#sobbing and crying and screeching coming from the box I’m in

[elizakai]

HOW DARE I- I just realized I hadn't been following you, HECK I SWORE I HAD BEEN anyways I've finally developed the courage to come say I FUCKING LOVE YOUR ART?! It's so flipping pretty I CAN'TTT Literally screaming clawing over the way you draw Dust /pos Like oh my god LOOK AT HIM HE'S SO PRECIOUS I WANNA EXPLODE- POINT IS, your art and oc's and headcanons are just so heckin scrumptious /vvvvpos THANK YOU FOR EXISTING AND FEEDING US, absolutely amazing art, you're extremely inspirational. I hope to be able to draw like you some day, and develop my own amazing style

BRO. YOU CANT DO THAT TO ME💔🫂

Thank you so much you are very very sweet :))

Hhhhh idk what to say just know I’m on my hands and knees eueueuing😭

You make existing more meaningful🌙🌸

[cevansbrat0007]

The Lonely Hearts Club: Part One

Summary: You decide to press pause on your relationship with Andrew Barber. Too bad your hotshot attorney of an ex-boyfriend doesn't understand the meaning of the word. Takes place directly after the events in Photo Shoot Faux Pas. Read Part Two!

Warnings: Angst, Break-ups, Cursing, Andy Being a Menace, Insecure Reader, Eventual Smut, Manhandling, Punishments, Minors DNI

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! This multi-part fic will feature a combination of requests from the likes of @writer84, @lexivass, @moejdaw, as well as several other anonymous readers. Part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

___

“Come on, girl. You can do this.”

“Yeah, but maybe…” You trail off as you approach Andy’s front door. Fishing the key out of your pocket, you insert it into the lock. Thanks to your shaking hands, it actually takes a few seconds longer than it probably should. “Maybe I oughta wait.”

“Babe.” Your friend blows out a breath, the noise coming across the other line like static. “We’ve been over this like a dozen times already. Today is just another day; it’s no different from any other.” 

Your friends had been quick to remind you that Valentine’s Day didn’t really matter. At its core, it was nothing more than a cheap gimmick big corporations used to upsell mediocre chocolate and subpar rom-coms. Right?

“I know, I know.” There really wasn’t much more you could say beyond that. Not after the two of you had painstakingly broken down every detail of this very scenario just last night. During which time you also managed to consume several bottles of wine. 

You’d been all up in your feelings from the moment you’d arrived at your best friend’s house. And Sara had spent a good hour sitting with you on her living room floor, gently rocking you back and forth while you quietly sobbed into her sweater. 

Andy hated it when you cried. But when you did, he was always so good at using his big body to comfort you – to calm you down. He’d been the one that you’d really wanted last night. You’d been so tempted to call him, even before the alcohol had started flowing. 

However, all your girls had said “no”. And when they couldn’t get you to listen to reason, they’d instructed Sara to remove the temptation by swiping your phone and hiding it away. At the time you’d been highly upset. But now you were grateful for their interference. Because this was something you had to do. 

Provided that you could make yourself stick with the fucking plan.

“Are you in yet?” Sara asks, her voice briefly snapping you back into the present.

“I am. I–I’m just gonna leave it on the table. Along with the muffins.” Squeezing your eyes shut, you brace for the sound you’re pretty sure is about to viciously assault your eardrums in three…two…one…

Here it comes.

“YOU BOUGHT HIM FUCKING MUFFINS?!” She screeches, her tone rife with stunned exasperation. “Are you being serious right now?!”

Yes, you did that. It didn’t seem right to just drop the note and run. At least not without leaving a little something else to go with it, apparently in the form of cinnamon spice crunch.

“Don’t judge me, bitch. This shit is hard enough as it is.” You growl into the receiver, setting the box of delicious smelling baked goods onto his kitchen counter. “I just wanna make sure he has something to tide him over until we – until we, um…” Gripping the edge of a chair, you force yourself to take a series of deep breaths.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby.” Your friend immediately backpedals. But it doesn’t matter. It’s not like you can hear her anyway over the sound of the distant roaring in your ears. “I know this is hard, honey. But you’ve got to pull it together.” 

This whole thing was making you feel ill. 

Fuck! Like it or not, she was right. The last thing you wanted to do was start crying again. Because you knew if you allowed yourself to break down here, it would be impossible to stop. And that’s exactly where you could not afford to let Andrew Stephen Barber to find you right now.

Standing in the middle of his kitchen, openly crying. Desperately wanting to be held by the one man who had the power to shatter you into a million glittering pieces with nothing more than a simple touch.

And while that might seem a bit dramatic, it also didn’t make it any less true. Which meant that you needed to get out there, fast. You couldn’t allow yourself to forget that you really did have somewhere else to be. Standing up straight, you tuck Andy’s house key into the folded up piece of paper and then place it on top of the muffins.

Time to go. 

Turning on your heel, you make a beeline for the exit. Hopefully you’d feel better once you were on the road. As you leave, you make a mental note to worry about everything else later. Until then, you just had to focus on the now.    

“Fuck!” You hiss as the door slams closed behind you. 

“What? Is Andy home? Did he –” You cut her off, feeling frustrated even as the sickly-sweet taste of regret threatens to claw its way up your throat. 

“No. I just forgot to grab that stupid fucking album is all.” With a huff, you jog over to your car. “And it’s not like I can go back in for it or anything since I left him his key. Fuuuuck!” You close the driver’s side door before turning on your vehicle and putting it in gear.

“Girl, who gives a shit!” Sara snorts, clearly relieved that your activities weren’t interrupted. “Look at it this way, whether you like it or not, you just gave that ungrateful bastard something to remember you by.”

Good point, Sara. That’s exactly why she had been designated as your emotional support person for this entire emotionally draining escape. 

“True.” Time to focus on the road. If traffic cooperated, you had just enough time to get yourself to your next destination without risking getting a ticket.

Not that that mattered much anymore. The days of anyone giving a shit about your potentially reckless activities were most likely a thing of the past. Oh well. You looked forward to no longer having to stock up on aloe. Yeah, the price of that stock was about to go way down. 

A tiny giggle bubbles up, escaping before you can stop it. 

“Are you okay, Y/N? I know that was rough back there, but I really think you did the right thing. Plus, I’ve been updating everyone on the group chat, and they all agree.” You resolve to check the thread later so that you can provide everyone with an update.

See that Andy Bear? This whole damned thing had been workshopped from start to finish. You can’t possibly accuse me of being impulsive now. You let out another burst of laughter, this one sounding a touch more hysterical than the last.  

“Also, Rhea really wants to know where you got those friggin’ muffins…”

“Tell her I’ll message her with the name of the bakery later.” You merge onto the highway as you head towards downtown. “Thanks for all your help today, Sara. Couldn’t have done it without you girls.”

“Hey boo – you know we love Andy’s fine ass. We just happen to love your ass a hell of a lot more. Now drive safe and text us when you land.” You know she’s telling the truth. All of your girls were pretty darn fond of your man, but you were their girl first. And their loyalty was to you.

Something for which you were exceedingly grateful.

“You got it – talk soon.” 

You end the call before settling in for the remainder of the drive. Not wanting to be alone with your thoughts, you quickly decide to turn on the radio – only to be surprised when Mariah Carey’s “We Belong Together” begins playing over the speakers.

“Wow.” You whisper with a shake of your head. “That is so not fair.”

Sometimes the gods possessed a real fucked up sense of humor.

Your bottom lip quivers as the lyrics hit home, hot tears blurring your vision. You let out an audible sniffle before dashing at them with your sleeve. But you don’t change the station. And you no longer try to stem the flow. Instead you finally give yourself over to the pain that was your heart breaking – piece by piece.

You’d talk to Andy in a couple of weeks. He’d give you space. He’d give you time. And if he didn’t want to work things out when it was all said and done…then you would have to find a way to live without him. And you would find a way.

But first, you had a plane to catch. And then you were gonna get yourself a margarita and – no – scratch that.

Make that a bottle of tequila.   

___

Five hours later…

Andy shoulders his way into his house from the garage, absentmindedly toeing off his shoes as he sorts through his mail. 

Bill. Bill. Junk. A Postcard from his Dentist. Another bill. And more junk.

With a grunt, he tosses the stack of unwanted papers onto the table. And then he spies the pink box resting on the counter. A smile curves its way across his handsome lips when he realizes that you must’ve stopped by at some point during the day. 

But he does find it rather odd that you wouldn’t have let him know. Sure, it was Valentine’s Day, but the two of you weren’t supposed to get together until this weekend. 

Still smiling, Andy makes his way over to the box of treats, humming a little tune as he goes. While he had a feeling something was going on with you lately, he’d simply chalked it up to stress. But he also knew that once he got you in his bed and settled himself between those gorgeous thighs, it was only a matter of time before he’d have you speaking in tongues…

Which would hopefully lead to you spilling your pretty little guts. So that he could finally try to fix whatever it was that kept making you seem so sad.  

He picks up the note, his head tilting to the side as he tries to make sense of the meaning behind your interesting dessert choice. Confused, he decides to read your message. With a sigh, he unfolds the piece of paper. Only to be caught off guard when a key falls out and onto the surface below, the sharp clatter making him jump.

“What the fuck?” He snarls as his eyes quickly scan the tear-stained piece of paper. “No. Oh no, baby girl…fuck no…” 

He could not fucking believe what he was reading. 

Andrew grips the edge of the counter as his legs threaten to give out underneath him. However, it’s not until the fourth reread that it all finally clicks into place.

You'd just tried to break-up with him. On fucking Valentine’s Day of all fucking days. But if you thought that leaving him a “Dear John” letter and a box of muffins before running off to god-knows-where was going to be the end of it, then well…the joke was on you. Because there was no way in hell he was ready to let you go. At least not without one hell of fight. 

"Alright." A dark chuckle escapes as he crumples the note in fist. Part of him wished that he still carried a lighter so that he could go outside and burn your fucking letter. “But make no mistake, sweetness, we’re not done here.”

However, Andrew Barber could be patient until he saw you again. He’d give you a couple days to get your mind right. But when he found you – and he would – he wasn’t going to stop until he had you back in his life and in his bed, right where you fucking belonged. 

You could count on that shit.

END

[dollie-kitten]

maybe a fic where kitty has a nightmare and the cats cuddle with her to make her feel better?

Slight Warning: I kind of think that the reason that led Kitty to the mansion was that Kitty’s biological parents weren’t exactly… good to her, causing her to run away.

Tranquility,

Peace, and the chime of the bird’s tweets filled the young girl’s mind.

Kitty looked around her surroundings, she couldn’t be more at piece as she gazed across the fresh grassy field, she laid down on a fresh patch, feeling the blades tickle against her skin as she gazed at the fluffy clouds that patrolled the sky, featuring many shapes reminding her of her favorite shapes.

She gave a look over the field and saw the most exciting thing she could think of!

A cat.

A simple cat frolicking in a patch of flowers, the perfect idea for a playmate!

“Mrow!” Kitty happily bellowed, she got up and scampered down the hill as fast as she could, as she trotted down her way through many delightful sights towards a child, flowers, balloons, tables of treats!

When she finally made her way down, she eagerly followed  the feline through the grove before finally managing to approach it. She happily mewed towards the cat only for… no response?

“Mrow?” the little girl asked curious, she leaned towards the cat until…

It let out a massive screech.

Not just a screech, it felt so distorted, mangled, and furious.

Kitty immediately fell back, covering her ears in an attempt to block out the piercing noise, had she done something to upset the creature? She… didn’t me-

The girl looked back at the cat and to her shock it’s body began to… dissipate? Kitty’s eyes slowly widened as it’s body broke apart in a sand like substance, only for it to slowly build back up together, creating two tall figures that stared down at her, continuing their furious wail.

Kitty was panicking and attempted to flee only for her body to stay in place as the figures closed in on her.

She… She.. was sorry. She didn’t mean to upset them…..

She…

She…

She…

She cried.

Light snores emitted from the piano lounge of the mansion.

Such sounds coming from the orange tabby simply known as “The Nazz” resting on the keys of the piano after long hours of working on his latest album.

Or rather he WAS resting until he heard a mighty cry of distress.

He jolted awake from the unexpected wail, it’s voice sounding like something was in trouble, it sounded like…

“Kitty!” Nazz realized, he quickly got off his stool and made his way towards the large corridor, passed the many rooms and into the bedroom of one of the younger members of the household, the one he took in when he realized she didn’t really have anyone else.

The door bursts open, The orange tabby scanned the room looking for Kitty, he ran towards the box she had always preferred to sleep in despite the cats insistence for her to sleep in the bed provided in the room, he checked inside to find nothing until he heard a loud sob from the corner of the room.

He looked towards the source of the sound and found the girl, nestled in the corner, hugging her knees, face red with tears and mucus seeping down, “Kitty…” Nazz started to speak only for her to attempt to retreat further back.

“Kitty, Kitty! It’s okay! I… i’m here.” he spoke as gently as he could but it seemed to do little for the little girl’s state, eventually the tears slowly came to a stop as she looked towards her caretaker, heavily breathing and heaving.

“Kitty, listen to me, it’ll be okay… just deep breaths alright? you're okay.” he reassured, as the child’s breathing began to slow down.

“There that’s good, now lets-” Nazz spoke before being cut off by Kitty scampering towards him, The cat had his arms out as he caught her in his embrace.

Nazz looked down at her, he slowly picked her up before fetching some pillows and blankets around the world and laying it down and placing her in the makeshift bedding before laying down himself, curling his body around her in a protective embrace.

While all this was happening, the other cats of the household had been peering into the room as one by one, they slipped into to curl around the child as if being a makeshift cocoon of warmth and comfort for her.

While Kitty may have not had a pleasant experience with families in the past, she had a family of cats that would be there for her.

And that’s all she could ever ask for.

[skekilla]

https://www.deviantart.com/skekilla/art/Runaway-Train-Act-I-Scene-10-909276036

So there Johnny was, silent and still in helpless fear all over again.

All he could do was stop and stare in terror as the thing turned its empty eyes to stare through him. A fragile quiet lay over the whole car; no one had noticed yet, save for Johnny, of course. He didn’t make a peep, though. His heart stopped, his breath caught, and his eyes stretched open as wide as they could. He didn’t even dare blink; he couldn’t think to. Why, it was almost a staring match between him and the creature!

It was safe to say Johnny lost when the thing released its horrible, guttural scream. All four conscious people turned to it, jerking away and gaping in disbelief that the creature was alive again. When its eyeholes turned to glower at all of them and the outline of its claws flexed dangerously, they all realized their two options: run or try to fight that thing. Curtis made his decision almost instantly; he dashed from where he stood right by the thing over to the others, standing in that stalwart way he did, ready for a scrap. He got more than he bargained for; though he tried to grapple with its giant talons, it easily knocked him aside.

Oh my god, oh my god. Johnny stumbled back, his leg catching and reminding him of its bad condition. No… no… He just stood there. What was he supposed to do? What could he do? Then he remembered it—what he held in his hand. The box. The box of bullets. He glanced down at them. It pained him just to see them, let alone think of reloading his gun, and of course, that was nothing to say of shooting. But, well… it was better than just standing there, to be sure. Still, he swallowed hard. I’m sorry, I’m sorry… oh, I’m sorry. He fumbled with the box as the creature turned back to them. Just as it roared again, he got the pack open. Quick as he could, he jammed the bullets into their places, cocked the gun, and opened fire.

One through the shoulder, another through the hand—each shot landed, of course, but, unlike the other demons, the creature seemed largely unaffected. Sure, it twitched and screeched, but it seemed to be doing so less of pain and more of… annoyance. Frustration. No warning came with its next strike as it lashed out in fury. A scream left Johnny as he was flung to the wall like a ragdoll, but it was nearly covered up by something louder: the sound of a stray gunshot. His finger had still been on the trigger. Despite the pain of the impact, his attention was caught by the sudden yelp of pain from one of his companions—Orla stumbled back, having been struck by the shot. Johnny’s heart dropped. No! Now look what I’ve done! He wanted to say something, but only a sob left his bleeding lips. Guilt crushed him, heavy and brutal as a Panzer.

From where he lay in misery, he saw Sally frantically glancing around at all of them—Curtis, himself, and Orla, now doubled over on the floor—and then back over them again. Finally, seeming to have reached her decision, she raced to the dancer’s side.

Luckily, when it turned back, the thing didn’t seem to care much about her, or any of them for that matter. Instead of paying any more mind to them, it whipped around back to the murderous man still sprawled out on the floor, unconscious. It growled horribly as it laid eyes on him. Stretching its long, boney hand out to snatch him up, its grumbling turned almost into a cruel chuckle.

Tears gushed from Johnny’s eyes, squinting in pain and anguish as they were. His breath came in quick gasps as he slumped over. It was no use. Not fists, not the bullets. They could do nothing. He could do nothing. As always. His mind swam with blame and helplessness and he sank. He reached his very bottom. Just like before, in the war. He could just sit there and cry. That was all he could do.

No, a voice suddenly said in his mind. Come on now. Don’t you see what you’ve got, boy? This chance you have?

“What?” Johnny’s eyes opened a crack. His breathing slowed, just a little.

This life of yours! You’ve gone on this long through all that trouble, you’ve gotten this far. Surely you can’t just stop now.

A chill ran down his spine as he realized that that was the same voice from before. Strangely, though, he didn’t panic. After all… it wasn’t wrong. He… had gotten this far. Through all that suffering and loss and guilt—he had made it. And for what, now? To just figure it was useless to try anything? This all was one big chance—a wonderful one that everyone got. Just him being here, despite it all, was something amazing! If he stayed here, he and everyone else would die—that was the real misery. But it wasn’t an inevitable one. Not yet, anyway.

Johnny knew he didn’t want this all to end. It was all struggle and fight with only cracks of rare, bright blue joy, but it was wonderful. He wasn’t going to give it up, he knew then. But what could he do? Well, sure, his leg was broken. But he knew how to push himself up. He didn’t like it, but he knew how to shoot. And yes, he was terrified—maybe he was a coward after all—but he wouldn’t give up. He may be a coward, but he was not useless. As long as he had his life, he could do something.

A shaky breath left him as he brought himself up onto his knees. One step. He could line up the shot in one step. That was all it would take. With a slight choke of effort, he planted his good leg. A sharp inhale. The cocking of his gun in his hand. He grit his teeth as he suddenly sprung up, eye sharp and heart pounding. His gaze met with the thing’s as it just glanced over its shoulder at him.

Yes, go on now. Take the shot!

The bang reverberated through the car. Ivory shattered, and before it could let out another one of those horrible screams, the thing’s very being was fleeing away. A force something like a windstorm shook the whole place; dust and shadow and mist erupted into a momentary hurricane. Then, it was all over. The soft clinking of glassy shards as they fell was the calm after the storm as Johnny stumbled to the floor.

[rawbins-undertale-blog]

hey there again!!!

might i slide in this fine ask box with another HC request?

if yes, then could you please write some HCs where uf and ht sanses and papyruses (seperate of course) s/o gets put in a hospital for a lil bit? you can decide what happened to s/o. maybe a bad heatstroke cuz its summer or something (totally not because its a bad heatwave where im living rn haha nope). idk, i just crave angst or hurt/comfort again from my fave skeletons.

if you're not up for this, its totally fine!!

thank you, have a chill day/night B)

- 🌌 anon whos sunburns arent stinging that much anymore B)

*Evil cackling* OH-HO-HO, yOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT MONSTER YOU HAVE UNLEASHED…… I am an evil being who feeds off of angst and pain, and you’ve given me ample opportunity to make some of that sweet sweet angst >:-)))))))))

I tried to keep it ambiguous as to what you’re in for, mostly because I want you to be able to imagine heatstroke and me to be able to think “hahahah stab stab”! ^^

Also!!! The healthcare system in some other countries is fucking insane (like??? You guys have to pay to not die??????) so I’ll be going off of what I know about the healthcare system in Sweden where it’s free. (At least I’m 99% sure it’s free, except for like. Small things. For example, my antidepressants. I had to buy those myself when I was still on them.)

UF + HT BROS WHEN S/O IS IN THE HOSPITAL

Red (Underfell Sans):

He’s panicking so so bad, he’s terrified. What if you die?

Curses out anybody who tries to keep him from you, including the poor nurse who’s just doing their job

Actually he just. curses in general. He’s just spewing cuss words to seem angry instead of scared because That’s Definitely Better

Most likely out of all four to physically lash out at… well, anybody (except you obviously) lol

Red hates hospitals too, to make matters worse. He doesn’t know why, but they make him feel uncomfortable.

If somebody did this to you purposely and he’s not allowed by your side, he’s going out to find the person and kick their ass during that time lol

If nobody did this to you, he’s pacing and cursing and jfc Red, you do realise there are other people here right enjdjdjdjsjsk

This fucker tries to pull a “pfff nah i was never worried” but like. Red. Darling. Light of my life. Stars in my sky. Center of my universe. Bitch of my heart. Everyone can see right through your “anger” and literally your shaking voice is so not convincing. Get a better poker face and voice.

With some prodding, admits that finehewasscaredyou’ddieandhethoughthisheartstoppedforasecondwhichisweird’causehedoes’tevenhaveaheartanywaysthat’sovernowsowhocares

(He’s not great at expressing himself but it’s still progress)

WILL be staying right by you as you recover. You’ve no choice. (You do actually, he respects you and will back off if you tell him to)

Edge (Underfell Papyrus):

Oh no. Oh no.

Edge is trying his very best not to show any emotions but he’s not good at it because like. It doesn’t take a genius to see that him screeching angrily at people and demanding for the doctors to fix this is actually him poorly masking his fear. Edge doesn’t have the best poker face lol

He’s so pissed if he can’t stay right next to you the whole time. You’re his S/O!! What kind of bullshit is this?!

If you do need to be left alone with doctors and such things, Edge will do one or two things depending on why you're in the hospital, how bad what you’re in for is and for how long he can’t see you.

If you’re here for something like heatstroke - AKA something not brought on by somebody else - he’ll call friends and such while pacing and somewhat frantically share your current condition.

However, if anybody did this to you; and you’re in bad shape… Well, even fucking Satan will cower at the brutality of Edge’s revenge.

When he’s allowed to be, he’s by your side and - depending on why you’re in and for what - he might nag you for being careless, reassure you it wasn’t your fault, reassure you in general, and/or just stay silent.

It’s barely noticeable, but just noticeable enough, that you can tell that he’s shaking.

All it takes is a “are you okay?” For him to break and confess how scared he was.

For a moment he was back Underground and it was horrible and he felt so powerless and he hates that. He’s so, so happy you’re okay and he- he swears he’ll be with you on your way to recovery. Please just never get hurt again.

Dusk (Horrortale Sans):

If you thought Red and Edge were scared, just know it’s nothing compared to the absolute terror he feels.

Dusk knows how fragile the human body can  be. He’s seen horrific things happen to humans and monsters alike and he’s always hyper-aware of just how easy it’d be to kill and/or hurt you.

Logically, he knows you won’t die, he knows human anatomy well enough to know this is something you’ll bounce back from, but his instincts are going haywire and all he can think of are the mangled corpses back Underground. It doesn’t matter whether your condition has anything to do with broken limbs or not, because those pictures are what his mind is forcing onto him.

He refuses to leave your side. If he’s forced away from you by nurses/doctors/staff, he’ll protest but if he really can’t be by you for your safety, he’ll be anxiously hovering as close by as he possibly can. Whenever he’s allowed to touch you, he’s practically glued onto you.

If he’s sure it’s just the two of you, and you’re unconscious, he’ll probably cry.

He… He hates being reminded of your mortality. He hates the idea that any day could be your last. He doesn’t know what he’d do if you were gone.

(He’d dust, probably.)

If somebody else got your purposely hurt, he’s going to hunt them down after a while (after you’ve recovered enough for him to be comfortable leaving you alone for a bit). He’s not going to kill them, but he might rough them up a bit -- but most likely, he’ll just intimidate them and/or threaten them. (It’d be a different story if you were murdered.)

Whenever you’re conscious, he’ll do pretty much anything you say, so long as it won’t get you anymore hurt or risk stunting your recovery.

When you’re released from the hospital, he’ll be by your side nearly 24/7 because he hates the idea of you getting hurt again just because he wasn’t there to protect you.

Aster (Horrortale Papyrus):

Tries to look calm and composed, but he does about as poor of a job as his brother. He does better in that he doesn’t act out or get in the way of the nurses, but he’s also crying and shaking and sobbing and can’t stop.

You getting injured triggers him pretty badly. If you’re not bleeding, it’ll probably be “only” a bad anxiety attack, but if there’s any blood involved it’s escalating into a full-blown panic attack.

He’s a nurse himself, but I doubt he’d be allowed to work with the other nurses when it comes to you because of how unsteady he is. He’s not sure whether he’s thankful for it or not, because he doesn’t trust himself to do a good job but he also wants to be there for you. He trusts his colleagues, but it’s still nerve-wracking.

Just like the others, he’s glued to your side when he’s allowed to be. Very metaphorically. He’s the best of them all at giving you space, partially because he’s just more respectful lol and partially because he’s a nurse so he knows not to smother you with physical affection until you’re in the clear.

If somebody caused you to go into this state, he will just like Dusk go and find them. He won’t do anything physical, but he does intimidate the person very effectively. He’s a terrifying giant and he knows how to use that to his advantage.

When you’re fine again, he’ll be acting anxious and protective for a while. He feels really guilty about it (because he should be comforting you - plus, he’s a nurse! He’s seen way worse things on his job) but you’ll have to give him comfort. This whole thing didn’t inspire much positive feelings in him and it stressed him out a lot, it may honestly take more of a toll on him than it does you.

[tommyspeakycap]

Can I request some chilly fluff? Anything really, just some cute sweet chilly fluff with a little bit of angst maybe?

of course! here's an idea that's been swimming around my brain all day lol

helping hand

ben isn't coping with his newest responsibility and his best friend comes to save the day once again

It's honestly less about the news than it is about the fact that you didn’t here it from him. Texts have gone mostly unanswered since you read that online article you first believed was false, only for it to be confirmed by him. You offered a congratulations despite the pain it brought to you to hear that you had completely lost your chance.

You had probably called him about a million times, each time ringing out and some even being hung up after merely a few rings.

At first, you worried that something had happened. Then you managed to wrangle the news out of Mason that everything was well, you let yourself have those days of utter heartbreak that he had found a girl, started to settle down and then completely cut you out of the picture. This was the first time in all of your 23 years that you hadn't been able to speak to him about things that were going on. He seemed to have completely fogotten about you and you couldn't bring yourself to think of a reason why.

She never really did like you, his girlfriend. You could only imagine it had something to do with the fact that Ben was incredibly close with you. A lot of girls had been unhappy with the fact that while dating Ben, they were subject to teasing that everyone was surprised he was dating when they had thought he was so clearly in love with you. You understand that, it would be irritating but nothing had ever happened between you and Ben that might suggest you would ever get together. People just love a rumour.

What had really hit you, however was seeing her from the Instagram you followed. She didn't even appear to be in London, never mind with him and that made no sense by the timeline you had managed to figure out.

That's how you found yourself standing at his door with what felt like a million bags and a feeling of hurt you had never actually had before. You cornered Mason, refusing to leave until he told you what the hell was going on and when he did, you were gone like a flash with a broken heart to seek out the man who needed you now more than he ever did.

Your heart shatters even more when you step into his house, pushing it open and pulling out the key he gave you a few months ago as you head carefully to the kitchen. You can hear him trying to talk, his voice strained and croaky as he attempts to speak over the sound of the screaming baby girl.

"Come on sweetheart," he begs, "Please take your bottle, I promise you're just tired."

His house is messier than you've ever seen it with gifts unopened, blankets and bottles, baby toys and clothes strewn around everywhere you could see.

You're quick and quiet to get to work clearing the place up, clean clothes being folded and sat in his clean laundry hamper while sorting the dirty things and shoving them into the washing machine by colour before tidying away all the blankets into the baby boxes he had set up in his front room. The infant upstairs screams the entire time you whiz around, throwing an entire bin bag worth of rubbish out of his kitchen before restocking all the shelves and his empty fridge with food for him and milk powder for the little girl. The pizza you shoved in the oven the second you arrived was finished after 15 minutes, so you plated that and left it on the kitchen island before you decided to make you presence known to him.

"Need a helping hand?"

His head whips around rapidly, instinctively tucking his daughter closer into his chest before he recognised your voice and turned his face back away from you. "You shouldn't be here, (y/n)." He mumbles, bouncing his legs to try and get that screeching to stop before he starts crying again himself.

How had everything ended up so messy? He found a girl that he thought he loved, he had his best friends and he had you. She got pregnant and he was ecstatic until she told him she wasn't interested in having a baby. It was too late to do anything about it, so she gave birth to that baby and legally signed over parental rights wholly and fully to a destroyed Ben. You, of course, had to find this out half from the tabloids and half from Mason. Ben was absolutely affronted. He was mortified. How had he gotten himself in this position?

You were the first and only person he wanted to tell. He was desperate to seek out your arms and have an absolute sob to you so you could help him fix this like you do with everything else, but he couldn't bring himself to face you. He cut you off slowly and carefully without even noticing himself because she had coaxed him into it. She played him like a fiddle, let him grow her platform and fund her lifestyle until she had everything she wanted from him and left him with something that was supposed to be theirs to love forever.

As if things couldn't get worse, from the moment he found out she was having a baby he had realised he didn't want kids or a life with anyone but you and now here he is, with a baby that has no mother and he had lost you. How could he just go back crying to you now after all the hurt he had caused you? What kind of person does that? He made this mess and it was his to clean up.

"Mason told me what happened. You can fight me all you want, Ben but I'm not going to go anywhere so you may as well just let me help." You say firmly, not inviting a single space for him to actually contest your words. His shoulder deflate even further than they already are as he finally turns to meet your eyes.

There's bags and dark circles beneath his with greasy, messy hair and a shirt he probably hadn't changed in longer than he should.

"I'm sorry." He croaks, clamping down on his lip with his teeth so he doesn't immediately burst out crying at the sight of you standing there in his house. God, he's missed you so much he couldn't even begin to put it into words and his emotions are so messed up from the lack of sleep that he'll cry at just about anything right now. "It's forgotten about. We don't have to talk about it, I'm here to help."

The weight that lifts off of Ben's shoulder is the kind of immense relief that only really you can bring to him, honestly. There are few people that he has ever met that can ease him like you can and knowing he doesn't have to explain this whole situation really is something he's so thankful for.

"This is Lilly," he says weakly, nodding his head down at her whining. You smile immediately and without thought, stepping forward to get a closer look at the small baby, only two weeks old and already giving her dad a run for his money. "Hello Lilly," you coo softly, raising your hand to stroke her cheek with your finger in the most gentle manner he's ever seen. "Can I? I feel like I've missed out on two weeks worth of aunt (y/n) cuddles."

He tries not to think much into the fact you refer to yourself as her aunt because if he lets enough thought onto it, he'll find himself breaking his heart over you all over again. Ben nods, passing her into your arms carefully.

"I'll feed her, I made some pizza for you so you should go eat." You hold our your hand to take the bottle from him, but he frowns. "I-" Ben stutters, "I don't want to just lump you with her, plus she's upset so I shouldn't leave her y'know? It's not fair on-"

"Go and eat Ben, and have a shower while you're at it. We'll be fine in here, I've babysat a million times before." You shrug, taking the bottle from him as you step further into the nursery instead of standing in the doorway cradling the still whimpering little girl in her pink onesie. "But I-"

"Go."

"I should-"

"Ben go, now."

Ben sighs in defeat and turns on his heel, the rumbling of his stomach finally giving him away as he realises just how hungry and smelly he actually is. No wonder the infant was crying in his hold.

He trudges downstairs, hearing the sounds of those winging dying down as he does, half expecting to walk into the messy swamp he had left when he went upstairs earlier this morning, only to see the whole bottom floor of the house was basically as spotless as it had been the day he moved in, bar the baby variety adjustments he had made to welcome the new arrival.

He makes a mental note to thank you more and do some grovelling and apologising later on. He knows he has to do it and he knows he'll explain in more detail what really happened probably later today, but for now he will scoff that pizza down his throat faster than he has ever consumed a meal in all of his life before raining the cupboards that he discovered you had stocked. He is reminded with every step he takes around his house that this is you, again, here holding him up when the world around him feels like its completely crumbled.

This is what you do, you keep him together, fix him up after the heartbreaks and breakups preparing him for the next girl who's pieces you'll have to pick up when they hurt him. This time he doesn't want another girl, he wants you. This time, the one time that he would be miles too late. He's got a baby now that he needs to focus on and he can't imagine that you're going to want an instant family even if you could really see past the fact he had ghosted you for nearly five straight months from the moment he found out his girlfriend was pregnant. He can't forgive himself, so how on earth would you?

If he would ask, you would tell him you already had. Seeing how hurt he was, how genuinely sorry things had ended dup like this with everyone in his life he was was enough for you. It was enough to cause you actual physical pain. You never could hold a grudge considering the situation he had ended up in.

Ben had never ever once in his life being more thankful for his shower. He’s also pretty sure he fell asleep against the wall with the heat of the shower steam loosening his muscles and the fatigue of barely an hours sleep catching up to him. He towel dries off his hair, letting the towel hang around his neck as he rubs it against his head while he pads along the soft carpet of his hallway from the bedroom to his beautifully done pink nursery where he hears no crying, at all.

But he does here soft talking.

“Giving your daddy a hard time eh, pretty girl.” You hum softly, slowly swaying from side to side. She lays in your arms, looking up at you and stealing every bit of your heart with her daddies eyes. “He deserves it a little, you know. Just ‘cause he done me out of some adorable baby cuddles y’know?” Ben can hear the teasing smile on your lips as he leans against the doorframe out of your sight, keeping quiet so as not to be detected. “But he’s a good man, sweet girl. One of the best, actually. And i know he’s already such a good daddy to you, he loves you so so much. Do you know that, eh?” You say quietly. Ben catches the sight of you swaying that amazed little baby who coos up at you, reaching for your finger to hold. “Mhm, and i love you too. You have no idea how loved you are.” That’s one thing Ben can agree on.

“And you might not know it now because you’re little, but i do know one thing for absolute certain; I’m always gonna be here for you, and for your daddy even if he’s as stubborn about it as they come. You’ve got to help me out though, eh sweet girl? Be good to that daddy of yours. Yeah, sleepy baby? Mhm, my sweet girl.” The way you hum, bouncing her carefully and swaying in just the right way for her to fall asleep in your arms. Ben watches you for only a minute more, softly singing a little lullaby to her that makes Ben’s heart swell to ache so much that he has to take a small little video before he heads off downstairs with one last look.

When you finally greet him downstairs with a tight hug that he sinks into immediately, resting his cheek on your shoulder as your hands massage your fingers through his freshly cleaned hairs as his arms hug around your waist. “I’ve missed you.” He admits, words muffled by your sweatshirt. The feeling of your fingers at the nape of his neck makes him hum in content and sink into you peacefully just like his baby daughter did not half an hour ago. You’re just perfect for them both in every way and there is not one bone in his body that doesn’t wish he had started his family with you.

But with that realisation comes one more; that he will not settle until he has given everything he has, tried with every morsel of him to earn your forgiveness. He might not of started his family with you, but he is damn determined to make you part of it.

[just-horrible-things]

AU: Chewtoy -- Pity

412 – Sam or Sammy, 413 won’t stop screaming for her – 412 knows.

It’s a suspicion at first. A trace of pity in her eyes, a knowing edge to her voice as she tries to reason, “don’t do this, you don’t have to do this.”

Ari is a little more careful not to wince in front of her, not to hesitate, not to let her breath tighten as she moves.

That lasts all of maybe a week. Then Riven comes in while Ari has 412 cuffed to a chair in the interrogation room and 413 chained crying to the wall opposite. He’s in a real mood, and as Ari flinches and yields and makes empty promises to appease him she honestly forgets that the prisoners are watching at all.

He leaves her on her knees when he stalks out.

Ariadne gets up, wiping the blood from her lips, and finds contempt written across the faces of her interrogatees.

She thumbs the voltage way up and flicks the current on and 412 screams, back arching. Ariadne doesn’t turn it off until the witch is silent, gasping like a fish out of water, and 413 is pulling against her cuffs shouting “stop stop stop you’re going to kill her stop!”

When she stops, both of them sob. The stink of burning skin is in the air. 

Ariadne wrinkles her nose. She thinks about moving the electrodes. She decides against it. She turns the current on again and both of them howl.

“Stop,” 413 repeats over and over, “stop stop stop stop!”

With the electricity off so that 412 can catch her breath, Ariadne stalks over to face 413. “All you have to do," she says, "is start giving me names, and I’ll stop hurting her.” “... bitch,” 413 mutters under her breath. “What was that?” Ariadne dares her, voice low from barely contained rage. “Speak up, I couldn’t quite hear you.” There’s a satisfying tremor in the prisoner’s lower lip as she hesitates. But her nerve doesn’t quite break. “I… I said bitch. That’s what you are isn’t it, you’re just that guy’s bitch–” Ari slaps her, hard enough to split her lip.

Now we match, thinks a little hysterical voice in the back of her head.

She grabs the witch’s hair and slams her head back against the wall. She never does that, it’s bad policy, and she’s a little startled by herself even as she thinks fiercely that she doesn’t fucking care.

“I’m glad you like listening to your Sammy scream,” she hisses, “because you just earned her a few more volts.”

She only pretends to turn the voltage up further. Neither of them will know the difference. But she does make Sammy scream, loud and long, twice more before she lets her catch more than a couple of gasped breaths.

With her hands still on the controls, she shoots 413 a venomous look that says I dare you to say it again. She’s rewarded with the sight of the prisoner biting her own lip to keep herself quiet. That should be enough, but fury is still creeping, sizzling beneath Ari’s skin. “Anything else you’d like to add?” she mocks. 413 is silent.

Ariadne puts the control box down. 412 is still shuddering, muscles twitching. Tears drip from her chin onto her blood-stained clothes. She looks up at Ariadne with wet, dark-ringed eyes. “... he hurts you,” she whispers hoarsely. Then quickly “-- don’t – don’t shock me, I don’t mean, I’m sorry –” “He slapped me,” Ariadne corrects tersely. “I’m hurting you.” 412 flinches. But she doesn’t take the hint. “A-are you… are you a prisoner too?” “Watch it.” Even as she growls the warning Ari’s not sure why she bothers. They’re both asking for it. “You don’t want to do this,” 412 presses on, breathless, desperate. “You don’t have a choice, it’s not your fault –” Ariadne cuts her off with another shock. She wails, and the other one screeches insults and expletives and eventually falls back on “stop stop stop stop.”

“Nice guess.” Ariadne drops her words into the relative quiet that follows. “But no. I’d do this even if they weren’t paying me for it. Someone has to put vermin like you in your place.”

She doesn’t let them rest long enough for chit chat again until her phone buzzes in her pocket to tell her it’s time to move on to the next unfortunate. 

They both know better than to say anything else to provoke her while she marches and drags them respectively back to their cells. But 412 persists in giving her that look of pity – fucking pity – and Ari drives a couple of hard kicks into her ribcage before she leaves her alone.

She hates when they know. The bad taste sticks with her all day.

In the evening when she thinks she’s just about finished with the prisoners and ready to start in on the day's paperwork, Riven catches her washing up in the interrogation room. “Where’s the report on Saunders?” he demands. “I’ll get right on it, sir,” she promises tiredly. “I told you yesterday I wanted it before today.” “I’m sorry, sir.”

She turns as he approaches, but not fast enough to stop him grabbing the back of her shirt collar. He spins her to spoil her footing and throws her hard at the floor. Pain shocks up through her wrists and knees, then is abruptly eclipsed as he drives a boot up into her stomach.

Ari can’t afford to do anything but try to protect her face as he keeps kicking her. She sees stars as the steel toe of a boot finds the spot where she thinks he cracked a rib in February. When it stops she stays down, gasping, hands pressed to her side.

“Quiet today,” Riven jeers, walking round behind her. She knows it’s coming but she still groans as he plants a foot on her shoulder blade and uses it to roll her onto her front. “What’s wrong? Don’t want the roaches to hear you crying?” She grits her teeth as he digs his heel in, searching for places where the cuts haven’t quite closed yet. “Come on, give me a whimper, or do I have to get the whip?” “Oh just – do it,” Ari growls. “Why d’you – even pretend you need a fucking excuse?” “Maybe I will,” he snaps right back. “You’ve been getting uppity, you need the lesson.”

She knew it was coming. He always finds a reason as soon as she starts to heal. 

She still wastes a couple of dry sobs into her arm as she waits on the floor for the whip.

“Shirt off,” Riven orders tersely. “Unless you want me to ruin another one.” Ari does as she’s told.

She tries to keep her silence. She really does. Her first few yelps are just noises. Just short, sharp sounds that anyone could make.

But when he passes ten strokes to eleven and twelve without slowing – she knows what he wants, she knows he won’t stop til he gets it or she passes out – and it’s not worth the extra stripes, the extra pain, it’s not worth it.

“-- please, sir –!”  she gasps. “Louder.” Another snap of the whip, another helpless cry. “I want to hear you sing, Ari.”

So she does. She begs loud and pathetic until Riven is satisfied that the whole block has heard her.

Only then does he leave her to stifle her sobs and pick herself up, to pull dirty clothes over the fresh gashes and stumble to the sink to try and scrub the tears from her face and the blood from her hands because she can’t just lie on the floor, she can’t pass out down here, she has at least one report to finish before she sleeps unless she wants to gamble on Riven’s temper and risk another whipping tomorrow.

Tomorrow is too soon, she can’t handle that.

So she takes one of her carefully rationed painkillers, and she works late making sure every t is crossed before she finally lets herself stop.

The next day is an exercise in humiliation, of course.

Anyone who comments on what they heard gets no water, because Ari is petty and spiteful and she has the power to withhold it.

412 – Sam – is the one exception, and only because all she says is “I’m sorry.” “Don’t,” Ari snaps at her. “Just don’t.”

And she doesn’t, so she gets her water.

[xoxoavenger]

I Promise

pairing: Jack Thompson x Reader

summary: When Y/N gets shot instead of Ana, Jack is the one to make the promises.

word count: 2105

warnings: major character injury, cannon typical violence

masterlist

Jack Thompson didn't cry.

Not when he found out that he had killed people for no reason, not when Chief Dooley died, and not when he lost his war buddy. Life happens. Death hurts. It sucks. But it was a part of war and life.

That was before Y/N was hurt.

Daniel and Peggy had never seen anyone in the state that he was in, much less Jack the way he was. They hadn't even known Jack could have a soft spot for Y/N. They thought she was just a girl that Jack was sweet with. They wouldn't have kept her alone with Jason if they knew how important she was to him.

~

Y/N could see Jason getting taken by Whitney. She couldn't let this happen. So, she ran outside.

"Hey!" A gun was pointed at her before she could even finish talking, and she held her hands up and stumbled back.

"No! We can't shoot her!" Y/N could barley heard anything they were saying as she stared at the gun. It wasn't pointed at her anymore, but it was still in their possession.

"He will die if you take him. He needs-" She said, even though she was scared out of her life. She didn't want to die, to leave Jack behind.

"He needs answers. And I'm gonna help him get those." Whitney cut her off, and she became brave.

"You won't get away with this. She won't stop coming for you." Y/N said, getting closer. She could hear the car. She just had to wait.

"I don't doubt that. I can, however, slow her down." Y/N didn't have time to think before Whitney raised the gun and shot. Y/N heard the loud noise as she screamed, reflexively wrapping her arms around her abdomen. Pain erupted. She unwrapped her arms and looked at it, blood covering the pale tan dress she was wearing. Jack's favorite dress on her. She could only hear echoes of sounds as she fell to the ground. The car pulling up, the sound of tires screeching as a car made it's escape. Y/N moaned as she grabbed her stomach once more, wishing the pain would just stop. She could hear the footsteps of people, their voices clashing together. She heard them calling her name, but all she could do was moan in agony. Nothing had ever hurt this bad. She wished Jack were here; he would know what to do. He would take the pain away. She just wanted to see him.

Peggy and Jarvis were screaming. Peggy was pressing her hands into Y/N's side, and her vision was fading in and out. The pain was becoming numb, and Y/N didn't think that was a good thing.

She just wanted to hear Jack's voice one last time.

~

Daniel had been the one to call Jack, after he had been called to the hospital. He was unaware just how close Jack and the girl were, but he thought Jack should know what had happened.

"Jack,"

"Sousa? To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Jack, this is serious. It's Y/N."

"What happened?" Jack's tone was suddenly deadly; he wasn't asking a question, he was commanding something. It was a tone Daniel only heard in grave situations, and he supposed this fit.

"Daniel," Jack was running out of patience as the other chief stayed silent.

"She was shot." Daniel choked out, and the receiver was so silent, he wondered if the call had been disconnected.

"Where?"

"Excuse me?"

"Where is she?" The tone hadn't dropped.

"We're at the Hospital on Twenty-second." As soon as Daniel had told Jack, he heard the phone slam onto the hook.

"How'd he take it?" Jarvis asked, and Daniel looked up to him, away from the phone.

"A lot worse than I expected."

~

When Jack arrived, he was already so torn apart. His eyes were red and swollen, his hair array, in his pajamas.

"Christ, Thompson, you couldn't put on some actual clothes?"

"Where is she?" Jack ignored Daniel, instead asking Peggy, who looked a little worse for wear herself.

"She's in surgery. What's going on with you?" Peggy looked Jack over, and he sat down, rubbing his face.

"What happened?"

"Jack, seriously, what,"

"What the hell happened?" Jack asked more forcefully, looking over to her. Peggy's eyes widened as she stared at Jack.

"Dr. Wilkes was taken by Whitney. When we arrived, we watched her get shot on the front lawn. We drove her here as quickly as we could." Peggy retold the events in a manner that gave away no emotions. She studied Jack, watched as a tear slipped out of his eye before he put his head in his hands.

"Have they said anything yet?" Jack asked through his hands, and Peggy put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm beginning to think that Agent L/N is more than just an Agent, Thompson."

"Margret, I don't have time for this. Have the doctors said anything or not?" Jack looked up at her, face wet, and Peggy felt her heart sink.

"They took her into surgery. They still don't know if she's going to make it out." Peggy said quietly. Jack stood up and walked away. Peggy, Daniel and Jarvis all shared a look before Daniel went after him.

"Jack, look,"

"What if she's already gone?" Jack's back was to Daniel, but it was obvious how much he was hurting. He looked like he was staring at something in his hands.

"No, you can't think like that." Daniel didn't know what else to say.

Silence. He could only see Jack swaying, which was weird, because he was always so uptight and put together.

"Jack. Jack? Are you o," Daniel couldn't even get the words out before Jack was on the floor. "Jack!" Daniel crunched his way to Jack's body. He shook Jack, who blinked up at Daniel after a few seconds. Daniel sat back and looked around, not knowing what to say. His eyes caught a white box, which had been partially opened. Daniel didn't need to see the contents to know what was in the box.

"Jack, were you going to propose to Y/N?" Daniel didn't know Jack and Y/N's relationship was that serious and intimate. Jack didn't say anything, but sat up and grabbed the box. That must've been what he was looking at in his hands. "Woah, pal. Be careful there." Daniel said, putting a hand on Jack's should to steady him.

"Jack! Jack! She's out." Peggy yelled as she ran down the hallway to Jack.

"Jack, wait! You shouldn't be getting up yet!" Daniel said, but Jack was already standing up on shaking legs, making his way to Peggy.

"Y/N," Jack whispered when he approached her room. The binds were open, meaning he could see her laying lifeless on the bed. She looked so peaceful. So beautiful. Jack immediately went for the door, but a doctor stopped him. "Let me see her."

"I will. But first, I need to inform you of a few things."

"Do it in there."

"Jack, let him finish." Peggy said, and Jack stood still, a hand still on the doorknob.

"We don't know the effectiveness of the surgery. It was successful, but she hasn't woken up yet. There is a chance she,"

"Let me see my wife!"

No one knew what to respond with. Y/N and Jack weren't married, but no one wanted to correct him.

"Chief Thompson." Jarvis said from behind them. Peggy turned, but Jack just opened the door.

"Sir,"

"Oh, Y/N. Baby." Jack fell to his knees as he reached the bed, grabbing her hand. Her head was rolled toward him, and he just wished she would open her eyes then and there.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." He cried, putting his head down against the bed.

"My only job was to protect you, and I failed. This is my fault." Jack had his head in his arms, still holding onto her hand and the ring.

~

"Fibber McGee and Molly. Fibber McGee and Molly." Jack whispered over and over and over. Peggy came into the room with two coffees, but Jack didn't notice.

"I beg your pardon?"

"This damn radio won't tune into anything." Jack said, but it sounded as if he were talking to the radio. Peggy put the drinks down, but Jack didn't notice. He was stiff on his knees, not even blinking. Just as Peggy was about to interject, Jack raised a fist and punched the radio, the static cutting out.

"Jack, I think you should sit." Peggy grabbed his shoulders to help him to his feet, but Jack turned in her grasp.

"How can I sit, Marge? How can I sit when I don't even know," Jack trailed off, but they both knew what he was going to say.

Jack had looked bad last night, but he looked even worse today. His shirt was wrinkled from running his hand across it, and his eyes were bloodshot.

"Look. She's out of surgery. She has color in her cheeks." Peggy said in a soft, uplifting voice. Jack stared at Y/N, face neutral.

"They can't even estimate when she'll wake up. If she wakes up." Jack said, his voice quiet.

"She wants to hear your voice. She doesn't care about anyone else's." Peggy stood closer to him, but Jack still didn't look at her.

"I just want to hear her's." Tears began to flow out of Jack's eyes as he scrunched up his face. Peggy felt her heart shatter.

"I'm going to go to your hotel room and pick up your clothes, tooth brush, razor," Peggy gently lead Jack to the chair, talking in her quiet, calming voice. "So that when she does wake up, you will look like Chief Thompson." Peggy smiled down at him, but he continued to stare at Y/N. Peggy left the room, but Jack didn't look at her.

He just kept staring at Y/N.

~

"I promise I'll wear that green suit you like to all of our dates, even though I hate it." Jack had his hands wrapped around hers, back on his knees next to her bed. "I promise I'll cook more when I stay at your house." He watched the rise and fall of her chest.

"I promise not to leave my dirty clothes on your floor." Jack pulled out the ring, still holding onto her with the other hand. "I promise we can get those sheets you like when we move in together." He flipped open the box, revealing the ring inside. "I promise to like your purple dress." He looked up at her face. She hadn't moved.

"I promise we can try that restaurant you wanted to go to since we got here." He looked back at their hands, the ring. He grabbed her left hand, looking at it for a moment. "I promise I will be the best husband." His voice started to crack as tears made their way down his face once more.

"I promise," He paused to let out a sob before looking to her. "I promise I will protect you until I die, that nothing like this will ever happen to you," Another sob. "Just please, Y/N," He put his head down. "I'll never let this happen again." He cried, his voice raising.

"Please, wake up!" He practically screamed, throwing his head back. He sunk back down, crying into his arms.

"I don't know how I could be asleep after that." Jack's head snapped up, looking at Y/N's face. Her eyes were barely open, but Jack could tell she was awake. She had a small smile on her face.

"You're awake." Jack whispered, letting go of her hand and the ring. He moved closer to her face, putting a hand on her cheek and brushing her hair away.

"I woke up at the sheets," Y/N said, and Jack smiled. "But I wanted to see what else I could get." Her eyes closed again, but Jack could tell she was awake.

"I'll go get the doctor." Jack could barley speak, he was so happy she was awake.

"Jack, wait." She said quietly as he stood. He turned to look at her and immediately knew what she wanted. He smiled before grabbing her face, bringing his lips to hers.

"I love you."

"I love you too." Jack smiled at her, and she weakly smiled back. He turned to walk out and get the doctor.

"Jack," He turned and looked at her with a big smile.

"Don't forget the ring." His face dropped and she still had the weak smile on her face. "You gotta keep your promises."

[seiyasabi]

Other Lover

(This is a Yandere Male Beldam x Female Reader story! I got a lot of inspiration from the 3 part story ‘Buttons’ by @/ShinyJr from Quotev! Make sure to check out their story :)) Sorry if this is too OOC!

TW: Unhealthy behaviour, reader is assumed straight, noncon touching!, unwanted advances!, physical harm!, mention of cannibalism? (is the Beldam even human??), alluded body disfigurement (buttons for eyes, yeesh, sounds awful), etc.. 

Please continue with caution!)

Maybe, you shouldn’t have rejected his advances. Maybe, you should have just given in. Maybe, you shouldn’t have even moved into the dreaded Pink Palace. 

Looking down at the body of your murdered husband, a loud screech resonates from your throat, practically shaking the foundation of your town house. If you listen hard enough, you could hear your neighbours stir, but you weren’t listening. Your eyes are trained on your lover’s corpse, all whilst your ears ring in a disoriating volume. 

A hand made out of needles reaching from that dreaded door is what brings you back, as you stumble away from its opening, and (Husband Name)’s half eaten corpse. You were awoken by his screams a few moments ago, and in that time, that monster was somehow able to eat his upper half.

“(Your Name), where are you going? Come back to me, Lovely! Now that he’s gone, there’s no reason for you-” You pick up a book laying on your coffee table, before chucking it at the ghoul’s spider-esque face.

“Get away from me! Go back to whatever hell you came from, and never speak to me again! If I could, I’d fucking kill you!” A look of pure, unadulterated anger crosses the being’s face, as it uses its sewing needle hands to drag itself over your husband’s corpse. 

“Stop being a brat! I took care of the problem, now come here! You lost that game fair and square!” Picking up a ceramic coffee mug, you chuck it at it, before turning and running. 

In a moment of strength, the bete noire launches his sharp body at your retreating frame, effectively knocking you onto the cherry, hardwood floor. His front two legs wrap around your form, stopping you from thrashing free of his grip. 

“You haven’t been a faithful wife, but I forgive you,” His voice is like ice, his grip python tight, “Let’s get you home, you need to be reminded of your place.”

“My place is here, you monster! Let go of me, let go of me, let go of me-” You try to break out of his grip, entire body flailing in his surprisingly strong hold. 

“If you don’t shut your fucking mouth, I’ll sew it shut,” He seethes, lugging you through the doorway, somehow carrying you whilst crawling through the water bed-esque passage. You can see the button key securely around his black and white streaked neck, and you try not to focus on your real husband’s bleeding body. With a swift kick, the bete noire forces the cadaver out of the doorway, and slams the opening closed. 

You can do nothing but cry at this point, his cold body causing you to shiver in both disgust and fear. Your captor coos at your teary face, unable to stop himself from swooning over your pretty face. He can’t help but feel his heart hurt at how distraught you are, but he also feels that you’re too adorable for your own good. 

“Don’t cry, Lovely Girl. I’ll make you your favourite food after your punishment,” Punishment. Holy fuck are you scared of what he has in store. 

Once on the other side of the Pink Palace, you’re tossed to the ground. Your watery eyes look up at the monster in terror, your entire body quaking uncontrollably, “What are you going to do to me?” 

A cruel smile overtakes his angular features, “I’m going to make sure you can’t run away from me ever again.” 

Grabbing you by the (hair/t-shirt collar), he drags you to a certain mirror down the hall, causing a yelp of pain and fear to escape your chest. 

“No! Don’t put me in there!” This time, the ghost women won’t be there to keep you company in that dark, dank, chamber. 

A cackle echoes down the hallway, “It’s a good thing that this isn’t about what you want; it’s about what I want, and I want you to be reminded of your place.”

Shoving you in, you immediately note that the room looks a lot different than before. It looks to be some sort of workshop; multiple tools and bins of material line the walls, floor, and wooden tables around you. A window overlooks a gloomy atmosphere, allowing in a small chill. 

You’re quickly shoved onto a large wooden table, wrists and ankles bound to the legs of the table. Entire body tense, you wait for the man to eat you alive. Closing your eyes, you await your death.

But, instead of being feasted on, you feel a somewhat human hand placed on both of your legs, “Now, let’s fix your naughty behaviour.”

“What’re you going to do to me?” Opening your eyes, you’re somewhat surprised to see a different man presented to you. He’s tall, ridiculously tall, with dark, inky, black hair. His eyes are entirely black, no white to be seen. Along with that, his facial features are sharp; harsh cheekbones,  a pointed nose, and a very apparent jawline. If it weren’t for him being a horrific monster, you would’ve found him attractive. 

“I’m going to stop you from ever being able to run from me again,” Within a moment, a large hammer is in his clawed hand, and it’s slamming down on your right knee. A scream rips from your throat, hands unconsciously reaching for your wound, but are held back by your bindings. He slams it down on your knee again, drawing out a sickening crunch. Tears drip down your face, as you gag with horrific pain. 

“Stop! Stop! I’ve learned my lesson! Don’t do any more! I promise I won’t run again, just stop it!” Laying down the hammer, he leans his long torso over your writhing form. 

“You have? Do you promise?” 

“Yes! Yes! I promise to stay- just-just don’t do it anymore!” He grins, caressing your face with spindly fingers. 

“Perfect!” He hurries away from your sobbing form, sifting through a small pile of boxes, before withdrawing a certain lilac box, “Do you remember this, Lovely?”

Choking down your spit, you nod in defeat, “Yes.” 

“Well, I’m sure you know what I’m alluding to.”

More tears drip down your countenance, causing the large man to coo meanly. He places a moist kiss to your trembling lips, as he sets the box down beside your head. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

[ray-ray-writings]

Stream Stresses-SBI Au

This is a Brother!Technoblade, Brother!Wilbur, Brother!Tommyinnit, and Father!Philza x gn!reader in the SBI inc Au. I hope that this is written how the anon that requested it wants it, but I’m not sure. So basically, the SBI is a real family dynamic, the thing is that all of Philza’s children, Y/N, Tommy, Techno, and Wilbur are all well known streamers and everybody’s fans know this and love the family dynamic that you four have, because you’re literally family. So yeah. Here you go, I hope you enjoy. 

Check out my masterlist here!

When Y/N makes fun of their brother, chat jumps to his defense by saying some not so nice things about Y/N. The mean things cause Y/N to shut down their stream with tears in their eyes, worrying their father, Philza.

Y/N’s POV

“Hello chat!” I exclaimed, adjusting my headphones as people slowly began to flood the chat, “How are we today?” A variety of responses flew through my chat before my question was returned to me. “How am I today? I’m doing good! Thank you for asking!” My eyes scanned my notification and I couldn’t help but smile at the subs and donos rolling through. I quickly thank everyone by name before clapping, “Okay chat, today we are going to be playing Minecraft. But we’re not going to play on the SBI server, no we’re going to attempt speedrunning!” I explained. I eagerly watched my chat explode in support, a lot of ‘POGS’ flying by my eyes. “Well let’s get started, shall we?” 

I quickly opened my Minecraft and adjusted my stream so that my viewers could see what I was doing. “What should we name the first world? Yes we’re naming them, what monster does not name their speedrun worlds?” Random names flew through the chat, until one caught my eyes. “Tommy! We’ll name this one Tommy so when it let’s me down it won’t be anything new!” I cheered, typing the name into the world box, giggling to myself. For the most part the chat found it funny, but I did see some people say some mean stuff for making fun of my brother. 

I quickly cleared my throat and shook it off, “Here we go chat!” I exclaimed before loading in the world. I spawn in an acacia biome next to a desert, “So far Tommy’s treating us pretty good huh?” I joked, rushing over to a tree and punching it. I gained a bunch of wood and then began running through the desert in search of a village. I found one rather quickly and began my raid. I got everything from the chests and then found the iron golem and hit it to get it to chase me so I could build up and kill it… Only problem is I wasn’t quick enough.

I let out screech as the iron golem flung me up in the air, dealing a crazy amount of damage to the point where when I landed, I died. I gave a quick huff and pout as I exited out of the world. “Okay… What did I say, should have been expected to be let down by Tommy!” I exclaimed, my eyes scanning the chat. A few people laughed, but a lot of them were calling me horrible. They were saying that I shouldn’t blame my inability to play the game on my brother. It caused a pain to strike in my heart, because that’s not what I was doing at all. Really mean names began flying through my chat causing me to clear my throat and look away. “Um… Let’s try again,” I mumbled, creating a new world. 

“We’re just going to keep going down the list” I announced, trying to bring my energy back up as I typed the name “Wilbur” into the world box before hitting ‘create world’ and loading in. I let my eyes dance back to chat that seemed to go back to normal, but there were still some really mean people in chat. This time I spawned in a plains biome next to a village. I got pretty far this time. I made it all the way to the nether, even found a fortress, but my excitement about it died pretty quickly… because I did too. 

“NOOO!” I shouted at the ‘You Died’ screen. “I didn’t even see that blaze there! Damn it Wilbur!” I exclaimed, exciting out of the world once more. My eyes looked over to chat again, praying that the haters had gotten bored and left… My prayers were not answered. Instead, there were probably the most amount of haters I’d ever seen in my chat before. Every message was filled with hate. Telling me that I wasn’t good enough, that I should just quit, that my brothers were so much better than I was and there was no reason for me to even continue. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help the tears that formed in my eyes and began streaming down my cheeks. 

“Ummm… Thanks for coming. I’m going to end stream now,” I sniffed, closing Minecraft and going to my streaming settings. “Bye,” I whimpered out before ending the stream. I sat there frozen for a minute before breaking down into sob. Why do they hate me?

*POV Switch*

Philza’s POV

A grin crossed my face as my phone lit up with a twitch notification. I quickly shifted my attention to my phone screen to figure out which child it was that was going live. It was Y/N! I quickly set up my phone in such a way that I could ‘watch’ their stream while I made dinner for everyone. “Hello chat!” I heard them exclaim, “How are we today!” 

It really warmed my heart to watch my children stream. All four of them had worked extremely hard to get where they are today. I did everything I could to understand the Twitch community so I could support my children as they achieved their dreams. Sure it was hard at times, me trying to keep up with everything in all their streams but also when they’re all streaming at the same time and just screaming at each other, but we make it work. 

My focus turned to the food that I was making. Footsteps entered the kitchen pulling my attention away from the stream, “Hey Dadza,” Techno’s monotone voice greeted me from behind. “Hello Techno,” I greeted back, throwing him a smile over my shoulder. “Is Y/N streaming?” Techno asked, walking to the refrigerator, pulling it open and grabbing a water bottle. I nodded my head at the question. “Yeah, they’re speed running,” I responded, turning my head back to the veggies I was cutting for dinner. Techno let out a hum before turning his attention to my phone. 

As I cooked, I could hear Techno let out small laughs at what they’re sibling was saying on their stream. Twentyish minutes had gone by before Techno spoke actual words, “What the fuck,” He muttered, getting closer to my phone. “Language… What’s going on?” I asked, still focused on making dinner. “Y/N is crying,” He explained. My head snapped to my phone and sure enough, tears were streaming down their face. “Bye” they croaked out before the stream just ended. Not wasting any more time, I grabbed my phone and I ran out of the kitchen and toward Y/N’s room. 

As I grew closer, I could hear sobs coming from their room causing my heart to sink in my chest. I gave a quick knock on the door before barreling in. Y/N was still sitting in their gaming chair, hunched over into themselves, their hands muffiling the sobs falling from their lips. “Oh honey,” I whispered, closing the door behind me. Y/N’s head shot up and their red rimmed eyes met mine. Another loud sob broke from their mouth causing my heart to hurt even more. I took a few quick steps forward to get to them and offer them comfort. Y/N rose from their gaming chair and fell into my open arms. I quickly wrapped my arms around them in a tight hug. “I’ve got you honey,” I murmured, “I’ve got you.”

At some point, I slowly made my way to their bed and sat down, leaning against the headboard, pulling them to sit across my lap, burying their face in my chest like all those years ago when they were a lot younger. I couldn’t help but be reminded of the afternoons that they and their brothers would go outside to play and ride bikes and they would come back in with scraped and bloodied knees and palms. I would pull them into my lap, dry their tears, and help them calm down. It’s a bittersweet memory. It feels nice to think back, but under these circumstances? Not so much. 

Slowly but surely, Y/N’s sobs died down into simple sniffles before stopping all together. “You okay?” I questioned softly, leaning back ever so slightly so I could meet my child’s eyes. Their puffy ears peered up as they slowly nodded, “Yeah. I’ll be okay,” they muttered out resting their head back on my shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?” I asked carefully, not wanting to upset them again. A soft sigh left Y/N’s mouth, “I suppose I should. It’s best not to bottle it up,” they thought aloud causing me to smile just a little bit. A small bit of pride welled up inside me of how grown up they sounded. 

The smile quickly faded from my lips as my child explained what had happened on their stream. How chat had turned on them and the mean things that they said. I could feel my blood begin to boil. I was extremely pissed at not only chat, but at the mods for not stopping it. But I had to remain calm on the outside, for Y/N’s sake. 

“I’m so sorry that happened honey. You don’t deserve that. Nothing they said is true okay? You work so hard and it shows because you’re so good at what you do. Your brothers are good at what they do too. You guys are on equal playing feels and are all exceptional streamers. You deserve all good things honey. And I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to mod. You’re never streaming without me modding again. Do you understand me?” I rambled, staring at my child curled in my lap. A small giggle sounded in the air causing me to relax ever so slightly. “Yeah. I understand you dad… Thank you.” 

Before I could respond, there was a small knock on the door. “Come in,” Y/N called, staring curiously at the door. It swung open and there stood my three other children peering nervously into the room. After standing in the doorway in an awkward silence for a moment, Tommy lets out a loud scoff before pushing his way into the room and crawls up on the best next to us. Tommy then surprises me by wrapping his arms around his sibling and gives them a tight squeeze, “You’re a good streamer Y/N,” I heard him mumble in his sibling's ear. “Chat can be just a little stupid sometimes.” Another giggle passes through their lips as Y/N slides off of my lap and sits in between Tommy and I. “Thanks Tommy,” they whisper back, turning their body to properly hug their brother back. 

The closing of the door pulled my attention away from my youngest two. Wilbur and Techno were now also completely in the room and were heading toward the bed as well. I moved over so that one of them could sit in between Y/N and I and the other could go sit next to Tommy. Wilbur took the place beside me, sending Techno over by Tommy. Not saying anything, Wilbur turned his body and reached over and wrapped his long arms around Y/N and Tommy, trapping them in their own hug. For the first time ever, neither of them complained. Neither told him to get off, simply just accepted the affection from their brother. 

And to my surprise and delight, Techno leaned onto Tommy and wrapped his arms around the two as well, his arms only able to wrap around Y/N. The four didn’t say anything as they laid in the cuddle pile. I couldn’t stop the tears that formed in my eyes. They hadn’t done this in years. Before Wilbur and Techno hit their teen years, the four of them would cuddle in piles like this all the time. When I couldn’t find any of them, I would only have to find one to find all of them. But once the teen years began, the two eldest felt that they were too cool to cuddle with their siblings and the piles came to a stop. It warms my heart to see them do this, even if it’s under really shitty circumstances. 

One by one, their breathing evened out. One by one, they fell asleep. Once I was sure all were asleep, I slowly and carefully got off of the bed and managed to do so without waking any of them. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, made sure the ringer and flash were off, before snapping many photos. I didn’t plan on sharing them with everyone, they were just for me to have and to hold. Maybe I’ll print one and put it in my office. 

I carefully slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind me before heading back to the kitchen. The kitchen was exactly how I left it when I fled to Y/N’s room after seeing them cry. As quietly as I could, I put everything away. I decided I was no longer in a mood to cook. Besides, on days like today, I think Y/N deserves to have their favorite carry out… Don’t you?

I don’t know if I liked how this one turned out, so let me know what you think! Leave a like if you did enjoy it and maybe even reply or reblog or even send me an ask telling me what you thought!!

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

The arrogant, ruthless Supervillain, who was always so vicious and condescending, defeated, broken, and too delirious to do anything but beg when the hero finds them... that is my fave trope.

Same, mine as well.

I didn't think this was an ask to write, so if it isn't, I'm sorry, but I had a really good idea for this.

Astronaut

@shydragonrider @the-sky-writes

Warnings: delirium, fever, captivity, space chase, bombing, panic attack, vomit, wounds, partial nudity (non sexual), past torture

*not edited*b

~

Hero sat Supervillain on a seat and buckled him in, mindful of where his injuries were in relation to the belt. He groaned in pain and protest, throwing his head backwards in a hoarse sob.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Hero said quickly, momentarily cupping his cheek before rushing to the controls of her rocket. It was a intricate thing with too many different buttons, levers, and colors to make sense of. Still, she knew exactly what to do. She rammed the aircraft into flying mode and switched on autopilot, taking a split second to navigate a safe path through the infinite cosmos.

She returned to Supervillain's side and looked into his pale, unfocused face. He breathed heavily between wails and sniffles, not making eye contact with his savior. His fingers naturally curled and clenched as his sides as mucus gurgled in his chest. Tears sprang from his eyes.

Hero had found him, in a space ship, beaten brutally and deliriously crying in his agony. After breaking him out of the small chest that his captors called "his room", he had started to beg incoherently. He made no sense whatsoever, babbling on and on about random things. Then he would scream suddenly and sporadically, clawing aimlessly at Hero's chest.

He was awake, but not there and was vividly still trapped in whatever fantasy he imagined himself into.

So Hero carried him out, kicking and knocking out many of Vigilante's underlings- they were weak and not very well trained, in their defenses.

When she finally set him in that seat and buckled his writhing form in, she was somewhat exhausted and sweaty herself. But she knew that she had to drive her rocket away as fast as possible and take care of the bleeding man who was currently slumped in a seat at the verge of falling unconscious.

Hero ran a hand through his grimey, blood coated hair with a sigh and gently unbuckled him. She pulled off his shirt, watching as his arms limply fell to the sides as if he lost all muscle mass.

Immediately, he doubled over, body curling to a seemingly natural position for him. It made Hero's heart wrench- he had been in that box, a box hardly the size of a dog crate, for so long that even unconscious his body was conditioned to react.

Hero straightened him back up to examine the injuries. His ribs were heavily bruised and jutting out in various areas. His torso was covered in welts and old cuts, many infected, as if he was whipped. A lot. Those would need antibiotic cream, probably some draining-

The ship jerked suddenly to the side, throwing her off balanced. Instinctively, she strapped the buckles over the supervillain's chest, and ran to the controls. Every alarm was blaring red and screeching. She glanced over at the computerized pixels that made up a small replica of her ship- the rear side seemed to be hit by something. Nothing was critically damaged, but it still meant that something hit her.

A flaming, green ball of something whizzed past the corner of Hero's eyes. She stiffened, heart beginning to race. They were being bombed.

Hero took the rocket out of autopilot and turned on the cameras. Looking at the small, live recording in front of her, she saw Vigilante's ship chasing after her's. The sharp pointed nose and wide wings made it look daunting, but Hero knew that was all design.

It wasn't fast, though it had decent aim. All Hero had to do was get out of there as fast as possible.

Hero made a sharp turn, jostling Supervillain around. He groaned loudly, but Hero didn't have the time to comfort him.

Another bomb raced past her.

Hero started zig zagging, desperate to rid herself of the lethal balls of fire. They were incessant, one after the other after the other.

"Please don't hurt me!" Supervillain suddenly screamed. Hero glanced behind her to see him cowering in his seat, panting. However, in that split second of distraction, she was rocked sideways again.

Hero focused back on her mission and steered the rocket to the left. The bomb she evaded smacked right into a neaby asteroid, causing it to burst into peices.

"Please!" Supervillain hollered, thrashing against the seatbelt. His heavy breathing turned shallow, but Hero had bigger things to worry about.

Not only was she dodging flying fireballs, but know she had asteroid debris clocking in at one hundred miles per hour. She flew past them with professional precision.

"N-no," Supervillain whimpered, now smacking his head into the headrest of his seat. Hero risked a glance. His face was noticeably even paler, blanched to the point of white, as his fingers trembled. His dazed eyes darted around like a fly, buzzing here and there, taking in everything.

And everything was overwhelming him.

"Supervillain," Hero called, watching her camera. "You need to calm down buddy, okay? No one is going to hurt you anymore." If you would shut up and let me concentrate...

"N-not not... t'day pleas," Supervillain slurred, head dangling limply in fatigue and exhaustion before he picked it back up again, crying loudly.

"Shh," Hero tried to shush him, but failed. He wiggled like a worm as his voice locked itself in an endless current of screams.

A bomb flew by overhead, missing Hero by only five feet. She groaned and focused back on the black abyss she was traveling through, illuminated by the celestial bodies floating about. Supervillain's episode woule have to be ignored, for the sake of both of them.

The ship was suddenly deathly quiet.

However Hero did not realize that the cause of the supervillain's sudden silence was because he was hyperventilating, choking on his own breathing. She was zoned into the camera, watching the coming fireballs intently.

Supervillain watched her, trying his hardest to calm his rapid breathing and heartbeat. The world was growing out of focus... he couldn't breathe... couldn't breathe.

He felt like he was going to throw up. Oh gosh he was. The world tossed and turned in front of his eyes, pivoting forward and sideways.

"H-hero," he moaned, nausea thick in his voice.

She didn't reply.

Supervillain vomitted all over the floor, finally able to draw in a shaky breath. He gasped for air, to satisfy his burning lungs that didn't possess it for so long.

Only, he started sobbing again. It wasn't intentional, of course it wasn't. Crying was for the weak and he wasn't weak. Or was he? Because he was crying now? He was weak wasn't he?

These thoughts sent Supervillain back into another panic attack. His chest seized threateningly, but he did not thrash like before. He just allowed the cloud to wash over him.

When Hero finally escapes the bombardment, she idled the engine down in a bade to save fuel and ran over to her new ward. He was half-asleep, eyes halfway closed as his body breathed for him- air rushing into his body in large gulps.

"Supervillain? Supervillain? Hey, hey." Hero tapped Supervillain's cheek. "Wake up for me, will you? You're hyperventilating. Breathe, bud, breathe."

Supervillain slowly took a breath in before falling against his savior's shoulder, sniffling.

[jeonbots]

AJAR (1) | Jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook - fem. reader

genre: angst, smut, fluff

warnings: demon!jungkook, nogitsune!jungkook, troubled!oc, minor character death, mentions of death, mention of a car accident, oc keeps nightmare-ing, jungkook is a fear demon, nogitsunes love chaos, mentions of sex, drinking, swearing, explicit sexual content such as oral (f receiving), fingering, breast playing, nipple sucking; dark rooms, blood, wounds, drugging, taehyung is a prick i'm sorry, poor oc just wants to sleep peacefully, jk won't let her, partying, overuse of the pet name ‘sugarplum’

words: 5k

a.n.: heyyyy! ik i was supposed to post that wizards of wavery place au but i havent finished it yet, i wasn't happy with it so i decided to change it up a bit. this story however has been in my drafts for about a year sooo here's the first part! it's gonna be a 2 part story :)))) enjoy

part two

/!\ UNEDITED /!\

—

You don’t remember the first time it happened. Or vaguely. Maybe five, six months ago? You’re not sure. But you do remember the darkness and the loneliness you felt at that moment. When you closed your eyes and you felt your body fall in an endless hole, skin itching uncomfortably. You had realized it itched because it was on fire, agony screeching out of your mouth and resonating in– in nothingness. And then you saw it. Its black, mundane eyes staring back at you like it was a hunter and you were its prey. You felt like suffocating until you had dug your nails into your palms hard to wake yourself up. Your body had jerked forward and you had screamed your lungs out until your throat burned, the tears streaming down your face uncontrollably. From this moment forward, you hadn’t sleep an entire night without waking up crying out loud in the middle of the night, your friend rushing to you. The first week, it was the same dream. The fall, your body on fire, the suffocating air, the piercing black eyes and your anxious and frightened awaking state.

The eighth night, you opened your eyes and found yourself on a cold floor, darkness surrounding you. You blinked a few times before adjusting to the poor lighting and suddenly your body shivered as you felt someone– or something– watching you intensely. You turned your head sideways trying to find the source of your discomfort but nothing was there. Until you heard it. A laughter. It was more of a snicker really, but it ran through your whole being, shaking your insides. The voice that had mocked you out loud had been so cold and dark, almost resembling a demon that you flinched. You tried to get on your feet but the cry that broke through you stopped you. You plopped back down on the floor, looking down at your body, taking in the deep cut and the blood pouring out of your right thigh.

“Help me! Please!” You cried, tears running down your face.

No response.

You lowered your head and sobbed. “I want to wake up.” You whispered, tears soaking your shirt.

Minutes, maybe hours passed. You weren’t sure. You just knew that you had stopped crying at some point. The wound on your leg didn’t seem to stop bleeding and you felt the life force being poured out of you everytime blood gushed out of your leg. You had laid back down on the cold marble, eyes closed and your arms and legs splayed out on the ground, resembling a starfish. The snicker from earlier returned and you abruptly opened your eyes, going in a sitting position and frenetically whipping your head around the area, searching for the source of your torments.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?”

The mocking grew closer and louder, and before you knew you were pulled back down on your back, breathe knocking out of you by the sheer force of the impact. You felt your arms move on their own accord, coming to lay against your sides as slender fingers grabbed your ankle and dragged you across the room, ignoring your pleas and cries for help.

“Let me in, sugarplum.”

It was softer than the snicker, but you still caught the dark timbre lying underneath.

“Who–”

Your body suddenly came to a halt and when you looked up, a large figure was towering over you. The jolt of surprise coming out of your mouth when the stranger bent down didn’t go unnoticed as you could make out rosy lips smirking right at you in the darkness. You shuddered as the stranger passed their fingers up your leg, ghosting over your wound before pressing down on it harshly with his palm. You cried out and tried to back off but your attempts were futile as two strong hands suddenly grabbed your hips, throwing you over a strong shoulder as they began to walk to some direction, you didn’t really know. You thrashed in the stranger’s hold, crying even more than before and before you knew, you were carelessly thrown on a mattress. Seconds later you heard footsteps and the click of a door, meaning you had been locked up in some room.

You sighed shakily as you glanced around the room. On your right, there was a small dusty bedside table with one drawer, a small lamp put on top of it and a box of matches right next to it. In the corner of the room, you could make out a maroon desk with some journals sprawled out on top of it and next to it a door closed, probably the one the stranger used to bring you here. However, on the opposite wall to your right there was another door. This one was slightly open. You frowned and forced yourself to get off the mattress, struggling to get on your feet. The second you were standing your legs gave away and you fell forward, landing on the nearest wall as your palms impacted your fall. The wall rubbed harshly against your skin as you let out a small cry, gasping at the pain running throughout your entire body.

How could a dream feel so real?

You brushed the thoughts off and started walking towards what you thought was your only way out of there, even if you knew deep down that it was not. You still were pretty much pressed against the wall, slowly making your way towards the strange door. When you finally reached it, you pressed a hand firmly against the wall as the other went to shakily grab the handle.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, sugarplum.”

You froze.

No. Please.

You didn’t move. Not an inch. Not even to open the door completely or to turn around to meet your captor. But you sensed him shifting closer until his front was pressed against your back, an arm snaking around your waist to keep you close as you closed your eyes instinctively. His breathe fanned over your shoulder, lips brushing against your ear.

“Do you really want to face your biggest fears now?” He whispered.

“Please... let me go...” You whimpered.

“This is not the way out, sugarplum.”

He grabbed at your hips and spun you around and you yelped when you were met with familiar black eyes. Your own eyes grew wide and you took a few steps back until your back hit the wall softly. Even in all this darkness, the only thing you could make out about his appearance was complete dark and cold set of eyes.

“If you want out,” he followed your steps until he was hovering above your fragile and wounded form, “you just gotta let me in.” He ducked his head into the space between your neck and shoulder, nipping at your earlobe.

“Who are you?” You breathe out, staring at an invisible dot at the wall opposite to the one you’re pressed against.

He chuckled against your ear and a shiver ran down your spine. Yeah, that was straight up demonic.

He pulled his head out of your neck and leaned an arm on one side of your head against the wall and brought the other one around your jaw, lifting your head up to meet his intimidating gaze.

“Your worst nightmare, sugarplum.”

Then he laughed. It rang loud enough in your ear and you could hear the darkness in his mocking tone as he turned around and walked away from you. And suddenly, you were screaming. Screaming as you sat up in familiar warmth, hands fisting your sheets and tears running down your face. Realization dawn upon you as your cries had lowered in volume and you quickly pushed the covers aside, relief washing over you as your right thigh was not wounded. No blood, no horrible deep cut that made you want to puke. Your breathing was labored as you whimpered, the door of your room opening in a hurry.

“Fuck.” Your friend cursed out before making her way to you, sitting on the bed.

“I–I’m fine, I’m okay. It’s okay.” You avoided her gaze, hand coming to wipe off the tears on your red cheeks.

“No, you’re not Y/N. How long are you gonna keep this up? It’s been a whole fucking week and I don’t fucking know what’s happening to you. It scares the shit out of me.” Henri softly grabbed your head in her two hands, turning your head to meet her gaze as she rubbed your cheeks with her thumbs in a comforting way.

You breathed out shakily. “I think I’m going crazy.” You whispered, lower lip trembling as the tears threatened to spill out again.

“Let’s get you some help. Please.” She pleaded as she bore her eyes into yours. You nodded after a long minute and you saw the look of relief wash over your best friend’s face. She leaned forward as she pressed a kiss to your forehead then engulfing you in his arms. You rested your head on her shoulder as she rubbed your back.

-

“So, what happened before the incident?”

Three weeks later you were in seated in a beige sofa– a pretty comfy one, you had to admit– for your fourth therapy session with an older woman facing you on her baby pink armchair, her auburn hair styled up in a neat bun, a white dress-shirt tucked in a surprisingly colorful long skirt covering her legs as she had crossed one over the other. You learned after your first session that she liked fashion, noticing that her outfits were always on point and that she definitely should give you some advice. When you had woken up this morning, you had taken a quick shower and thrown on a grey sweater with matching grey sweatpants, not bothering to put make-up on. Why would you? You were about to talk about your deepest fears with a total stranger. You were glancing at the clock hung up on the wall nervously before she spoke up again at your silence.

“I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me, Y/N.” Her tone was soft and you felt your throat tighten.

You cleared your throat rather awkwardly. “Uh, I was out with some friends.” You nodded mostly to yourself but she hummed, telling you that she was all ears even though she was sometimes glancing down at her notepad to write something. “And, uh, there was this new club that opened on South Lake. We wanted to check it out and we were dressed accordingly so... we went. When we arrived there, the club was pretty full and we lost track of each other at some point... Uh, and I was pretty drunk. So I made out with a friend of mine and we uh, fucked. Yeah, pretty intense fuck if you ask me.” You laugh awkwardly as you saw the corner of her mouth twitch upwards. She was comforting, somehow.

“So yeah, I fucked the guy then I called my br-”

The words died in your throat as you froze. Clarisse felt you tense under her stare but nothing changed on her face.

“You were going to talk about your older brother, Jason?”

You lowered your head and started fidgeting with your fingers placed in your lap, gulping as you felt your eyes water. You hadn’t realized in your storytelling that you were going to have to bring up that subject at some point. You nodded shakily, a few tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I should’ve never done that.” You whispered and the last words came out in a broken whimper. The woman opened her mouth, about to talk but was cut off by your sudden voicing.

“Is it over yet?” Clarisse jumped slightly at the way you had abruptly raised your head, looking at the awful clock as you brought your hands to your face to wipe off the tears with the sleeves of your sweater.

“Y/N–”

“Oh,” you fake-heartedly laughed, cheeks still stained with wetness, “would you look at that! It’s been an hour already.”

“Wait–”

“Goodbye, Ms. Blackwood.”

You had already grabbed your bag and bolted out of the door as Clarisse sat on her chair, dumbfounded.

-

You never went back to therapy. A small part of you felt bad for leaving the kind woman in her confusion but the other part– the larger one– was relieved you didn’t have to go through painful memories anymore.

College isn’t as hard as you’ve imagined. Ever since your brother’s death you had found the world of books and words fascinating. At first, your roommate would ogle at you like you were some kind of wild animal who had escaped from the zoo then she understood the change in behavior. You were quite the party girl before the car crash; always going out with friends, having fun in summer homes or going to frat parties. And now you’ve become what people call a ‘bookworm’. Of course, it doesn’t take your mind off the horrendous and painful nightmares you’re having every night, but it helps get yourself distracted from the intense ache in your chest. At first you had tried booze to keep your mind off the terrible monsters haunting you but all it did was giving you painful aftermath headaches and a horrible sinking feeling in your stomach. The last time you got really drunk, you threw up your entire stomach in some random front lawn and you collapsed on the grass, dazing off to a sleeping state. And your eyes closed slowly until you woke up in a familiar dark room, pleading and begging to be released.

You swore you’d never drink again.

“Y/N!” A warm breathe tickles the side of your face and you turn your head sideway to face the person who’s arm is draped around your shoulders, the other coming to settle around your waist, clinging to you loosely.

“You’re drunk,” you state, looking at your friend’s giggling form.

“And you’re not,” she pouts as she leans a bit more on your frame. “Come on, get drunk with us Y/N.” Her words are slurred.

“Henri,” you sigh. Your nightmares aren’t unknown to your friend, in fact, when it first happened, she was the first person you called, your sobbing making her heart ache through the receiver. She had decided to join you that night, knocking at your door fifteen minutes later, hands full of junk food and candy. You had spent majority of the night laughing and eating your fears away, Henri wanting to make you feel better. After that night, she’d decided to move in with you.

You look down your half-empty cup, the brown-ish liquid taunting you. You can practically see its mocking smile, waves of gold beaming through the dark beverage. “You know I won’t.” Before she can protest though, her warmth disappears and you hear her gasp and you see from the corner of your eyes the boy you recognize as her boyfriend Justin pressing his lips against hers, silently rolling your eyes.

The living room is packed with people grinding against each other, kissing in corners or going up the stairs, probably to fuck their sexual frustration away. Justin’s frat house always throws the most anticipated parties in the campus, and of course Henri wouldn’t miss it for the world. They’re like– the must-go parties, house full of free booze and weed in every corner, half of the campus always attends them. You hadn’t gone to a party in forever though, still traumatized by the last time you were blackout drunk but Henri had insisted the whole week and you said yes just a few hours ago. You didn’t feel like dressing up but she almost screamed at you to at least make an effort and you settled on a high-waisted black denim skirt that stops mid-thigh and a black tube top tucked underneath with some white sneakers after a long hour of Henri rummaging through your closet.

“Y/N!”

Turning your head to the familiar voice, you smile as the dark-haired man you’ve grown to appreciate the company of walks towards you with his own beaming smile.

“Oh, I’ve missed you!” He engulfs you in his arms as you giggle before awkwardly patting his back with your free hand.

“I’ve missed you too, Taehyung.”

Justin was the one to introduce you to Taehyung at his birthday party three years ago. He had been Justin’s drug dealer for quite a few years and he had been hooking you up ever since. Deciding to stop doing drugs ultimately made you stop calling Taehyung for weed and cocaine, and you two lost touch as the months went by.

“It’s been– what, about a year?” He says as he steps back, rubbing the back of his neck. You briefly glance at his appearance, loose black dress shirt and the tight fitting jeans hanging on his hips. The shirt’s collar is large enough to have his collarbone peeking out of the fabric, your thighs clenching under your skirt. You skillfully hide your evident arousal as you learned to do over the years and look back up only to find yourself squirming when you notice his lingering gaze on your breasts covered by the thin fabric of the tube top. He slowly licks his lips and you bite back a whine, your slick arousal already starting to seep through your panties and onto your inner thighs.

“Ten months,” you correct with an apologetic smile on your lips.

“Yeah,” he looks back into your eyes at your words and nods before looking around the place, not an ounce of shame taking over his features for being caught staring. “Uh, I haven’t had the chance to, uh, say it but I’m sorry for your loss.”

You gulp as you look down at your drink. “Thanks–”

“W-well not the chance but you know what I mean.”

You giggle as you shake your head. “It’s okay. Thank you, Tae. It really means a lot.”

Memories flood through your mind as you recall the times you would get high with Henri, Justin, Taehyung and a few other friends before the accident, all spread out on the couch and the carpet of some random house as you’d talk and laugh about basically anything. You’d say those were the happiest moments of your life and you’d do anything to turn back time and have this short yet vivid moment of happiness running through your veins just one more time, dopamine spreading through your whole being. And those nights you had spent in Taehyung’s bed, his cock pounding your walls as he sucked bruises onto your skin, the delicious drag of his length sending you over the edge.

As if answering your– unwanted –prayers, Taehyung slowly approaches you with a sly smirk, a hand propped on the counter beside your hip as he leans over your figure. You look up at him quizzically.

“I thought maybe,” he licks his lips as he glances down at your lips and back at your eyes, “you’d want to have some fun.”

You raise an eyebrow as his free hand digs into his jeans’ pocket, a small plastic bag dangling from his fingers as he lifts his hand at eyes level. You’d recognize those blue pills anywhere.

“No.”

“C’mon, Y/N. Just one, like old times.”

The hand that was on the counter comes hovering your neck, his slender fingers softly caressing the skin there. You shudder as his palm grabs your nape more firmly, his thumb rubbing the side of your neck.

“Taehyu–”

His sudden lips on your ear clamps your mouth shut and your eyes flutter, the lids closing as he starts to suck on the lobe. The grip on your half-empty cup weakens and you hastily put it down on the counter behind you, a few droplets of alcohol spilling on the marble. He presses his chest against yours as he starts kissing down your neck, licking and sucking until he reaches your collarbone where he vacuums the skin in his pink-tinted lips, a whimper making its way past your own. His arms snake around your waist and press you even harder against him as you grab his biceps for leverage, his hard-on poking at your thigh as you gradually let your head fall back.

You don’t notice the small blue pill he manages to sneakily drop into your beverage, its shape dissolving in the drink to slowly disappear into the abyss of its intoxication.

-

“Holy fuck.”

Your back arched against the mattress and your eyes closed in unadulterated bliss as Taehyung laps at your clit, you moan shamelessly as your hips jerk at each flick of his tongue against your cunt. He hungrily devours your sex and your buzzed state doesn’t protest even after your third orgasm. You still haven’t touched his cock.

“Ho– fuck– Tae, stop, I can’t– ngh– too much.”

He reluctantly leans away from your pussy, mouth and chin covered in your juices as he hovers your fucked out state, his smirk growing wider as he wipes your arousal off his face with the back of his hand.

“I still gotta fuck you full of my cum, baby.”

You release a shaky breath as you bite your lower lip, one hand seductively traveling down the expense of his chest through his shirt as your lust-painted eyes drink in his features. As you reach down his jeans, you subtly grab his crotch as you palm his hardened length, his breathing growing heavier.

“You’re still that needy?” He chuckles and you nod, boring your eyes into his as you lean forward to pepper kisses on his jaw.

You whine when his deft fingers rub your slit, coating his digits with your cum. “Fuck me, please. It’s been so long.”

“I know baby, I know.” He suddenly shoves two fingers in your sloppy hole, a moan slipping past your lips. “Gotta stretch you first for my cock.”

The sudden yet pleasurable stretch has your eyes rolling back in your skull, his skillful fingers pumping in and out of your heat at a delirious pace as your hands fist the sheets beneath you. His thumb comes rubbing at your clit and your hips jerk in his palm, loud moans escaping your parted lips. The stretch of a third finger in your walls has your orgasm spiraling at full speed, untamed pleasure hitting you for the fourth time tonight, your lips parting in a silent scream as you plop your head back down on the sheets.

“Fuck,” the man curses under his breath as he lazily fucks you through your climax, his own hard-on becoming way too painful. You slowly catch your breath as his fingers slip out of your heat and he presses his hips into yours, your thighs caging his waist.

You smile up at him through closed eyes, your high slowly descending and when your heartbeat regains its original pace, you open your eyes.

And your smile falters.

Familiar cold dark orbs are staring right back at you instead of the warm brown of Taehyung’s pupils, and you try to squirm away but find it impossible as the same invisible force pins you down.

“I– you–”

He chuckles.

“Sugarplum, long time no see.” His hand strokes your hair and you whimper, your legs still locked around the man’s waist.

“Please,” you whisper weakly, a tear rolling down your cheek.

“I don’t want to hurt you, sugarplum.”

In this new lighting and his proximity, you can see the man’s face clearer than any of the previous encounters. As he leans forward to nose at your cheek, you can finally see his features and your lips part in shock.

His eyes are beautiful. A dazing shape, his dark orbs morphing into soft doe eyes, the tip of his nose almost kissable and his lips– God, his lips look delicious. Soft, plump lips so inviting, and you can’t help the hand hovering his face, your fingers gently caressing his plumpness. His dark hair falls messily around his head and you have the sudden urge to comb your fingers through his locks just to feel the silk-like strands through your digits.

He is demonically magnificent.

His free hand reaches to envelop your curious one, his eyes boring into yours. You shudder under his gaze and instead of cowering, you bring your other hand to push a strand away from his forehead.

“See? I’m no monster.” He smiles sweetly– almost too sweetly– and you gulp.

“What do you want from me?”

“I’ve told you countless times, sugarplum.”

His hand slides to your wrist in a harsh grip and you gasp as the other hand curls around your neck, squeezing your throat as he cuts off your air supply.

“Let me in.”

You whimper as the grip on your throat is unbearable, making you writhe under his hold. His hips ruth into yours and your naked cunt rubs against the material of his pants harshly, the outline of his obviously hard cock digging into your slit. As you feel yourself slowly falling into unconsciousness, he releases your throat and ascends down to your collarbone, reaching your tube top and pulling it down, a moan vibrating through his chest at the sight of your bare breasts. Each of his hand cups your mounds, his thumbs and forefingers pinching each pebbled nipple as you whine, your teeth caging your lower lip in a futile attempt to keep quiet. He notices that and releases a breast to harshly slap your thigh around his waist. You jolt in surprise and look at him with wide eyes.

“Don’t hold back. You sounded so sweet earlier.”

He doesn’t let you respond as he dives his head in, taking a nipple into his mouth to suck on the mound as he squeezes the other with his hand, pinching the nub in between his fingers. The moan that escapes your lips is unraveling, your hips automatically grinding against his in hope to find purchase. When he’s done with one breast, he does the same to the other one before pulling away, a hand stroking your hair affectionately as he stares at you.

“So beautiful.”

The blush on your cheeks isn’t going unnoticed and he smirks, his gaze lingering on your breasts heaving due to your ragged breathing. He then looks back up at your face before leaning forward and gently pecking your lips in a close-mouthed kiss, once, twice, then he starts trailing down your jaw to your neck, sucking bruises for everyone to see. You whine as you thread your fingers in his hair, and before you register it he has plunged two fingers in your heat, your stomach clenching to oversensitivity.

You moan as you buck your hips in his hand, surprised to even have enough energy to respond to the demon’s ministrations. His fingers are thick enough to hit all the right places and when his thumb strokes your engorged clit, your fifth orgasm of the night couldn’t have come sooner, a drawn-out moan escaping your swollen lips. As your walls squeeze his fingers deeply in your pussy, he groans above you before planting kisses down your throat. Leaning away from your neck as he pulls his fingers out, your arousal drips down his digits and you see strings of your slick juices connecting them when he parts them. Embarrassment manifesting in the red of your cheeks, you stare at the man happily lapping at his arousal-coated fingers, his pink lips wrapped around the skin.

“H–how did I get here?” You quietly ask as soon as your breathing came to normal. His furrowed eyebrows encourage the next words flowing past your lips, his digits falling free from the grip of his lips.

“I– I wasn’t asleep nor drunk and–”

The entire evening you made sure that you weren’t drinking too much, even had Justin’s special party booze out of tonight’s menu. Surely, you would remember if you had fallen asleep. Wait, had you passed out while Taehyung was fucking you? No way, you weren’t drunk. You hadn’t taken any substance or drugs or pills-

Pills. Blue, soft, dangerous pills.

Realization hits you in the guts and you suddenly find it hard to breathe. The way he had kissed your neck, your momentarily forgotten cup on the counter, his wandering hands–

“He,” you whisper, breath hitching as you choke out a whimper, “he drugged me?”

Gently, he places a kiss on your cheek. “Sugarplum.”

“He– he drugged me, and that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” The aching in your chest is too much for your heavy state and you start blinking away tears you didn’t know had started to pool at the corner of your eyes.

He sighs above you, his breath fanning over your face. Plopping down on the space next to you on the bed as he frees himself from the grip your thighs had around him, his hand gently strokes your naked waist until he reaches your breast, softly rubbing the skin as his thumb lightly flicks over your nipple. In an attempt to soothe your pain, you assume.

Trust is overrated, you conclude.

Here you are; crying over a man you’d learn to like over the past few years as the man you’ve been running from comforts your burning heart.

“It is,” he affirms and you don’t even question how he managed to answer your unspoken thoughts. The sob that breaks past your lips is heart wrenching and you bring your hands to your face, covering the entirety of it as the tears flow freely down your face.

He turns to you and envelops your shaken form in his embrace, your chest pressed against his as he runs a soothing hand down the expanse your bare back. And that’s how you fall asleep that night, without the nightmare that usually haunts your sleepless mind and instead, you find solace in the very man you’d grown to despise.

-----

[fanficshiddles]

Tear You To Pieces, Chapter 7

Kelly was so nervous, no, terrified that she was going to get caught by Stark or one of the other team members.

What she was doing was breaking every single rule there was. Even though she was part of the security team and could simply say she was improving the system, there would be lots of questions. Why at this time of night when she should be sound asleep in bed? Why did she have the box that contained Loki’s powers? Why had she turned off all the security cameras and overridden Jarvis?

She tried to remain calm and stop her hands from shaking as she picked up the golden box. She had still been worried that it would burn her hands or maybe explode upon being picked up by a human, since it was from Asgard. But she was relieved when it just felt like a heavy golden box. Not that she had ever picked up a heavy golden box before…

After replacing all the security firewalls and making sure it looked like it had been untouched, she rushed back to the security room to turn the cameras back on and sort out a loop for the tapes. It was easy enough for her to do. Overriding Jarvis had been the difficult part, but she had managed from her own room with her own computers and equipment.

As she rushed back into her room to finish off, she nearly screamed because Loki was stood in the middle of her room, waiting for her. He couldn’t help himself from being eager. But she could understand that, really. He had a part of him taken away from him without consent. That couldn’t have been nice at all.

‘Loki! You scared me.’ She blushed hard, as usual when she saw him.

‘Sorry, darling. That was not my intention… I just merely wanted to check that you’re alright, and if you managed to get it.’ He said softly and reached out to give her upper arm a soft squeeze.

‘All good. I just need to release Jarvis… Here, I believe this is yours.’ She handed him the duffel bag she had with her. While she sorted Jarvis, Loki opened the bag and felt a rush of adrenaline shoot through him when he saw she had succeeded in getting him the box.

‘I can’t thank you enough, Kelly my dear. You’ve done so well for me, I am so proud of you for doing this. Your skills are truly impeccable.’ He moved towards her once she was finished and he embraced her, making her heart soar as she hugged into him.

‘You’re welcome, Loki. I’m glad I could help.’ She said with a big smile as she looked up at him.

He let go of her and leaned back, grinning from ear to ear down at her. ‘You have no idea how much you have helped me. I am forever grateful, pet. I shall never forget this.’

‘Really, it’s my pleasure. I’m just glad I’ve been able to help, I hate the thought of anything bad happening to you.’ She said, slightly flustered.

Loki cupped her cheek and pressed a kiss to her forehead. ‘Nothing bad is ever going to happen to me, pet. Or you. I give you my word.’ He whispered.

Loki went back to his own room not long after. Kelly assumed he was going to get his powers into him. She wasn’t even sure how that would work, she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to know anyway.

When she went to bed, she took a while to get to sleep. Her mind was racing. Did she do the right thing? What if she was found out? But she eventually calmed herself down, knowing Loki wouldn’t let anything bad happen. It wasn’t like he was going to use his powers for bad now, anyway. He wasn’t under Thanos’ control anymore. He had changed.

And she hoped that once the others saw that, even if they found out he had his full potential, it wouldn’t matter by then. As he’d have proved himself worthy of their trust from missions, especially the big one coming up.

-

The following morning, it was late morning and Kelly was a little nervous as she hadn’t seen Loki yet. He was usually an early riser, but there was no sign yet. No one else had noticed, or even cared.

Part of her was worried in-case he’d ran off. She wasn’t entirely sure what all of his powers were, exactly. What he was capable of. But she knew teleportation was one of them. Again, she wasn’t sure how strong and how far he could actually go. But it was at the back of her mind.

She instantly felt guilty for thinking such a thing when Loki came strolling into the kitchen.

But then she noticed he seemed a bit… off. He was wearing his full Asgardian armour, which was unusual unless he was off on a mission or training.

‘Morning, Loki. Is everything ok?’ She called over to him. Clint was also in the kitchen leaning on the counter, and Pepper was making a brew. But they paid no attention to Loki. As usual.

‘Everything is absolutely wonderful, my pet.’ Loki growled. His voice was darker, much darker than normal. It sent shivers down Kelly’s spine, and she wasn’t entirely sure if it was the good kind or not.

Clint and Pepper looked over at Loki then, noting the difference in his tone too.

‘What have you done, Loki?’ Clint asked warily.

‘Nothing…’ The wickedest, most evil grin spread across Loki’s face. ‘Yet.’

Kelly felt like time froze as Loki suddenly aimed the palm of his hand towards Jarvis’ camera in the corner of the kitchen and blasted it to pieces with his green energy.

‘LOKI?’ Kelly screeched at him, confused and scared.

Clint jumped up to his feet and Pepper was about to call Tony. But Loki used the same energy and blasted Pepper right through the wall. A few SHIELD agents that had been close by came running in, but Loki dealt with them easily.

‘What the hell, why does he have his powers?’ Clint shouted and made a move for his arrows that were on a chair a few feet away from him.

‘I’m sorry… He said he needed it for the big mission, that he was worried.’ Kelly blurted out quickly, eyes wide as she watched Clint scramble for his arrows and bow.

Clint grabbed his bow and began pulling out an arrow, he glanced at Kelly, frowning. ‘Mission? What miss’ before he could even take aim at Loki, he was taken out too by Loki. With terrifying ease.

Kelly let out a scream and she ran in a blind panic towards the door. But a strong arm slipped around her middle and stopped her, lifting her off the ground and into his body. She kicked and screamed, trying to get him to let go.

‘Now now, pet. No need to fear me, I will spare you, while I burn this place to the ground.’ He growled into her ear.

Before Kelly could apprehend what was happening, Loki put a spell over her and transported her elsewhere. Her vision went hazy and all she remembered seeing last was Tony in his suit flying into the kitchen, using his blasters on Loki.

-

When Kelly came round, she was confused as to where she was at first. But as she sat up and blinked a few times, she realised she was in a library. She recognised it.

Running towards the door, stumbling a bit on the way, she burst outside and looked up and down the street. People were running around and screaming in panic. She looked up the road and towering over the buildings of the city she could see the Avengers tower. There were huge explosions coming from it, a big fire and gaping holes. It was getting utterly destroyed.  

‘What have I done?’ She sobbed, putting her hand over her mouth.

But she knew this wasn’t the time to be scared or to cry. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and started running up the road towards the tower, while other people were running away from it.

She needed to try and reach Loki, try and talk sense into him before he killed anyone else. She could only hope and pray that she wouldn’t be too late.

But Loki wasn’t under Thanos’ control this time. There was no hope of acceptance from his father or brother, he didn’t want to be equal to anyone anymore. He had no leash, he was his own master. In control of his own destiny.

And he was going to make sure he got what he wanted.

[softomi]

The Girl

prompt: have you ever cried because you felt your heart was overwhelmed with love; the feeling of love just knocking you so hard that you just had to weep. 

Atsumu swore to himself that no matter what; no girl was going to ever make him settle down. No one was going to get him to fall in love enough to make him choose them over his career. Atsumu made a promise to himself, he was going to reach the top; he was going to be the best of the best and no girl was going to pull him back from that.

Not even the love of his life, not you.

Call it hope or just plain stupidity; but when you started dating Atsumu, you ignored the red flags. On the first date; he didn’t even introduce himself at first, what came from his mouth was neither a compliment nor cute remarks. On the first date, he sets the menu down, eyes staring at you, captivating you.

“I don’t intent on getting married or having kids, if that’s what you want, then I suggest leaving.”

You didn’t leave, in fact, those things weren’t even on your mind the slightest. Just like Atsumu, you were interested in a companion not a one way lane into settling down. But the longer you two were together, the more you began to imagine yourself with those honeymoon eyes.

He noticed right away and he was quick to shut it down. Even after years together, he was still adamant on not letting any girl falter him. He thought you understood.

Atsumu coined himself a simple man, he only needed three things in his life: himself, volleyball, and sex. He said that to your face during an argument. It was the argument that caused you to leave, because if after four years together, all he thought of you was sex; then it wasn’t worth anything.

Yet here you were, a month later; knocking on his door. A girl answered, her body covered in his t-shirt. He wasted no time. He leaned on the doorframe, the smug look on his face as he asked if you were here to win him back.

“No.” Your eyes didn’t falter, they weren’t shaking, you were not going to let him win; you weren’t going to cry over a boy pretending to be a man, “I’m pregnant.”

His smile falters, “You’re kidding.”

You place a hand over your stomach, “I’m not expecting you to be the father of a child you don’t care about.” It was these moments when he truly found you amazing; the way you could stay headstrong when he knows you want to break down, “You deserve to know and that’s it. Now you know.”

He was reluctant to show up; in fact he was forced into this. Osamu childlocked him in the car as they drove to the hospital for your first check up. You had invited Osamu as he was the uncle to be; but the moment you saw him, ugly box dye blonde hair and all, you frowned.

“I’m so excited!” Osamu was jumping in his seat, “I think it’s gonna be a girl.”

You laugh, “It’s still too early to tell, but I hope so too.”

“Boys are better.” Atsumu’s voice is filled with bitter.

“No one asked you.” When he expects a frown from you, what he receives is a smile. You dig your fingers to pull his hair, he’s screeching in the middle of the waiting room, “No one asked you to be here, so shut your mouth; look pretty and stay quiet.”

Your fingers interlocked with Osamu’s, you two stared at the screen of your baby. The sudden heartbeat of the child made Osamu gasp, it made you tear up, it made Atsumu feel nothing. He sat unaffected, a small scowl on his face.

“It’s a girl.” Osamu told him over a meal. Atsumu is not shocked in the slightest, “The baby is a girl.” Osamu repeats.

Atsumu is chewing his food slowly, a sudden foul taste in his mouth, “I heard you.”

“Then why don’t you care?” Osamu watches his brother eat as though he wasn’t about to be a father to be, “She needs all the help she can get.”

The image of your face sticks to his mind, “She didn’t want me to be the father, then why should I act like I care.”

“I’m talking about the baby.” Osamu’s words cut him deep, “Mom and dad are coming this weekend; I told them about the baby.”

Atsumu cleaned his apartment to prepare for the weekend. He knew once his mother walked in, she would lecture him about the mess. But as he sat Sunday night, alone with the television on in the background; his cell phone displayed your social media post. A happy family picture: you, his parents, Osamu.

She didn’t want you over. Sorry Tsumu, I couldn’t change her mind.

It wasn’t like he cared anyways, he didn’t respond to his brother’s text. Instead, he went to a bar and dragged another girl home. He wasn’t going to let you win, he wasn’t going to let a silly girl like you settle him down.

“What.” You weren’t fully opening your door for him, you weren’t even going to invite him in.

Atsumu stands with his hands buried in his jacket, “Samu says he can’t make it to the appointment, he says I have to go.”

You close the door on him. The door locking loudly and he’s rolling his eyes. An hour passes; when you open the door to leave for your appointment, he stands to his feet.

“About time.” Atsumu grumbles.

“Why are you still here?” Though you sent him a question, you’re walking away from him.

Atsumu waves his phone, “Samu said he wanted picture proof that I went with you. Smile sweetheart.” You smack the phone from his hand, “Rude.”

“Don’t follow me.” You’re snapping at him as he walks behind you.

To outsiders, it looked like a lover’s quarrel; to you it was like having shit following you everywhere. You two had even taken separate cabs to the hospital. He’s amused seeing you slightly waddle, at twenty-four weeks, your stomach was growing.

“And your relation to the mother?” The front desk lady looked at Atsumu.

“He’s just a friend.” You assure the lady.

She nods, “Okay, well we’ve placed some restrictions on who can enter the room; as of right now only family members can enter.”

“I’m the father.” Atsumu states bluntly.

You sigh deeply, “Unfortunately.”

The room was rather bare than the last time. The silence of the room made it awkward as you looked at him. There used to be a moment in time when you could picture him with a child, you pictured him with his child on his back, running in circles of the living room as they giggled.

“What.” He notices you staring at him.

“Can I hold your hand?” Your voice is quiet, different than he’s ever heard before.

“Why?”

You exhale, turning your head to look away from him, “Nevermind.”

But the stillness of the room suddenly holds different, as he laced his fingers with yours, there’s a moment of clarity.

It was nearing your due date and Osamu was taking no chances. He was with you practically every day and when he couldn’t be there for you, Atsumu was in his place. You had gotten used to seeing him, your snarky remarks lessened over time, but not much differred; not even his lifestyle.

The girl looked at you up and down, “Sorry, I think you might have the wrong place.”

Atsumu appears behind her, “I think it’s you who has the wrong place.” He’s shoving her clothes into her hands, pushing the girl out the door as you step into his place.

“Didn’t know you’d have company.” You took off your shoes, walking straight to the kitchen to raid his refrigerator. Ever since you started coming over more, the more you noticed his refrigerator was stocked with healthier options.

“Jealous?” He’s teasingly drinking a cup of coffee that smells like heaven for you.

“Oh my god.” You press a hand onto your stomach, a groan on your lips.

He stands straight up, throwing the cup into the sink, running to you, “What? Is she coming?”

You shoot him a smile, “Gotcha.”

He doesn’t find it funny, he’s actually lecturing you on why that wasn’t funny. But you suddenly feel it, the sharpness in your body; the way it causes you to clutch the edge of the kitchen counter. The sudden rush of panic in your eyes makes him go blank.

Nineteen hours, that’s how long it took. Nineteen sleepless hours, nineteen hours of holding your hand, nineteen hours until he held his daughter in his hand. 

The awe in his eyes, the sudden clenching of his heart when he looked into her innocent eyes, he had fallen in love. He was so in love, he was crying. He was sobbing at the vending machine, at two in the morning in the silent hospital hallway; bending his knees, using an arm to try and silence himself, he bawled. Even as a distant door opened, the silent tune of isn’t she lovely plays; Atsumu wept. 

[joyaphoria]

m for manipulative (5)

part five: got pizza money?

pairing: iwaizumi x f!reader, oikawa x f!reader

summary: going into college with your closest friends—oikawa and iwaizumi—at your side, life was really looking up. however, when three new girls come along with nothing but bright smiles and seemingly good intentions, you soon find out that not only are they a threat to your friendship, but to your life.

© 𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢​​

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“i understand, l/n-san, uh yes, y/n will b-be staying with—oikawa shut up!—with me tonight, yes. oh, yea—no, we were studying and didn’t realize how late it had gotten—yea, no, she has extra clothes here. okay, thank you.”

hanging up the phone, iwaizumi fumbles with his key, struggling to open his front door with oikawa tugging on his pants, and you drooling at his neck.

“iwa-chann! why can’t we go to my place instead! i have a-a um..” oikawa aggressively rubs at his eyes, trying to finish his sentence.

"fuck!” iwaizumi curses under his breathe and jumps when you chomp on his shoulder, causing you to fall to the ground. “shit! y/n.”

oikawa gasps, both hands over his mouth. “iwa-chan! did you just hit a girl?”

you burst into tears on the porch, and iwaizumi ignores you, finally finding the right key that fits into the slot.

“shh, if you stop crying, i’ll let you sleep on the bed.” he whispers, while oikawa stomps into the house.

your face lights up and you nod excitedly, wiping your fake tears onto the back of your sleeve. 

“iwa-chan! where all the foods?” oikawa yells from inside, and iwaizumi drops you again, running in after him.

“ooowww!” you hick, crawling into the house on all fours.

“stop yelling shitty-kawa!” iwaizumi thumps his back. “my parents are asleep.”

taking hold of the counter, you hoist yourself up, and lean on the island for support. “hajimee! can we get pizza?” you ask, your mouth watering at all the possible combinations.

“yes!” tooru tackles you in a hug, landing you once again on the floor. “pizza pizza pizza pizza!”

“you got pizza money?” iwaizumi arches his eyebrow at you two on the floor, shaking his head. 

“uhh..” you look at tooru, who was now laying on top of you. “do you?”

oikawa reaches back and rummages through his back pocket, before pulling out a small square wrapper. “no, but i have bubble gum!”

“what the fuck-” iwaizumi snatches the package from oikawa’s hand, his face contorted in disgust. “why the hell do you have a condom in your back pocket?”

“to have sex of course! silly iwa-chan!” oikawa giggles, and you laugh along with him.

“holy shit. thats it. everyone upstairs, now.”

-

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN I HAVE TO SLEEP ON THE FLOOR?” oikawa screeches at you, wrestling to stay on the bed.

“GET OFF. GET, OFF!” you whine, tugging at his hair, and attempting to kick him off of you. “HAJI SAID I CAN SLEEP ON THE BED! ME! ONLY ME!”

you cry out when oikawa bites your cheek, having you roll off the bed.

“why would you do that!” you cry from the floor, rubbing at the teeth marks in your cheeks.

“you tried to shove your big toe up my ass!” oikawa sobs, crossing his arms and crawling under the bedsheet.

“i’m sorry tooru!” you climb back onto the bed, spooning him from behind. “don’t cry, okay? i was just kidding!”

“i leave for five minutes and you guys trash my room.” iwaizumi sighs, entering the room with two boxes of pizza in his hands.

oikawa’s mood is instantly lifted, jumping up and head-butting your chin. you burst back into tears when your tongue stings, a warm liquid pooling your mouth.

“look what you’ve done.” iwaizumi sighs, putting down the pizza on his dresser to help you off the bed. “let’s go rinse your mouth out.”

“iwa-chan! that sounds so dirty!” tooru points out, while hajime turns bright red.

“you wanna wash my mouth out, haji?” you wriggle your eyebrows, and iwaizumi fumbles over his words.

“n-no, i meant, like, it’s-it’s like—” frustrated, he thumps you on your head, and drags you to the bathroom. “just shut up.”

-

note: 

— oop i didn’t know meia had a dad

— ofc haji caved and bought the pizza

taglist: ​@thegreatikigai​ @fourcansofpringles @iicherrycore @elianetsantana @kissungjae @daphnxy @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @crackhead1-800 @meiankolia @thatprettybunny​ @4kaashl​ @rintarovibes @cloudsinthecosmos​ @ncthourss @pluviophilefangirl

[pine-lark]

Ooh trap him somewhere either very hot or very cold?? :D

Oh.

Oh.

This is a perfect excuse to write an old daydream from my childhood. Well, there's two-- Arion on a grill and Arion in a box. I chose the box for this one but I may be tempted to write the grill at some point. I haven't written The Box before now because it doesn't exactly... fit with the plot of the actual story, but I mean...

Alternate Rescue AU, coming right up, Anon. (Also sorry I'm like, infinitely late haha. School threw me into a hell pit and I've been recovering. I'm back now ((though I'm not sure for how long, things might change in a week or two... we'll see.)) For now, I'm working on a lot of Arion stuff that will hopefully pop up within a few days! Cheers!)

CW: Tiny whumpee, some blood, cold/hypothermia symptoms (duh), cages/referenced captivity, briefly implied forced nudity from said captivity, brief reference to a past fever and resulting vomiting, referenced/implied physical abuse, water/rain/storms/being submerged in/splashed with water, thoughts of dying (of the "I might die" and "Am I dead?" and wishing to be put out of misery type), crying, (thinking about) needles, short (kind of) graphic description of a bird being run over, brief religion references

-

His legs still ache from running.

Arion sits in the cardboard box he found on the side of the road, huddled in the corner, shivering in the dark. Although he tries to clamp his jaw shut and stop it, his teeth chatter and his shoulders quiver. It feels like the frozen autumn air has grasped him entirely in icy claws that shake him violently in an inescapable grip. It reminds him of being trapped in Heston’s hand, shaken, body tossed in every direction until his head pounded and his eyes watered.

It’s colder outside than it used to be in the garage. But it’s better out here. No one can hurt him here.

As long as they don’t find him.

He rubs his hands over the goosebumps on his arms, hoping to warm them up and calm down the wild pain buried deep in his skin. As he does so, blood smears along the path he touches. It’s still gently creeping out of the series of cuts etched into his forearms. With it, the image of Heston’s glinting eyes surfaces in Arion’s memory. He buries his head in his shaking knees with a wet sniff. But he’s done it, he reminds himself. He’s escaped. Finally. Chewed through rope, slipped through an unlocked door. Heston's gone. For now.

Please, please don’t come looking for me.

A dog barks somewhere in the distance. He jumps. It sets off an echo of shivers all the way down his spine as his hair stands on end.

A raindrop falls on the cardboard roof. Then another, and another. Thunder claps harshly overhead.

Arion shuts his eyes tight, bites back the frustrated tears welling up at the corners of his eyes. He curls up tighter, hugging himself, doing all he can to keep any scrap of heat he has close to his body. A storm might just do it. Might just kill him. A storm means wind. Freezing wind. And freezing rain. The last thing he needs right now is rain. It can’t rain. He presses his body closer to the cardboard wall, knowing it might not be standing there much longer if it rains.

And it does. It pours.

He sees the rain splash into the road before him. The storm swiftly grows. It’s ferocious and feral and cruel. The temperature around Arion drops. His tiny body shakes uncontrollably, as if it weren’t his own. It reminds him of the terrifying fever he had, long ago, in the confines of his red cage just weeks after being taken from his home. He’d been throwing up and twitching and having the most horrible, vivid dreams (on the occasions that both Heston and the illness let him sleep). The fits of shivering drove him mad, the endless teeth-chattering and flashes of uncomfortable warmth and sticky sweat made him feel even worse. It's like that, he thinks. Except, now, as he shivers, he’s unbearably cold.

An involuntary whine fights its way out of him. When he swallows, his throat feels stiff and achy. Snot runs profusely down his lips and no amount of wiping it away with his bleeding arms is helping it slow. Water has thoroughly and entirely drenched the cardboard, at this point. Has crept through the floor and the walls, and, gradually and persistently, has started to drip through the sagging ceiling. For a moment, Arion remembers he has toes, and that they’ve been numb for awhile now. Actually, now that he’s thinking about it, his feet haven’t felt like anything either, and when he tries to move his fingers, they only twitch. They feel heavy and prickly. He feels prickly all over. Like Heston had shoved a thousand frozen needles into a thousand different places all over his body. It hurts to breathe. There’s no way to get warmer. Nothing to hide under, not even something as decent as clothing. No way to escape, nowhere to run to, even if he had the energy left to try. He lets out a miserable sob.

And then the ceiling falls through, in a blur of collapsing cardboard and splashing waves of water that crash over his head and the rest of his body.

Arion tumbles out of the box, drenched. He coughs up water through jittery movements. For a second, he chokes on a mouthful, and he briefly he thinks he'll never breathe again, before his chest jerks and with another cough, the water falls out of his mouth. He tries to get his arms and legs under him, to stand or even crawl, but his limbs fail him and he crumbles face-first back to the harsh surface below him. The rocks mixed in the road’s tar are sharp. They cut deeply through his nose and cheek and the shoulder that followed his face in the fall. Arion winces against the fresh, sharp pain and the beads of blood that begin to form where he’s been hurt. His breaths come in ragged heaves.

He sniffs. Tears drip from his eyes. He lays helpless in the middle of the little road, in his mind begging to no one that a car doesn’t come along and crush him. Under any other circumstance, he’d love to be put out of his misery. But he’s seen a bird been run over before. Under a truck’s tire. And the memory makes his stomach churn. Flattened face, open stomach, popped like a bubble in a stream.

Briefly, Arion thinks of himself in place of the bird. He thinks of the smear of red underneath his empty, open eyes. He thinks of the way the headlights might look as they would suddenly appear right in front of him. The horrid, mind-numbing honk of a horn. The image he creates in his mind of those headlights, his last moments, is vivid. It’s so vivid that he thinks it might be real, or maybe hypothermia is setting in and beginning to ruin his mind.

It’s just his imagination, he thinks.

And then he smells exhaust from a car.

And the screech of brakes.

And for a second, whilst his body is numb and bright white light is all he can see, he thinks he might be dead.

“I swear, if I keep stopping my car for every mouse that sits in front of it, I’m never going to get anywhere.”

That voice drifts from the car stopped in front of him.

Not dead, then.

Almost, he thinks.

“Can’t help it though. What else am I supposed to do, run them over? Just vet instincts, I guess. Huh, Jasper.” There’s a meow in response. Arion’s breath hitches. The voice says, “Me-ow. I know, I know. I’ll be right back.” A car door shuts. Then there’s heavy wet footsteps. Boots clopping over puddles and asphalt. Panic floods Arion’s chest as a shadow cuts through the blinding white light from the vehicle. The outline of a human lowers, kneels in front of him. His breath stops. His mind goes blank.

“What…”

A moment passes. Something touches him. He flinches hard, but trying to run isn’t an option. His body is completely, entirely, wholly exhausted and far too numb to move more than flailing back a couple inches.

“Oh, geez, that’s-- not a mouse. Okay.” Her head turns in a way that Arion can see her face. A young woman with red hair, watching him with a warm but frantic gaze. “Okay. Okay okay. Oh, God, you’re injured pretty bad, little buddy. Your arms are all… cut up. That’s not good. Um.”

Arion stares blankly ahead. Suddenly, freezing to death isn’t something he feels like putting too much effort into avoiding.

“Okay. Here’s what we’ll do,” the girl continues. “I’m gonna bring you into my car where I can see you better, alright? Then I can help you. It’s gonna be okay. Here. I’m picking you up now, ‘kay?”

The feeling of a warm hand washes over his body. It’s both terrifying and incredibly welcome. The sting of cold seems to seep out of his skin, albeit very slowly. Quickly, though, burning prickles replace whatever comfort the touch brought him.

“Oh, you’re freezing, little guy. You must have been out here for a long time. That can be really dangerous… I’m glad I found you. I’ll get you all warmed up in the car.”

Arion whimpers against the hands that carry him to somewhere warmer, where he hears the faint, deep sound of a large beating heart. For a second, he wonders if this is God. And then the car door opens and creaks, and the girl curses under her breath, and Arion remembers he’s an atheist.

Still, as the stinging in his warming skin subsides, the warmth of her hands starts to feel… nice. If his mind were still intact (instead of shattered into vague, useless fragments as it is now), Arion would have done anything and everything to get away from any human or other predatory beast in sight. But with his head swimming, he leans into her touch, and compliantly accepts the soft feeling of some kind of cloth being wrapped all around him.

Words are spoken to him, but he can’t listen. To him they sound broken up and blurry as the insistence of sleep becomes more desperate in the back of his mind. As he gets warmer, his muscles relax, and his eyes get droopy. His vision darkens, and the girl’s voice hushes.

Just before he drifts off into a far overdue, deep and restful sleep, he thinks to himself, vaguely, that he hopes this human is different. He hopes that when he wakes back up, it won’t be in another cage.

-

Tag list because this ended up being a full drabble:

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