was one of the only people who had ever seen you cry.

“Everything went dark, then. I remember this hot, prickling feeling and it was hard to move. And then there was nothing. I know now that it was some… some type of cocoon of dirt and stone, but it crumbled away easily when the Terrigen had taken it’s effect.”

“That must have been scary.”

“Terrifying,” You let out a watery chuckle. “But in the end, I was in the best place possible for something like that to happen. I was surrounded by people who cared about me, who loved me, and who could teach me how to control the fire that’s always just below the surface.”

You pulled one knee to your chest and leaned your cheek against it, keeping a steady eye on Kate. She was already watching you. Fingers toying with the small brass zipper of her sweatshirt. She looked beautiful in the dimmed lights, and being this close, stopping to talk to her, had given you an even view of her freckles.

“Clint was on a mission in the Baltic Sea with Natasha, or at least, that’s how my mom tells it. Point is, he wasn’t there and even when he did return he took one look at me in solitary confinement and packed a duffel bag. There were arguments, I’m sure, but I wasn’t privy to them.”

The last time you had seen your biological father was when he knelt down at the sealed doors of the lab. His hand was massive compared to yours, it looked unnatural and alien when he pressed it against the glass. There was a finality in his stare. He’d called you Sparky, and you’d giggled like it was the funniest thing in the world.

You could see the turmoil in her stormy gaze. There was the sense of betrayal there, and the quiet contemplation of someone who had just found out the reality of their hero.  Clint was her everything, her mentor, her teacher. He was the father figure she needed, and that was a clear line drawn in the sand.

Kate’s cold touch against your cheek, hot and tinted red from your earlier exertion, pulled you from your thoughts. Pity had replaced any semblance of anger she held onto. A whine moving involuntarily past your lips. You hadn’t realized how desperate you were for someone to touch you. For Kate to touch you.

Your relationship with the archer had never been any more than a succession of first and second place. A deadly dance that had culminated in open mouthed kisses and wandering fingers. This was one of the few times you’d had a serious conversation with her, a raw one that exposed wounds.

“I’ll do it,”

“Do what?”

You were hopelessly and pathetically lost. She smiled at that, an animalistic grin that often fell over her when she knew she was winning. You’d seen in countless times and couldn’t quite remember when it stopped annoying you and started turning you on.

“Pretend that we’re a couple,” She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, dropping her hand and hopping off the edge of the ring. You missed her warmth, but it didn’t last for long. Kate was suddenly posted up between your legs, her arms draped over your shoulders. She was so close you could smell the mint on her breath. “To piss off Clint.”

Your hands naturally found her hips, not daring to squeeze them, “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“First of all, you didn’t ask. You saw the way Clint reacted to us sleeping together and your instincts to make him angry kicked in. Secondly, I already told him we’re dating. I have way too much talent for him to drop me as a protégé just because I’m banging his estranged daughter.”

“Wow, you have such a way with words, Kate. Really, I’m just fawning over you here.”

She rolled her eyes, but you couldn’t stifle the phantom of a smile on your face. No one had ever offered to do something like this for you before. Especially not someone this close to the playing field. People had called you a freak for most of your life, an inhuman disaster that had a hot temper.

The anger you could control. It was the intensity in which you loved that got you into the most trouble.

Footfalls echoed against the rain-soaked streets of the city. A deep burn resonated within your chest, sweat forming against your collarbone and dripping down the small of your back. You’d never seen the benefit to tactical suits in the summer. They kept heat in like no other and by the time the night was over, your entire body ached.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You’d lost one of the targets. It wasn’t something you’ve done in years, but your mind was admittedly somewhere else. You hadn’t gotten much sleep in the past week and it was showing in your sloppy work. Your mother had given you a worried look that only lasted half a second before you’d taken off.

The man you were pursuing was faster than you anticipated, but it wasn’t hard for you to catch up. You never understood why people ran into alleyways. They’d most likely lived in the city for their entire lives and knew that most of them ended in construction zones, or the end of a brownstone.

His chest heaved as he felt the wall behind him, turning and pressing his back against the wall. If he was desperate enough to run, you knew that he didn’t have a plan past this.

The tactical suit came with a few benefits that staved off the discomfort. While your mother preferred her staves, you had always leaned more towards a quarterstaff, a hot, reactive, type of metal that would glow a dangerous neon orange at just your touch.

It extended with a mechanical whir, your head tilting to the side. “Dude, really?”

“Look, I’ll never do it again!” His voice cracked like he was adolescent, but the beard that splattered the bottom half of his face betrayed the effects of his fear. “Just let me go, please.”

You closed the distance that lingered between you both, using the end of your staff to push up his chin. Your voice leaked with mock sympathy “Really? You promise?”

Half of his face was dripping with the blue dye from an exploding pack in a bundle of bills. His hands were coated entirely, the lapels of his shirt smeared from his lackluster attempt to wipe away the pigment. The man nodded vigorously.

“Oh, thank God, that’s a relief. I really thought I was going to have to take you in. The nearest station is eight blocks south and that would be a load of paperwork.”

“Yeah, yes, a lot of red tape” He shakily replied.

You slammed the quarterstaff into his gut. His breath left him, curling into himself as he fell to his knees. In the same moment, an arrow whizzed past you and lodged into his shoulder. His exhale of air turned into a scream of pain.

You groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose. The fletching was a dark purple, almost black under the light of the moon. Telling the difference between Clint’s arrows and Kate’s hadn’t become an issue until now. Knowing that he was in the same city as you made you feel ill.

“I had that!”

The staff retracted and you attached it back in place on your belt. So, what if you liked to play around with the perpetrators every once and awhile? You did good work, but there were long and deep lulls of footwork in the hero business.

Clint stood at the mouth of the alleyway. His stance was shadowed with the concise way he carried himself. You couldn’t tell if he was alone or not, but didn’t get the signature winter scent from Kate’s presence.

He strode up to the target, pulling the arrow from his shoulder with a gentle tug. He put it back into it’s quiver as if it wasn’t slick with blood. Clint cuffed him, dragged him into a sitting position by the arm. You watched his languid movements with a resentment you didn’t know you harbored.

“Yeah, it looked like you had it, Sparky.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

His blue eyes flicked down to your hands, watching for any signs of a dull glow. He didn’t’ find any. You balled your fists and clenched your jaw. You didn’t owe him anything. Tonight, he seemed to be approaching you with contempt, now that his initial shock had worn off.

Clint clearly didn’t’ know how to handle you, or the giant emotional elephant in the room. It was nearing midnight and there was a storm brewing, you could smell it. The last thing you wanted to do was stand by the dumpsters and discuss your feelings, so you started to walk away.

“Kid, wait. I’m approaching this all wrong. I’m sure you had it handled.” His words didn’t stop you, but he jogged to catch up and fell in step. You glared at him, shoved your suddenly cold hands into the pockets of your suit. “We need to talk about Kate.”

This stopped you in your tracks. He wanted to talk about Kate. All these years separated, living completely different lives and he wanted to talk about your fake girlfriend. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s talk about Kate.”

“You can’t continue to see her.”

You stopped, standing in front of him with your arms crossed. He had a few inches on you, but you carried his stance. One of the only things other than his stubbornness that you had inherited from him.

“I’m sorry?”

“Kate is persistent, I’m sure you know that. It took months of her poking and prodding for me to even agree to take her under my wing. She’s a good archer, but she’s reckless, thinks too much with her heart and not her brain. She can’t afford to have distractions right now.”

A brick dropped in the pit of your stomach. The flames seemed to lick viciously at your pulse points. But, you swallowed it back and let out a sad laugh. “You don’t think I’m good enough for her.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t have to, you did all the talking when you walked out on me at eight years old. Then you come waltzing back after years of building the family you wanted. The family that wasn’t filled with freaks.”

“Y/n, I don’t-“

“Because that’s all we ever were for you.” You growled at him. “the accident was just the excuse you needed to leave, and you’ve spent your time trying to make up for it by parenting every single stray that shows up on your doorstep expect for me.”

He was rendered silent, something that Clint rarely was. He opened his mouth and closed it again, a few times as if he was a fish out of water. You were breathing heavy, the words stinging your throat. You’d been harboring that for years, burying it deep inside. He’d tripped the metaphorical wire.

When he did find his voice, it was cracked and morose. “Okay. You’re right, you’re right.”

“I’m… right?”

He nodded sadly “I haven’t been fair to you, or your mother. I was a different person back then. I just don’t want Kate to get hurt, and I don’t want to hurt you more than I already have.”

A step back from him seemed to clear your mind. For a moment, you wanted to crash into his safe embrace, to breathe in the scent of his aftershave. He was your father, your biological father, and despite it all, you were drawn to his kindness.

You swallowed back the lump in your throat, mouth tasting of metal and bile. “You’re afraid of me, Hawkeye. You always have been.”

“That’s not true” He said it weakly.

“It is. You wouldn’t have run the moment I became different if you weren’t.” another step back and he didn’t’ dare to follow you. You vowed not to cry in front of him, or about him. Not now, and not ever, but you couldn’t stop the tears from streaking your cheeks. “You don’t have to worry about Kate Bishop. She can take care of herself. And so can I.”

[yanderenightmare]

Can we get incel shiggy hating himself for actually (deep down) feeling soft for his darling and taking it out on her?

Shigaraki Tomura

TW: NSFW, yandere, abuse, incel misogyny, mean shiggy

fem reader

You cry and shield yourself, crawling into the darkest corner of the room. "Please-" You plead – a small shaking hand held up in the slimmest and weakest of efforts – and sadly, all you could to protect yourself.

Your whimpers are never-ending and act like a drill to the heart and everything else soft inside of him – churning his guts and splitting his mind.

He growls. "Shut up-" Grabbing you by the hair and hauling you up and out of your curled state.

"Please, Tomura, please- I'll be good, I promise-" You cry, trying to shelter yourself though without pushing him away – scared to have your wrist snapped in punishment.

"Keep my fucking name out of your mouth." He hisses, sparing you and your silly pleas no mercy when throwing you down on the mattress – stomach and face first.

"I'm sorry-" You feel your heart jump to your throat, knowing and dreading what is to come but only allowing yourself to twist the sheets in curled, trembling fists in spite of it – cowering as his hand comes down on the back of your head again, keeping you bowed and down, with your hair tugged between his fingers.

He doesn't want to look at your face and therefore shoves it into the pillow instead - feeling the tremors of your cries hitch against his palm. Flashes of your teary eyes haunt him either way, and he growls again, tearing the boxers you'd put on down to your thighs before scoffing – using his quirk instead he lets the dust filter down your legs to settle neatly on the floor.

"I told you to stop stealing my shit-" He repeats, putting a hand down flat on your back – watching the ashes of his shirt reveal your pretty skin.

You start sobbing, then – doing little else. Naked and shivering, you flinch beneath his touch while he kicks your legs apart. Obeying without a word, you spread them wider – offering that which you know he’s going to take like the night before – hoping your willingness is enough to soothe him.

It isn’t. The hand in your hair shoves you down harder until it becomes hard to breathe, and soon you start struggling again. You guess he likes that, to see you try and fail. He shoves inside you when you’re like that – his own spit doing little to ease the stretch and pain, and you scream despite having no air left to make a sound.

He lets up after a while – allowing you to gulp to smoothen the ache in your lungs while he fucks you raw. He leans over and yanks your head back – rasping at your ear. “Feel that, whore?” Your head burns listening to his dry chuckles, your heart tearing itself apart with disbelief that something so cruel can exist. “That’s your cunt going sloppy wet for me.” 

He shoves in deep and hard, too quick to let you adjust – and the attack makes you jolt and choke on pained moans. 

He scoffs. “You act like you’re not a dirty slut, but cum doesn’t lie. So when I feel you soak me like this- tch- I know for a fact you love it.” He seethes, pulling on your locks some more and trying to angle a little sharper against your womb – enough to make you whine out another pained sob. “You’re nothing but a filthy cumrag… You should be happy I even bother with you.”

He yanks you down on the floor after some time - his other hand gripping his dick in hurried tugs that squelch in the sticky mess of what wetness he’s pounded out of you. 

You keep your eyes closed and await the blow, charting his sounds until he releases that final heavy moan – and soon after, you feel the spiteful warmth from his balls spritz all over your face. You barely flinch.

He pants heavily before letting go of your hair – and still, you don't move.

You just open your eyes again, and he watches them tremble with tears – big and shiny, as you kneel beneath him – your breaths cracked and uneven while you nibble some on your bottom lip. "Thank you." You sniffle, voice thin and softly beaten.

And there goes another sting to his heart, and he scoffs at the bitter aftertaste it leaves in his throat. "Shut up." His hand grabs your face, squishing bloated cheeks tight to make you pout, and you squeeze your eyes shut and let out another whimper. "You don't talk unless I say so. You don't do anything unless I say so-"

Your soft hands brace themselves against his knees gently with shivers, and he feels the immediate urge to kick you away from him – but stops himself.

He watches his cum drip along your tears – upon your cheeks and lips, and the sight leaves him feeling deeply unsettled – the sight of your little face in his big hand and how he barely has one pinky raised to keep it that way.

He wonders if he should set the digit down and put you both out of your misery.

[kix-mm]

Dusty’s letters

Terrifying tantrums

Previous - Next

We saw eye to eye, literally. My mother was an average human, while I was already an inch taller than her at just six years old.

To most people, it would be an absolute nightmare to deal with. Just imagine the temper tantrums of an average child. Kicking, biting, screaming, and sometimes even throwing stuff around. Kids that age didn’t always listen either, and I was no different, except my tantrums were dealt with in a very particular manner.

I still remember the look of distress she gave me when I began my tantrum, tipping everything over, throwing whatever I could lift, flailing my arms around while screaming at the top of my lungs. It all happened in a blur, I remember her grabbing my arm and yelling at me to stop, only for her to be violently smacked… I never meant to hurt her like that, I was just so angry, I knew no better way to express it…

When she flew back and hit the floor I suddenly stopped. She tried to hide the pain she was in by looking away from me, holding her red cheek as blood slowly began dripping from her nose. She was just as shocked as I was. I think that was the first time she felt fearful of her own son, me to be specific. I could tell by her shivering voice and her chocked breath that she wasn’t okay. “Mommy..?” I asked in a sheepish tone. “Andy… go to your room.” She replied, she tried to sound stern and almost got away with it if it wasn’t for a soft sniffle.

It was then that I realized that I had hurt her. Badly. Mommy’s bleeding, I thought. I immediately began to panic and shuffled closer, wanting to hold her, or rather, I wanted her to hold me. “Mommy I’m sorry…” I spoke again, feeling more and more worried as she continued to keep her face hidden from me. I held her arm and tried to make her face me, I was unaware at the time, just how strong I was compared to a human, and that made things unintentionally worse between us.

She looked at me with frantic eyes, quickly wiping her tears off her cheeks and smudging the blood on her white sleeve, I never heard my mother cuss before, but I could hear her whisper in a frustrated tone when she saw the blood stain. "shit..."

I gasped, and my expression only became more worried when I saw my mother's state, her cheek was red, and was already beginning to bruise, her nose had smudged blood under it and her eyes were puffy, worst of all she looked scared... my mom... scared... I was the one she was afraid of, I was the monster that scared mommy... I hurt mommy too, like real bad monsters do...

She pulled away from my grip, but I tightened it "mommy-" my plea was cut short as she pulled away from me once more. "Andy... please... go to your room..."

I hesitated, trying to piece together what I could possibly do to avoid being sent away. But ultimately, I came up with nothing and hung my head low as I slanted to my shared room. I made the effort to make sure none of my brothers were there, reading or having a nap, and I pulled my blanket over myself and hugged my pillow as tight as possible before I let myself cry. It was an unsaid rule in our household, tears were something you didn't show, it just made everyone around you uncomfortable and it drew unwanted attention.

I continued to cry for what felt like half an hour until I felt a familiar weight on my bed, it was Jacob. My eldest brother, the voice of reason and at that particular time, the man of the house.

He rests his hand reassuringly on my back, rubbing ever so gently in an attempt to console me. I sat up and rubbed my puffy eyes. It seemed that every one of my brothers was there.

"W-was I too loud?" I said while still sniffing and rubbing my eyes. "The whole house heard it," Roy said sarcastically, but Jacob shook his head. "Branch, did you hit mom?" He asked in a warm and calm tone, yet his expression was rather serious.

I quickly hid my face in the already soaked pillow and started whimpering again. "I d-didn't mean to!" Jacob rubs my head. "We know, calm down, Branch. We know all too well what you're going through... it happens to all of us." He explained, he was right about that. I wasn't as small as I once was, I couldn't be carried like I was before, and now my strength was catching up to me too.

I'd have to start being careful. Or I could hurt mom again, not just mom, I could hurt anyone, anything... it was all so daunting to think about for someone my age.

Eventually, I built up enough courage to go back to my mother, she sat in the kitchen with an ice pack against her cheek. The dark, puffy bags under her eyes made her look restless, her expression was hard to read at the time, but she looked defeated as a mother.

As soon as my mother noticed me her expression drastically changed, hiding her tired eyes, her broken expression with the same warm eyes I was familiar with. Had she always done that? I worried for her... and she noticed.

"Andy... are you feeling better now?" She asked and gently rubbed my cheek. I immediately melted into her touch, hugging her tight. "I'm sorry, Mommy... I'm sorry I hit you... I'm sorry I hurt you..."

She staggered back as I leaned on her, a habit I had yet to break, but one she didn't mind, no matter how old I got. "Oh Andy... my sweet boy... I forgive you, I did so long ago..." he sighs, her body relaxed. The familiar peace had returned between the two of us...

But from then on out, I made an effort to become more self-conscious in my actions. My brothers were a big help with that. They taught me different ways to let off my steam, and that if things ever got too bad for me that I could always just walk away. Roy said it best, what would they do? Stop me? Unlikely unless they were the same size or taller.

Things... weren't always perfect between mother and I. I did still have my moments, and that wasn't my last tantrum... that wasn't even the last time I hurt her... but that was the biggest stepping stone in my life. And I'll never forget that day.

"Thank you, Branch," the neighbor said as they closed their book and took off their glasses. "It was a pleasure to have you back here again." Just then, a little timer rang, right on the dot.

Branch looked over at the clock that was hung up to the right of him. "So this is it for today, then?" The neighbor nods. "Our next appointment will be the same time next week, as usual, i expect you here on Friday at 6 pm." They said as they got up from their chair and stepped over to the door leading to their terrace.

Dusty was playing outside while waiting for her brother to finish his weekly session. Branch smiled as he watched his sister amuse herself with not a care in the world. "How has school been for Dusty?" The neighbor asks as they push the large doors open for Branch. "She's been well, top of the class in art, actually," Branch said with pride as he pushed his way out of the small office. He called for Dusty, who looked over. Oh boy, she had mud in her hair again. Branch sighed. "I guess tonight's another bath night." The neighbor chuckles. "Does she still hate them?" They ask. "Not as much as she used to, unless I forget the rubber duckies and bubbles." Branch said with an amused smirk.

Before the two left, Dusty handed the neighbor the letter, despite her being able to go over to the neighbor whenever she pleased. She seemed to prefer writing instead, and truth be told, the neighbor loved it just as much.

[smutinlove]

You were my light (Part 2)

Carl Grimes x Reader

Warnings: A bit angsty, tiny bit of fighting, arguing, carl being a jackass, panic attack, description of panic attack

☽ Author's note☾ Yay! Part 2 is here bitches! And surprisingly it didn't take ten years lmao. Omg. So like this is very depressing. Read at your own risk. Take a damn look at the warnings. ESPECIALLY THE ONES IN ITALICS. DO NOT STEAL, COPY, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs, likes, and comments are very much appreciated!

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

≿━━༺❀༻━━≾

Summary - The daughter of the now dead Negan Smith is walking in the woods. She thought she was alone. But she wasn't.

❝ The jokes weren't funny, I took the money My friends from home don't know what to say I looked around in a blood-soaked gown And I saw something they can't take away ❞

≿━━༺❀༻━━≾

You hated that motherless son of a bitch. He was so annoying, smug, and just an asshole in general. Which made you want to kill Carl even more.

Every day, at six in the morning, he'd storm inside your prison and throw a plate of expired food at you, punch you in the face, and then lock you inside. Every. Fucking. Day.

Oh, and that was just the beginning, sometimes he'd feed you dog food.

You were sitting in the same chair, but this time there was a table in front of you. Cause, "Carl is so... nice." You heard the door unlock, expecting it to be Carl.

You said, "Come to feed me more dog food, Carl?" You laughed.

But you were surprisingly wrong. It was a man who looked a lot like Carl. And you most definitely knew this man. "Rick?" You questioned.

"He's been feeding you dog food?!" He asked furiously. You nodded.

He let out a breathy laugh. "I told him not to do that."

"So, you're Negan's daughter. I remember you. I remember that day."

'Negan's daughter.' God, it hurt so fucking bad. Everyone called you 'Negan's daughter.' Of course, sure, the Alexandrians probably didn't even know who you were, but it was the fact that most of your father's minions called you 'The boss' daughter' or 'Negan's daughter.'

"Yeah, I remember you too, Rick. I saw it. How scared you all were. And when my dad killed that Chinaman and that red-headed fool, I felt nothing. So, if that's what you wanna talk about, then done." You said bitterly.

Rick stared at you with a blank expression before moving closer to you. "He's Korean! And his name was Glenn, Glenn Rhee. And that red-headed fool's name was Abraham Ford! And YOU don't get to talk about them like that," he yelled.

He crossed his arms and leaned back against a dirty wall.

"We'll let you stay here. In Alexandria. Just listen to us. Answer what we want you to." You frowned. "Why should I? Huh?"

"You won't survive another minute out there. Carl saved you! We saved you," he shouted. "No! He kidnapped me. He didn't save me at all. And neither did you."

You sighed, "So stop. Just stop, Rick Grimes. You're not helping. I don't wanna stay in this garbage community. It's repulsing!"

"Tell me if you change your mind. Until then, we won't let you out. Not today, not tomorrow."

"How about the day after tomorrow?"

He chuckled but didn't speak any further. He left, locking the door after.

≿━━༺❀༻━━≾

You were getting bored of staring at the same grey walls. "Fuck!" You shouted.

You grabbed your chair and threw it at the wall, which did not make a difference as the chair instead broke.

You laughed and threw your head back. Of course, it had to break.

And now your back was against the cold floor, you brought your knees up to your chest. "Happy, happy, happy..." You whispered to yourself.

"Daddy loves you, Y/N."

"No, no. Stop..." You cried out.

Blood, sweat, tears, starve.

Jokes, money, friends, gone. Dead.

Around, soaked gown, cry, scream.

You're on your own, kid.

You always have been.

Face it. Face it. Tell them. Tell them you're—

"Stop! No. Stop, I can't—" You're heart was racing, and sweat dripped down your forehead, maybe you were dying, you were too young, your hands were trembling, "No, no—" You couldn't breathe, it only meant one thing.

"No! Stop, no. No! Stop it!" You screamed over and over.

"Daddy loves you, Y/N."

"No, you don't!" You yelled repeatedly.

You blinked rapidly, but you felt like giving in. Sleep, die. Sleep, die. Sleep, die.

You heard the door open, or maybe it was your imagination. Yeah, that's it. Right? Nothing more. Nothing less. Nothing special.

You were a fucked up little girl.

≿━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

"She's waking up! Doc," You tried sitting up, but someone stopped you. "Hey, take it easy, sweetheart."

What even happened? I don't know...

What?

You looked around the room. You were in a rather uncomfortable bed. The walls were painted a disgusting shade of green.

"No," you groaned. Your eyes were met with another. A singular blue eye. Fuck, it's him. "Damnit, it's—"

"—Me. Surprised, Y/N?" He chuckled.

≿━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

So, you had a panic attack. It was not much of a surprise to you, but it was to Carl. "Wow, I knew you were fucked up in the head, but panic attacks too?"

You felt a bit ashamed. So much was done for you, and you didn't even deserve all this 'protection and care.' "Just cause you're a total mess doesn't mean I immediately care about you. I hate you." He confessed. You smiled.

"Why are you smiling?" He asked curiously.

You grabbed the glass vase. It was to your right. You jammed it in Carl's arm, making him scream in pain and fall back. "You fucking bitch!"

...

Part 3?

[andreas-river]

Hey hey hey,

I have another request in mind.

Could you be able to do a platonic Simon ghost Riley and Gn reader where the reader has a panic attack from the last mission and Simon comforts their best friend.

Please

Rain inside my head [Simon "Ghost" Riley X GN!Reader]

A/N: Houdy @itsscromp ! Here's your request, hope you'll like it! <3

Warnings: panick attack, mention of domestic violence, mention of minor character death.

Disclaimer: I do not own any MW characters. English is not my first language. This fic contains important and difficult themes, that may not be for everyone. Panick attacks aren't easy, and they are different for everyone. Don't understimate your pain, never.

Read at your discrection!

Recommended song: Pain Pain Go Away - Kado

It was a habit. Going on a mission, completing the mission -following orders- and coming back to the base, finally being able to rest.

Everything was fine until the last mission.

It was like a switch, and it sent you over the edge.

The briefing was short, and everyone else was on leave soon, finding yourself rushing to your room, locking yourself inside, and finally being able to let the tears run down your cheek.

They were yelling- he was yelling at you venomous words because no; you weren’t worthy, the only child he had, and you somehow weren’t worthy.

You never followed his steps, running away when you had the money, choosing military life instead. It’s a hard life that puts you in front of a horrible situation, faced with life or death decisions, but making it through all of them alive.

This time, it was a hostage situation: you had to save him- no, to save her from the terrorist group that your team had been trying to stop for months.

You all stopped them, capturing some of them for interrogation, but his captor was screaming those words, pure venom getting out of his mouth. He was soon dead, but the hostage soon followed him.

She was a woman, a mom, his son already dead from days, still in her arms- she had internal bleeding, too late to save her. You stayed with her in her last minutes, trying to comfort her, pleading Ghost- who was with you all the time- to wait, to don’t go immediately.

You remained silent when she faded away, somehow having a sense of peace in her eyes. For the rest of the way back, you sit next to Ghost, his presence temporarily calming you, but a storm was already looming inside.

Your chest felted heavy while crying in your room alone, your heart beating and echoing in your head, all the external sounds muffled and far away, and your ragged breath was the only thing you were aware, of while those screams echoed in your head and throwing you in a hell loop.

The sound of a lock made you block your breath in your throat, eyes shut and knees pushed on your chest, your back pressed to the icy wall of the room. Your body hyperventilating, the screams in your mind becoming even louder.

Glancing up, a shadow loomed in front of you, his body getting closed at yours, your watery eyes slowly recognizing the skull mask, his eyes staring back at yours, still crying and sobbing.

“Breathe,” Simon kneels in front of you, his gloved hand squeezes yours, “slowly. Follow mine.”

You intently watch him following the movement of his chest, trying to calm your intense sobbing, tears still streaming down your face. He doesn’t do anything else except sit in front of you, guiding you outside the tunnel of pain you’re going through.

“He was screaming...” your voice came out hoarse, swallowing the lump in your throat, “his words were too much, and...”

He moves to your side, his arms trapping you in a hug, your tears soaking his shirt, but he didn’t seem to care.

“C’mon, let everything out.”

And you both stayed close, sitting on the floor next to each other, Ghost simply waiting for you, only moving when you watch him with puffy eyes and your breath finally calmed.

“Thanks,” you whisper, hearing some bones crackling from his back.

“You must thank yourself, too.”

Shrugging your shoulder, gratefully smiling at him, both deciding to stay together for a few more minutes, enjoying each other’s silence and presence.

[princesspastel8]

Chapter 12: Torture

Dipper POV

"AAAAAAHHHHH! GAA! HAAAA! STOP STOP, PLEASE!" I cry out in pure agony.

Ford used one of his syringes to push holy water into my bloodstream....and oh god, it's the most painful feeling I've ever felt in my life. He made it clear he would stop at nothing to slow down the demon process. My insides feel as if they're on fire, burning to ash but somehow remaining stable.

I cough up pools of blood onto the wooden floor, tears flowing down my face like a river. I glance at the table, rows and rows of sharp objects soaking in holy water. I pull against the rop , weakly. The pain is becoming too much for me to handle.

I lost track of time. I can't tell if it's day or night, what month it is....I forgot the last time I ate anything....when was the last time I went to the bathroom?

My skin became unusually pale due to the amount of blood I've been throwing up. My body became skinner, my bones showing. The only piece of clothing I have left is my boxers. My tattoos would glow from time to time, upsetting Ford to no end.

The pain inside finally subsides, relief washing over me. The feeling, however, doesn't last long. I watch as Ford pulls out a knife, the blade long and sharp dripping in something glittery. The slight of it makes my stomach twist in disgust. I feel like I'm going to throw up again...

"I'm sure you know what this is, Dipper." Ford said, holding the knife in front of my face.

I gag at the smell, turning my head. "Fairy dust." I hiss through my teeth.

"Correct. I'm going to explain to you everything I will be doing. Understood?"

"I'm not a fucking five year Ford. You don't have to explain shit....just do it." I choke out, my throat suddenly dry.

Ford doesn't reply. Instead, he walks around behind me. I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand as I sense the knife getting closer and closer to my back. "I'm sorry, Dipper, but this has to be done."

"Fuck y-" before I can finish, I scream to the top of my lungs while trashing around in the chair.

Ford presses the knife against the cipher wheel onto my back. I can hear the sizzling sound of my flesh burning. He guilds the knife into my skin, cutting the tattoo off me in sections. The pain is so excruciating, making me feel faint.

My vision blurrs as the sound of my skin slapping to the ground. I choke out a sob, my begs becoming nonexistent to Ford's ears. My body goes limp as my surrounds turn black.

Bill POV

I fall off my throne, landing on my knees. My eyes unwilling wells up with tears. I place a hand over my throat, coughing up pools of blood. My eyes widen as my stomach stirs with a feeling I hate the most.

Fear.

Something is seriously wrong with my pinetree. I shouldn't have let him run off like that! He can't handle himself out there without protection! I try to stand but slip, landing in my own pool of blood.

"BILL!", I hear Pyronica shout in worry.

I raise my head to look at her with a glare. "W-Well don't just stand there... help me you -" I cough up more blood, crying out in pain.

Pyronica finally helps me up, gasping at the stream, flowing out of my body in waves. "B-Bill....what in devil's name is happening to you?!"

"Pinetree...some-something is wrong with my pinetree... where is everyone e-else?"

"Everyone went to throw themselves into the border....they all got bored."

"G-go get them... and tell them to find my pinetree... and br-bring him back to me.." I groan, pain shooting up to my back.

"But what about the border? I thought that was our priority?"

I glare at her, making her float off the ground, which makes me stumble. "Dipper is my priority! He is more important! Go find my pinetree, or I'll gouge out your eye, shove it down that skinny throat of yours, and watch you suffocate while ripping off your arms & legs! Now GO!"

She jumps, quickly nodding her head in fear. She floats out the only exit and entrance. I steadily walk to Dipper's throne I created for him. I float up, sitting down. I lower my head onto my hands, rubbing my face roughly. How could I....let him go like that...and or what? My stupid STUPID reputation? To impress those idiotic demons I call my 'friends'. They're just servants.

"Please be alright, Dipper...please."

Dipper POV

I wake up from a stinging pain on my back and bicep. I groan, hating the feeling of something dabbing in my open flesh wounds. I slowly open my eyes, my vision adjusting to my surroundings.

"Dipper! You're finally awake!" I hear a loud cheery voice shout.

I cringe, knowing exactly who that voice belongs to. "Mable....why are you down here?"

"Grunkle Ford went to get a few more things and asked me to watch you...plus everyone misses you!"

I chuckle bitterly. "Oh really, who?" I question.

"Well... everyone you killed. Can't you see them? Pacifica is here.. Robbie, Tembry, Soos....even mom and dad... but they look unrecognizable." She pouts, dabbing more rubbing alcohol on my flesh, making me hiss.

"The hell, Mable....no one is there." I say through my teeth, and I wish she would just leave my wounds to be infected.

"......huh? Dipper, there all right in front of you. I can only see how they were last presented. They all have stab wounds....Soos as a hole in his head... and mom and dad look... really really scary. But! At least I still get to see them every day. Thanks to Bill."

I nod my head weakly, hissing once more. "Mable fucking stop it hurts!" I shout.

Mable tenses, dropping everything onto the floor. She walks around now, standing in front of me. I raise my head to look at her, tears falling from her eyes, but she's smiling. She raises her hand in the air, bringing it down to my cheek roughly.

"I-Its ok bro, bro! Once grunkle Ford fixes you, we'll be the mystery twins again! I'll be able to hug you and do tickle fights like me used to."

"When. We. Were. Twelve. Mable can't you see I want nothing to do with you? Can't you see I fucking hate you with every fiber of my being? I loathe you. In fact if you were to die right now, I wouldn't care. You're selfish! You think about no one but yourself! You think the world owes you everything when it doesn't! You always...dragged me around even when I said no. You would cry and throw a tantrum when you didn't get your way. Heh....and worse of all... you always..ALWAYS chose boys over your own brother."

Before Mable responds, the door opens. In walks Ford with a black back filled with god knows what. He places the bag on the metal table and motions a crying Mable towards him.

"What's the matter?" He ask her gently, making me scowl.

"D-Dipper....just h-hurry and fix him...please." Mable begs, glancing at me.

"I will, Mable. I promise. Now leave because this isn't something you can take watching."

"No." Mable said sternly, drying her tears. She turns to look at me with a weird smile that's hard to read. "I want to stay and watch him get better."

Ford sighs, pulling two long metal sticks in the shape of a very skinny needle. He walks over to me, placing the two needles against certain spots on the top of my head. I tense, pulling at my rope restraints.

"I wouldn't move at all if I were you, Dipper. This is sadly going to be excruciating. It's a method used on mentally unstable patients a long time ago. Hopefully, this method works...."

With that said, he pushes the needles deep inside my head. The moment the needle reaches through my skull and inside my brain, my agonizing screams continue.

[disenchantingwrites]

'86, Baby • E.M + S.H

Author's own fix-it imagine with a polyship of Steddie.

Steve Harrington x GN!Reader x Eddie Munson

A/N: another pull from my ao3 account while I finish up some others after slightly procrastinating.

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

"Eddie, don't you dare." You glared at the male still in the Upside Down, but your worry took over as your hands gripped the makeshift rope. Tears welled in your eyes, but Eddie stared back with that stupid dopey smile, one he reserved when he was about to do something risky that he knew you would disapprove of. "Eddie,please."

"Eddie!" Dustin shouted from beside you, his voice cracking as he also realised what the metalhead was doing. "Eddie!"

"Don't be stupid!" You wished you could do something, but you felt impotent as you watched your boyfriend sliced the sheets, and they fell to the mattress at your feet. A sob slipped past your lips as he took a look back to the door on his side. "Eddie, please."

In a matter of seconds, Eddie was gone from your sight, and you were left staring up at the floor of his Upside Down trailer, both you and Dustin still helplessly calling for him. You cursed, throwing your makeshift spear across the room. The loud clatter made Dustin jump, and you sent him an apologetic look. You could both hear the screeching of the Demo-Bats, now further away from the trailer. Then you turned. Your eyes landed on a chair, and a thought leapt into your head.

"Dustin, help me move the mattress." You grabbed the chair and pulled it closer, letting Dustin know of your plan. He hesitated, but only for a second, and then the two of you were moving the stained-sheet-covered mattress out of the space you needed. "I'll go first, okay." You grabbed a lighter and rummaged through a few cupboards until you found some alcohol. "Give me the spear."

Dustin grabbed the makeshift weapon and passed it to you. You seized a tea towel from the counter and haphazardly wrapped it around the end, only caring that it was secure enough. Dustin could only watch as you gripped your weapon tighter and then threw it into the gate, followed by the alcohol as you shoved the lighter into your pocket.

"Watch out," you muttered, stepping back.

Dustin moved to the side as you moved to the beginning of the hallway. You let out a soft breath, your focus solely on your objective, saving Eddie. Saving one of the men you loved with your whole heart. Your fists clenched as you took a running start at the chair, barely lifting your leg onto it before you used the surface of the seat to propel you upward. Your fingers somehow managed to get a grip on the sides of the gate, and you used all your strength to push yourself upward, allowing the gravity of the mirroring dimension to pull you to the dark trailer's floor. You let out a soft cry as you landed. A sharp pain shot through your, luckily, non-dominant hand, and you looked up at Dustin for just a split second. He had a determined look on his face you were sure mirrored your own.

You gathered your things and moved away as you noticed Dustin prepared to copy you. And he did, almost as well as you. Only, much to your horror, the younger boy hurt his leg in his fall. But he brushed your aid off, pressing on to find his club leader. Your boyfriend. And you hastily followed him, dousing the cloth in some alcohol as you both rushed to the tornado of creatures not far from the trailer.

You could hear Eddie's cries. Your heart wrenched at the thought of him being hurt. His screams of agony tore at your eardrums, a cacophony of the worst noises you would probably ever hear.

But it only made you more pissed off with everything going on.

"Dustin, shield!" You shouted, the lighter out of your pocket and lighting the alcohol-soaked cloth-covered spear within moments.

Your breathing was loud, even among the villainous noises of the Demo-Bats; your blood was pumping in your ears almost deafeningly. Your eyes flicked to any bats coming toward you, and you slashed at them with your flaming weapon. You and Dustin stood almost back-to-back, fully intent on protecting the man that lay at your feet.

And then...

Nothing.

The collapse of the creatures happened in seconds, and it took only a matter of minutes before you were on the ground, your weapons discarded, both you and Dustin staring down at the man that had almost died. You pulled his head to your lap, the fingers of your aching hand in his hair as tears fell down your cheeks. You were sure once you looked into a mirror, you would have tracks carved through the dirt and grime, which Eddie would find a way to tease you about.

"You're okay, Eddie," Dustin whimpered, finally allowing himself to express his emotions. You noticed his hands pressing on the wounds on Eddie's torso, and you sucked in a sharp breath. "The others defeated Vecna. We can get you out of here. Get you to a hospital."

You could only nod at Dustin's words. Your lips quivered as you held back your own sobs. And then Eddie's hand moved to your face, his thumb brushing under your eye, a faint smile on his face as his dark eyes stared into yours. Those eyes that had pulled you in from the very moment you saw him were so warm and comforting despite their darkness.

"I didn't run away his time, right?" You could only smile at him. You placed your forehead against his, chuckles that could be heard as sobs escaped your mouth.

"No," you whispered. Dustin's broken chorus of "no"s filled your ears as well, only adding to the relieved look on Eddie's face. "You didn't."

"And I'm alive," Eddie let out a soft laugh, only to groan in pain. You shot him a worried look, but he waved you off.

"You didn't run," you nodded, "and you still lived."

"It's a goddamn miracle," Dustin added, earning bemused looks from you and Eddie.

"You're gonna look after all those little sheep for me, right?" Eddie now turned his head Dustin's way.

You could only watch as Dustin's face fell, eyes brimming with tears. Your heart jerked as panic settled in you, and you suddenly had a moment of doubt about Eddie's wellbeing. Dustin taking Eddie's other hand didn't reassure you.

"No," he could only whimper.

"Say 'I'm going to look after them'."

"I'm--" Dustin's voice cracked, and he took a deep breath. His voice trembled as he uttered his following words. "I'm going to look after them."

"Right," Eddie gave him a short nod. "Cause this is gonna be my year." He grinned broadly, in true Eddie fashion, as he squeezed Dustin's hand. "I'm going to graduate."

"'86?" You uttered. Eddie hummed.

"That's right," he glanced at you. "'86, Baby."

"We better get him back." Your head lifted to focus on Dustin. The younger male looked at you, his tears halted, for now, and gave you a definite nod. "Then I suppose we can only pray the others can get back here."

"They will," Dustin spoke, his voice solid, shocking you with how serious his tone suddenly turned. "We almost lost Eddie, we won't lose them, too. You can't lose Steve."

--- --- ---

Two Days Later

"Holy shit! Eddie!" You rushed toward the male, your hands coming to his face, much to his apparent surprise. You turned your head to the other, locking onto a certain other male's figure. "Steve!"

The brunet didn't need to be told again, and he dropped the box onto the ground, ignoring the others, and rushed toward the two of you. His hands immediately snaked around you and Eddie, his eyes wide as he gave the metalhead a hasty external examination. Eddie's look of shock morphed into a cocky grin, and he raised a hand from one of his crutches to tousle Steve's hair.

"Missed me that badly, Sweetheart?" Steve could only roll his eyes at Eddie's teasing.

"Aren't you supposed to be in the hospital or something?" Steve queried. You and Eddie both noticed that his eyes held a heavy look of relief behind the expression of worry and scolding. The three of you shuffled back, realising the others were probably watching you. Eddie let out a soft snort.

"Everyone still thinks I murdered them, even with what you guys did to prove my innocence--hey... what did you do?"

You waved him off, sharing a glance with Steve. It was something for another time. Too complex for right now with everything else going on. "Not now, Eddie," you smiled, then moved forward to hug him again. "You, sir, need rest. Kick your feet up before your inevitable graduation. And don't you dare look at me and tell me you won't, because you can damn well believe I'm going to make sure you graduate."

Steve and Eddie shared a moment of silence, their eyes connecting in surprise. Then Eddie turned back to you. He nudged you gently with his hand. "'86, right, baby?"

A soft sigh left your lips, and you could only nod. "'86, Eddie."

"If you three are done with your little reunion," the three of you turned your heads, you and Steve looking sheepishly at Robin, "can you come and help with these boxes. We've still got to get them to the school."

Eddie leaned towards you and Steve, a frown set upon his lips. "What's happening at the school?"

"Temporary relief shelter," Steve replied.

"The earthquake from the Upside Down left a lot of people homeless and a lot of people... died," you gulped as you said the last word. Eddie's gaze shot towards you, then Steve, then the group. A thick feeling hung in the air. 

"Can I... can I come with you guys?" He queried. You nodded, and your lips quirked at the corners. "Cool. And, um," Eddie cleared his throat, his hand lifting to point at the individuals who you only then remembered Eddie had never met, "who the hell are those guys?"

--- --- ---

One Week Later

Your hand resided on Steve's, whose fingers stayed tangled in Eddie's hair. The three of you were in your own little triangle group in your living room, sitting among the more extensive group of small groups. There was Dustin's original party of him, Luke, Mike and Will, with El among them; Nancy sat with Jonathan and Argyle, who you believed had not been sober the entire time you'd seen him. And then there was Vickie with Robin, with the latter shooting you and Steve wide-eyes glances whenever Vickie wasn't looking. You could tell Eddie was itching for something, some high now he was out of adrenaline and hospital drugs to make him feel okay, something to make him forget about his experiences and his current pain. But he didn't stop watching the movie you'd put on, nor did he actually make a move to have a smoke or ask Argyle if he had anything.

"Eddie," you whispered, leaning down to his ear. He hummed, barely tossing you a glance. "Eddie, did you want to go?"

Steve glanced between the two of you. His mouth morphed into a frown. It only deepened when Eddie finally shifted his head towards your worried face and replied with short but vigorous nods. You and Steve helped him from the floor, where he insisted on sitting despite both your and Steve's objections, and the three of you travelled upstairs to your bedroom, allowing your boyfriend to fall into the comfort of your duvet haphazardly tossing his crutches away. Eddie let out a long sigh, running his ring-clad hand over his face.

"You good?" Steve questioned, moving to take the place beside your, plural, boyfriend. Eddie let out a low grumble that only had negative interpretations.

There was a moment of silence. Then you and Steve shared a look. You could only worry about Eddie, considering how new he was to it all, how little time he had to adjust, and how you were sure Chrissy's death had traumatised him, and then how stressed Eddie was because he had to hide from the entire town of bloodthirsty individuals. You didn't have to think about how much he'd been tossed through or guess; you knew it. His anguish because of everything was evident just in his eyes.

"Did you want some time alone?" You spoke, voice small, cautious.

"No, no," Eddie's words came out almost like a plea. He raised his head just enough to look at you and Steve, eyebrows turned up, eyes wide. "I, uh, I--Can you stay? Ireallydon't want to be alone right now."

"Yeah, yeah," Steve was quick to reassure him, leaning down to kiss his forehead, his hand taking Eddie's. "We'll stay here with you, for as long you want."

You traipsed toward them and perched on the edge of your bed, gaze flicking between the pair. You held a soft smile on your lips as you observed them. Despite the three of you being one, the different pairings between you held something different. You and Eddie, chaos personified, eager to talk and listen when one of you went on a tangent about something you liked. You and Steve were calmer when you were together, you read, and he could sit and watch you for hours. Steve and Eddie were like two polar opposites, but they were tender with each other and a perfect 'parent' pairing to the kids.

Eddie's hand taking yours alerted you to the fact they were both staring at you. You could only smile to yourself at having been lost in your own thoughts, blissfully unaware of them.

"What'cha thinking about?" Eddie cooed, a curious look directed towards you.

"Not much," you replied with a nonchalant shrug. "Stuff and things. The fact that I love you both and I never, ever want you to scare me like that again."

Eddie let out a weak laugh, wincing. But he brushed off the directed stares of concern from you and Steve. "I love you too. And Scouts honour and that shit."

"You didn't even do scouts," Steve sighed. Eddie could only reply with narrowed eyes turned toward him. Then Steve's eyes flicked up to you. "I love you, too. Both of you, I guess."

"Don't say I guesswhen you include me, Harrington!" Eddie faked a gasp of hurt. He clutched a hand over his chest, the one in Steve's grasp, and stared bug-eyed at the brunet. "Words hurt, you know?"

"You'll live," Steve scoffed.

You let out a laugh at the pair's antics. Their mock bickering made everything feel slightly saner again, a comfort in the scene you'd longed for. For that moment, in that room with Eddie and Steve, everything felt okay again. You thought that, perhaps, Eddie had predicted the future. 1986 was going to be your year, his year, Steve and everyone else's. The rest of it, at least. 1987 would be a different story, but for the remainder of this year, you refused to believe anything else would happen. You would only accept the solace of the arms of Eddie and Steve. Nothing could change it.

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

Killjoys Never Die 13/15 - Silence

Chapter Summary: It seemed like your mission was over, but you refuse to believe in failiure and together with the Fabulous Killjoys you prove the impossible possible. (eventual) Pairing: Fun Ghoul x fem!Reader Chapter Word Count: 3 537 Series Warnings:  mentions of drugs; poor mental health; suicidal tendencies; insecurities; throwing up;  jealousy; slavery (?); experiments on living humans; mentions of eating disorder; graphic descriptions of: violence, injuries, torture, death A/N: This is my favourite chapter. Therefore: whatever happens, no matter how much you think you hate me: please read to the very end

Previous Chapter | Series Masterlist

Recap: For years you had survived on your own, found your friends, broke into BLI to save Kobra but now that the door to his cell has swung open…

Something was wrong.

Something was very, very wrong.

Jet was the first one to move, taking a step behind Party. You could see him freeze and pull his mask off. Underneath he had grown pale, and he stumbled a few steps back against the wall behind him. He was shaking.

Fearing the worst, you and Fun also took a step forward, trying to get a glimpse past Party’s shoulders.

And there he was, Kobra. Still in the stupid, stupid yellow-black striped tank top and the black jeans. His jacket was missing, and so was the holster for his ray gun. His hair had been shaven, short, almost down to the skin. Blood was soaking the top, the jeans, was pooling on the floor, a mocking splash of colour in the white room.

You were too late.

You were too late.

How much too late?

Not much. The blood was not dried yet.

Your eyes stopped at Kobra’s face. Where his face was supposed to be.

They had shot him. Not in the chest. In the face. So often that it was unrecognisable anymore.

You thought you might faint. The only solid thing was the sleeve of Fun’s uniform you had bunched up in your fingers.

Taking his mask off as well, Party stepped into the room slowly, very slowly, right up to the body of his dead brother. Gently he ran a finger over his short hair, before he bent down and lifted him off the chair on which he had been sitting. For a moment you thought he wanted to carry him outside, but instead Party just sat down in the middle of the room, cradling the body, leaning his forehead against Kobra’s. Fresh blood soaked Party’s white BLI uniform. Red on white.

Like frozen you watched him. You wanted to cry, wanted to cry your eyes out, but you were too shocked. It felt wrong to watch Party slowly fall apart as he held the body of the one person who had been with him all his life, who had always supported him, the one person who Party had loved unconditionally. But you could not look away from how he brushed over Kobra’s hair, clung to him.

And then he screamed.

It was the worst sound you had ever heard. It made you blood freeze, and you knew that if you made it out of here alive, you would have nightmares of this sound for the rest of your life. Party screamed like his heart had just been ripped out, and a part of you guessed that would have been less painful. But love was so much worse than any physical pain, cut so, so much deeper than any knife.

You flinched as something suddenly something tucked on your mask, but it was just Fun, pulling it off for you, his own having been discarded, too, before he dropped his head to your shoulder. Quickly you wrapped your arms around him, placing your hand on the back of his head as you pulled him against you, letting his tears wet the fabric of your shirt. Jet was crying too, sitting against the wall opposite the door. But for you the tears just would not come. You knew that once they did, it would be a relief.

It was probably a bad idea, the worst idea, to just stand in a corridor of the evil company you tried to defeat and cry, but neither of you could move. Fun was clinging to you as if you were what kept him from drowning in pain, in memories, in trauma, in grief.

But you had to get out of there. How much longer until someone would come down this corridor?

Turning your head, you looked at Party again. He was still holding Kobra, crying uncontrollably.

That was when you noticed it.

One of Kobra’s arms had slipped away to the side, the tattoo of the spider on the inside of his right wrist clear on display in the bright light.

He had had this tattoo for as long as you could remember; the spider with the lightning on the back. It was the symbol of the Killjoys, since there were no spiders in Battery City. None at all. Nowhere. It was a well-known fact. Therefore the rebels of the early days had chosen the spider to represent them. You could find it anywhere really; spray painted on old motels in the Zones, carved in stones and tattooed on people like Kobra.

Carefully peeling Fun off of you, you walked over to Party. The small room smelled of blood, iron, making you want to gag. Up close the injury, where Kobra’s face had been, looked even worse than you had imagined. You quickly looked away, and instead took his wrist in your hands. His skin was still warm. He could not have been dead for more than an hour when you had found him.

“Fun, come here for a moment,” you asked, making him shake his head.

“Don’t wanna-” he shut himself up, growing even paler than he already was as he peeked into the room.

“What do you want,” Party asked between tears. “Leave us alone.”

“Fun! Move your ass over here now!”

Knowing that this was the wrong moment to pick a fight, Fun shuffled over to you. His eyes were red and swollen from crying, and red rimmed his lips where he had pressed them together the whole time to silence his whimpers.

“Take a look at that.”

“It’s the desert spider tattoo. What do you want?”

“How old is it?”

Fun was the one with the most tattoos, he was probably the one who knew the best how fast tattoos healed.

“He’s had it for years-”

“But how old is this here? It’s relatively new, wouldn’t you say?”

Fun sighed, clearly unhappy about his decision, but crouched down next to you. He reached out his hand but his fingers only hovered over the tattooed skin.

The moment he realised what you were implying he looked up at you, then to Party.

“This isn’t Kobra,” he breathed.

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Party shouted at him, finally lifting his head. You had never seen someone as clearly and deeply in pain as him right now. It tore at your heart.

“This isn’t Kobra,” Fun repeated. “This tattoo is not much older than two days! Kobra’s had his for years! They dressed some poor dude up in Kobra’s clothes, tattooed him, and then shot his face to pulp so we had no choice but to assume it was Kobra. But it’s not!”

“Shut up,” Party pleaded, shaking his head. “Shut up. Please, shut up.”

But now Jet joined the conversation. He had not bothered getting up from the floor, just had crawled over to where you were all sitting around Kobra.

“That time Kobra cut himself with a broken bottle that a SCARECROW’d thrown at him,” he remembered. “It left a huge scar in his left hand. It should definitely still be visible.”

“It’s there,” Party shook his head. “The fucking scar’s right-”

Having taken the left hand of the body he was still cradling, he turned the palm up, and stopped. Smooth, even skin covered it, fine lines. No scar. Not even the remains of a scar.

The room fell silent.

“That’s not-”

“No.”

“Then he’s still out there.”

“He might still be alive.”

For a moment you all stared at the body Party was holding. Who was it? Who was the poor guy who had been killed in order to make you believe it was Kobra. And considering how soon before your arrival he had been killed… BLI had known you were coming.

“It might be a trap,” you suggested carefully.

“Do I look like I care,” Party asked, before carefully lifting the body out of his lap, and placing it on the floor gently.

“Do I,” you asked back.

“Then let’s go,” Jet decided.

“Control room,” Fun inquired, and you nodded.

You left your masks behind. Party was covered in so much blood, and since BLI already seemed to know you were coming, there was no use in pretending anymore.

Again the journey started down the halls, and you were surprised how calm Party was again all of a sudden, how he still remembered the way, even after all this stress.

The next time Party stopped in front of a door, it was a bit broader than the one to Kobra’s cell. The sign next to the door gave away the purpose of the room behind it: DRAC control.

“There will be people in there, so get ready,” Party warned, placing his hand on the door knob.

You all grabbed your guns, and quietly Party counted down from three. When he reached zero he pushed open the door and you stormed inside. Immediately voices got loud, but they were silenced just as quickly. Except for one.

“Don’t shoot, oh please, don’t shoot!”

The whimpering came from a corner, and Jet and Fun immediately stormed over, dragging a small man out from where he had tried hiding behind a cabinet. He was thin, with sparse, grey hair even though he was only in his late thirties, and watery blue eyes.

“Where is Kobra Kid,” Party hissed, pressing his gun to the man’s throat.

“I don’t know, I don’t know, please don’t hurt me!”

“I won’t if you find out for me!”

Party grabbed the poor man, and dragged him over to a console for the computer. Under different circumstances you might have pitied the guy, but not right now. You needed to find Kobra. Nothing else mattered.

While Party watched the man punch something into the keyboard, your eyes wandered over the walls of the room. Maps covered almost every inch. You stepped closer to a map of what had once been the United States of America, your eyes stopping at the mark that was printed over where New Jersey once had been.

“What’s that,” you asked, pointing at it.

The man did not dare turning to you until Party told him to. Slowly he glanced at what you had pointed at before turning back to the computer, continuing his search for Kobra’s location.

“That’s DEMA,” he answered, quietly with a thin voice.

“What do they do there?”

“If I tell you, they’ll kill me,” he whimpered.

“If you don’t I will,” you replied coldly.

“They experiment! They experiment! And develop and produce new technology. Like sensors. And masks!”

“Masks?”

“DRACOLOID masks! Like the infinity mask. Or the omega mask!”

“Infinity mask...” you trailed of. “The ones with the infinity symbol, the ones that can be put on dead people?”

“Yes, yes, those, exactly those,” the man babbled.

“What are omega masks?”

The man did not answer until Party pressed his gun to the side of his head.

“She asked: what are omega masks,” Party repeated.

“They’re the next generation,” the man cried out. “Can be put on anyone who hasn’t been dead for more than 72 hours!”

72 hours. Three days. The Zombie Masks – or infinity masks – worked only as long as they were put on in the first few hours after death. Three days was a long time. It meant in the future you’d have to burn dead bodies in order to keep BLI from bringing them back as DRACs.

“What else? What else do they do,” you asked.

“Nothing! They do nothing!”

“Oh, come on, don’t sell me for stupid. You wouldn’t name these masks after the last letter of the Greek alphabet for nothing,” you snarled, stalking over to the terrified man.

By now Fun had taken over searching the computer. His eyes flickered over the screen, and his fingers flew over the keyboard.

“They- they destroy the DRACOLOID’s brain,” the man stuttered out, shrinking under your gaze. “The problem that the subjects were alive underneath the infinity mask got fixed. Within hours of going under, the masks destroy the brain entirely; erasing the personality, memories, everything, and the mask takes over completely.”

“Brain-eating Zombie Masks,” Jet concluded, a reference the man did not seem to understand, but he nodded anyway.

“So to say, yes, so to say.”

“And these masks are developed in DEMA?”

“Yes, in DEMA, yes! And produced there too!”

“Do you already use them here,” Party asked. When he got no reply he shouted: “Do you already use them?”

“Only for experiments, only experiments!”

You exchanged quick glances with Jet and Party. If they put Kobra under one of those…

“Got him,” Fun suddenly announced. “Lab 745.”

“I don’t know where that is,” Party realised, looking at you as if he were searching for help, as if you knew what to do next.

“I do,” Jet interrupted. “Let’s go.”

Fun had just stepped away from the computer, when suddenly the man leapt forward in a burst of false heroism. Before any of you could react, he had pressed a button on the computer.

“Omega the Kobra! Omega-”

He was cut short by the blast from your ray gun, but it was too late. His voice echoed out over speakers in the hallways.

“Fuck. Let’s hurry,” Fun decided, and you all followed Jet out the door, running this time.

Once more you stormed down corridor after corridor. They all looked the same, and still, you were certain you had already been here. Then you recognised the door to the stairwell you had come up, and a few doors further Jet stopped.

“Here,” he pointed at the door. You had walked past here before, you realised. You had already walked past Kobra.

Again Fun fell to his knees, wanting to pick the lock, but Party shook his head, and pushed him aside.

“No time,” he declared, pulling his blaster, and with three shots to the lock it fell out of the door.

This time you were the first one to storm into the room. It took you a moment to orientate yourself. It was dark, the only light that fell into the room came from a huge window on the left hand side. Behind the window was a second room. Tiled, with a drain in the centre of the floor. Just as Jet, Fun and Party had described the torture rooms. And there, in the right in the middle of the room, tied to a chair, sat Kobra.

His fear widened eyes met yours only for a split second past the glass of the window, his mouth opening as if to call for you. But then two SCARECROWs besides him pulled a DRAC Mask over his head, and he went slack. It was no normal DRAC Mask though. It was purple, and on the forehead, where the Zombie Masks had the infinity symbol, this one had a white, capital Omega.

“No,” you gasped, just as the others followed you into the room, and immediately you all pointed your guns at the SCARECROWs behind the glass, firing.

They went down before even a scream could leave their lips, or the glass of the window had completely splintered. You stormed into the tiled room just as the second body hit the floor.

Frantically you grabbed the purple fabric of the mask. It stunk of dead animal, and was just as oily as all the other masks you had touched so far.

“Wait!” Suddenly Party’s hand closed around your wrist. “What if it’ll kill him?”

“You heard the other guy! If we don’t take it off, it’s melt his brain away,” you cried.

For a moment Party looked at you, then at the motionless, in BLI-white dressed body in front of him. You could tell the exact moment he made the decision to trust you with this. Like for Jet and Fun before, you were Kobra’s only hope now. He entrusted you with the most precious thing he had: his brother’s life.

Slowly he let go of you.

With all the force you could muster, knowing every single moment wasted was moving Kobra closer to complete extinction, you pulled at the mask. Adrenaline seemed to have given you extra strength, because the mask came off with a jolt, making you tumble backwards to the ground. You landed hard on your behind, your hands barely lessening the impact, as you landed in the broken glass.

Immediately Party was at Kobra’s side, cradling his face in his hands.

“Kobra, Kobra it’s me,” he whispered, running his still blood smeared fingers over his brother’s cheeks.

But Kobra did not move.

You waited, staring at him, sitting on your butt in the splinters of the glass window. Jet stood in the door, Fun halfway between Party and Jet. All of you waited, held your breath.

Again there was silence. Just like when Party had opened that first door. But this time it was worse. So much worse. So infinitely worse. Because you had seen him, had seen Kobra’s face, the fear in his eyes, the way he had opened his mouth to scream for you, and you had not been fast enough. If you had been just a split second faster…

Party sat down next to the chair Kobra was chained to. Kobra’s head hung limply to his chest, and Party placed his own in Kobra’s lap.

“Go,” he told you. “Get out of here. I’m staying with him.”

Nothing he could have said could have been worse than this.

“No,” you shook your head. “No. We all agreed nobody gets left behind.”

Slowly you sat up more where you had been landing in the shards of glass. Your hands were littered in small cuts, dripping blood to the pristine white floor.

“It’s okay. Just leave us,” Party shook his head.

He had given up. The ultimate death sentence in the Zones. You could not help but feel the same. You, too, refused to leave Kobra here. What had you promised each other in the sewers? You would stick with Party the whole way, to the very end, no matter what, no matter the outcome.

Another few minutes passed as you just sat there, looking at Party and Kobra. In the back of your mind you wondered where the DRACs were, and the SCARECROWs, why they were not coming for you. Did it really matter?

This time neither of you still had the strength to cry. You just sat there, and watched as Party refused to get up and leave his brother behind. A glance at Jet and Fun gave away that they shared your sentiment, and the bizarre feeling of relief tucked at your heart. So you were not alone. You would all go down together.

The silence that engulfed you was absolute. No air conditioning, no humming lights, no machines that buzzed.

Just silence.

Kobra looked awful, you noticed. He had lost weight, lots of weight, far more than would have been healthy. Anger tucked at your heart. Not only had they tortured him for years, they had barely kept him alive while at it. Probably feeding him only enough that he did not starve to death. Now his cheeks were hollow, his eyes sunken in, his skin grey.

The only colour on him were nasty bruises on one of his cheekbones, looking as if someone had punched him in the face. He had struggled. Even after years of this hell he had still struggled enough for them to punch him in the face. Why had he not given up yet? Had he hoped you would come for him?

The bruises were green and blue, with hints of purple and yellow. His hair was the same brown as his brother’s, the once bleached strands long having grown out, and his hair having been cut shorter. It was not quite as short as his doppelgänger’s, having probably grown out since the last time BLI had cut it.

You wanted to get up, wanted to run your hands through the strands before his body grew cold; a last comfort, both for him and yourself. Maybe his soul might still feel it, might feel the pain you were in, might understand how hard you had fought to reach him, to get him back, and how utterly useless the world felt now, that you had failed him.

You had failed him. All these years, in which you had been running around in the desert, you could have been looking for him, for the others. All the nights you had spent comforting yourself with dreams of Fun, you could have made plans on how to free your friends. All the evenings you had tried forgetting the world around you, just cuddling into Fun, you could have worked. You should have worked harder, but now you had failed him. It would have felt wrong to dirty his body with the very hands that had failed him.

So you let the silence swallow you up, let the pain take over, let it paralyse you so no tear and no sob escaped you. Silence was the only thing that felt appropriate now, silence was the only thing you could ever stand to hear again.

But it was broken by a very quiet, very weak voice.

“I always knew you’d come for me.”

Next Chapter - The Kobra King

(I was looking forward to finally using this mood board)

Taglist:

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[fangirlwriting-stories]

Protector

Chapter One

Author’s Note: Heads up, you should check the trigger warnings on this one.  Also, I’m gonna be in a very different timezone for a while for reasons, so the rest of this story is probably going to come at a different time than what you’re used to.  Enjoy, or don’t, I’m not the boss of you.

Chapter Seventeen:

Remus wasn’t in any of their hiding spots.  He wasn’t there.  Where was he?  He was so hurt already, he couldn’t run on two broken legs, where was he?

Virgil’s own legs were shaking, but he moved towards the living room, where voices were coming from.  As he got closer he heard cruel laughter, and his heart dropped into his stomach.

He moved up to the corner, and he stayed behind it as he peeked out because that was what they’d agreed on, but the second he saw Remus everything in him wanted to throw the rule in the trash and run out there.

Remus was a mess.  Malice and Cruelty were standing in front of him, Positivity was holding him back, and Remus looked too weak to even fight at this point, slumped into Positivity’s arms and colored black and blue.

Virgil’s grip tightened on the corner so tightly that he was pretty sure he’d get splinters.  Both he and Remus were pretty adept at listening for the tiniest things at this point, so he wasn’t surprised when Remus jerked upwards slightly to acknowledge that he knew he was there, but he didn’t actually look in Virgil’s direction, which they’d also agreed on.

Remus was crying, which was a terrible sign.  They were probably tears from the pain, but if he was hurt badly enough to start crying in front of Malice and Cruelty and Positivity, it meant nothing good.

He still wouldn’t want Virgil to rush out there.  Virgil was beginning to seriously consider doing it anyway.

“Alright come on, it’s my turn!” Cruelty snapped, picking up Remus’ morningstar from where it was propped against the wall.  Before anyone could protest, and it looked like Malice had been about to, he swung it directly into Remus’ face, and Remus screamed.

Virgil couldn’t take it anymore with that, and he leapt out from behind the corner.  No one turned to face him though, because Remus very suddenly jerked upright in a way that seemed to surprise the rest of them.

He looked up and directly at Virgil with wide eyes, and Virgil had just enough time to realize that something was very wrong before Remus went limp.  It was fast enough that it seemed to surprise Positivity into dropping him, but before he hit the floor Remus’ body vanished.

Later, Virgil would describe it as a roaring in his ears and seeing red, but that was just what he’d say to make Remus feel better.  In reality, it was much closer to a ringing than a roaring in his ears, along with a numbness in his chest, and an overwhelming feeling that nothing would ever matter again.

He blinked, and he was standing over Positivity’s body.  He blinked again, and there were Malice and Cruelty, looking stunned.  Blinked a third time and it was just Malice, and then one more blink and he was dead too, and Virgil’s scythe was soaked in blood.

He thought for a moment that he’d missed someone, because it sounded like someone was screaming in pain, but then Positivity, then Cruelty, and then Malice all disappeared, and Virgil realized the screaming was coming from him.

He thought briefly about following Remus, but he knew pretty quickly that he couldn’t.  Thomas had lost four sides in the blink of an eye, and while all four of them were pretty far buried in the subconscious, Virgil wasn’t.  Thomas knew about him.  It would affect Thomas much more severely if he died too.

That didn’t mean Thomas wasn’t severely affected.  He found it significantly harder to come up with creative ideas, and Roman was beating himself up about it.  He was less angry at, well, anything really.  That mixed with being less apathetic, which had been Positivity’s original function before he changed his name, made him incredibly sensitive to anything that even slightly hurt.

But most significantly, Thomas felt less anxiety than he had in years, to an almost dangerous degree.  He had to be reminded often by Logan to look both ways before crossing the street, he had to be needled by Roman to make himself presentable, he had to be held back from going along with every single thing Patton said, he had to be forced by Janus to take care of himself and shower and brush his teeth.

And Virgil was trying.  He honestly was.  But he felt so alone and Remus was gone and what was the point?

That is, he couldn’t see the point until he stumbled over Remus’ body in the commons one morning about a week later and nearly broke his nose landing on his face.

He scrambled back so he could hold his baby brother, running his hands all over his arms and his face and his legs that no longer felt broken and tried to satisfy the desperate screaming hope in his chest with knowledge from his five senses that Remus was real, he was here, how was he here?

Virgil put his hand up near his nose and felt his breathing, and somehow that seemed to kick his brain into gear, because he pulled Remus to his chest and sobbed into his hair, and started whispering to Remus as if he could hear him that it was going to be okay, Virgil was here now, he was here and Remus was going to be okay, Virgil was going to take care of him.

Then he turned around and saw Positivity’s body lying on the floor, and that kicked the rest of his brain into gear.

Sides… sides could not die.  Not for good.  And now every single one of them was going to know that.

Oh.

Fuck.

Virgil picked up Remus and ran.

…

Virgil scrambled awake tangled in his blankets, gasping and reaching out as if Remus was still in his arms and that was all that was required to know whether or not he was safe, except it wasn’t, because he wasn’t safe at all.

Virgil tried to reach for his dream journal, but his hands were shaking, and now the memory was combining with the terror that had been in the nightmare and Virgil couldn’t breathe.

Logan.  Where was Logan, he didn’t even care if he owed him back later or if Logan got irritated when he woke him up, he needed help.

Virgil practically fell off the bed trying to climb out of it, and pushed his way over to the door, as he was definitely too shaken to sink out.  He made it out the door, but Logan’s room was all the way across the commons and he was shaking all over and it felt like he was about to collapse.

He leaned back against the wall, trying to figure out any way to calm himself down.  He didn’t have his dream journal, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to make it to Logan’s room.

Virgil tried to breathe in for four seconds, but he was shaking too much, and he couldn’t stop thinking about how scared Remus had looked right before he died for the very first time.

It had taken almost another week for Remus to wake up after Virgil had found him again, and he hadn’t really stopped looking scared throughout that time, even if he was asleep.  He’d also been incredibly fragile throughout.  It still took a while after he woke up to start feeling like himself again, and unfortunately around that same time the others started to as well.  It had been a really bad day for both of them.  It had taken less time to wake up and recover the more often they died, but the first time had been bad.

Unsurprisingly, the others had all come after Virgil in revenge, which meant Remus had to spend a couple weeks guarding him in return once he came back.

It hadn’t taken them long to realize the kind of long-term damage that could be caused by getting hurt while recovering from a death.  Suffice to say, Virgil and Remus both had some scars that were never going away, even if they died again.

Right now, though, Virgil was mostly just trying not to pass out from lack of oxygen.  He’d managed to sit down against the wall, but that was about the limit of where his abilities ended.  He was breathing too quickly.  He might just have to ride this one out.

He pressed his hands to his forehead and leaned his head down in them, trying to breathe at least through the shaking.  It wasn’t working very well, and he couldn’t stop thinking about Remus and that wasn’t doing anything for the nerves that were still churning in his stomach.

He was fine, Remus was fine, every single time he’d checked on him he’d been sleeping, so by balance of probability and all that bullshit Logan said, Remus would be fine.

There were always going to be exceptions though, it was Virgil’s job to handle the exceptions, he was supposed to be there to help Remus deal with the exceptions—

Virgil grabbed his hair and tugged, hard, and that flipped some kind of switch in his brain that at least got him focusing on where the hell he was.  What was it that Logan had done that one time?  Put an ice cube on his forehead?  That was probably a better idea than pulling his hair until he could focus, except the ice cubes were downstairs in the freezer and Virgil didn’t even think he could stand up right now, much less handle a flight of stairs.

Hair it was then.  Virgil tugged on it again, and again, and again, and by the fourth time he could focus enough to drag his head up and look around him.

Okay, what was that other one Logan taught him?  Five things he could see?

Uh, there was the bleakness of life, and the pointlessness of hope, and the door to the other commons behind which Remus experienced daily pain, and… Logan’s door that he hadn’t been able to make it to, and… and his shoes.

Four things he could feel, there was the impending doom, the dread that nothing would ever get better for anyone that mattered to him… the floor underneath his feet.  And an ache in his head from the pulling on his hair.

Three things he could hear.  His panicked breathing, a clock ticking in the background, and… someone moving downstairs?

That sent Virgil’s brain back into panicked mode, but this time he at least had a target he could do something about.

His legs weren’t shaking quite as much anymore, so he pushed himself to his feet and started towards the stairs.

Two things he could smell.  His own sweat, which naturally was just lovely, and… coffee?

One thing he could taste.  Morning breath, though he had no idea what time it actually was in the morning.

Virgil made his way slowly down the stairs, and now that he was approaching, he could see his nose hadn’t been wrong, and he was smelling coffee.  Who was drinking coffee in the middle of the night was another question.  It couldn’t be Patton, the side never needed the stuff.  Roman never got up in the middle of the night, and Logan would go on a rant about how bad it was for one’s circadian rhythm before he even thought about touching coffee at this hour.  So that left…

“Janus?” Virgil asked, peeking his head around the corner and into the kitchen.  Janus didn’t seem to hear him, but he was sitting with a cup of coffee next to him on the table.  It looked freshly made, still steaming.  Maybe that was why Janus was completely ignoring it in favor of sitting there with his head in his hands.

Virgil kind of doubted it, though.

“Janus?” Virgil asked again, reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder.

Janus jerked upright and turned to face Virgil, and Virgil jerked backwards slightly as he did.

“Virgil,” Janus said, sitting upright and making an immediate effort to look more presentable, as if that would erase what Virgil had walked in to see him doing.

“Janus, what’s wrong?” Virgil asked.  Asking felt like dragging out some kind of energy that he definitely didn’t have right now, but he couldn’t go check on Remus, so making progress towards getting him to safety was the next best thing.

“Nothing, I’m alright,” Janus said, reaching for his coffee and taking a sip.  “Just tired.”

“Really, because you’re sitting here drinking coffee at…” Virgil glanced at the oven clock.  “3:00 in the morning when you could just as easily be going to sleep to help yourself with that problem.”

Janus sighed and rubbed at his eyes.  “I’m… I’ll be fine, Virgil.  Just go back to bed.”

He could.  He could sink out to Remus’ room right now and make sure he was okay.  But then he would leave Janus alone when he was struggling, and that was… not good.  For his plan.  Yeah, obviously.  Not good for his plan.

“What’s wrong?” Virgil asked again, pushing past the exhaustion he felt and sitting down.

Janus sighed again, in the way that meant Virgil had pushed far enough.  Which was relief, because Virgil wasn’t sure he had it in him to push any further.

“I’m thinking about myself, Virgil,” Janus admitted.  “And I’m thinking about the fact that I’m a little jealous of you.”

Virgil coughed, unable to move past his shock fast enough so that Janus wouldn’t notice.

“What?” Janus said, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“Wh- I just— why in Thomas’ name would you be jealous of me?” Virgil asked.

Janus turned to stare at Virgil in bafflement.  “Virgil,” he said.  “You won Thomas over in a couple months.  That took me almost a year.  You’ve also never had to hide part of yourself to do it.”

Virgil winced.  Yeah, it probably looked that way, huh.

“I still don’t think you have to keep doing that,” Virgil said, crossing his arms in front of him.  “You don’t think Thomas is going to care more about you than about what you represent at this point?”

“I…” Janus said hesitantly.  “I don’t know.”

Neither of them said anything for a moment.

“Janus,” Virgil said quietly.  “They love you.”

“They don’t even know me.”

“And whose fault is that?” Virgil said, before he could really think it through.

But instead of getting angry, Janus just sighed and dropped his head into his hands.  There was another stretch of silence.

“Do you remember,” Janus said quietly, lifting his head just slightly.  “How good Remus always was at reading me?”

Virgil went still.

“If he was here,” Janus said, lifting his head the rest of the way.  “I would have been exposed a very long time ago.  By accident or otherwise.  And weirdly enough, I think part of me wants that now.  When you first got here, I was dreading that you would reveal something and affect my relationship with Thomas and the others, but now I just… want something or someone else to do it, so it’s not my responsibility or my fault anymore.”

Virgil didn’t say anything.

“I’m scared, Virgil,” Janus whispered.

Virgil thought of Thomas, and his smile, and the way it made you feel like your entire world was okay when he valued you.

“I understand,” he said.

“You make me miss being myself,” Janus admitted, looking back at Virgil.  “It’s so easy around you, because there’s nothing to hide.  It’s harder to miss being myself when I don’t even have any opportunities to acknowledge that I’m hiding part of myself.”  He shook his head.  “I don’t think I ever realized how much I missed you and Remus.”

Virgil could breathe just fine, there wasn’t a lump in his throat.

Janus squeezed his eyes shut, and Virgil found it a little harder to breathe at the sorrow and regret on his face.

“Virgil,” Janus said, opening his eyes.  “I’m sorry that I left.”

What?

“I would do it again,” Janus murmured.  “It was necessary.  Thomas needed me.  But I’m sorry that it was necessary.”

Yeah, so Virgil was definitely going to have another panic attack.  How was he supposed to process that?

Rage was the first emotion he could recognize.  Did Janus think that was enough?  Did Janus think he got to leave Virgil and Remus behind to be hurt and killed and broken and then make up for it with “I’m sorry that it was necessary?”

But then Janus… Janus didn’t know.  Janus had never known.  The others had always been very careful in making sure of that.  Virgil had tried to tell him, at the end there.  But at that point Janus had been far too focused on Thomas, and when Virgil had really started to worry he was going to leave, it was really too late to stop him.

And that’s supposed to make it okay? snapped a voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Remus.  He should have asked.  He should have paid attention.  He should have noticed we were both so hurt all the time.

That wasn’t wrong.  But Virgil couldn’t say that.  Not if he wanted Remus to be safe.  Not if he wanted Thomas to keep them.  Not if they wanted to stop being so hurt all the time.

Well then.

Virgil reached out and squeezed Janus’ hand, and Janus looked up at him as Virgil spoke.

“I forgive you.”

…

Virgil had thought making such significant progress with Janus would feel better.  If it had been when he first came over here, and all Virgil had to do to get him and Janus to this point was lie about forgiving him, he would do it in less than a heartbeat.  But he went back to his room that night feeling squirmy and guilty and bad.

Of course he didn’t forgive Janus.  As if that pathetic apology was all it would take for him to forgive Janus.  As if he was ever going to forgive Janus, because he wasn’t.

But then why did he feel bad about lying about it?  It was just to help Remus.  It’s not as if Janus was going to help Remus.  It was up to him, like always.  And this was what was necessary to make that happen.  Why did he feel bad?  He shouldn’t feel bad.

Unfortunately, he was not going to get any time to ruminate on whether or not he should feel bad or why he did, because as soon as he got back to his room, he was given immediate proof that all of Logan’s probability talk was bullshit.

“Remus?  Remus!” Virgil’s hands were shaking as he shut his door again, and he moved immediately to where Remus lay on his floor, looking as bad as he had an hour ago in Virgil’s nightmare.

“Remus!” he cried, shaking his shoulder.  “Remus, wake up!”

Remus shifted underneath his hand and groaned, and Virgil, satisfied with the fact that he was breathing but not in the least calmed down, started looking over him for injuries.

“‘m sorry,” Remus murmured, and Virgil looked up towards his face, which was still pressed into the floor facing away from him.  “Needed somewhere safe.”

“Don’t apologize,” Virgil said, leaning forward and pulling Remus to him.  “Don’t apologize, it’s okay.  That’s what I told you to do, that’s what you should do.  Where are you hurt, Remus?”

“I’m sorry,” Remus said again.

“Remus, it’s okay,” Virgil said.  He seemed really shaken by something, but Virgil couldn’t tell what.

“I’m sorry,” Remus said a third time.

“Remus, it’s okay, you don’t have to keep apologizing,” Virgil said, his own voice starting to shake too.  “Can you hear me?”

He reached around and turned Remus over so he could see his face— and nearly dropped him.

Remus’ side was covered in more of those burns layered with stab marks that Malice had somehow come up with, but worse than that was Remus’ face.  His entire left eye was gone, and it made sense that he kept repeating himself like he couldn’t hear what Virgil was saying, because both of his ears were gone, and all that was left were blood-covered stumps where they should be.

“Remus, what—” Virgil whispered, his hands starting to shake more.

The eye that Remus had left started to well up with tears.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, before starting to sob.

Virgil pulled Remus to his chest as tears started to well in his own eyes, and he didn’t know what else to do other than start running his hand through Remus’ blood-soaked hair.

“I’m sorry,” Remus said again.

“It’s okay,” Virgil said, except Remus couldn’t hear him.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Remus, it’s okay it’s okay,” Virgil sobbed, squeezing him tighter.  He didn’t have the first clue what to do to help Remus right now.  This wasn’t something he could patch up.  It wouldn’t heal given time.  How was he supposed to fix this?

“Re,” Virgil said weakly, pulling back enough that he could look at Remus.  “I’m going to take you to the bathroom.”  He pointed so Remus would know what he was talking about, and Remus nodded weakly.  Virgil hoisted Remus up and carried him over towards the bathroom, and set him down in the bathtub when they got there.  Remus might have been more comfortable on the bed, but leaving each other alone before they were done patching each other up was not something the two of them did.

Remus knew where Virgil’s supplies were too, and his hands were shaking as he handled some of the cuts on his arms, while Virgil wrapped a bandage around his head.  The bleeding had stopped a while ago, thankfully.  Virgil wasn’t sure Remus would have made it if it hadn’t.  He didn’t really understand how it had stopped, though.  It would have needed immediate care, but Remus hadn’t been able to, and Virgil hadn’t been there, and why in the world would any of the others have done that?

Virgil put it out of his mind for now.  It took him the better part of an hour to patch Remus up, as he had to wrap nearly half of his head in bandages, and both of them were shaking a little too much to do it quickly.

It did get done eventually, though neither of them were in the best of shape even after it did.

“Okay, Remus?” Virgil said, before remembering that Remus couldn’t hear him.

He gently touched Remus’ arm, and Remus looked back over at him.  Virgil looked around for a second but there was nothing to write with in the bathroom.  So instead, he helped Remus up and brought them both back into the bedroom, before finding his dream journal on his nightstand.

He scribbled down “You’re going to sleep here tonight” on a blank page before showing it to Remus.

Remus shook his head, even though he was still shaking all over.  “I— I’m okay,” he said.

Virgil simply underlined the words in the notebook.

“Virgil, you can’t,” Remus said weakly.

Virgil jabbed at the notebook with his pencil eraser.

Remus looked back at Virgil’s face and must have seen the determination there, because finally he nodded and whispered “Okay.”

Remus waited until Virgil climbed onto his bed and pulled the covers back, but as soon as he did he curled up against Virgil’s side.

“‘m sorry,” he mumbled against Virgil’s chest.  “I tried to wrap them myself.”

Virgil pulled back and looked at Remus, trying to make the bafflement clear on his face.

“You’re so worried already!” Remus exclaimed.  “And I should be able to take care of myself without needing your help all the time.”

Virgil shook his head and reached for his notebook.

“Re, you’re down there all by yourself,” he wrote.  “That’s not fair to expect you to handle on your own.  I’d need help if it was just me down there.”

“I’m making you worry,” Remus whispered.

Virgil rolled his eyes and scribbled down “I’m Anxiety, dummy.  You don’t get that much credit.”

Remus smiled, though it looked wobbly.

Virgil wrote one more thing down and showed Remus the notebook.

Remus’ eyes widened.  “What?  Virgil, you can’t!”

“I can’t send you back down like this, Re,” Virgil wrote.  “I’ve made a huge amount of progress with Janus, tonight especially.  I’m bringing you up here with me.”

Well, even if that wasn’t true, he might have risked asking.  Remus wouldn’t last in this state.  He couldn’t hear anyone coming, he couldn’t see as well, and even if neither of those things were true, he was in no shape to fight them.

“And if Janus says no?” Remus murmured.

“He won’t,” Virgil wrote.

“Hopefully,” he muttered aloud.

He didn’t know if Remus believed him, but he stopped arguing at least, and before long, he was curled against Virgil’s side asleep.

It was sooner than Virgil probably would have asked in an ideal world, but then in an ideal world he wouldn’t have to ask at all.

And Janus would let Remus move up here.  He had to.  If Virgil sent Remus back down now, he’d die.  And if he had to recover down there alone…

Virgil shook the thought away.  It wouldn’t matter, because Janus was going to say yes.

He was.

He was.

...

Chapter Eighteen

[jimothy-hopkins]

Meddling Kids VI

WARNING! This work/series contains mentions of slut shaming, EDs, gore, implied torture, implied SA, SH, violence, and many other things that can trigger some viewers. I will also mention that this work does NOT intend to glorify, romanticize, normalize, or promote ANY of these behaviors or ideas. That is not who I am and that is not what I stand for. Please do not take that message away when you read this.

This is a Manhunt/Bully crossover. Please enjoy at your own risk.

Jimmy only turned to look away when Gary hit the floor.

To his right, Pete knelt over, throwing up on the hardwood floor.

Jimmy stepped ahead, ejecting the tape just as another bloodcurdling scream played. For a moment, he stood still, processing the footage he had just seen. Part of him wanted to believe that this was a bad dream, but the sickness and the impending sense of doom proved him wrong. He didn’t even know someone could scream that loud. God, he didn’t need to see what violent things those depraved men did to that poor girl.

Pete stood up, shaking as tears fell from his eyes. The head boy’s hands trembled as he glanced down, coughs escaping him.

Jimmy sniffled, kneeling to look over Gary, who had passed out. He felt the back of his head for a bump or cut, relieved to find no injury. He turned back, motioning for Pete to come and help him. The taller student shuffled over, lifting his cousin by the legs while Jimmy looped his grasp under Gary’s armpits. The pair gently rested him on Pete’s bed.

“Can you grab water?” Jimmy asked.

“Mhm,” Pete nodded, retrieving a small water bottle from his desk and bringing it over.

Jimmy unscrewed the top, pouring small amounts of water into his palm and splashing it on Gary’s face. Occasionally he would slap his cheeks, bringing them to an irritated red as Gary woke up.

“Please tell me you turned that shit off..” Gary said.

“We did,” Jimmy replied.

“We need to call the cops,” Pete spoke.

Jimmy turned, now angry.

“Call the cops? Pete, the reason this tape even exists is because the cops don’t do their jobs!” He shouted, making Pete cower back.

Silence hung for a moment before Gary sat up.

“We need to talk to Edward again,” He said.

“Not right now. Not- not after this, Gary..” Pete sniffled, rubbing the side of his arm.

Without another word, Jimmy exited the room, returning to his dorm.

Jimmy could barely sleep in the days that followed. When he did, his head tormented him with nightmares of Alice's violent torture. Every night he would wake at an odd hour soaked in a puddle of cold sweat. It sickened him knowing her fate. It made Jimmy sick, knowing that he likely could have changed the outcome if he had been more aware.

HE walked, swallowing the lump that had developed in his throat. His feet shuffled over the salt-covered walkway. Jimmy stopped once he reached the parking lot. Here he saw the bullies pulling their usual antics, building a dick-shaped snow sculpture, and tagging random areas. He spotted Angelina talking with Summer Callahan and made his way over.

“Hey,” He initiated.

“Oh, sup baldy,” Angelina smirked.

“Yeah, whatever. I need to talk to you, Lina.” He told her.

Her facial expression changed, and the blonde stood upright. “Alright,” she nodded.

The two walked, trailing to the small yard behind the bus.

“I’m sorry,” Jimmy sighed.

“Jimmy, what are you even talking about? I don’t-”

“She’s dead, Lina,” Jimmy spat.

“You’re lying,” She spat.

“I’m sorry, Lina,” He breathed.

“You’re fucking lying to me, Hopkins!” Angelina yelled.

“I saw it on video!” He yelled back.

“Let me see it-” She breathed, stepping forward.

“No, I’m not letting you,”

“Why not!?”

“You don’t need to see her like that, Angelina!”

“She’s my girlfriend!”

“That’s why! Do you wanna see her crying for mercy? Do you!? Is that what you want!?” Jimmy hollered, getting in her face.

Angelina stood, becoming quiet as she thought. Jimmy stared, keeping defiant eye contact with the tall blonde.

Her knees buckled, and loud sobs left Angelina. Jimmy knelt beside her, hugging the bully as she cried. The ginger would rub circles into her back, guilty for how he had shouted at her.

“I’m sorry, Lina,” Jimmy said, “I’ll find whoever did this to Alice,”

“Please, I want to help,” She sniffled.

“No, you’ve been through enough. Let me take you back to the dorms, ok?” He offered as he helped the girl to her feet.

As the afternoon set in, the students left their classes. Pete confidently walked through the campus, hoping to have a moment to speak with Edward. The young man entered the prefect dorms, turning around to look down the hall. He heard what sounded like an argument coming from the lounge area. He sighed, walking down the hallway and peering through the door. He saw Max MacTavish and Edward standing in front of one another amid an argument. The other three prefects stood on the other side of the room, glancing between Pete, themselves, and their group members.

“Do you have any idea how Unbearable you are!?” Edward screamed.

“You’re one to talk!” The brunette snapped.

“OH Really? You’re such a lapdog!” The former prep sneered.

“At least I’m not Bullworth Academy’s bottom bitch!”

“How dare you!”

Edward lunged forward, delivering a hard punch to Max’s jawbone. Pete gasped, scrambling to pull him away.

“Goddammit, why don’t you three help me!?” Pete yelled.

Seth, Diana, and Karl all scrambled, assisting in prying Max and Edward away from one another. The two seniors kicked and thrashed as they continued to throw swears and insults at one another.

Pete gritted his teeth, losing his cool and raising his voice.

“Shut UP!”

The room went silent, tension rising as they all looked toward Pete.

“How did this even start?” He demanded, stepping back.

“He wanted to try and-”

“Ed and Seth were too busy-”

“We were NOT!”

“Yes you fucking were!”

“STOP!” Pete hollered once more.

Max and Edward ceased their childish bickering, breathing hard as they looked at one another with hatred.

“I’ll ask you again, individually. Max, care to explain yourself?” Pete glared.

“This entire week, Edward's been ditching us for stupid stuff. I’m sick of picking up his slack! He just free roams and flirts with the girls and Seth!” Max explained.

“Edward?” Pete turned.

“Max continuously disrespects me! This entire day he’s been slut-shaming me! You heard what he called me!” Edward defended.

“Look, you guys need to suck it up and get away from each other. But for now, I need to talk with Ed.” Pete ordered.

Seth quietly let go of Edward, watching as he and Pete both left the room.

Edward followed Pete to his dorm, stopping once the door was closed.

“We need to use you as bait again,” pete told him.

“What? No, I’m not doing this anymore,” Edward argued.

“It’s either you do that, or I’m gonna let everyone know you snort lines,” Pete threatened.

Edward sighed, dropping his shoulders and groaning.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

[thebonemanwrites]

Ship of Dreams

Part 1: Abandon Ship 

In my cabin, the clock struck two, tick-tick-tick-tick, keeping time with my sister’s snoring. But I lay awake, holding to a memory by a thread, my limbs feeling heavy and my face foreign to me, not belonging, as my heart pounded through my chest with no cause.

I suddenly shot up with a gasp, peering out with wide eyes into the consuming darkness, feeling a lump catch in my throat before I sighed, throwing off the sheets in frustration before I stood up and paced.

Two-o’-five.

But as I held back inexplicable tears, I came upon a sight before me through parting, translucent curtains, of ivory sheets pouring in, of a muted crash and roar. The light seemed to hold me in a trance as I followed its path, wrenching the glass door open with slender arms, immediately hit by mist that soaked through my t-shirt, making me shudder.

And I saw it, and how my heart pounded now, the intense thrill of it! I saw silken sheets of green topped with white lace, rumble, tumble, writhe sheet upon sheet until it fell and bubbled into itself. The moon, too, she sat perched up ahead in the intense ink shade of the sky, bleeding out into the green. I looked down at my bare feet then, seeing that she had bled onto me as well.

I followed the trail with bare feet upon cold, damp metal, feeling faint, feeling light, as if I were made of sea foam, out into that scene of writhing, thrashing, crashing, rumbling, tumbling, a scene so alive at an hour when all the world seemed dead. I was soaking and shivering, but smiling as I gripped to the railing, leaning over and hoping to kiss the moon, losing my breath as I stood upon my toes, when I realized that I couldn’t reach…

And breathless still, I stared down into that depth, that abysmal green, staring a long time, smiling madly with hollow eyes.

And I jumped—

!

Two-thirty-five

I didn’t jump, and still I felt submerged, I felt gloriously choked as the air left my lungs in effervescent bubbles, as the pressure hit my chest and stomach and sunk me down, down, down…

But instead I was shaking, my knuckles white against the railing, head spinning, lungs failing, feeling choked and trapped, feeling like wringing out my guts into the sea—why can’t I jump? 

Why can’t I fly?

My smile turned into a grimace as I slammed my head onto the chilled metal, taking sudden, gasping breaths as I shuddered pathetically. Why can’t I jump? Why can’t I jump?

My sister was still asleep. Two-fifty-five.

A deep shame suddenly hit, wracking my chest as I slipped down to the chilling metal floor, a hoarse whine like a scream leaving my lips, my face soaking—tears?

Why can’t I fly?

But morning came, just the same, with rude light that peeked through my lashes, nudging me awake. My sister asked why I smelled like salt, if I had been crying. I told her that she was an idiot.

But at her laughter, I knew then why I couldn’t fly. She’d never laugh again.

—

Part 2: Stargazers at Sea

We were a rowdy crowd, a motley crew of hormones, giggling, and screaming, covered in ice cream and dancing our way up a rickety, narrow staircase. Two of us carried a girl along with us who had no use of her legs, another four carried her wheelchair, and the rest of us simply screeched into the night.

It was the blackest night at the top of the deck, an all-consuming sort of darkness that drowned all colors, all sights, everything but sound. I couldn’t see their faces, nor my own hand in front of my face. I could only feel their hands hold each of mine as we all laid down in a ring upon the dampened floorboards.

As I shouted “Look!” all suddenly fell silent

And up above, no words could serve the scene justice, for it seemed as if Heaven itself had opened up, had shattered into diamonds across black velvet. Our breaths were collectively stolen, as we all proclaimed in our hearts to believe in God, for who else could have created such a sight of Heaven in glittering, glassy shards across a void, as if the entirety of the universe had revealed herself and every wonder she could offer.

Our hands were gripped tighter, and we all flew, flew away into the glittering night, into the vast, endless expanse beyond the sky, hearts stolen into the pitch-black void.

And together we were children taken in by the night.

—

Part Three: Happy New Year, Daniel!

“Come with me.”

It was a simple command, spoken in a simple, yet gentle tone. He held out to me his thick hand, offering a light smile, but his eyes were serious and still.

“I don’t know you.”

“It’s Daniel. Now come on!”

I took his hand, and he stole me away.

It wasn’t love, at least not in the usual way. I couldn’t kiss him, nor could he kiss me, even when we could have tried, walking arm in arm down the decks late one night. But perhaps it was love, a different sort of love, for even now I think of how the sky seemed to reflect in his eyes, making those smoky rings of green and gold seem to burst, like supernovas, spitting out stardust into the void. It was his eyes that made me fly as he held to my waist while we danced one night, that constant glittering, shimmering, that life that buzzed through to anyone his gaze fell upon.

But like supernovas, he was destruction as well, and it was clear behind his eyes, the sorrow that lingered like stardust as he confessed to me in secret that he no longer saw the point of living. And I confessed to him that I was quite eager to know how many Advil’s it took to send me off as well.

He didn’t believe me. He said I giggle too much.

But it’s fine. I don’t care if he believes me.

The last time I saw him, he was barely a man, wearing a suit twice his size and drunk on excitement and too much champagne as we welcomed the New Year. He still likes to remark on it every year, like clockwork, at exactly midnight, as the years pass us by. I reply with a cheerful “happy new year!” and a sigh, and he does the same, and wonders where the years have gone, where his life has gone, his will to live…

I’ve begun wonder if we only live on to give this annual season’s greeting.

But that’s just fine. I hope to wish him another “Happy New Year”.

[yanderemommabean]

I have not been able to stop thinking about Eddie and venom. Like let’s say you and Eddie were just friends before he got venom and maybe he had a bit of a small crush on you or something and then all of the sudden once he got venom you’re now confined to his appartement. He literally will not let you out of his sight. You have to shower? Eddie and venom will be there. At first just watching. Until Eddie literally cannot possibly control venom any longer. He just has to touch you. Something about venom and Eddie just trying to be really gentle and loving while stroking your hair or touching you in any possible heat while you are just terrified and sobbing.

“Just unlock the fucking door and let me go!” You hiss out, tears of fear filling up your eyes as Eddie just stands there. He looks like he’s fighting something, as if he’s about to vomit and then attack you full force, but all that happens is him telling you a very gravely “No”.

It sounded like two voices speaking, chills spiked down your spine seeing the struggle on the mans face at just a simple syllable. “Eddie please!” You cry out “You’re scaring me!”.

Before you could scream again, a black mass shoots forward and wraps around you, pulling you down and dragging you across the floor until you were back in front of the man, who’s eyes were apologetic as they met your own.

“We have to protect you. Provide for you. You aren’t safe out there, and keeping you here is the best option” Eddie spoke softly, watching as the slimy substance just caressed your face and seemed to vibrate in response. You were having a panic attack, everything felt like too much- This can’t be happening!

“Hush, hush” a deep voice cooed, causing your heart to stop in your throat. The substance writhed until a face appeared, grinning at you as it continues to rub and slide all over you “You have nothing to be scared of. I only eat bad guys, and you look more appetizing as a mate than as a meal”.

Eddie was scolding the alien creature, but it was all buzzed out and blending into the static as you tried to soak in the situation. Your brain couldn’t handle it, a talking slime-bath that wanted you as a mate, and Eddie was just going along with it?!

You faint, it couldn’t be helped. You slump back, into the firm grip of the creature who was placing the blame on Eddie for being too scary about the whole thing. “My fault?! YOU’RE THE ONE WHO’S AN ALIEN HERE!”

“Seems like a fine excuse to me. You’re the one who couldn’t just admit we wanted them as our own and now the consequences are ten times worse!”

“Oh bite me you asshole”

“I would, but that wouldn’t be beneficial for the three of us. However, just know, your liver still looks really delicious”

Eddie just throws his arms up and sighs, knowing the two didn’t really have any ill feelings towards the other. “C’mon we need to get them in bed, make sure they’re ok. We’ll discuss this after making sure they’re alive and not about to have a heart attack”.

Venom just purred happily and nodded, beginning to carry you to the bedroom. “Perhaps we can discuss the nest I mentioned. It seems we three will be sharing the main room anyway”

-Mommabean (COMMENT Or SOMETHING PLEASE I LOVE YALLS TAGS AND REACTIONS!!!!)

[ramp-it-up]

The One

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warmings:  18+, Minors DNI. Curate your own experience. Cursing, drinking, running, a raging argument in an established relationship, name calling, taunting, drunken raging, Twitter. SMUT, explicit, rough sex, fingering, tit slapping, orgasm denial, spitting, oral sex (mostly female receiving). Also, I’m sleepy. 😴

A/N: Not proofread. Also, I know very little about Chris and Jenny, and have no real opinion about their relationship. I made up the scenario about what happened there for the purposes of the story. THANKS FOR 400 FOLLOWERS TONIGHT! 🥳🎉🎊🍾👏🏽🎈

This fic is based on the following ask:

Anonymous asked:

Imagine idea :

Chris is drunk after a fight with the reader. He was On Twitter and saw some pics with Jenny and when the reader comes in he screams at her and says that Jenny was the one and not the reader. The reader get sad because she was always kind of insecure about the age gap with Chris. The day after he didn’t know what he says and she don’t say anything because she got the feeling that he was right. But one thing both didn’t noticed that Chris was drunk calling Scott and he knows everything Chris says and drive to Chris to give him a good clamp ahahhaha Chris was drunk and Just mentioned her name because he saw a post with Jenny.

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

It had been the perfect day.

You slept in, then had a late brunch at home. 

You saw a message from Chris’ former co-star, Heidi, light up his phone that he’d plugged in on the kitchen counter when you two were tidying up.

You wondered why he was texting the bitch even after you told him that she wanted him. And after he agreed to cut off contact out of respect for you.

Heated, you didn’t even look around before you picked it up, put in his code and read a string of friendly, if not borderline flirty, texts.

Chris walked in the kitchen, caught you, and yelled at you for being in his phone. 

“What the hell is going on?”

“Exactly! What is going on, Chris. I thought we talked about this?” 

Chris rolled his eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, it’s a big fucking deal.”

You threw his phone on the marble countertop, which caused Chris to pick it up to see if it was cracked. Your temper was too much.

“We’re just friends! She knows we’re together, y/n!” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“And I know women, Chris. That doesn’t fucking matter to her. Sometimes you’re so oblivious. Or act like you are.” You huffed and rolled your eyes.

“I know you want to leave me for someone more glamorous and beautiful. Someone who will put up with your shit, everyone the media says you’re fucking. Go ahead and just do it!”

Chris’s temper was really rising now. You could tell as the red creeped up his chest to his neck. 

“Stop fucking saying that!” Chris was screaming now. “Is that what you want? To end it? Because you don’t have to make me do it. If you want to leave, just leave.”

You said shit like that a lot. And it scared and angered him. He wanted to know if you were trying to make him break up with you so you would be free.

“Why are you being such a fucking…” Chris stopped himself. He knew better than to call you out of your name.

Your head almost spun around. You smiled evilly. 

“Go ahead, say what you wanna say, Chris. Or are you scared?”

Chris exploded. “A fucking BITCH.”  He was shaking because you went there.

“How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not fucking anyone else!”

Chris lost it and punched the wall, making a hole in the drywall and definitely injuring his hand.

You just stood there with your mouth open and in silence. You went toward him to look at his hand, and he just put both of them up, backing away from you and going to the liquor cabinet.

He retreated to the deck with a bottle of Jameson’s. He wanted to dull the pain, in his hand, and in his heart. He hated when you hurt each other.

You understood that you both crossed the line, so you let him be. You went upstairs to change into your running clothes to get out and clear your head.

Chris settled on a deck lounger, started drinking from the bottle and got online, which is never a good thing, but he needed something to distract him. He started reading tweets about himself, and following a thread of Chris + Jenny stans.

The more he drank, the more he started reminiscing.

There were good times. He was happy. Mostly. He thought she was the one. Sometimes. But she broke his heart. He was just a rebound. 

Her handsome arm candy.

Then he thought of you. His heart melted; you really loved him. He was sure of it. But loving him was hard. He realized that you felt the same way about him that he felt about Jenny. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Insecure. 

And you had good reason to be. Everything you’d said about women coming after him was true. But what you didn’t realize is that since he’d met you other women didn’t matter to him. 

You were the one, not Jenny.

Chris began to get melancholy. He’d fucked up. You were nothing but good to him and you just asked him to respect you and listen to your feelings. He’d ignored that. 

Shit, why did he yell at you like that?  

He went to erase Heidi’s contact and block her number. He was confident that you were never going to throw him away like Jenny did. She was the one who’d hurt him. Not you. Never you. He recognized that you wouldn’t ever hurt him on purpose.

His mind was racing with how to apologize when you came back. He was an idiot. The pain in his heart was replaced with regret and his hand had slowed to a dull throb.

But then 30 minutes turned to 3 hours, and by the time you got back, the bottle was empty and Chris’s eyes were red with rage and worry. 

Maybe you were just like Jenny after all.

--------

You ran, and then went to get some coffee. You ran into Shelby at the cafe and distracted yourself with mindless chatter, then walked back. You were ready to apologize by the time you opened the door.

When he heard the door, Chris picked up his phone and met you in the living room. He was obviously shitfaced.

“WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN!?” 

Chris’s voice boomed throughout the house and you jumped. Then you just stood there, shocked at his outburst. 

“The hell are you talking to me like that?” 

He was unsteady on his feet. He leaned toward you, and you could tell that someone was spinning the room for him.

“I don’t want it to be you!” 

He had to let you know that he knew that you wouldn’t be the one to hurt him. Chris pointed his phone at you. 

“You’re not the one. Jenny’s the only one. Not you! Not ever you!”

You couldn’t believe your ears. But then again you could. It was what you were afraid of. You were head over heels. And Chris could find someone on his level. Like Jenny.

“Well, Fuck You very much, Chris.” 

You brushed your tears away and ran past him up the stairs to the bedroom, locking the door and crying your eyes out. You got out your suitcase.

----

Chris started up after you, calling your name, and then suddenly needed to duck in the downstairs bathroom to throw up. 

He tried to make it up the stairs and had to sit down on the floor near the bottom. Then, he needed to lay down just for a minute.

The next thing Chris knew, it was morning, and he woke up to a pounding on the door and in his head. He rolled over on the floor, and something stabbed him in the side.

Groaning, he reached down and saw your keys to his house, his cars, and his life, all on the Tiffany heart keychain he’d given them to you. He was staring at them, confused, when Scott opened the door with his key.

“There he is. My brother. The fuck up.”

Chris groaned again, sat up on the bottom stair and held his head. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Nevermind me. It’s not often I get to say that, only when you publish your dick pic to the internet or you RUN OFF THE BEST THING THAT’S EVER HAPPENED TO YOU!”

Chris winced when Scott yelled, his head a pounding mass of meat wrapped in fuzzy cotton. 

He didn’t understand why he was being tortured and he didn’t understand why his hand hurt.  He looked at it, all bruised up, and the keys inside it.

“Just tell me, Scott. Why are you here?”

Scott leaned up against the door. 

“Did you know you drunk dialed me last night?” 

Chris looked up at Scott, and his face was a sight as his brother told him what he’d said to you.

“Fuuuuuck me!” He put his head in his hands again. 

“I don’t know if she ever will again,” Scott joked, but Chris didn’t laugh. 

“I called her after you apparently passed out and wouldn't pick up your phone.  She was ready to catch an early morning flight, but I convinced her to sleep in today and leave tomorrow.”

Chris moved his hands down from his eyes and stared out the patio doors, trying to think.

“I put her up in the Four Seasons, on your dime of course.  Room 6145. Penthouse. Could be pretty romantic. If she were in that kind of mood.”

Chris looked up at Scott, smiled weakly, jumped up and hugged him, then made for the door. Scott jumped in front of him.

“Trust me, you’ll want to get some water and coffee in you, and shower and brush your teeth. You look and smell like shit.”

“Right.” Chris nodded, flexing his hand. He could still move it. He was glad it wasn’t broken. “Thanks, bro.”

“No problem.” Scott walked into the bathroom as Chris went to the kitchen, groaning when he saw the hole in the wall. He’d have to ask Scott to get it fixed before you saw it again. 

If he could convince you to come back.

----

It was 11 am, and Scott had verified that you were still in the room. Chris just stood there, nervous and terrified that you were just going to be done with him.

Room service came and headed toward your door. Chris waved them down and when they saw his face, they stopped in their tracks, shocked.

“Hey, can you do me a favor?”

----

You climbed out of the wonderful deep jetted tub, having soaked until the water got cold and your fingers were wrinkled. You pulled on the plush Four Seasons terry cloth robe that was provided with the suite.

You felt calmer than last night, and after some sleep and relaxation, you realized that you’d been a fool to think that Chris would want you forever like you thought.

It was for the best that you leave and start over, to focus on your consulting business and yourself for a while.

You opened the door with a smile on your face for the attendant, and you let them into the room, your back turned to the door while they brought the cart in. You turned back around and there was Chris.

You grew heated, and your heart began to race while the attendant scurried out. Chris’s face was a welcome sight, but you were still angry.

There you were, looking so beautiful, curls tied up in your favorite silk scarf, cocoa skin radiant in a white fluffy robe.  You should have been comfortable, but your eyes were wide and scared.

He’d done this to you.

“Fuck, y/n… I…”

You interrupted him. 

“You’ve got some mutha fuckin nerve. How dare you just run up in here, using that fucking face,” you flung your hand up, “using who you are to get into my room. How did you even know where…?”  

Your mouth dropped open at the realization of what Scott had done. You turned on your heel to get your things. You didn’t care that you were naked under your robe. You didn’t care that you still loved Chris. You were out. This second.

Chris moved to block you from entering the bedroom of the suite. You tried to push past him, all 5’ 4” of you versus 6 feet of him.

“Move, Chris!” 

You glared up at him, your body responding to him in ways you weren’t prepared to admit. You were betrayed by your pussy.

“I just want you to listen to me.  Then you can leave, stay, do whatever you want. Just hear me out.”

You and him physically was always the shit. His arms across his chest did things to you  But you kept mean mugging him, making him hard for you. 

You stepped back and said, “Okay.  You have 10 minutes.  Then I’m out, Chris.”

You paced back to the couch in the living room of the suite, watching him warily.

Chris paced in front of you, making it inevitable that you follow his lean form back and forth across the carpet. You noticed that his hand was bandaged and that he kept flexing it. 

You hoped it wasn’t broken. No matter what, you cared what happened to him. You would always love him. Even if it was the end of your relationship.

“First of all, I’m sorry. My anger got the best of me, and I was violent and that is never acceptable.  Even though I didn’t touch you, it’s not ok, and I know it was intimidating. I take responsibility.”

He stopped and looked at you, you melted a little, but you didn’t give any outward sign. Being a business owner taught you a mean poker face. 

But the shirt he was wearing made his true blue eyes pop and you could see a hint of his chain around his neck under the fitted henley.

You suppressed a shiver at the memory of the things you did to have that chain and medallion wave in your face, to have it clenched between your teeth as Chris had his way with you, and you with him.

You focused on him, pointedly looking at your watch. Chris’ anxiety peaked when he saw that.

He stepped toward you and thought that he recognized the look in your eyes.  He was almost sure that you still wanted him, sure that you still cared.  He could only hope as he came closer.

“And then I started drinking. And while you were gone, I came across some posts about me and Jenny. And it took me back there.”

At those words, you crossed your arms and averted your eyes, defenses up. You didn’t want to hear about how much he loved Jenny.

Then, Chris swiftly moved to sit on his haunches, becoming eye level with you.  

“And I realized that she never really loved me. Not like you loved me.”  

Chris speaking about your love in the past tense made you a little angry and you stared him in the eyes. 

It was just the reaction he hoped for. Your attitude. He loved it. He hid a smirk so that he could continue, but you saw the glimmer in his eyes. And you rolled yours.

Chris then picked up the sash to your robe and started playing with it, your eyes drawn to his thick fingers. You didn’t know why that was getting you hot, but it was. You opened your mouth to breathe.

Chris’s voice cracked when he said. “And to me she was the mountaintop. Another, different kind of conquest. But I realized that I never really loved her. Not like I love you.”

Present tense.

Now you were looking into his eyes, about to fall into them. Shit. He had you hooked. But then you remembered, and drew back.

“Yeah, I know what I said, but what I was trying to express was that I know it could never be you to hurt me like Jenny did. That I didn’t want you to hurt me like she did. Not when I’ve thought about forever…” 

He moved even closer. “I mean forever, forever, with you.”

All of a sudden you couldn’t breathe. Chris got on his knees.

“I want to be in this position again with you one day. One day soon. But not like this. I don’t want it to be to try to get you back. I want us to be good.” 

He sighed, pensive. “I want you to be smiling and happy, and even have our families there.”

You don’t know how your face looked at that moment, but Chris started smiling at you. You were so beautiful to him right now.

“I was drunk, and I couldn’t use my words correctly. I yelled and I screamed and I punched the wall. I fucked up and may have lost you forever, but I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry.” 

You felt yourself get emotional, but you tried to calm down.

“I’m just so fucking scared that you will get tired of all the bullshit that comes with me and leave… and I absolutely wouldn’t blame you. But there’s no one else, y/n.  No one else can compare…”

“Chris…” 

You raised your hand to his face, eyes searching his. You could tell he was being honest.

Chris grabbed your hand and started kissing your palm.

“So.” He looked at you with those eyes. “Is this goodbye?…” His lips were giving you shivers. “Or hello again? Can we start over?”

Chris trailed his lips from your palm, to the pulse point at your wrists and lingered there, licking the delicate skin. Then he moved up your arm to the opening in the robe. 

He pushed his torso in between your legs and leaned into your neck, inhaling the lavender bath oil that was your favorite. And his, too. 

He moaned as you leaned your head to the side, giving him access. But he didn't just want the physical. He breathed into the shell of your ear. 

“Please come home, baby…”

You just moaned as he started sucking right below your ear, your spot. Desire took over for Chris when he heard your sounds.

“Fuck it. I can tell that you still want me. If this is goodbye, then I’m going to make it worth your time.”

Your back arched and Chris palmed your bounteous ass over the robe, pulling you flush to his crotch.  He smiled as he felt the warmth coming from you.

“You’re so fucking warm, babe. Are you wet, too?  Are you wet for me? Do you want my cock? I mean, do you want your thick, fat, cock to fuck you babe?” 

Chris was kissing down your neck into the cleavage that the robe was revealing with each sentence as you opened your legs. Your pussy was quivering for him, but you still didn’t answer him.

Chris looked up at you with those eyes and pulled on the robe sash. It fell open and he looked down and bit his lip, taking in your warm skin, lovely breasts, and elegant pussy, with the manicured triangle of hair kept like he preferred, and offered up for his taking. 

You still looked like his girl, and he smiled as he looked up into your eyes. But he had to be certain. He lowered his head, keeping eye contact and descended toward one small hard mountain peak, kissing it gently, tentatively, while watching you.

You were mesmerized as his tongue peeked out and licked it, then he opened his lips and enveloped it, moistening it with his pink lips. 

The look on your face compelled him, and he fully enveloped your nipple and started sucking roughly, still keeping eye contact. You were determined not to close your eyes, but it was difficult. You bit your lip to stay still.

Chris’s bandaged hand was dangerous, however, and it came up to pinch and roll your other nipple. You arched into his hand as he became rougher and rougher. 

He switched nipples and hands and his saliva made your breast that much more pliable and sensitive. He slapped it, and then rubbed it with the rough bandage, making you cry out and moan as his other hand trailed down your body to your cunt.

“This pussy will still be mine, even if you leave me.” He smiled cockily while looking down on it. 

He looked at you, before lifting his hand to his mouth, looking straight into your eyes and spitting on his fingers before bringing them down to your cunt.

“I think, that if even if you leave and  move back to Houston, and I come to town, that if I I call you, even if you’re with someone else, you would meet me in a parking lot and let me fuck you over the hood of my rental car.” 

He was faintly tracing your pussy lips and instantly your control was gone. You were sopping wet, because of his words and because of the knowledge that what he was saying was the truth.

“Oh,” was all you could say. You were adding to the wetness of the saliva on his fingers.

Chris smiled and tilted his head as his two thick digits breached your opening. He had his answer as you threw your head back and let him finger fuck you while he rolled and slapped and pinched your nipple.

His thumb was lightly brushing your clit and you wanted so much more.  Chris could sense that and he pressed down roughly on it, causing an electric jolt up your body, which you keened for, arching your body into his hand.

Chris moved his hand from your breast to your neck and applied the pressure that you wanted and needed and that he was expert at while he stuffed another finger inside you and circled your clit with his thumb. 

You floated among the clouds as you came like fireworks, and all over his hand.  

He watched you come undone, and come down, rubbing his hard cock through his pants with one hand while he sucked your juices off his fingers, releasing each with a loud pop.  When you opened your eyes, you smiled.

You pulled his hand and started licking yourself off him, flattening your tongue against his palm. 

“I forgive you Chris. I forgave you when you conned your way into my room, you ass.” 

You smiled against his hand as he groaned, relieved and desperate for you.

“But you still have some work to do.”

“What do you want? Anything.”  

Now Chris was breathless, anticipating payback.

“First, you need to take those damn clothes off.”

He quickly moved to take off his shirt, and then stood up to take off his pants.  You smirked as hs cock sprang up immediately when he peeled them down. He wasn’t wearing underwear.

Chris caught your look. 

“What? I wanted to be prepared.”  He chuckled softly while pumping his cock lightly, expecting to immediately fuck you.

He moved toward you. But you quickly moved off the couch and into the bedroom, forcing him to follow you, and his dick, into the other room.

You sat on the edge of the bed as he remained standing. 

“What do you need, babe?”

You reached for his cock and tugged it toward you, opening your mouth and deep throating it, wetting it from root to tip and then spit on it. Chris moaned as you started to stroke. Then you stopped.

“I need you to jack off for me.” 

“Ugh! You’re so fucking nasty. I love you.”

Chris instantly started where you left off. This didn’t seem like work.

You leaned back on your elbows, watching him, and licking your lips.

“And I need for you not to stop, and not to come. Until I tell you.” 

You looked him in the eye and that was when Chris knew he was doomed.  A chill ran down his spine as you reached down and started playing with your pussy.

“Fuck!”

You looked so damn good.  He licked his lips and stroked harder and faster, his balls drawing up already. 

“Shit, y/n.”

You watched his eyes, and got wetter at his blown pupils and glazed look. 

“You like that?”

“Fuck yeah.”  

His voice was broken and desperate. He fisted his cock, and held his balls, trying to stave off the inevitable. 

You turned around, got on your knees and reached back between your legs and ran your fingers up and down your slit.

“How about that?”

“Goddamnit!” 

Chris grunted as he tried to hold it in. You were a goddess. He licked his lips. Wanting to taste you. So he did. 

He dove in, tongue competing with your fingers to command your slit. You finally gave in to his expert mouth and he savored your salty goodness.

“Fuck, Chris, you better still be…”

“I am. Christ.” 

He was leaking in his hand, but he had it under control. Barely.

Chris stopped eating you out for a second, grabbed your ass cheek with one hand, stretched you open, spit on your tighter hole, and watched it slide down your satin lips to drip onto the bed. 

His warm saliva made your pussy quiver and he watched it lovingly. Then he dove in again.

He sped up his movements with his other hand and you could hear the smooth skin of his dick sliding on his palm while his tongue did forbidden things to you.

“Ffffffuuckkkkkkk! Chrisssss.” 

You came, burying your scream in the mattress, and even harder than before. You couldn’t believe that he’d turned the tables on you.

Chris ate you out through your orgasm, holding you down with one hand like it was nothing. 

He was god of war, love, and sex, all at once. 

Fuck Captain America.

You came again, almost immediately.

When he was done with his meal, he let you go, wiped his mouth with the back of his free hand and stepped back.

“Fuck, what do you want me to do? I can’t take it much longer…” Chris’s sexy growling voice got to you. 

“What do you wanna do, Chris? How do you want to take me, Daddy?”  Chris’s cock jumped in his hand, he slapped your ass, and watched it jiggle.

Chris entered your wet, wet pussy, and marvel how if felt like it was choking the life out of him.  He had to stop moving, or he would burst almost immediately.

“How the fuck are you so wet, but so tight.  It’s like a fucking vice grip, geeze.” 

You both waited and felt it jump inside you, then Chris reached down, grabbed you by the neck and pulled you upright and flush to his chest.  

One hand clutched your throat and the other arm hooked under your leg, allowing him to piston up into you upright while your other leg dangled, your big toe barely touching the ground.

Chris held you and fucked up into you, grunting each time the large mushroom cap head of his cock was stuffed into your pussy. 

“Ugh, gatdamn it, you were thinking of leaving, ugh, you wanted to leave this, mmmmmm, this dick that, ugh, that fucks you like this?” 

Chris’s mouth was near your ear, which was on his shoulder because your head had fallen back on his chest. He was using you like a sex toy as he fucked you senseless. 

His dick slicked in and out of you with obscene wetness, Chris somehow lifting you up and slipping completely out of you and pounding back into you with force.

“Chris!!!” 

You started shaking, your center of gravity being where you and he were connected.

He fucked you even harder and faster, chasing his release, but he maneuvered his hand to find your clit, refusing to come before you. 

“Fuck! You know you were going to miss this cock that your sweet cunt fits… like…  a …mutha …fuckin…  glove!” 

"Ahhhh!" 

You screamed as you fluttered around his cock. He could take only so much before he had to shut his eyes and bite down on your collarbone. Chris’s legs were trembling now.

"Take all of it!." He was hitting your spot.  "How does it feel?" 

Although the feeling was intense, you tried to speak. 

"L-l-l-like h-heav-v-v-ennnnn." 

The sound of your voice made his release start to build. 

With each of his thrusts, the sweet tightness began to build until you came, screaming and moaning in pleasure.

“Oh shiiiiitttttt!”  Chris exploded inside your tight wet cunt. He wanted to fill you up like never before. He wanted to put his baby in you and tie you forever to him. That made his balls empty.

He fell back on the bed, with you on top of him, slipping out of you and depositing you on the bed beside him.

Chris couldn't help but smile as you both came down.  He was made for this.

Chris put his hand on your cheek, brushing your beautiful lips with his thumb. You smiled under his attention into his sea blue eyes.

“I love you.” You grinned. 

“God, I love you.”  You sobered up, taking in the weight of his words.

“Is it weird that I want to get you pregnant before we’re married?”

You made a face.

“Who says I want to marry you?”

Chris scooped you in his arms and rolled you over on top of him.

“You don’t want to marry me? You’d say no if I asked?” 

You held in a giggle.

“Nah. I’m gonna move back to Houston and marry someone else so you can come in town and fuck me over the hood of your rental car. That sounds hot as fuck.”

Chris released an anxious breath.

You took his head in your hands.

“Easy now. Ask what you want to ask.” Chris started to speak. You put your finger over his mouth.  

“When you want to ask it.” You looked into his eyes again. “I won’t break your heart.”

Chris smiled at you and said, “I know.” He kissed you. 

And when you pulled away, breathless, he told you, “You’re the One.”

----------- Read Part Two: It Takes Two

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[brainrotcharacters]

Not A Bother If It’s You

note: Matt is a comfort character, and I'm projecting my anxieties again. If you ain't in the mood for angst comfort, don't mind me. unedited.

ship: college!student!Matt x college!student!reader

summary: college (derogatory)

tags: mutual pining, parents worry about their child's future, angst comfort,

"What's going to happen to you when we're gone?"

If your parents screamed instead, it would have been easier. But we can't have nice things.

"I'd tell you to make room for me in that coffin." you drawled, pouring yourself a glass of alcohol. "I can imagine it's a big one."

Your dad crossed the space, snatching the glass from your hand and chucking it at the far wall. You didn't flinch; you expected it. The pieces of glass sparkled on the floor, the brown liquid spreading like the numbness you pushed into your arms and your legs.

He turned back and grabbed you by the chin. His eyes were bright with fury, but when you looked closer, there was fear. That you were throwing your life away. There was regret that he should've been better.

"Stop fucking around, you understand me?" he lowly said. "I thought you were okay. You said you were okay. I gave you everything I could, your mother and I sacrificed so much for you, and this is the thanks we get?"

If you breathed too deeply, you'd start crying.

"A full scholarship, all these goddamn electronics, and you wanna tap out when you're so close to the end. Help me understand how you became so stupid."

"Not everyone gets the privileges you've been given." your mother's voice was softer, and emphasized the points. "Not everyone is lucky to have both their moms and dads. You would throw away your three years and blame us for your misery."

Your father released you, hands on his waist as he strode away. His broad shoulders rose and fell with the effort of breathing. "I don't- I never blamed you."

Didn't you?

"How will you fend for yourself? Huh?" your father demanded. "Some rich executive asshole is going to walk all over you, and you won't be able to do anything about it because you're an idiot and you're desperate!"

"I have to go." you've been glancing at the door. In as less strides as possible, you grabbed your knife, license to carry, one of Matt's hoodies from the back of a chair, and a piece of cloth to soak with your tears and snot later.

You power walked to the door, where your mother was waiting. "Where are you going?"

"I need to calm down. So do you." you said in a shuddering breath.

Her face twisted into a deeper disapproval. "You, calm down? You don't get to be angry. You betrayed us. You know your dad's telling the truth."

"Please let me go." no, say it louder. Stronger.

Something behind you caught her eye, and she stepped away. You rush out quick, knowing your father was watching the back of your head.

"Why'd you let her go?"

He stared at your form until you were completely out of sight. "The jacket she took. It was Murdock's."

Your mother blinked. "Matthew, the blind kid at law school?"

Your father sighed, and moved away.

Matt was waiting for you on the fifth pew of the church. It was with no small amount of male pride that his hoodie (stolen by, and then given to you) grazed back and forth against your skin as you walked closer to him. "Did you text me while they were talking to you?"

"Before. My dad would have destroyed my phone otherwise."

He scooted over, and you settled down beside him, forehead on the pew in front of you. "Thanks... for making time."

"I keep telling you, it's not a bother if it's you."

The lump in your throat grows. Things would be better if you had the right to Matt's hugs, Matt's kisses, Matt's love, just Matt. If he could think of you and the next word that comes to mind is 'partner', you would have at least one win. The greatest win of them all.

"I wanna fucking die, Matt." you said through a hollow laugh, before a sob slipped out. You ultimately gave up, letting the tear stains form.

Matt heard his own heartbeat quicken. A world with no you, when he hasn’t yet even asked you on an official date? All he would ever have to remember you by was videos and the regret that he was too slow. But this was not a situation where he could mention it. His bullshit can wait until after you feel better. 

"You don't mean that." he tapped your foot with his, voice consistently soft and easy. "I remember you telling me that the next time you say that, I'm supposed to say 'you really just want to kill something inside you'. So?"

You laughed through the tears, seeing him smile proudly to himself. "Smartass."

“I’m just doing what you told me to do.” Matt sighs. "I don't intend to abandon you anytime soon, sweetheart. You know what that means?"

You prompted under your breath. "What, Matt?"

"I mean, I will eliminate anything that I believe puts you and me in danger. Including how this can spiral." he tapped your temple with a finger. "The only way I'll get out of your hair is if you ask it of me. You have to understand that."

You let yourself breathe deeper. "Careful, or I'll start thinking you have a crush on me."

“Bold words from the person wearing my clothes.”

“I don’t have a strong enough defense.“

Matt laughed, and all was right with the world. “We can think of something.”

[patchworkpuzzle]

MINORS DNI 18+

word count: ~2.5k

paring: Sero x f!Reader

warning: rough handling, edging, overstimulation, squirting, clit slapping (so I guess impact play?)

authors note: so.... uh.... I wrote this for me. Been giving gifts that past few days and I wanted one so.... I hope you guys like it!  And please don’t perceive me, okay? (Also, so sorry if there are grammar mistakes. No beta reader, we die like men)

You had a bit of an attitude.

Not all the time, in fact most of the time you were very sweet. But sometimes, like today, it was made very clear that you were very much a brat. You had a craving since the moment you woke up to be ravished by your super handsome and wonderful boyfriend.

But alas, his hero work came in between your plans. And there was nothing you could do to stop the hero Cellophane from saving the day. So, you had to begrudgingly say goodbye, and good luck, to him as you watched him dash out the door.

On a normal day you would just let it slide. It wasn’t like Sero wanted to go in on his day off, he was dragged into it all. So, because of that, it means it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t tend to your needs. You know he would have, and he never left you unsatisfied. If you just waited like the good girl you were known to be, you would be rewarded.

But for some reason, you just couldn’t.

For some reason you were just in a mood. And that mood meant, instead of sulking all day trying to get your mind off things, you were going to make your horniness his problem too. If he was going to leave you needy, well then you were going to make him want to come home as soon as possible.

The back of your mind was nagging you the entire time. Telling you it wasn’t smart to get into your favourite lingerie set, nor was it wise to take that many selfies of yourself in said set, and that it was especially a bad idea to send those selfies to your boyfriend with the provocative messages attached.

And an even worse idea that when he responded, his usual dominance showing through telling you to ‘not to play this game with him right now’, to send him a video of you slowly touching yourself and loudly moaning his name.

He was silent after you sent that video. It was clear that he saw it, the icon proving as much, but as the hours passed without so much as a single word made you worried. That nagging voice now speaking even louder as the hours passed, telling you how much of a terrible idea it was.

But how bad could it be, really? Usually when Sero got this way it meant that you were going to be punished. And, oh, how your nerves shook with pleasure that went straight to your core at the thought. A night where Sero was mad at you, punishing you for being bad, meant a nonstop assault on your body. Being tossed, toyed, played with, fucked, within an inch of your life. Your body being abused in the most sinful, and pleasurable, of ways.

You bit your lip at the thought. When Sero got dominant over you it made you go feral; even more so than what you were now. As your mind was buzzing at all the possible outcomes he may have in store for you when he walked through the door.

What you were expecting, you didn’t know; but you weren’t about to complain in the slightest.

At least not much, that is. As your instincts screamed at you to walk out of your shared room to greet him when you heard the door slam open, and the sound of his boots harshly thumping against the ground as he took them off, but you held firm and stayed spread out on your bed. The only thing you did to show you knew he was home, was sit up. Your brattish attitude wiggled its way into your chest as you waited for him.

You heard him call your name, asking where you were. His voice was deceptive, he sounded friendly and normal, but the tone that was almost hidden underneath was dark; proving he was furious at you. It made your legs clamp and rub together, trying to alleviate the growing pleasure you felt as you held your tongue. You wanted him to find you.

And he did. It wasn’t like there were that many places to look after all. And when the door swung open to reveal his lean form, you gulped. Seeing him in his hero outfit always did something to you, the way it shaped his perfect body to show off every piece of strong muscle was almost sinful; certainly not fair to you every time you saw him in it. And the way it mixed with his dishevelled hair, clearly due to his helmet, and the dark threatening look held in his eyes as he scanned your form made a shiver run down your spine.

“I called out, why didn’t you respond Cariño?” Sero asked, his tone chillingly calm as he stalked his way to your side of the bed.

He didn’t sit down, like you expected him to. Sero just stood there, staring down at you, eyes scanning over your form once again as he took in just how lovely it all looked on you. Your heartbeat raced in your chest as you licked your lips, wanting to respond but instead you didn’t. You looked away from him.

A yelp, turning itself into a breathless whimper, let your lips as his hand grabbed your hair harshly causing you to sit up on your knees. His face came dangerously close to yours, to ensure you were looking directly at him. His warm breath fanned across your cheeks as you watched with hooded eyes as his tongue peeked past his lips to wet them.

“I asked you a question.” He growled out, his other hand coming up to wrap around your throat in warning “And I expect an answer.”

Sero could feel you swallow as you nodded your head, enjoying the way you were squirming in his hold. He waited a breath before throwing you face first back onto the mattress, chuckling darkly as he watched you lift your hips, so your ass was in the air; wiggling it to tempt him to spank it.

He ignored it, walking his way to the other side of the bed as he began to move some things around; mainly the full body mirror you kept in the corner of the room to sit facing the end of the bed.

“Papi!” You whined, turning your face to watch him but never moving out of your lewd position “I want you to play with me!”

“I know you do, Princesa.” His back was still to you, ignoring you completely as he finished setting everything up “But should I? You haven’t exactly been good, have you?”

The whine that left your lips could only be described as pathetic, as you continued to squirm on the bed; never once touching your aching core to avoid anymore neglect from the man before you. Small please and begs leaving your lips, telling him that you were being good.

“Please, want you to touch me Papi. Want you to fill me up, please Papi! I need it!” You whimpered, eyes starting to water with tears as your discomfort grew the longer you stayed untouched.

You heard Sero sigh as he finally turned to face you, a dark smile slowly starting to grace his features as he looked upon your glassy eyes. “You’re such a needy baby, aren’t you?” He cooed down at you.

You nodded your head as you carefully watched him walk up to you, gasping when he forcefully pushed your backside down on the bed. Grabbing hold of your arms he pulled you over to the end of the bed, picking you up before you had the chance to fall to the floor.

Without a word he maneuvered you to the floor, making you sit like a pretty doll as he sat himself down at the foot of the bed. Once comfortable, he patted his lap, allowing you to crawl up and sit on his lap. Though, before you could do anything else – like reach up to kiss his lips, he turned you around.

And then it all made sense.

Looking ahead, all you could see was your reflection staring back at you. It made heat flood to your face, as you watched the wicked grin return to Sero’s face as he forced your legs apart; spreading them wide and forcing them to stay in place with the use of his knees.

“Because my pretty girl wanted me to know how nice she looked today, she can sit here just like this while I play with her.” Sero chuckled as he heard the small whines leave your lips as he slowly petted up and down your inner thighs “And get to see how lovely she looks when she cums.”

You leaned your head back to rest on his shoulders, hooded eyes gazing at your own form. Mainly at the large hands that kept slowly rubbing up and down the expanse of your body. Slowly kneading the flesh of your breasts through the lacy fabric, before on hand dipped down to rub slowly at your clothed clit.

“Naughty girl, you’re soaked already!” Sero groaned, pushing aside the thin fabric to touch your fold directly “Were you waiting for me to play with this pussy all day?”

His teasing made you keen in embarrassment as you closed your eyes and bucked your hips in his hand, wanting to feel more than just the feather light touches he was currently giving you. Though Sero was not having any more of your misbehaving, as his hand came down to smack harshly at your bundle of nerves; the stinging red-hot pain causing you to cry out.

 “I said look at yourself!” Sero growled once more, his hand moving from your breast to lock on your jaw to force you to look in the mirror “And answer me when I ask you a question. This is your last warning, Princesa.”

“S-sorry Papi! You stuttered, trying to keep your eyes focused on what he was doing to you in the mirror and keeping your hips from moving too much “Please don’t stop. Please play with my sloppy pussy!”

“Yeah, want me to play with you? Want me to stuff you with my fingers?” Sero asked, enjoying the dazed expression you were giving him in the mirror as he slowly started petting your core again.

“Yes, please!” You whine drew out your words, but you couldn’t help it.

Not when he slowly started to pump two fingers into you, starting shallow before going deeper and deeper until he was touching that spongy spot inside you that made you see stars. His steady rhythm was causing your head to toss and turn from side to side, though making sure you still kept looking at your reflection, as it drove you crazy. Especially when he would scissor his fingers, slowly forcing your clenching hole to stretch to his desires.

You felt your orgasm approaching, the burning sensation made your legs shake as your moans grew louder and needier as you called out to Sero. Out of instinct you brought a hand down to grab hold of his wrist, to keep in place as your back arched. But just as you were about to tip over the edge, Sero ripped his hand from your core. The denial caused you to sob out as you bucked your hips widely to get the friction back.

“Brats don’t get to touch!” Sero growled, taking your hand and placing it back at your side “And they don’t get to cum without permission. Isn’t that right, Princesa?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry Papi!” You wailed, fat tears threatening to fall from your eyes as you looked at his reflection, silently leading him for forgiveness “It won’t happen again, promise!”

“Shhhh” He cooed, rubbing his hand up and down your thigh to calm you down as his other hand moved to swipe the falling few falling tears “Be good and you’ll get to cum, okay?”

All you could do was nod your head, allowing yourself to calm down and for your breathing to go back to normal. When you felt his finger prod at your entrance once more, you had to force yourself to not buck into his hand. Or to whine in protest when his started to fuck you hard and fast with his fingers once more.

Though every time you seemed to get closer to your orgasm, Sero would pull away and try to calm you down. Reminding you to be good, or else his punishment would last even longer. It was frustrating, to say the least, you just wanted to cum after all. But you trusted Sero and knew that he was going to take care of you like he promised.

When you felt your core clench and tighten for the nth time that evening, Sero didn’t stop you from cumming. His hand that forced you to keep looking at the mirror tightened as he made sure you kept your eyes open to watch yourself, despite your mewls of discomfort over it. He didn’t let up either, he always thought you looked so pretty with your mouth agape as your face pinched in a mixture of ecstasy discomfort as he quickly pushed you over another orgasm.

“Keep looking, yeah that's it. You're gonna gush, aren't you pretty baby?” Sero asked, his fingers relentlessly hitting that special spot inside you that made you see stars.

“S’too much! Gonna cum again!” You slurred, trying to keep your eyes focused on your form in front of you but it was getting harder every second.

“Do it baby, wanna see yourself make a mess.” Sero groaned, the way your gummy walls clenched so tightly around his fingers made his cock twitch in his pants; he was going to make sure to fuck you dumb when he was done playing with you like this.

You let out a wail, your eyes crossing as your tongue involuntarily stuck itself out as you felt you cum gush out, forcing Sero’s fingers out along with it. Not that he minded, if his loud groan that accompanied your mewls was anything to go by.

“Yes, yes, yes! Good girl!” He praised, his hand coming to vigorously rub at your clit to make more of your release gush out of you and onto your thighs; soaking your comforter “That’s a good girl, yeah keep going!”

You whimpered when you felt his fingers enter you again, hand coming down to try and push him away only to have harshly slap at your clit once more and resume his attack on your core once more. The sounds of your slick echoed in the room, making you squirm in discomfort.

“P-papi, n-no more!” You sniffled, throwing your head back and crying out once more as you felt him hit your special spot again and again.

“Not a chance, Princesa.” Sero hummed, thumb coming up to rub at your sore clit “You didn’t look at yourself when you came just now, so now we got to start all over again.”