#((anyway ive rambled anxiously long enough))

[prime-intelligence]

[[-wheezes- OK look here’s the tea, gang 

For now, I’m still alive. I still want to run a blog about this stupid bear cause I still have a huge hyperfixation on him. But story updates are super hard to do because of time and energy, so I’m going to have to switch em back to Black&White to see if that helps my workload 

I know full colour and bright lights is very nice to look at, but it is so much and I cannot keep up. We either gotta go B&W for story, or we gotta shorten it signif if y’all won’t settle. Harsh but like, I’m Tired and I do other things.]] 

[tigerdrop]

u know u could put out the weirdest most fucked up shit and we would still love it. obviously don't share stuff if it makes u uncomfortable but for every single thing you find embarrassing there's something several times worse

i really hope ur ready to stand by these words b/c im about to tell you about.......showdog dogboy gordon. for five thousand fucking words

look. listen. hear me out. my dear kogo introduced me to an idea and it has not left my mind since: showdog......dogboy......gordon

like.........you know.......its about. dogboy. submitting while benrey dolls him up and makes him look nice. maybe hes been a lot......fuzzier since he got forcibly nintendogged. and maybe benrey cracks a joke about it, maybe the joke gets pulled out a little too far. b/c its the two of them, and thats what they do. its jokes. games. jokes being riffed upon and thinly-veiled dares being issued until gordon freeman finds himself standing awkwardly next to a grooming table in nothing but his underwear while benrey tells him to chill the fuck out. puts that collar on him. after all, he wants to look nice for his friend, right? they say a dog is mans best friend

this definitely would not be the first time a joke or a game went too far and they ended up fucking at the end of it, but this is......this is a whole level beyond. this is definitely, like. theres a Lot going on here. but neither of them are breaking character yet so

and. you know. if youre feeling really insane. like me. if youre feeling just fucking diseased. you can make benrey.......pretty big here. make gordon dogy-sized next to him. not like, tiny, but enough that gordon, ordinarily a Big Guy, feels......small. a little emasculated

and.....yknow. gordon could be collared and chained to the table. like a real dog. not a lot of slack on that thing. and maybe hed be.......muzzled, too. if hes the kind of dogboy that gets snippy at scissors

its really good also for.....benrey being fully clothed and gloved up while gordons almost entirely bare. i know dog groomers dont strictly have to wear gloves. but still. not that it was really going to stop me if he wouldnt actually have a reason to wear gloves. i would make him anyway b/c ive lost all dignity

ITS ABOUT. THE HORNY FUCKING GAME. like they could talk about it if, if they wanted, if they were normal about it, b/c in this scenario they have absolutely fucked it out before (b/c i cant imagine any other fucking way gordon freeman acquiesces to this unless hes Aware that theres gonna be dick touching involved), but they are not normal and they are not going to break kayfabe even if it kills them

and like......i think the muzzle thing is......good. its really really good. b/c benrey can get real fuckin mean and tell him that hes gonna have to be a good boy and keep his teeth to himself if he wants it off so that benrey can make him look less like shit

those new canines of his are awful pointy. is gordon sure he can handle it? can he get a grip on his dogy side for fucking long enough to let benrey take a straight razor to his face? of course he can, he thinks, b/c hes not a fucking dog, okay, hes still a guy, and hes here to prove it and just. behave. while benrey manhandles him and grooms him and brushes out his fur and files his fucking nails. hes not in thrall to his instincts whether they be animalistic or vulgar. and hes definitely not going to cave and ask benrey to touch his fucking dick while he does this

> i enjoy the thought of benrey posing gordon as he pleases but never directly touching him, lifting his leg to get under his upper thigh or stretching the skin of his belly taut as not to nick him. so concentrated on gordon but feigning ignorance to his building arousal, ignoring it

> that art jordan did where gordon is on the table and has the collar on. his chest is shaved into the shape of a heart and that made me so DFUCKING CRAZY I STARTED BARKING AND SNARLING AKLSJAKDJFS

YEAH.....ITS......its shaved into a heart on purpose. and i left that in the first version i posted but nobody said anything about it so i just whistled and walked away

> LIKE. the emasculation of it....the fucking. possesiveness. theres also an undercurrent of like tenderness to it that made me fucking go apeshit

its such a fucking power move too. like. thats not gonna grow out for awhile. every time gordon freeman looks in the mirror for the next few weeks hes gonna be reminded of how fuckin debased he was

just..............consider........the trust hed have to put in benrey for it........benrey holding gordons jaw very firmly in his hand and showing him the straight razor and being like "yo.......uhh......this things sharp. dont wanna make a mess......better, better sit real fuckin still. sit boy. dont move." and sitting rigidly after benrey says something like that while tilting his jaw up to look directly athim is one of the hardest things gordons done in his life. hes sweating and hes making himself dizzy by trying not to breathe too much

he can just......he can see exactly where gordons jugular is fluttering madly under the razor and where gordons adams apple bobs as benrey skims stubble off his throat and rest assured that benrey is getting off on this just as much as gordon is

big......big hands on his face.....turning him every which way.......running his thumb over the clean line of his jaw to feel the results..........i think its just, its a cool scenario. to think about. but instead of this being just a normal "gordon freeman gets shaved" scenario, hes half naked and chained to a table and also has dog ears for some fucking reason

but also this is just like......his face. its the "trimming him everywhere" thats the really fun part

> like...the moving down his body....touching almost clinically by moving part of him around to get everything...yknow....

casual.....clinical.......nervewracking to be on the receiving end of

> thinking about him having to restrain his horny is fun, but it’s especially fun when you think about how he’d spend hours like that, hard and dripping, since friend benrey wants to be so through

> YES CLINICAL, ALMOST INDIFFERENT

fucking. hours. of just laying there anxiously running his mouth and laughing and gasping when benrey moves him like its nothing or touches him somewhere that makes him jump......like.......benrey with something whirring as loudly as those clippers in his hand doesnt exactly inspire confidence......but hes weirdly good at what hes doing and hes got a broad palm flat on gordons stomach to hold him in place/get him to chill out......but it just makes gordon sweat and flush and hes trying so hard to stay still b/c benrey keeps demeaning him when he squirms too much......like, what, is he scared? thinks benreys gonna cut his other arm off with a pair of hair clippers? get real. calm down maybe.

but thats not really the reason why hes acting weirdly ticklish about the whole procedure. (its because of the Scenario, man. gordons trying so hard to be normal in the face of the awareness that this is one of the most insane things hes ever gotten hard for, but we all know how strung out this dude gets at even relatively normal shit. so much so that benrey will just stare at him blankly and ask "uhhh, stop moving please? thank you?" b/c gordons so handsy ordinarily and he keeps trying to move his hands when he talks)

> listen. what if he....absentmindedly like...pet. him. on the stomach. just doing the motion cause it soothes normal dogs so when he feels gordon squirming he strokes heavily down. repetitive...but hes not even focusing on that, hes like intent on getting the part hes trimming just right gordon freezes up and stops breathing for a second to flush all over. benrey’s hand is so hot on his stomach, and he can only focus on how good it feels,

> squirmy because he feels like he’s gonna die if his dick doesn’t get touched and all his instincts are screaming to disobey and hump benrey into the ground (not like he physically can with the restraints but)

eventually benreys gonna have to get down to brass tacks and shave and trim all of him

> and like the whole time. the whole goddamn time gordons just in his boxers absolutely throbbing with it and like. benrey's hand moves to his stomach and like the waistband of  his boxers. yeah. all of him.

can you imagine. gordon freeman desperately trying not to be horny while his best friend kneels between his legs and hooks those fingers in his waistband and starts peeling them off and completely fucking failing at it but hes still gotta try, right. whether hes cis or trans this idiot is so horny that his underwear is just. ruined

> i still cant stopr thinking abt. in the pictures you drew jordan. the way benrey is. delicately touching gordons dick/pussy to get a better angle for shaving

Y. YEAH. ITS POTENT. IMO. gordon having to pretend like hes not fucking horny in the slightest while benrey just kind of clinically moves his dick around and laughs at him when it twitches......ITS A LOT.

> the amount of willpower gordon is exercising not to fuck up into benrey’s palm when he’s loosely holding his dick to shave all the hair around it is honestly impressive

hes trying so fucking hard. hes shaking. look at him. tail thumping weakly against the table

just......like......i was thinkin about benrey getting gordon stripped bare while he stammers and rambles because he is so very fucking turned on right now and hes so embarrassed by this that he just stares firmly at the ceiling and humiliates himself ranting about how its a totally normal response and plenty of guys get erections during prostate exams and benrey has no idea what the fuck hes talking about

> this was th. part. ...benrey ignoring his boner and his rambling like "yeah alright. stay still for this part though for real" and gets to work. gordon absolutely mortified but hes breathing real shallow cause he doest want to get nicked here of all places so. and benrey placing a hand on his thigh to push them open further so that he can get a better angle and gordon's leg shakes. its quiet until benrey says to himself "'youre bein still. 's good." and gordon's dick visibly twitches at that and he shuts his eyes quickly and turns his face away. also i was still thinkin,,,,bout how the little praise straight up goes to gordon's head and his tail might also thump a lil faster on the table.

> would benrey notice? probably. maybe not say anything at first but just let a real evil smirk spread on his face, laughing a little. and then say lowly when hes focused on his work, "really like that huh. lil dogboy. you like being good?" and gordon lets out a harsh breath, stomach jumping. doesnt respond but his tail moves even faster. benrey's wrist brushes the head of his dick and he lets out a small sound, which turns strangled then he actually takes his hand and presses his dick to the side so he can get right below his stomach. its detached, hes just holding it pressed to the crease of his hip, but gordon's dick throbs under his palm and dribbles precome against the gloved fingers

> Okay, so, part of the grooming process is, of course, bathing the dog. And luckily, Benrey has a wonderful tool to help him with this. A hand-held shower hose with a lovely little shower head with very nice settings to help our little showdog get... clean.

> Imagine, if you will: Gordon, on all fours and chained up to keep him upright as Benrey slowly, methodically, wets him down. Lathers him up. Works his hands all over his body, from tail tip to the top of his head. Massaging into his belly. Rubbing inside his thighs. Cleaning every part of him. Every part.

> And the shower head occasionally dips down, pulsing, right to a sweet spot between Gordon’s legs, the closest thing he’s got to attention the entire time they’ve been playing this game. He’s so close, so GODDAMN close to getting what he wants, but every time Benrey realizes he’s getting somewhere... ... He moves it. To spray his back. His head. His chest. Anywhere but where Gordon wants it.

> Gordon is shaking. His legs are trembling, the table is wet and slick. He’s having such a hard time staying up on all fours, he’s panting and begging and losing his footing and EVERY TIME he loses his footing, well, the collar and chain choke him and force him right back up. And Benrey is just watching. Grinning.

> Waits for him to get his composure.

> And does it again.

just......like.......jesus. gordon would be. shaking. his whole body. panting like a dog. trying so hard to stay still. but he keeps trying to spread his legs wider when benrey reaches his thighs and he keeps slipping and accidentally choking himself and hes nearly at the breaking point trying to keep himself together but benrey runs a big, warm hand along his side and makes a passing comment on what a good boy hes being and gordon almost fucking yells from how overwhelmed he gets

i want gordon freeman fucking obliterated. i want him to suffer first from benrey jerking him around and then being made to jerk himself around, trying and failing to keep his shit together.....and when benrey tells him sumn like, hey no, dont lay down........even if your arms and legs are shakin, you gotta stay up bro.......its so fuckin demeaning and gordon just spits out "im trying!" and benrey buries his free hand in gordons hair like hes gonna tug in retaliation, but instead he just scratches gordons scalp in a way that feels really fucking good and asks "you gonna bite? huh? gonna bite me? when im treatin you so nice......jeez, man" and that takes him back from the brink a little

hes just always keeping gordon on his toes. switching settings. dragging it out and making gordon shake from head to toe, sometimes putting on one of those real powerful pulsing jets to overstimulate him and make gordon yelp and just work him up into a trembling mess struggling to stay upright. snarling in ugly frustration when benrey yanks the showerhead away just as gordons starting to Get There. it feels like it must have been hours that hes been being bathed like this and teased from occasional glancing sprays with the waterhead to direct stimulation while benrey chuckles at him and just blandly comments "youre shaking." and gordon stammers out hotly "of course im fucking shaking, you keep fucking with me and i just wanna--" and benrey takes him by the chin and makes gordon look up at him and says, laughing at him under his breath, "dogs dont talk, bro"

ike.......at this point u might think "surely thats enough. throw the guy a bone." and that maybe, now, gordon freeman will get his dick touched like he deserves. you owuld be wrong. benreys not done here. gordons gotta come down from that table, get toweled off. and when benrey unclips that leash from the table, gordon just fucking collapses. his arms and legs cant really hold him up right now......hes being strung out like a violin, drawn to maximum tautness before being let go all at once just before he snaps.

and this is where benrey plays a little nice.......dries him off and blowdries him a little, brushing out his hair and his tail. hes committed to the bit, okay? he said he was gonna make his best bro look nice, so hes gonna make gordon look nice. this whole time hes letting gordon come back down.....and its......its kind of frustrating, if benreys just gonna decide to leave him like this and drag him outta here  and call that the end of the game, but its not the worst thing in the world right now. for the first time in hours hes not being asked to do something. he doesnt even really have to move his own arms and legs.

but No. hes still not done. theres something theyre forgetting........gotta clip your nails, bro. its the last thing on benreys docket, and gordons embarrassed for a different (but taxonomically similar) reason. all the personal attention and the bizarre intimacy of it makes gordons mouth start running, just to get his mind off it. pretend to be normal! surely thats gonna work when the guy who nearly gave him a nervous breakdown from being edged and toyed with beyond belief is now at his feet, filing nails and running curious thumbs over the tendons and muscles. benreys almost more lost in it than gordon is at this specific point. (hes been doing nothing but jerking gordon around and its hard work. he deserves this.)

gordons been good. really fuckin good. didnt even nip his fingers. benreys best friend deserves a treat.

> look. hes been so fucking good the whole time. not moving and not touching himself, not breaking the tension they have with each other, staying so still. i think he deserves something nice. but like gordon doesnt expect it, he expects to just be jerked around and let go. benrey tells him to stay on the table and he complains about it like "im done now. you. you said we were done" but benrey comes back with a fresh pair of gloves and gordon tenses until benrey places a hand on his chest and tells him to calm down. he was good. rubs at his chest and stomach, slowly pushing him down onto the table while gordon squeaks when benrey parts his legs.  hes mostly soft now but he hears benrey doing something and then rubbing a slick finger around his hole and he lets out a little "oh god. oh god. " that turns into a moan when he presses in.

> gordon's calmed down a bit but its goddamn embarrassing how quickly he gets wet again, dick throbbing a little. and i think. hm. i  think it would be very fun to do overstimulation in this way now too since hes been edged so much that hes actually fucking desperate to come

> i think he should be be fingered until he howls and comes like 3-4 times. he's finally finally getting what he wants i dont know if he would know what to do. hes probably embrassed as all fuck from the way he acted that whole time, but when he starts getting fingered all that stuff just blanks from his mind and its so, so hard for him to not just chase that feeling and whore himself out. the opportunities for whoredon dialogue when hes that desperate are like  saying shit hes cant even think about like "god - please f- fuck." and benrey's only got one finger in him but hes so wet already that benrey tries a second and it slips in easily. he crooks his fingers and gordon fucking keens, thighs shaking.

the fuckin. the agony in his voice when hes hoarsely begging benrey "do not stop do not fucking stop i cant take it" and just. slamming his fist into the table and being so fucking loud, oh my god, this guy is loud

> the thought of how loud he would be crazed me im just. just. him laying on the fucking table, eyes shut tight and moaning high and loud while he pulls tightly on his own hair, clenching hard around benrey's fingers

i think it would just be cool if. uhh. the thing that finally breaks gordon. gets him to just Let Go. is benrey catching him trying to choke back his words and his sounds and just laughs at him, like, "this is the easy part man. you wanna be a good dog? better, uhh.....better beg. cmon, boy. beg." and gordons hips jerk and the subsequent praise he gets when he actually does it makes him just.......snap.......Bye

> and what if.......benrey doesnt remove them as gordon comes down from that. he just waits a few seconds while gordons still panting and then scissors them and wrings a strangled sound out of gordon, whos hips move down again. and the heat starts building again in his gut and he cant even get out full sentences anymore, just bits and pieces while he fucks onto benrey's fingers. m. maybe benrey's growling out shit like "thats it, cmon. been good for me all fuckin day. you want more?" and gordon nods his head without even looking but he hears a thump and sees benrey kneeling between his thighs and he. licks up from where his fingers are to his clit and he just seals his mouth on it and sucks and that makes gordon come a second time, thighs clamping shut around benrey's ears.

i just......i lvoe......overstim.......and i think gordon freeman should have his pussy eaten until he cannot fucking take it anymore

maybe......even.......maybe after gordon comes a second time. benrey doesnt stop sucking and licking. at first it seems like benreys just working him thru the orgasm, but then he just keeps going. and gordons sensitive, hes too fucking sensitive, each time benreys tongue swipes over him he jerks and tries to close his legs. frantically gasping that he did it, okay, he got gordon off, voice getting high and broken, but benrey just pulls back and looks at him flatly and then very deliberately. spreads his legs wider in one swift movement. and pins them with his big fucking hands. and just looks him in the eye and says "i know, dude" and puts his mouth right back on gordon anyway. and gordons legs twitch like fucking mad but benreys so strong and he cant move and hes slamming his fist on the table again from how overwhelming it is, tears prickling in the corner of his eyes, howling into the open air how benreys killing him, hes fuckin killing him, why does he like jerking gordon around so much........and benrey glances up and breaks the seal of his mouth around gordons dick and mutters something about how he must not be doin his job if gordons still talking

i want him to howl wordlessly with frustration and grab benreys hair and yank him closer as gordon rounds the corner from "the agony of getting sucked off when hes hyper-sensitive" to "the agony of chasing yet another orgasm". i want this dude to be tonguefucked until he wails!!! I Want Him Ruined. meat: massacred. pussy: destroyed. i think it would be cool if gordon freeman was wailing at him for more, dont stop, benrey, until benreys got two big fingers back in him and is squeezing in a third alongside them and hes so fucking tight from having just come twice in a row, but the groan gordon lets out when its finally inside him is so guttural and low it makes benrey blink and shiver

and i think that for the grand finale benrey should smash that dogboy pussy. thanks for coming to my TED talk

hes been going thru this shit for hours. taking his time to really screw gordon freeman up good. and its been so fuckin worth it just to hear all the fun new sounds gordon made (cuz of him, he reminds himself). benreys been awkwardly adjusting his dick in his pants for way too fucking long, and gordons been watching him do it. staring at it. saliva collecting at the corner of his mouth. he was achingly hard the whole time he was giving gordon a glorified pedicure. and he didnt even ask to shift forward from where he was kneeling to let the arch of gordons foot press against his dick. its been just as hard for benrey to keep control and stick to the rules of the game as it has been gordon, and this dude oughta get to crush mad pussy okay

> the thought of this is kinda making me insane actually so. im just. h. im just thinking about how it would go down like. augh. i think that gordon would be shaking from his third consecutive orgasm but like. he can keep going. and he finally gets a moment to breathe and look at benrey whos just a mess. hair messed up where gordon gripped it, red faced, mouth dripping with his own drool and gordon's slick and hes remembers like. this guys so fucked up over this, god. and hed been thinking about his dick the whole time, even though he thought he wasnt gonna get anything out of it for a while. hes been wanting it. and so like like he doesnt want to play any more games. hes been good he deserves this.

> benrey's still got three fingers in him so he kind of just pushes him back and breaths out "fuck me". benrey's actually absolutely dazed from everythin and has to process it like "huh. wh" but gordons like "just fucking do it, cmon. im not gonna say it again" and benrey finally actually registers it like. "y-yeah. okay." and he barely has any time to think before gordon's hauling him up onto the table. starts fumbling to get his pants and shirt off and gordons practically tearing at his clothes which doesnt fucking help. letting out little growls maybe like "fucking. jerking me around this whole time fuck you. can see how much you wanted it" and they finally manage to get them off and gordon pulls him on top and ruts against him. its finally now clicking for benrey that fuck. this is actually happening and he pushes into him with a low sound and gordon's thighs and tail go still and taut until he bottoms out.  gordon's fucking panting and clenches down on him and they both let out a little sound and benrey starts fucking into him slow. but cmon. this dudes been pent up the whole goddamn time. its barely any time before hes gripping gordon's hips and fucking up into him fast and hard, hips slapping against gordon's at a desperate pace. he probably tries to make it last but he cant, hes been edging himself too long. im going to fucking die see ya everybody

thinking about just how fuckin bad benreys legs would shake from the effort of pushin in reaaalll slow b/c gordons so fucking tight after having gotten off 3 times in a row.......trembling from the effort of trying to hold himself back......and gordons nails digging into the back of his neck and dragging down his back to leave long red furrows behind....... gordons eyes screwed tightly shut while the only thought on repeat in his head is "oh my god hes big hes so fucking big" and he can barely fuckin speak

> like yeah he had three fingers in him but this is so goddamn much. thinking about...gordon's hands clawing into back involuntarily from the stretch, letting out little cut off pants while his legs shake a little from it. i just. like the thought of his tail pointing out stiffly and trembling too. the absolutely wrecked sound he would let out when he bottomed out, all of that tension kind of leaving him in a drawn out deep moan. benrey shifts just a little to get a better grip on gordon's thighs and it causes him to yelp a little cause its so fucking much just from that movement.

> benrey's trying not to move but his hips are twitching from holding himself back and gordons letting out little. sounds that are making him insane. he pulls out just a little and that makes gordon let out a whine. and when he pushes back in gordon lets out breathless "fuck!" like its been punched out of him. even going this slowly is making him fucking shake like a leaf. hes squeezing his eyes shut tight heaving deep breaths, chest rising and falling fast. hes so full be can barely think. and benrey's just fucking stupid with cumbrain and hes saying all kinds of filthy shit like "h - fucking - so fucking good for me. so good. nnh. best. best friend -" and that makes gordon let out a whine. the praise has been getting to him the whole time and just. again with the loaded phrase of best friend. like the possesiveness of that. that combined with the near-overstimulation of getting filled makes him actually kind of lose it. his thighs clamp around benreys hips and his toes curl and pulls benrey's hips forward to make him thrust into him, so he stop going slow. bye. goodbye

[1heartfanfics]

Julius health scare

Trigger warnings: depictions of vomiting and blood and also hospitals? ambulances? emergencies? idk if any of those are triggers but maybe so anyway yeah

Also I apologize in advance because this is like some hella whump.

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

“Oh my god this can’t be happening!! You have to save him, you have to, please!” 

Tayden cried, tears pouring down his cheeks as he jumped down out of the ambulance after the gurney that his boyfriend was being wheeled away on. 

“Son you’re gonna have to stay out here in the waiting room, I’m sorry,” he was shoved back as the doctors rushed Julius down the hallway. 

“No! I need to go with him, he’ll be so scared!” Tayden yelled, but the man was already jogging towards the gurney. The gurney with his boyfriend on it, curled up on his side, writhing and screaming in pain. 

Tayden ran his fingers through his hair as he let out a sob. He couldn’t handle this, it was too much. It was all just too much. 

They almost made it. Tayden’s mom had bought a plane ticket for both him and Julius to fly back to stay with her in San Diego for Friday afternoon. Just four more days and they would’ve made it home. 

*1 hour earlier*

“You not feeling good again?” Tayden asked nervously, lurking in the doorway of the bathroom. Julius was camped out on the floor in front of the toilet. All he’d eaten for dinner was a piece of toast and some grapes but apparently that had still been too much for his stomach tonight.

“Not really,” Julius sighed, a hand resting on his stomach. 

“I’m sorry,” Tayden bit his lip, fidgeting with his hands anxiously. If Julius was in the bathroom that meant that he was nauseous which meant that he might... no don’t think about it. 

“Go, I’m okay,” Julius sighed, giving him as much of a smile as he could muster. He really was so nauseous. It wasn’t usually this bad, but his stomach was killing him tonight. 

“I don’t want to leave you here by yourself Juli, you’ve been taking care of me for weeks even though you’re the sick one,” Tayden sighed. 

“Stop that. You’re sick too, just in a different way,” Julius said through clenched teeth as he breathed through a cramp. God this was awful. 

“I’ll be alright,” Tayden said, forcing himself to take a step into the bathroom. Julius needed him. He slowly walked over and sat down beside him. 

Julius rolled his eyes. This was a bad idea and they both knew it. He slid his hand under his shirt to rub at his stomach with a groan, ushering up a wet belch, which threatened to bring up something more. 

“Oh god,” he gagged into his hand, “Tayden, GO,” he said as forcefully as he could manage. It wouldn’t do him any good if his boyfriend started having a panic attack and throwing up next to him. 

“Fuck,” Tayden scrambled for the door. Julius was right, he couldn’t do this. “I’m sorry,” he said as he walked quickly down the hall and into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. 

He paced back and forth for a few minutes, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. God he was so angry at himself. Julius needed him and he couldn’t even sit in there with him, let alone help him feel any better. 

Come on Tayden, man up. Go in there and be a boyfriend. 

After a few minutes of psyching himself up he did. He walked out of his room and down the hall to the bathroom. But it was quiet. That was a good sign right, Julius had stopped... yeah. Anyway, maybe he was feeling better. He slowly pushed the bathroom door open.

“O-oh god,” he stammered, stumbling backwards. He tripped over his feet and landed on the floor, gaping at the scene he saw in the bathroom. 

Julius was slumped on the floor, body limp. His eyes were rolled back in his head and his face was as white as the linoleum. But that wasn’t even the worst part. His mouth was ringed in red, blood spattered on the floor in front of him. 

Tayden’s stomach lurched but he fought back the heave and the panic rising in him and practically crawled forwards into the bathroom, dropping to his knees nest to Julius. He grabbed his shoulder and shook, “Juli? Jules wake up, hey, Julius come on!” 

He was shouting now, which apparently was enough to wake up one of his housemates, Ollie. 

“Dude shut the- oh Jesus Christ what the hell happened?” Ollie appeared in the doorway.

Julius groaned, his eyes fluttering open, just in time for his body to lurch forwards. He coughed up another mouthful of vomit, tinged with blood, all over Tayden. It was all too much for him too, he turned to the side and puked up his own stomach contents, fortunately into the toilet. 

“Alex, call 911!” 

Tayden heard a lot of shouting and commotion, but he didn’t know what was happening. His eyes were closed and he couldn’t breathe. But he could still feel Julius in his arms, panting and crying. 

“Ah, god it hurts!” Julius yelled, curling in on himself in Tayden’s lap. Tayden kept his eyes closed, but managed to find Julius’s hand with his own. Julius squeezed it so tight Tayden thought he might break, but he didn’t say anything. 

Then Julius screamed. Literally screamed in pain. Tayden could feel himself crying, but everything felt weird, fuzzy. 

“I love you, I’m here, I love you, I love you so much,” Tayden realized he had been saying it over and over, rocking back and forth with Julius in his lap as he squeezed his hand and screamed, writhed. It was a sound he wished he’d never had to hear come out of his love’s mouth. 

*present time*

“Kiddo, are you okay?” a lady in scrubs asked him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“M-my boyfriend, they just t-took him aw-ay and, and-” Tayden broke off with a sob, his legs giving out beneath him. He crumpled to the floor, dropping his head into his hands. 

“Woah, hey sweetie, are you hurt?” she asked, kneeling down next to him.

“N-no, no, I’m fine,” Tayden cried. He was trying to pull himself together, but he was so scared. 

“Alright, lets get you into a chair and we’ll get things all sorted out okay? I’m sure your boyfriend is gonna be fine,” she said. After Tayden nodded, she grabbed his arm, helping him shakily up off of the floor and into a chair. “Now can you tell me your name?” she asked.

“Tayden,”

“Hi Tayden, I’m Maria. And what’s your boyfriend’s name?” she asked.

“Julius Kovak,” Tayden answered, wiping his sleeve across his face and sniffling. 

“Alright, let’s see here,” she scrolled on her phone for a moment, “Okay here he is, they’ve already got him put into the system, which is a good sign,” she told him.

“What’s wrong with him?” Tayden asked. “He passed out and he was t-throwing up blood a-and screaming,” he stammered. He hadn’t said those two words out loud for as long as he could remember. He’d been too afraid to think about it let alone say it. 

“Well, we don’t know yet, but they’ve got him stabilized, so no more blood or screaming. And he’s getting a CT right now so they should know soon, but it sounds to me like something’s wrong inside that they’ve just got to find before they can fix,” Maria said. 

“Right. Right okay. You think he’ll be okay?” Tayden asked. His heart was still beating so fast it made him dizzy. 

“I think that he has the best doctors working on him and that they’re gonna figure out what’s going on,” she said, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

“Okay,” he breathed out, forcing himself to take a few deep breaths. 

“Oh! And it looks like they found an ulcer in his stomach,” she said suddenly.

“An ulcer? Oh god, okay,” Tayden’s heart rate sky rocketed right back up.

“I can take you back to see him now so the doctors will talk to you but he’ll be okay dear,” she said, standing up. 

He followed her into a room, rushing over to the bed, where Julius was laying. He was still sheet white, but he looked okay now, calm, peaceful. No blood, no sick, no screaming. 

“Is he gonna be okay?” he asked the doctor who was standing next to the bed, hooking up a bag to Julius’s IV.

“Yes, he’ll be okay. And you are?” the doctor asked.

“Tayden Mills. I-I’m his emergency contact. We’re not married but his family is, they’re not, it’s just me, I’m all he has,” Tayden stammered.

“Okay, alright, you’re right. We saw your name on his medical records. It’s okay, just breathe son,” the doctor said.

“Okay,” Tayden said quietly.

“So, first of all, I’m Dr. Johnson, I’m the GI specialist here. I believe Maria told you that we found a stomach ulcer on his CT scan?” Dr. Johnson explained.

“Yeah,” Tayden nodded.

“That was the cause for the pain and the bleeding, but someone his age with no prior medical history should not be getting stomach ulcers. We did another test that indicates ulcerative colitis but we can’t be sure yet. Has he been having other issues?” Dr. Johnson pulled out a notepad and sat down in a chair on one side of the room. 

“Yeah, he’s been feeling sick, getting n-nauseous all the time, and he gets these sores in his mouth and he faints sometimes. Or just gets really dizzy. He’s lost a lot of weight,” Tayden rambled.

“Those are all symptoms consistent with ulcerative colitis,” the doctor mused. 

“Oh god, stomach ulcer and ulcerative colitis,” Tayden sighed.

“Well, most likely the colitis caused the stomach ulcer because it went untreated for too long. But it should go away with some antibiotics and some rest. But ulcerative colitis is chronic unfortunately, it can’t be cured. We can talk about that later, after he’s had a chance to do some healing. We’ll go ahead and put him on a steroid though to keep it under control,” Dr. Johnson told him.

“Okay,” Tayden sighed, “Thank you.” He looked down at Julius, so small and broken in that hospital bed and realized that he was in way over his head. He really needed to call his mom. That could wait a little while though. So once the doctor had left, he crawled into the tiny bed and curled up to Julius, pressing a kiss to his cheek before letting himself fall down off his adrenaline high and go to sleep too.

[diamondcamefromhell]

Different

Elf!Reader x Jaskier x Geralt [non romantic, not even close, just a group hang out ??????? kinda]

A/N: NOT gonna ramble in this post why i’ve been gone [partially could be blamed on, well, my witcher 3 play time, lol] but i loved writing this little one shot, just taking it slow and easy, ive been super-crushing on some peeps and writing romantic fics does things to me, so prepare for a whole lot of fluff throwup heading your way

Summary: Y/N is a elf [gender not defined] in Novigrad, trying to survive as they are becoming more and more suppressed and one day great Geralt and his buddy Jaskier come to Novigrad and they cross paths

Warnings: blood, swearing, death [not main characters]

Word Count: 2,059

Tensions were rising here in Novigrad, with Nilfgaard soldiers stomping the streets, witch hunt openly burning the sorceresses in the main squares, streets grew to be a dangerous place. Many of my kind were also abused, some even killed. Pointy-eared freaks was what we were most commonly referred too, and not many came to our rescue.

Being and elf in this day and age seemed to be one of the greatest sins.

Sitting now, in a tavern by the name of Rose and Thyme I was terrified to take my hood off. It shielded me from curious eyes, and I was just drinking wine, observing a group of men who had just sailed here from Skellige Isles. They were sharing stories about how they have slain a group of sirens and fought off pirates on their way here, which I highly doubted.

They seemed just drunk, old men, carrying Skellige shields, that had no marks on them whatsoever. No signs of any fighting, just their word saying it happened. I noticed some patrons leave, as they couldn’t handle any more of the loud shouts.

The door flung open and the entire place struck silent. I followed everyone’s gaze, to see two males enter. One had white hair, two swords and was wearing armour. I immediately recognized him as a witcher, no, as the witcher. White wolf, Geralt of Rivia. Man of legends.

And his companion, clutching his lute, was a bard. Vastly growing in popularity - Jaskier. I didn’t expect them to ever come to Novigrad, doubted witcher could find any jobs here. But yet, here they were. I curiously stared as Geralt approached the Skellige men.

“Heard you’re causing trouble.” He grunts, as Jaskier anxiously glances around. I avoid his eyes, waiting to see what happens next.

“And who the fuck are you?” One of the men shouts, and in a moment of bravery, I spring to my feet.

“Geralt of Rivia, have you not heard of him in Skellige?” I say, walking closer to them, as witchers yellow eyes throw daggers at me. “Butcher of Blaviken, that sound more familiar?”

“What is a butcher doing here?” The same man speaks, and I notice him grip his shield tighter. He’s scared.

“Some people informed me that you’re causing trouble. Killed a boy by the docs out of what, boredom?” I was not aware of the killed boy. I stare at the men as they struggle for words.

“He got in our way. And who cares about a bloody elf anyways?” Heat rushes to my cheeks as I take my hood off. I hear a gasp come somewhere from a tavern, as the bard and the witcher stare at me.

“Ask that question again.” I hiss, as one of the Skellige men unsheathes his sword.

“Witcher, do your job, kill the monster!” The same man yells.

For a moment, I am taken back, as Geralt does, in fact, unsheathe his sword. Jaskier jumps out of the way, mumbling something under his breath, but I don’t quite catch it. I stare at the witcher, wondering if this was a mistake.

He is stronger than me. More talented. Trained solider. But the world sees him as a monster, a freak. A mutant, however you want to phrase it. I bet he was called an abomination more times than I could count. I related to him. And he was stronger than most elves.

He could stand up for himself and fight. In turn, I hoped he would also help me. A fellow freak and a monster.

“I’d advise you to put that sword back.” He says, stepping in front of me. Shielding me from the men.

“I guess we’ll have to do it ourselves then. Two monsters in one go.” The skelligans all draw their weapons, as I jump back. At the same time, Jaskier grabs my hand, pulling me out of the way.

“Let’s not get in the middle of this.” I hear him say, as we rush to the other side of the tavern, as some terrified patrons duck under their tables.

It doesn’t take Geralt long to slay those men. They prove my suspicion, showing that they are horrible fighters. One of them , however, drops his shield, and I see him try to flee.

I only then notice he has a pointy ears necklace around his neck. In this pure moment of chaos, it feels like I can’t see anything else. I try to imagine that poor elven boy who was murdered by these men. And we are the monsters?

I slip around Jaskier, ignoring his shouts, rushing past Geralt, grabbing one of skelligan swords off the ground. The street is busy, and as soon as they see me with a weapon, all I hear are screams. People scrambling away. But then I also see the man, rushing around the corner.

Ignoring the crowd, I run after him, with nothing but rage driving me. I know it may as well be the last thing that I do, but I didn’t care. I also knew towns guard would soon be on my trail. My time was limited, and I didn’t even know how to properly wield a sword.

But for now, it was all one step at a time, chasing the man. I followed him down the streets, as they got more and more narrow, until I saw a dead end up ahead. He saw it to, stopping and drawing his sword. I lift mine.

“You don’t know how to fight, elf.” He hisses at me. “Drop your weapon and I might consider letting you walk out of this alive.”

“I like your necklace.” I ignore his warnings, as he takes a moment to look down, realizing why I chased after him.

“I might add yours to it if you don’t piss off.” I grip the sword tighter, but it’s already weighing down my arms. I hear some rumble somewhere behind me, and I know my time is ticking.

“Why did you do it? Why did you kill that boy?” I still ask, knowing there is no time for chit-chat. I just had to know.

“We had a victorious sail here, wanted people to know that the real soldiers have landed in Novigrad.” He shrugs, lowering his sword a little, our eyes meet, and he smirks. “And we don’t take kindly to freaks. He begged us not to do it, but people enjoyed the show.”

“You sick bastard.” I hiss, leaping forward, not sure what my next action will be. He easily blocks my attack, hitting the sword out of my hands. I step back.

“Oh, I’m going to enjoy this.” He gives me a smile, as I stand there, weaponless. But not afraid.

Until someone drags me towards them and a wave of energy blasts that man to the ground. Soon, I am let go off, and Geralt steps in front, stabbing the solider, ending his pitiful life. I stare at the body, as witcher angrily approaches me.

“Are you out of your mind?” I don’t take eyes off the body, as the blood starts to pool under him.

I push past Geralt again, going to skelligan man, ripping his necklace right off his neck. I stare at it, before I turn around and hold it up. I notice Jaskier is here too, looking really out of breath. Both men stare at the ears on a string, as my hand shakes.

“I’m the one out of my mind, sure.” I say, dropping the necklace to their feet.

“I know your people are being treated unfairly, but…” I cut Geralt off before he can get another word in.

“Unfairly?! Witchers are being treated unfairly. My people are killed. Humiliated. Murdered for entertainment.” I raise my voice, as Jaskier throws his hands in the air, jumping between me and Geralt.

“What my friend meant, is that, we understand how suppressed elves are here in Novigrad. How dangerous it is to be anything but a human nowadays. It’s horrible. But foolish moves can lead to death.” I stare at the bards blue eyes as he offers me a smile. “Enough eleven blood has been spilt on these streets, and I think you’d agree with that.”

“Leave it to the professionals.” Geralt jumps in, as I take my gaze to him. His sword is still in his hand, ready to attack. “I fight monsters. And I know better then most that sometimes the monsters are the men themselves.”

“I couldn’t let him get away.” I argue, but I understand what they’re saying. “Thank you for saving me.”

“I told him to do it.” Jaskier proudly claims, puffing up his chest just a little. I look at Geralt again.

“I don’t have much coin, but I can scramble something. As a pay for your troubles.” The witcher shakes his head.

“Keep the coin. We aren’t out of the trouble yet, though.” I see him glance over his shoulder, and I remember that witchers have heightened senses. “The solider will soon be here.”

“Well why didn’t you say it sooner?” Jaskier gasps, annoyance growing in his voice. “Let’s go!”

I follow them out, as Geralt now sheathes his sword. I pull my hood up, just in case, as we slip past the crowds. Just in time, as I hear soldiers running down the street. I take the lead now, as I know Novigrad better than the palm of my hand. We dip through the streets, as I lead them outside the town. We cross the bridge with no trouble, even if Geralt has blood on his armour.

Nobody bothers us for once in my life.

I stop by my hut, as I hear crying come from another one. I know who’s home it is, another elf, an older woman. Had a son, young teenage boy. My heart sinks as I realize who the victim was. I turn to Geralt and Jaskier.

“It was her son.” I explain the weeping, as Geralt grunts at my words. Not an angry grunt, however. A sad one. “Tomas was a good boy. He worked by the docs, earning whatever he could for his family.”

“I’m sorry.” Jaskeir says, landing his hand on my shoulder. I look away, taking a deep breath.

“At least you avenged him.” I say, trying to find hope in those words.

“Revenge doesn’t lead to happiness.” I nod at Geralt’s words. I know he’s right.

“I know that. But it’s better than nothing.” I look at him, offering the witcher a sad smile. I slide my hood off again. “At least he wont be turned into a false tale of how those brave Skellige men slayed an elven warrior or something. He may rest easy now.”

“With time, so will his mother.” I scoff, turning my head to the home. The weeps seem to be growing louder.

“Sheila will not find rest without her boy by her side.”  I disagree with Geralt this time.

“A loss takes a great deal out of you, but I believe you know, there is rest even after the darkest of times.” I look at Jaskier, surprised. I now realize why this bard is growing in popularity. A poet is good at with his words.

“Either way.” I clear my throat, not ready to get emotional. “If you need any help with whatever you’re doing here in Novigrad – know where to find me. Even if all you need is a warm meal and roof above your head. I am here.”

“Thank you.” They say in unison. I smile, for the first time today.

“You’re not a monster people say you are, Geralt.” I point out, as he smiles at me. “Not that I believed those tales anyway.”

“You’re far kinder than most men too…” He stops, frowning.

“Y/N.” I introduce myself.

“Well, Y/N, you are kind and you have fire within you. Keep it.” Geralt pats my head. “We have important matters to attend to, but we will be sure to drop by.”

“I will not pass your offer for a warm meal, Y/N!” Jaskier says, waving at me as the men turn back to go to Novigrad.

With that, Jaskier’s words settle in my mind as the weeps also silence. There is rest for us all. No matter how restless we may be now.

Today, I will finally rest easier.

[eluswrites]

@pitviperofdoom

I was going to send this in an ask and then I realized I’m entirely too wordy for that. I was re-reading Yuts and I was reminded of a time when I had to pull my phone out and read a bit to my D&D Dm to explain to him the motivation I had for what my lil garbage elf monk had done in game. This is kinda long and rambly so I apologize

Y’all’d’ve lives in a city where, 60 years ago, there was a purge of everything magical and nonhuman in the city. While he was able to escape by hiding in the city’s sewers (and later living with many generations of kobolds) his parents did not survive. He spent most of his formative years hiding below ground and knowing that paladins and clerics brought death, humans are dangerous, houses of worship are houses of death, and there’s no point in praying to the gods because they won’t answer.

Relitivley recently in his life he went up top and learned how to fight, and after his teachers told him to get more experience (They meant he needed more life experience, Y’all’d’ve took it as he needed a job), he joined the newly forming city watch with two adults who have kind of sort of adopted him. The problem? His boss was a member of the same church that did the entire purge of nonhumans. It doesn’t matter that the mad God is dead and that her church is now the church of redemption, Y’all’d’ve hadn’t survived as long as he did without being scared of everything.

For a while he’s just terrified of her, never looking at her, mumbling and staring at the floor while anxiously twisting his fingers together if he had to speak to her, actively running from her paladin mount. But, after an incident where he was bitten by a wererat and contracted lycanthropy, he had to be dragged into her church kicking and screaming to be cured by the priests. And that point left him at a crossroads.

He’s bitter at that point, and he’s nihilistic when he lets himself be. It would be easy to let him fall into a path that took him down a darker road, let him become jaded, happily watching the old paladins die off and his boss suffer as everyone she knew died. But when I thought of it, I couldn’t see him doing that. Like drinking poison and waiting for someone else to die.

To explain it to my DM I read the part where Izuku is talking to Okumura.  “Then why are you trusting him to make you feel better?” and  “Then why’d you make it so the only way you’ll feel better is if he does something for you?”  and  “You can’t depend on the people who hurt you to be the ones to make it better, or it’s never going to get better. They’ll only disappoint you, or hurt you even worse, and then they’ll be gone and you’ll be waiting forever.” all perfectly explained what I felt. 

It’s easy to let yourself be hurt and try and guard yourself from further hurts by putting up walls and lashing out. It’s easy to focus on the people who hurt you and put your well being on them suffering or hurting. It’s not healthy to do so, but it’s a logical thing for your brain to do.

Y’all’d’ve had a realization one day after he realized that in under a month his personal Nemisis had lost her husband, one of her dear friends, and the head of her religion. He could’ve been pleased about it, someone who’d been part of a group that hurt him was hurting. But he wasn’t, and after thinking on it all night and worrying his companions, he found her and actually had a conversation with her. Because ‘ I’m so tired of being afraid of everything. I’ve been afraid for sixty years. I’ve been afraid longer then I ain’t been afraid. And maybe, if I can see you as a person instead of a shadow of monsters I don’t remember right anymore, I can stop bein’ afraid of everything.’

ANYWAY TL;DR YOU WRITE STUFF REAL GOOD AND MAKE EXCELLENT PHRASING AND I ADMIRE YOU GREATLY FOR THAT. ALSO ‘IF SOMEONE THINKS THEY HAVE THE UPPER HAND ON YOU, YOU BREAK IT’ AND ALL IT’S CONTINUING FORMS IN YUTS IS SUCH A WONDERFUL TURN OF PHRASE AND CONTAINS ENOUGH RAW POWER TO LAUNCH A MAN INTO THE SUN

[monster-apartments-au]

Fade (TomTord Backstory for MA AU)

Eddsworld fic, 17610 words, tom/tord + paul/patryk

Chapter 3/3: Aftermath

Ao3 Mirror

Whoever said that love conquers all has clearly never been with a demon before.

(Prequel story for the TomTord relationship in the Monster Apartments AU)

Warning for possibly triggering content, including character death, brief depictions of torture, and body horror (monster transformation)

Humans are fragile. It’s been ingrained in Tord since he was just a small Impling, being reared like a child by his superiors. Don’t bother relying on humans, ‘cause they die on you whenever you seem to need ‘em. It was a joke; the older Demons would laugh and so would he. He didn’t know any better.

But he wasn’t laughing when Tom was lying in the aftermath of the explosion on that big heist months ago. Wasn’t laughing when he held onto his limp, injured body, and certainly wasn’t laughing when he watched the blood pool into his terrified eyes.

He didn’t ever fully realize just how fragile humans were until those moments, when he thought for sure his most precious person was done for: when he realized that he could lose Tom to just a bomb, or a bullet.

Tord wasn’t able to sleep for days. Every time he closed his eyes he could see the blood, hear Tom crying out over the radio- He was pathetic and he knew it. Matt and Patryk threw him pitying gazes while he sat outside Tom’s hospital room, staring in and keeping watch whenever the small, broken human was sleeping. It seemed like if he ever looked away Tom could be dead and it was driving him to exhaustion.

But a conversation with Matthew gave him the spark of hope he needed. It was a little over an hour after Tom had woken up, rambling about the police and tearing out his IVs. Matt had to rush in to sedate the poor man and hook him back up before any real damage to the human was done, and Tord watched on, helpless in the situation.

“Humans,” Tord said later on. “Are far too fragile.” Matt nodded, patting the demon on the back and sighing lowly.

“You’re not wrong. Just wish there was a way to help them,” Tord grunted, so the vampire kept talking to fill the silence. “Maybe ceasing to risk your lives while robbing banks is a good way to stop being in so much danger…?” He tried, but Tord simply grunted again.

“I just don’t know how to actually help him,” Tord muttered, bringing his legs up to his chest. “I’m so exhausted mentally I just… Wanna figure out something for the long term. Even if we stop the heists we’ll still find a way to get into trouble: that’s practically Tom’s middle name.” He sighed tiredly, putting his forehead to his knees in defeat.

Tord felt Matt pat his back once more. “Well, things happen, things change.” Matt muttered, trying to find something to say that would pick Tord’s spirits up.

The demon just raised his hands up in frustration. “Unless there’s some way to change Tom from a human to a-” He stopped himself mid-sentence, mouth agape as he realized the easiest answer to his problem. To Tom’s problem. He stared, big, wide eyes turning directly to the Vampire who sat beside him.

“No,” Matt stated flatly, narrowing his eyes before Tord could even get a word out. “I know what you’re thinking and no. I wouldn’t wish this fate on anyone.” A protest started from the demon but he knew he couldn’t argue this, and he definitely couldn’t turn Tom into a vampire on his own. He supposed he could get Paul or Patryk to turn Tom into a werewolf, but the chances of that working were low, and Weres were still pretty fragile in comparison to vampires and demons.

But Tord couldn’t stop his mind from racing, continuously going back to that train of thought if he let it wander for more than a moment. He knew that changing a human into a monster should be- was possible. He had the resources, the time… He just needed a starting point. It’s a couple days later when Tord’s flipping through a magazine and sees an advertisement for a B-List horror movie. He was about to turn to the next page but his eye lingered on the words. ‘Nuclear’. ‘Mutation’. Tord grinned wildly.

He had found his inspiration.

His hands scrambled through his pockets in search of his phone, and as soon as he had the device he was dialing a number he’d thought he’d forgotten. A gruff voice answered on the other end with a tired, “Hello?” Tord smirked, already doing quick calculations in his head.

It didn’t take long for him to explain his entire plan to Eduardo, an esteemed researcher who specialized in nuclear physics and was, of course, someone who owed Tord a favor. Once he was done elaborating, gasping for breath, the man on the other end laughed. “You’re asking me to do something that’s impossible!!” But despite the incredulousness that was in his voice at the time, Tord could make out the intrigue, and he knew he had his partner for his next biggest project.

For the next few months Tord and Eduardo worked together on the plans, locking themselves away in his lab or Ed’s apartment for days on end while working on all sorts of calculations and serums. Even after Thomas had been discharged, Tord brought his work home and poured over notes, spending many sleepless nights working on every possible variable.

It took weeks for their research to take off, but the two were diligent and eventually ended up with a concoction that should, in theory, work. They encapsulated the ‘medicine’ in small pills that were meant to be ingested along with each meal. Tord held the bottle in his hands and considered the dosage they had planned.

“What’re you so worried for?” Eduardo pestered while filling each pill. “Tom will be fine; we’ve worked the science out loads of times.”

But Tord shook his head. “Worked it out or not, we’ve been unable to test it. We can't use it on any humans,” Tord muttered, rubbing his forehead in thought. “Or animals, for that matter.”

“Don’t want a super-dog?” Eduardo chuckled and the demon just glared, dumbfounded.

In exasperation he asked, “What kind of dryad are you??” But Ed laughed more and Tord sighed. “Anyways, we have to be completely sure that this will work. There’s no room for error. The minute radiation exposure over time, as well as the other components, should be enough to mutate him... As long as I’m careful.”

Tord began to stress but of course his assistant piped up, slapping him on the back encouragingly. “Jeez, don’t worry so much, you’re gonna make the smoke alarm go off.” Eduardo laughed at the fierce look he received.

…

When Tord handed Tom the bottle of pills, the human was confused. “What’s this?” He inspected the jar in his hands, reading the label for the information. Tord shifted anxiously.

The demon scratched at the back of his head. “Some meds you gotta start taking; remember how you were complaining about your eyes hurting a few weeks ago? These should help.”

Tom’s jaw dropped. “You made a medicine for me? All by yourself??” He was wide-eyed and amazed, and Tord, trying to not let the admiration get to his head, gave Tom a small shrug.

“An acquaintance of mine helped me develop it, and it should be just the thing to help your eyes,” Tord pointed out. “It’ll be best for you to start taking it as soon as possible, but big differences might not be noticeable for a few weeks or maybe even months.”

“Something is better than nothing at this point,” Tom sighed in relief, looking up at Tord with an earnest smile. “Thanks, Tord, this means a lot!”

It took some effort but Tord smiled back, staring pointedly at Tom’s nose instead of his happy eyes. “Don’t worry about it.” He murmured and ruffled the shorter man’s hair, walking away with his shoulders a little slumped. He knew it was ultimately for Tom’s own good, but fuck, Tord thought. I’ve got to be the worst boyfriend.

...

It didn’t take long for Tord to notice Tom was changing. It started with minor behavioral changes, then a slight change in sleep schedule and food habits: nothing to Tom’s physical appearance but that was the point. It was supposed to be a secret.

Tord let himself get caught up in research again, in order to stop thinking about what he was doing to the human. He hardly slept, never giving his mind that time to fill him with worry and doubt. Paul had suggested before that something paranormal was running a rival gang, and they sabotaged them, but Tord never really put any faith in the thought. Nevertheless, it was something to put his mind to. He didn’t actually expect he’d find something, and even worse, he never expected it would be someone so bad.

It was fucking Balis.

Tord shivered as a wave of dread and nausea hit him at the sight. Memories of the brutish demon filled his head and in a fit of fear and rage, he flung all of his books to the ground and shouted. He couldn’t deal with that piece of shit again and he couldn’t put anyone he cared about through that literal fucking Hell.

“Tord?” Almost on cue Tom piped up, waking from a dream. Tord felt a pang of guilt at waking his boyfriend but pushed it aside. “‘S wrong, babe?”

The Demon attempted to calm himself down. “Fine,” He assured the human. “‘M fine. Sorry for waking you.” Tom did his best to assure him and comfort him, but Tord wasn’t able to get the images of his past with Balis out of his head for the rest of the night.

…

After that, Tord got careless. He tried to get to Balis before he could get to them, but it was the other way around, and he was snatched up from the family he created for himself. Balis kept him in a big penthouse style meeting room with a bunch of other demons, but all of them were serving him and making his life on Earth comfortable.

While the rest of the demons ran free, so to speak, Tord was bound down by a copper ring nailed to the floor. There was no way he could get out of it without probably killing himself, so he stayed put and dealt with whatever Balis would throw at him.

And Tord meant that quite literally. Despite being trapped to the spot he would constantly chastise the demon that kept him prisoner at every chance he could, even going so far as to spit on his boots whenever he walked by. Every transgression was met with a punishment. Balis’s favorite was throwing salt down on Tord, to cause a searing hot pain on his flesh wherever the salt landed. Occasionally he would also be subjected to religious symbols, holy water, the works.

Despite all the torture, though, Tord remained resolute in his quips and jokes, and he could tell Balis was at his wit’s end. “Why don’t you just shut up?” He’d demanded while Tord was currently writhing in pain but still managing to get jokes in about being salted like a french fry.

“Infuriating, isn’t it?” He panted out in between body spasms. He’d learned how to be an annoying asshole from the best, after all.

Tord wasn’t sure how long he was held there, but he’d have to guess a few days. He managed to see the sun set a few different times, but he slept most of his hours away, trying to conserve what energy he could, so it was hard to tell regardless. The Norwegian tried several times to slyly get out of Balis what he actually wanted with him, but every time he caught on and every time it ended up in the demon walking away or kicking him in the face.

So all he was able to do was bide his time, and try and find an escape route whenever he was left alone, which wasn’t often. He secretly hoped that Tom and the Werewolves were looking for a way to save him, but it wouldn’t be easy and he didn’t want to count on it. Not that he doubted them. He’d never doubt his boys.

When he catches word of them infiltrating the facility, it’s like Christmas morning.

He first hears about it from a little Imp that comes bouncing in the room, screaming its little head off. It used some kind of demonic language and if Tord’s honest he tried to block as much of that out as he could when he ditched, so he could only make out a few words: “Guns” and “Big Death”. It had to be his boys.

Tord did his best not to look giddy and eager from his little spot on the floor, especially when more demons came pouring into the room all followed by Balis, who, despite a straight face, it was easy to tell he was pissed. The demons gathered around the main table in the room, all conversing with one another in hushed tones while they waited for Balis to give out some orders.

“Where are they?” Balis spoke evenly and slowly, sounding out every syllable so everyone could hear. It was clear to see he was pissed, and it took everything in Tord not to smile, because he’s pretty sure Balis would’ve actually killed him. Nobody in the room attempted to answer Balis’s question, and there was a beat of silence before the leader slammed his hand down. An uproar of voices started from all around the table, everyone trying to talk over each other in an effort to figure out where the infiltrators had gone.

In the middle of the conversation one of the demons cried, “The elevator!!” Everyone turned to Balis who angrily barked out some orders, trying to regain his composure. It didn’t take long for everyone to be able to hear the elevator coming up, everyone going into high alert, talking only in hushed tones while they shuffled crates and set up in positions.

Tord ended up hidden from view by most of the crates, but thankfully he was able to see most of the room through a small crack. It felt like an eternity, waiting for the elevator to come to the top floor, but when it did it gave off a small *ding* and everyone silenced, watching the door with wide eyes.

The elevator opened slowly, and it took a lot for Tord to not shout with relief when he saw his boys. “Hey!” Tom shouted. “Release Tord and nobody has to get hurt.”

“Tord?” Balis said, mocking surprise. Tord rolled his eyes as he continued. “And what would a simple human want to do with a runaway whelpling like that? Does he owe you something, or..” He trailed off, as if realizing something. “Oh, I see, you're his pups and his snack, right? You lot can call me Balis, I-”

The gunfire kicked off immediately after Balis said his name and Tord gave a small nod in appreciation. He used the commotion of gunfire, screams, and shouting to cover him looking for a means of escape, seeing if he could pry up the copper ring from the floor with his claws. He worked the entire time on it but he was getting nowhere fast, and the sounds of the fight were starting to die down.

Tord heard someone moving closer to him, so he curled up and feigned sleep, trying to get them to leave him alone so he could get back to work on escaping. The shuffling sound made its way towards the Demon, causing him to tense in case a lesser Whelp decided now is a good time to douse him with salt again. A hand was gently pressed to his face. His eyes snapped open while he hissed, baring his teeth and fangs. As soon as he recognized Tom though, he allowed a wave of relief to wash over him.

“Tom!” He shouted excitedly. “How did you find me??” Tom smiled weakly, shrugging.

“Looked through all your books, found a way to port to you. But, Tord, how can we defeat Balis? He heals from aggression, how can we stop him and save you?”

Tord thought frantically for a moment before gesturing to the copper ring on the floor. “Break the circle, I can’t move until it’s gone. I can stop Balis if I get out.” Or at least, he thought he could. Despite Balis being a bit bigger than him they were evenly matched in a fight as long as he could get up close. He just had to keep a level head.

Tom was sawing away at the copper with his knife and getting through it a good way, but Tord saw the hazy look in his eyes and worried. “Tom, are you alright? You look like you’re wavering, babe.” But right as he said it, Balis was behind the human helping him escape, grabbing him by the hood of his shirt.

“I’ll give you this, Tord: you’ve certainly landed yourself a loyal crew, as well as a stupid one. Why would beings as determined as these try and save a pathetic little whelp like you?” He surely would’ve gone on if Tom hadn’t whirled around and punched the Demon right in his ugly fucking face. Balis roared in pain, snapping Tom’s arm in half and smashing his horns into the human’s head. Tord watched on in horror as Balis threw him to the ground, turning away from Tom as he writhed on the ground.

“Tom!” Tord cried out, trying to soothe his boyfriend in some manner, but as Tom laid there, screeching in pain, Tord noticed he was starting to... change. His eyes moved and settled in the middle of his face, becoming one big black void. The bones underneath his body cracked and shifted and grew, stretching out his skin in a grotesque manner. Spines came up from his back and elbows, and two horns pushed their way out from his forehead. Tom’s body cracking and shifting caused Balis to turn back at him, but right as he did he got a huge purple claw right in his face, pushing him down into the tile.

Balis was lifted up and slammed back down repeatedly by the monstrosity that was now Tom, roaring and screaming the entire time that he beat Balis down. Either the demon was too shocked at the change or he was unable to do anything as Tom threw him into the wall and chased after him, tearing into him with sharp claws.

With renewed vigor Tord snagged the knife that Tom left in the circle and worked away at the copper, finally getting it fractured. Once broken, Tord stood, no longer bound by the copper, and he snuck around to look for his wolves. Sounded like Tom had Balis covered.

They were right around the crates, tired and whimpering, but alive and starting to regain consciousness. He moved to help them both, slowly regaining his own energy by holding them and pulling them to their feet.

“Where’s Tom?” Paul spat out, but when Patryk gestured to the big purple monster that continued to pound Balis into the wall, Paul nodded in understanding.

The three rushed over towards the monster that was mauling the demon on the ground, not quite sure of what to do.

But Paul pointed at the monster. “He’s slowing down!” And he was. Tom’s claws were coming slower and slower as he tired himself out.

“We need to act fast,” Tord hissed, edging himself closer to Tom so he could get at Balis as soon as the beast that was his boyfriend passed out from exhaustion. It didn’t take too long before Tom slumped to the side with a loud *thud*, and Tord took to action quickly.

He dragged the beaten Balis over to where all the torture equipment was and got to work, pulling out chalk to draw a big circle around the demon, then dousing him with salt and holy water. Balis started to come to as the holy water burned him, but Tord was too far along in the ritual for him to do anything other than scream as he was being banished back into Hell. A few words that Tord had forgotten the meaning of later, and Balis was fading out of existence in flashes of light.

There was a beat, before everyone let out a big sigh of relief, glad that the worst of it was finally over.

…

Tom didn’t remember a thing, and Tord was grateful. He needed more time to figure out how to explain the monster thing to him, but until then he’d bide his time, just grateful to be happy again with Tom.

Time passed. Tom’s transformation went along smoothly, and aside from a few close calls of his secret being exposed, nothing went wrong. Sure, there were ups and downs, but that was how Tom and Tord had always been. They’d get through it and everything was good.

Until Matt confronted him again.

“Have you told him yet??” He hissed next door from his apartment one night when Tord was about to leave for a late night walk. He’d been taking more of those, lately. At Matt’s question the demon slowly shook his head, avoiding the vampire’s disapproving gaze. “Tord.”

“I know,”

“This is getting out of hand,” Tord tried to make some sort of protest but Matt pressed on, upset. “You can fucking smell it on him; he’s changing.”

The Norwegian scoffed, opening his mouth to protest. He really didn’t want to hear this now that they were done with all the tests, all the time, all the effort. What happened happened, and they couldn’t change it. Matt grew angrier though, shutting his own door and taking a step towards the demon. “You’re doing this to him, Tord.”

He’s just trying to cut deep, Tord. The demon reminded himself in his head before he could say something he’d regret. “Look, Matt. I know what you’re trying to do, but I don’t give a shit,” He said briskly. “I’m doing what’s best for him; I’m giving him a way to protect himsel-”

But Matt stepped forward again. “Tord, I’m telling you right now that you have no fucking clue what you’re doing. You may be older than me, by a few centuries, but I’m telling you right now, Tord, that you don’t know shit about humans…You haven’t ever been human.”

That set Tord off. Out of frustration he slammed his palm against the wall and leaned close to Matt, whispering out his rage as if he were letting out steam. “Well as a fucking demon, I know the worst of what’s out there. I lived in Hell for two of your fucking lifetimes and I have seen every possible horror you can imagine. I could’ve killed him so many times,” He took a breath but continued scathingly. “And so could you. Any fucking person in this complex could’ve. But I’m helping him, I got him involved in our world and now I'm saving his fucking life. So tell me I’m wrong one more fucking time, Harvest.”

“You don’t know any of this, Tord!” Matt whisper-shouted and raised his hands up in exasperation. “You don’t know if he would’ve died from that stuff! These are all could-be’s and would-happen’s. I can get hurt if I’m exposed to a fucking cross for too long, do you know how many people wear crosses in the hospital?? A lot, but I’m still fucking here, Tord,” Matt was choking back tears and Tord felt a pang of guilt. “All he needed was you to protect him.”

Tord narrowed his eyes. “What about me getting kidnapped, huh? How the fuck do I protect him when I’m the one who needs saving?? I’m constantly a fucking target, and now he is too. So what do I do then?” Matt shrugged angrily at the question. “What do I do then, Matt?!?” A shrug again. “What do I-”

“Look!” Matt cut him off, mad and tired of the bombardment. “I don’t have all the answers! But you can’t keep going on like this. Tom needs to know the truth; for fuck’s sake, Tord, he doesn’t even know what’s wrong with him!!”

Tord groaned in frustration. “Nothing is wrong with him!! He turned out just like how we thought he would, he can protect himself and I’ve-”

Matt narrowed his eyes. “You’ve turned him into a fucking monster.”

Before the demon could retaliate, the sound of the dog yelping from inside the apartment started up. Immediately Tord opened the door poked his head in. “Tom? Is Ham alright?”

Tom nodded and rubbed his head, muttering something about the dog needing to be let out. Tord couldn’t stop himself from being concerned so he asked: “You got another headache, babe?” The human nodded some more.

“Just need some air.” He mumbled, stepping out with the dog and moving down the stair well. Matt settled his hand on Tord’s shoulder, who begrudgingly nodded.

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad, Tord,” Matt promised, sounding just as sad as the demon felt right then. “I just want you to understand: this only gets worse the longer you wait.” The demon understood, he just didn’t want to admit it.

But he sighed, letting a single hot tear fall. “I know.”

...

A little more time passes. Tord promises to tell. He keeps putting it off but he promises himself, over and over, that he’ll make sure Tom knows before anything can happen.

It's his phone's ringtone that wakes Tord up. He grunts out of discomfort, the dog lying on his legs, keeping him pinned. Not minding the insistent buzzing, Tord let's his eyes drift closed again, not wanting to be up yet. Just as Tord feels unconsciousness creeping up on him once more, his phone starts going off again. With a sigh of frustration, Tord sits up, carefully picking up Hamilton to set him on the floor, setting him down on his way to the phone.

Tord picks it up on the third ring. “Hello, this is Tord Luvhart. May I help you.” If it's Paul and Pat calling to see if he wants to hang with them, Tord's going to be pissed.

However, that thought is dashed away when he hears the frantic voice on the other end. “Tord? What the fuck, Tord, are you there? Listen to me; turn on the fucking news!”

“What?” Tord is still in a bit of a daze, having not expected Eduardo’s angry voice on the other end. “Eduardo? Friend, what is the commotion about? What’s wrong?”

Instead of answering, Eduardo hangs up. Shrugging, Tord lies back down, figuring it’s nothing. However, just as his eyes slide closed, his apartment door is broken off it’s hinges and thrown to the floor. Tord startles, shifting in a heartbeat with wings unfurled, ready to take flight if need be. Eduardo stands livid in the doorway, looking for the life of him ready to bite Tord’s head off. Tord, again, startles somewhat, hesitating as he tries to keep his shift in check, not knowing whether to attack, run, or unshift. Eduardo doesn’t have time for this, as is made apparent as the dryad storms into the apartment and turns on the tv, not even looking at the screen as he turns and gives Tord his angriest glare possible.

Tord blinks a few times, eyes focused on the television. His blood runs cold.

“And here we are on Durdan Lane as what appears to be a monster straight out of a horror movie reeks havoc on the local community. The authorities have reported that the monster is simply a robot for an upcoming movie, but the locals aren’t convinced,” A reporter on tv, amazingly enough, keeps her composure as a monster in the background is shot at repeatedly, the police struggling to keep the beast at bay. “Due to the potential danger of the situation, we will soon be evacuating the area while the police deactivate the machine. We insist that all passerby and families stay in their homes until the problem is resolved.”

Eduardo shuts off the television set, glowering at Tord with eyes so fierce they could kill a god. “Your boyfriend’s outta control,” He growls, pointing to the window. “We gotta get down there!”

Without waiting for anymore instructions, Tord nods and allows Eduardo to climb onto his back before busting out the window, his wings carrying him to the street below.

…

Tord lands with ease on the sidewalk, his lithe demon body curling slightly as he settles on the ground. Eduardo climbs off at once, struggling to hide his initial nausea from the fall. The demon bites back a snicker, mentally noting that he probably shouldn't take Eduardo flying again anytime soon. The enjoyment dissipates quickly, however, when a roar erupts from nearby. Tord turns, getting a good look at the scene in front of him. Tom’s fully shifted, the large, dragon-like beast gnawing on a nearby car, sinking it’s teeth and claws into the metal. Good; it looks like Tom’s pretty calm at the moment. Save for a few smashed cars and a caved-in road, there doesn’t seem to be any civilian casual-

A crippling sense of dread fills Tord’s insides once he catches sight of a corpse poking out from under a car, the body curled in on itself in self defense. Eduardo, apparently recovered from his nausea, seems to notice it too, looking disturbed. “Aw, fuck, looks like he got somebody,” He mutters, before he pauses, looking more scared than Tord’s ever seen him. “Hold up… is that… Oh God!” He bolts for the body, ignoring Tom entirely.

Tom looks up, blinking as he stares down at Eduardo, curious of the newcomer. Thankfully, the corpse isn’t too close to Tom, so Eduardo doesn’t set Tom into a frenzy when he runs for the body. Gently, Eduardo crouches by the corpse, before ever so carefully rolling it over. Tord pales. It’s Jon. Eduardo hugs the lifeless body to his chest, crying into Jon’s chest with muffled sobs. The scene tugs on Tord’s heartstrings, but not enough to make him try and comfort Eduardo- not when Tom’s still very much a threat. Slowly, Tord stalks towards Tom, gaining the beast’s full attention as he saunters over, wings taut against his back in anticipation, ready to take flight.

There’s a moment of silence, as the two monsters lock eyes. The police and civilians have long since fled, too afraid and outmatched to do much more than hide and pray the monsters go away on their own. Tom lets go of the car, never looking away from Tord as he uses his tail to knock the car away, the car crashing haphazardly into the side of a building. The noise triggers Tord to attack, unable to hold back any longer. While Tom easily outranks Tord in size, weight, and mass, Tord is far more nimble and quick, making it difficult for the one-eyed monster to keep track of him. Tord uses this to his advantage, catching Tom off-guard as he takes off into the air.

Tom tries desperately to get at Tord, roaring and pawing fruitlessly in his direction, yet Tord manages to keep a good distance from the beast’s claws. Suddenly, however, Tom goes onto all fours, clacking his teeth as he tries to do… something. For a split second, Tord thinks he sees smoke coming from Tom’s mouth, but he chalks it up to the smoke coming from himself instead. While Tom’s busy, Tord swoops down and grabs an abandoned motorcycle, flying it up in the air before tossing it at Tom’s head. Tom tries to dodge, but the motorcycle clips one of his horns, causing the monster to grunt at the impact.

The demon tries this a few times, but Tom’s caught onto his little trick, and every time Tord tries to swoop, Tom goes for a swipe. Soon, it’s apparent that Tord can’t get low anymore, as Tom’s gotten enough speed and momentum to almost keep up with him. Tord clacks his jaws together, unsure of what to do. Although he inadvertently created Tom and should know all his powers, he’s still somewhat of an unknown entity. For all Tord knows, Tom could sprout wings and take off after him. It’s terrifying, but Tord has no choice; he has to take him out now or he’s screwed. He can’t afford for this to drag out too long, lest the military get involved.

Making his decision, Tord flies as fast as he can back into his apartment, ignoring the broken glass that cuts into his flesh when he forces himself through the window. He shifts back into his human form, scrambling to the fridge in an attempt to find his emergency tranquilizer gun and it’s ammo. He has no idea how well it’ll work on Tom, but it’s not like he has any better ideas going for him. Meanwhile, he can hear Tom trying desperately to knock the apartment complex over, but unfortunately for him, the building has been enchanted with enough magic to survive a nuke, much less a monster throwing a temper tantrum.

It doesn’t take Tord long to find the darts and his tranq gun, although he feels immense guilt as he loads it. “I’m so sorry, Thomas…” He says under his breath, before positioning himself towards the open window.

Tom’s right outside, trying and failing to stick his clawed hand inside the window. With no other option, Tord fires three clean shots into Tom’s paw. The beast howls, losing it’s grip on the building before collapsing onto the ground outside. Tord rushes to the window ledge, poking his head out to see the aftermath. Tom’s still shifted, but he’s beginning to mellow out, the beast visibly starting to shrink in size. Tord sighs with relief, forming wings on his back before fluttering down to the ground. By the time he lands, Tom’s back in human form, although his clothes are almost all completely shredded, leaving him in nothing but a tattered t-shirt and boxers.

Ever so gently, Tord positions himself to kneel on the ground, Tom’s head in his lap. It takes a few seconds, but Tom soon becomes at least partially conscious. “Wha…” He struggles to speak, voice groggy and tired. “What happened?”

Good. He doesn’t remember a thing. “Easy there, Tom,” Tord keeps his voice low, barely above a whisper. “Just sleep… you’ve had a long day.”

With no energy left in him to argue, Tom falls asleep in Tord’s arms. Tord scoops him up at once, wincing when he sees the damage all around him. The landlord’s gonna be pissed, but fuck it, it’s not like Tom’s the first monster to lose his cool around here. Given a few days and a bit of magical influence, this will all blow over like nothing ever happened. If only the same could be said for Tord and everyone else. Just on time, Eduardo joins Tord in front of the apartment building, holding his own friend in his arms. They share a look, before walking back into the complex together.

…

By the time they make it back upstairs, word has spread of the so-called earthquake outside and of what really happened, resulting in Tord coming home to Paul and Patryk in his living room, looking rather distressed. “Oh, thank God you’re alright,” Paul’s the first to speak, looking like he wants to run and hug Tord, but he holds back. “What happened out there? We heard the earthquakes, and some rumors, but…”

“What? You thought it was nothin’, dumbass? Tord’s boytoy fucking destroyed this whole street!” Eduardo snaps, setting Jon’s body in a chair so he can yell at Paul in peace. “If it weren’t for Tord’s crazy experimenting-”

“-Don’t go putting this all on me,” Tord orders, lying Tom on the couch, though his glare is focused on Eduardo. “You helped me with the serum! You helped me with the radiation research! You’re as much to blame here as me!”

“Oh, don’t give me that crap. I was just in it for the research! It wasn't my plan to turn your boyfriend into a goddamned abomination.” He stops, clenching his fists in pent up rage. “Because of you and that freak, Jon’s dead! You hear me? D-E-A-D: Dead!”

Tord can just feel the smoke pouring out of his ears at the word ‘abomination’. “Do not call him that, you piece of shit,” He hisses lowly, struggling to hold back all of his anger. Right now he just wants to lay down with Tom and rest for a few years, he’s had enough stress to last him a century.

“I’ll call him whatever I want! He killed Jon!” Eduardo shouts, stepping closer to Tord. He puffs his wide chest out and shoves it against Tord’s lithe figure and the demon falters, not willing to deal with any of this right now.

“Eduardo-” But the dryad’s past listening at this point, and he angrily swings at Tord. Before any contact is made though, both Patryk and Paul have him pinned down, snarling in his shocked face.

“Stop!” Tord puts every ounce of his ‘I’m the Boss’ voice into the command, causing Paul and Pat to go stark still, the werewolves hesitating. “That’s enough, boys. Off of him,” As much as he wants to tear into Eduardo, he understands what he’s going through. This isn’t easy for anyone. Slowly, the wolves back down, leaving Eduardo to glower as he picks himself up, dusting himself off. “We need some space for awhile… you should take Jon and go.” The demon looks away, ashamed.

Eduardo bites back a curse, before collecting Jon and making for the door. “This isn’t over, Luvhart,” He threatens, voice hushed. “You and I will settle this.” With that, he storms out of the apartment, slamming the door on his way out.

…

Tom stays unconscious for almost twelve hours, not that Tord’s surprised. First time monster transformations are extremely wearing on the user, and although it’s been several millennia since Tord first shifted forms, he still bears the scars. He wonders, while Tom’s recovering, how long this adjustment period will last. Will Tom learn to control it over time? As frustrating as it is, Tord somehow doubts Tom will be able to without some sort of at least minor medical intervention. Maybe Tord should make a hamper to Tom’s abilities? Perhaps, but that could cause another outburst as soon as the hamper is removed, and Tord can’t risk another incident like this. He sighs, head in his hands as he remembers Jon… God, what’s he going to tell Tom?

Tord jolts when the poor Brit finally comes to, though he can tell Tom won’t be able to stay conscious for long.

“Tord?” Tom’s at least alert enough to talk, so Tord figures that’s a good sign. “Oh God, my head… what the Hell happened?” He sits up, then winces. Tord makes a mental note to get Tom a heating pad for his back soon.

“There was a… car accident. You got hit while crossing the street,” Tord lies. He knows full well that stacking lie on top of lie will only end in pain, but until Tom can handle his transformations, Tord can’t risk putting Tom through that level of guilt. “I was so scared when I heard… I thought for sure that I’d lose you.”

Tom chuckles, giving Tord a half hearted punch to the arm. “If I can survive an explosion and fighting a demon, I’m pretty sure I can survive a freaking car accident,” He pauses, trying to pull his thoughts together. “Was I, uh, with someone? Was it you?”

Goddammit, Tord’s been hoping to avoid this, no matter how fruitless it is. “N-No, Tom. It wasn’t me,” He struggles with the words, before swallowing and steeling himself. “It was… Jon. I’m so sorry, Thomas. The paramedics did all they could, but it was too late.”

Tom swallows, his lip quivering as he tries to keep it together. Not bothering to try talking it out, Tord lies down with Tom on the bed, cuddling the Brit close to try and comfort him. As soon as Tord’s arms are around him, Tom sobs, rolling over to cry into Tord’s chest. The incubi pets Tom’s back in response, beating away his own guilt for lying to Tom. It’ll be better this way, he thinks. At least, until Tom’s ready for the truth. But until then, he’ll settle for comforting his boyfriend until the pain goes away.

…

It’s really late when Tord gets home, the demon feeling drained from a long day’s work. As expected, the landlord has been mildly pissed off at him for the last couple of weeks, causing Tord to have to earn back their trust by doing odd jobs around the complex, whether it be fixing leaky pipes or repairing damages, he’s been taking care of everything. He groans at the memory of today’s job, it having been to clean up after a pixie party on the fourth floor. If Tord ever sees another pixie, he’s gonna grind it down into a spice and season it on some family’s Thanksgiving dinner.

Figuring that Tom’s likely fast asleep by now, Tord’s quiet once he gets to his floor, footsteps unheard as he approaches his apartment’s door. He fishes for his keys, struggling to find the right one, when he hears a muffled conversation from the other side of the door. The demon pauses, feeling uncomfortable. Who’s in his apartment? Forgoing his keys, Tord uses his powers to release the lock and open the door, using a low level spell to keep the door from squeaking. Inside, Tom’s on the couch, staring at the tv in the dark, his eyes unable to look away from the screen.

Tord automatically relaxes, making a move to walk inside and turn on the light, but he stops, recognizing the news story on tv with dread. “-we will soon be evacuating the area while the police deactivate the machine. We insist that all passerby and families stay in their homes until the problem is resolved.”

Slowly, as if sensing Tord’s presence, Tom stares up at him, tears rolling down his face. “It… it wasn’t a car accident,” He mumbles his words, looking shocked and afraid. “That monster… that’s me, isn’t it?”

Tord swallows. He knew that Tom would find out someday, but… he didn’t want it to be like this. “Yes,” He says, swallowing the bile in his throat as he begins to lie through his teeth. “That’s you, but… you couldn’t have known, Thomas. You’ve likely had this power your whole life, never having known it. It’s not uncommon for paranormals to develop their powers later on in life, although you are a particularly late bloomer.” He moves in to hug Tom, to try and make it all better, but Tom’s up in an instant, expression petrified.

“G-Get back!” Tom orders, visibly struggling not to shift as a tidal wave of emotions overtake him, throwing the man into a panic attack. “I’m too dangerous!”

“Oh, Thomas…” Tord tries to keep the worry and panic out of his voice, but it’s hard when Jon’s death is still fresh in his mind. “It’s true that you are rather formidable, but I can help you. I’ve been trying to help you. All those medications? They’re to help you get a grip on your powers. I’ve known since the day we met what you were, and now I’m going to help you through this. It’s going to get better, Tom.”

The words seem to get Tom to calm down a bit, his shift ending before he can change into a monster. Without much encouragement, Tom’s in Tord’s arms, trying hard not to cry as he tries to deal with this new revelation. Tord, in the meantime, feels like the real monster. He’s lying over and over again to Tom to save his own ass, but he honestly believes that lying is better than the harsh truth. It’s better this way… Tord keeps repeating that to himself internally as he hugs Tom close, willing away his guilt as much as he can.

…

Tom keeps to himself for the next few days, preferring the dog’s company over Tord’s. Tord accepts this as well as he can- he starts stressing over it like hell. He can’t help it; he’s scared that Tom could shift again at any moment and there’s jack he can do about it. He’s thought of tying some meds to Hamilton’s collar, but the dog has been glued to Tom’s side since the rampage, so Tord can’t exactly get ahold of him. He’s also considered just breaking into Tom’s room and forcing him to take medication, but there’s too high of a risk that Tom will shift. So Tord’s been forced to bide his time, taking a break from working around the complex to help his boyfriend through all this.

It’s only after a few days of occasionally eavesdropping that Tord starts to hear Tom talking to himself. At first, he chalks it up to Tom talking to Hammy out of boredom or desperation, but that’s soon dashed away when it becomes apparent that someone’s talking back to him, although Tord can’t tell who it is. For all he knows, it could be another resident, but there are only a handful of paranormals in the complex that can teleport/materialize through walls/floors, and none of them have taken an interest in Tom or Tord before, so why should they now? Tord just can’t wrap his head around it.

Deciding that there’s no other way to find out, Tord makes Tom dinner and waits outside the man’s door, listening in.

“Oh, wow!” A somewhat familiar voice exclaims, sounding excited. “You’re really good on guitar! I wish you would play more!”

“I can play another song, if that’s what you want. I don’t know much more though; I’m so out of practice.” Tom almost sounds relaxed when he talks to the unknown entity, but Tord can still hear the hesitance in his tone.

“Aw, that’s okay!” The stranger promises, not even noticing Tom’s discomfort. “You’re so good either way, Tommy! You need to give yourself some more credit!”

“Thanks,” Tom still sounds upset, but he quickly dusts it away. “I don’t know why you’re being so nice to me, man… after all I’ve done to you. I ruined your life.”

Ruined his life? Was this the spirit of a bank heist victim? Tord can’t see how, as most casualties had been done without any other options, and Tord figures no dead cops will be happy with Tom or the other crew members anytime soon. His thoughts are interrupted, however, when the unknown entity responds to Tom. “Oh, you never ruined my life, Tommy. If anything, you made it so much better! Now I get to be a monster too, and it’s all thanks to you! I can’t wait to finally tell Eduardo!”

Eduardo!? Oh god, it can’t be… “You don’t have to lie to me, Jon,” Tom says, voice somber and guilty. “I know what I did, and now I’m paying for it. But I’ll make this up to you somehow; I’ll learn to control my powers and I’ll never hurt you or anyone else again.”

Tord sits down outside Tom’s room, head in his hands as he absorbs the information. Jon’s a ghost? How? Well, his death WAS rather traumatic, but plenty of humans have died of car accidents and not stayed chained in the spirit realm. Did Jon have unfinished business? Sure, he hadn’t been able to live a full life, but plenty of souls die young and move on. And how was he haunting the apartment complex without any inside help? It was extremely difficult for spirits- especially newly deads- to haunt an already magically influenced area, so for Jon to do so was quite impressive. That, or Tom has inadvertently bound Jon’s spirit here through his own guilt.

Actually, that does make a lot of sense, now that Tord thinks about it. Tom may’ve killed Jon, but the two share a bond regardless, and it’s not hard for loved ones or friends to bind their dead friends/significant others to themselves, creating a tether around themselves to keep the dead from leaving. Also, it seems that Jon’s a very willing prisoner, causing him to not become a violent spirit or poltergeist. With this in mind, Tord slowly gets out of earshot of Tom’s bedroom. This is big news! If Eduardo finds out, maybe he’ll finally let Tord off the hook for this mess, and then Tord won’t have to worry about Eduardo spilling the beans to Tom. Sure, he still has a few other residents to worry about, but since when has keeping secrets been hard around here?

Not wasting any time, Tord takes off out of the apartment and downstairs, banging on Eduardo’s apartment door in excitement. After a while, Mark answers the door, looking somber and depressed. “Oh… it’s you,” The zombie mumbles, looking neither mad nor happy to see Tord, just… sad. “What do you want?”

“I need to talk to Eduardo! It’s a miracle!” Tord promises, positively beaming. “Jon’s back!”

That gets Mark’s eyes to widen, the zombie looking horrified, then even happier than Tord. “Jon’s alive!? Where is he!?”

From inside the apartment, Tord hears a tired grunt. “What’s with all the racket? Mark, I told ya, don’t mention him or I swear I’ll-” He stops mid-sentence, spotting Tord in the hallway. “Why you son of a- What’re you doing here? Here to pour salt in the wounds, hotshot?”

Tord pushes past Mark, unafraid of Eduardo’s obvious aggression. “Eduardo! I have excellent news!” He assures, almost hugging Eduardo, but he holds back. He can’t risk getting a punch to the face, after all. He can save the merrymaking for when he tells Eduardo the good news. “Jon is back from the dead! Well… not really. He’s still very much dead. But he hasn’t moved onto the afterlife! He’s not bowling with the angels! Your little friend has abandoned his body to become a spirit, and he’s haunting the building!”

Eduardo just stands there, stunned, before his face twists in rage. “He’s WHAT!?”

“Eh…” Tord’s confused. Why isn’t Eduardo jumping for joy? Shouldn’t he be happy? Maybe he just doesn’t get it- he’s probably been soaking in too many rads lately. “He hasn’t kicked the bucket entirely? Come now, friend, you should be happy that he’s still here! Now there’s no need for a silly little funeral- unless he had loved ones, in which case he most certainly should have one, as to not raise suspicions. But forget all that; your friend is back and very, very happy about it!”

Eduardo only looks more enraged, before he calms down enough to actually speak to Tord. “Silly little funeral? You asshole- we already had it! He’s already been buried! I had to hold his weeping ma the whole time, and you’re tellin’ me to let that all go? To go back to normal?” He advances on Tord, livid in every sense of the word. “How long have you had him? Were you hiding him from me? I swear, I’m gonna-”

“Eduardo, please calm down,” Mark insists, coming to stand between Tord and the dryad. “Judging by Tord’s words, he only just found out! Not all spirits come back right away! And I know things have been hard, especially for you, but with Jon back, you can finally let all this unnecessary anger go.”

“You have no right to say how hard it’s been! You weren’t there! You weren’t home when he left, or home when he died! You don’t GET to tell me how I should feel!” Breathing through clenched teeth, Eduardo calms down from his angry high just a bit, before training his eyes on Tord, neon green tears in the dryad’s eyes. “You know this ain’t fixed, right? Look, Jon’s back, and that’s… I dunno yet. But what I DO know is that Tom’s still a fucking threat, and he’s gonna get somebody else if you don’t do something about it! And if you don’t, I will.”

Tord growls, glaring at Eduardo predatorily. “I won’t let you hurt him…” He threatens, tone deathly calm considering how protective he is of Tom. “Besides, none of this is his fault. You were right; I’m the one to blame here. I’m the one who decided to turn him into a monster. I’m the one who injected him with all those serums. If you want someone to blame, blame me.”

“You… you what?”

Everyone freezes, turning to the open doorway. There stands Tom, with Jon hovering by his side, baby blue and see-through. Jon’s got his hands over his mouth, while Tom just stands there, horrified beyond belief.

Tord pauses, trying to come up with a good excuse for this. “Now, Thomas, that wasn’t what it sounded like…” He lies, but he knows it falls flat. He doesn't even sound convincing to himself.

Tom’s face scrunches up in anger. “You dirty fucking liar.” Tom mutters, before taking off to the complex’s stairwell.

Without a second thought, Tord follows after him.

…

They don’t talk for days.

Or, more accurately, Tom doesn’t talk for days and Tord tries and fails to resolve the problem.

It’s not like there’s much he can say, though. After all, he made himself into a Frankenstein and Tom was the end result; a fucked up monster who never asked for any of this. But instead of fearing and hating his creation, Tord still loves Tom to death, and would give anything to undo this. Really, he’d give anything to undo ALL of this. He almost wishes he’d never met Tom- then Tom would’ve gone on to have a normal boyfriend and normal neighbors and a normal fucking life. But now all of that’s gone. Tom can never escape this Hell, and it’s all Tord’s fault.

Tord spends most of his time at home moping, ignoring phone calls and refusing to leave the apartment. He can’t risk leaving Tom on his own, not when he’s still unable to take proper care of himself. He can’t even focus on research, not when he’s so guilt-ridden and worried for Tom. It feels like it’s been so long since he’s held Tom in his arms, and the lack of regular physical contact is making him unbelievably antsy, the demon beginning to build up tension and anger in his body, almost always staying half-shifted as a result. He knows full-well that this can only end horribly, but whatever- he’s had just about enough bullcrap, and enough is enough. He can’t take anymore of this. He’s settling this, whether Tom’s ready or not.

He stands up from the couch, ready to storm into Tom’s room, but before Tord can go for the hallway, he hears Tom’s door open ever so slightly. Holding back, Tord hides behind the couch, keeping hidden in an attempt to attract Tom out of his room. There’s a pause, in which Tord can hear every slight sound as Tom considers his options. He apparently comes to a conclusion, as the man soon tiptoes out of his bedroom, Hamilton right on his heels. The brunet’s careful to keep quiet as he approaches the kitchen, and Tord follows his example, covering his mouth with his hands until Tom’s got himself inadvertently cornered in the kitchen.

Tord rises slowly, not wanting to give Tom the chance to run for it. “We need to talk, Thomas,” The demon explains, ignoring the way Tom jolts in surprise, the man shivering out of fear of what exactly Tord will do. It absolutely breaks Tord’s heart. “I’m not mad… you have to understand, I never wanted to hurt you. I just… wanted to make you stronger. To keep you safe. But I understand that what I did was wrong, and while it didn’t go quite as planned-”

“Not quite as planned?” Tom repeats Tord’s words, before turning to meet his eyes, his own void-like and harsh, though he still appears somewhat cautious. “You ruined my life,” He corrects, vicious and unforgiving. “You think you can just… manipulate me? Drug me and pretend it’s for my own good? I was plenty strong before, in-case you forgot. I’ve gunned down police by your side, for Christ’s sake! I thought you respected me, but now I see that I’m just a toy to you; a toy you can play with and alter on a whim. One minute we’re like newlyweds, the next, I’m a science experiment.”

“Now hold on,” Tord can’t hide his anger anymore, the aggression in his voice showing, yet it doesn’t cause Tom to back down, to his surprise. “You have no right to say that. I did my best! I was protecting you. I am protecting you! If I left, Eduardo or someone else would kill you!”

“Is that a threat?” Tom snaps, unimpressed by Tord’s anger. “You think you can scare me into being a good little boy? Well guess what, asshole, I ain’t afraid anymore! I’m not gonna let some goat demon tell me what I can and can’t do. You’re so full of crap, Tord!!”

Just as Tord opens his mouth to shout back at Tom, Hamilton let’s out a scared little whimper. At once, both men pause, glancing down at their puppy. “I should go,” Tom bites out, scooping up an abnormally quiet Hamilton into his arms. “I’m gonna crash at Matt’s… don’t you dare follow me.” With that, he storms out, leaving Tord to wonder how in the world he could’ve messed up this fucking bad.

…

Despite trying his hardest not to, Tord falls into a depression. He’s had depression before, but it’s been years since it’s been this bad. Not since before he met Paul and Patryk. Not caring to stay home any longer, Tord goes back to working on people’s apartments, fixing everything he can as a way of distracting his mind from thinking of Tom. ‘He hates you he hates you he hates you he never wants to see you again you really fucked up this time, Tord’- All Tord can do to ignore the endless chanting is work, using his brain for anything but feelings. It’s not until a few days have passed that someone intervenes.

“Oh, leader…” Patryk mutters, his voice sounding far away to Tord’s ears. “What’s happened to you?”

“Whuzat?” Tord’s groggy as he comes to, realizing too late that he’d passed out from exhaustion while fixing someone’s toilet, his knees soaked in water from having slipped into the toilet’s seat. “Pat? What’re you doin’ here?” He asks, mindlessly using his hands to continue working on the toilet.

“Sir, we’re here for an intervention,” Paul deadpans, looking very concerned for his leader. “We’ve been trying to contact you for days, but you’ve failed to respond. As your packmates, it’s our duty to protect and help you.”

“But… I’m a monster… literally,” Tord explains, his voice depressed and hopeless. “There’s no hope for me, boys. You should go help Tom… and that’s an order.”

Paul and Patryk share a look, before, in one swift movement, Patryk scoops up Tord rather effortlessly, visibly cringing in sympathy when the demon leans heavily into the other, starved of physical contact. “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re…” Paul hesitates, before shaking it away. “Fuck it. We’re disobeying orders whether you like it or not. And that’s final.” He looks very uncomfortable saying all that, but regardless, Tord’s rather impressed by the display.

“He’s right,” Patryk confirms, able to disobey pack dynamics much easier than Paul, who’s been raised on those beliefs since birth. “Look at yourself, sir. You’re an absolute mess, and Tom already has Matt to help him. Someone needs to help you right now.” With that said, the werewolf carries him out of the bathroom.

They get a few stares going by, but no one questions the werewolves as they take Tord out of the complex and buckle him into the backseat of their minivan. The wolves make careful banter between each other, leaving Tord to mope and scowl in the backseat, feeling like a toddler being driven around by their overbearing parents. However, Tord doesn’t have long to brood, as they soon arrive at their mystery location. Tord blinks in confusion once they park, giving the outside world a curious look through the window. They’re at a public park, but it’s nightfall, meaning there’s no one around, save for a handful of couples and teenagers.

Paul and Patryk immediately pile out of the car, Patryk getting out and stretching while Paul gently pulls Tord out, ignoring the demon’s small hisses and glares. As angry as Tord is with being kidnapped, he’d never dream of laying a hand on Paul or Patryk. Once he’s out of the car, Tord takes a closer look around, seeing that there’s a number of playscapes, jungle gyms, swing sets, and picnic tables in the shadow-covered park. If Tord were a feral demon, he might have at one time considered this place as optimal hunting ground for fresh meat. Yes, with so many careless teenagers and couples around, this would be the perfect time and place for a kill.

Those thoughts are interrupted, however, when Paul grabs his forearm and leads him to a picnic table, sitting him down in front of Patryk before taking a seat beside him. “I hope you like BLTs, boss,” Patryk says, giving Tord a big, encouraging grin. “I tried to make the bacon just how you like it. We even brought a doggy bag with extra in-case you wanted a snack for our walk later!”

Tord just stares at Patryk in confusion, before a BLT sandwich is pushed in front of him, looking to have extra bacon. Just how he likes it. The demon hesitates, not knowing whether he’s hungry or not. However, he soon swallows his anxiety and takes a bite, much to Paul and Pat’s obvious relief. He gets about half the sandwich down before he taps out, but that doesn’t seem to upset the werewolves. They just seem happy that he ate anything at all. The wolves eat quickly, barely fitting in any smalltalk before they’re done, already whisking Tord away before he can run off on them. Tord would be impressed by their resourcefulness to keep him around if he weren’t still struggling to not dissociate.

The only thing that stops Tord from completely leaving the station is Paul's sudden Dutch accent in his ear. “The air is so nice tonight, boss,” Paul murmurs, barely biting back a howl when he sees the moon overhead, not yet full but rather close. Tord gives it a skeptical look; it should be full within a week or so. “I’m glad we have you here… it’s been forever since we’ve been able to spend time with you.”

Tord hesitates on responding, but he can’t resist Paul’s bright-eyed smile. “Yes it… has been a rather long time. I forgot how much I missed this.”

Tord’s words cause Paul to light up, and if Tord wasn’t already head over heels for Tom, he might’ve found Paul’s smile attractive, but such a thought is dashed away when he sees Patryk grinning at Paul with lovestruck eyes. God… they’re so in love. It honestly makes Tord a bit jealous, seeing them like this, but he still smiles, keeping up a steady pace behind the couple while they walk through the forest, the wolves holding hands as they go. The entire time, Paul and Patryk stay in half-shift, pointing out everything to each other while discussing the things they see in excited voices.

Out of nowhere, Tord’s reminded of ‘the good old days’. Of the days before he met Tom, of when it was just Tord, Paul, and Patryk as a gang. He remembers how he’d gag when they kissed or flirted, and how he’d roll his eyes when they held hands in public. It had been so grating to Tord… How had he ever believed that he’d never feel like that for a person someday? It makes Tord feel all the guiltier for ruining his relationship with Tom, and yet… He stares at the couple in front of him, gut twisting as he sees a vision of himself and Tom in their positions, all heartfelt and romantic and together. It fills Tord with… determination.

“Boys, um, can we talk for a moment?” Immediately, both Paul and Pat come to a halt, turning to give Tord their full attention. “I think I have an idea on how to fix this mess, but I can’t do it alone. I need your help. I know I have no right to ask for your assistance- not after all I’ve done- but even if it won’t fix my relationship with Tom, it might just save him from… himself. I can’t let him live like this.”

Without even sharing a look or hesitating, both wolves run to Tord and hug him, filling the demon with warmth as he revels in the physical affection. “We’re with you, Red Leader. Until the very end.” Patryk promises, nuzzling into his packmate’s chest.

Paul nods eagerly in agreement. “We’ll help in any way we can. Just say the word!”

“Oh, boys… what did I do to get such loyal friends such as yourselves?” Tord murmurs, holding back thankful tears, as corny as it is. Back as a whelpling in Hell, there’d been no such things as ‘friends’ or ‘trust’. There had only been your name and rank. Nothing else. It feels amazing to have so much more than that now. “I promise you both, I will fix this mess, and we’ll all be a family again.” He assures, petting both wolves in earnest.

He’ll find a way to fix this. He’ll get Tom back. Even if it takes a thousand years, he’ll find a way. After all, he’s got his boys by his side. Nothing can stop him now.

…

Within a couple of days, Tord absolutely trashes Paul and Pat’s apartment, the living room floor becoming his own Fortress of Solitude, at least to a certain degree. Patryk and Paul occasionally join him, whether it’s to recharge him with physical contact, to supply more books, or to help him with research. Despite their best efforts, however, Tord’s mood swings up and down, unable to find a place to stay while he drowns in his books and papers. He has a basic idea of what he needs to do; create some sort of cure or handicap to help Tom get ahold of his newfound powers. It’s easier said than done.

As much as Tord prides himself in his tinkering and inventing skills, he’s no God- Tom’s serum to make him what he is today took months and months of hard work, but Tord’s working against the clock here. At any given moment, Tom will shift again, and they might not be able to stop him this time. Besides, if that weren’t stressful enough, Tord feels like he’s struggling on all fronts. As closely related as they are, science and magic are hard to use together, and that alone is enough to drag Tord’s research back by months.

“This is impossible,” Tord growls under his breath, chucking his book across the room so that it hits the opposite wall, leaving a dent in the drywood. “No man can solve this!”

“Not to state the obvious, sir, but you aren’t exactly ‘man’. I’m sure you’ll get it sooner or later,” Patryk says, crouching down by Tord to give him an encouraging pat on the back. “All you need is a little time and patience.”

“Which I have neither of,” Tord snaps, before his gaze softens, the demon giving Patryk an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, friend… I don’t mean to take this out on you. I’m just under much pressure. Tom is a loose cannon, and we have no idea when the fuse will be lit.”

“That’s dramatic,” Paul comments from the kitchen, washing the dishes in an attempt to at least keep his kitchen clean. “Why not rest for a minute, leader? You could use the sleep.”

“I don’t need sleep, Paul. I need a solution,” Tord corrects, before picking up another book, this one labeled ‘An Alchemist’s Guide to Unforgivable Crimes Against Nature: Now in Russian’. He hasn’t dug into this book since he first started working on Tom’s initial serum, but perhaps he kept his notes…

Luck seems to favor Tord, as all of his old notes are still there, save for the few sketches he had made of what he THOUGHT Tom would look like. Boy, had he been wrong. Pushing those thoughts aside, Tord rapidly rereads the papers, at times struggling to make out his own sleep-deprived, senseless scribbles. It’s a miracle he even got this to work. There’s not much there, save for a list of ingredients that Tord doesn’t remember making. Did he write this? It’s most certainly his handwriting, but he has no memory of the list. There isn’t even a title. However, Tord soon spots something on the list that makes him pause, eyes going wide in astonishment.

‘In-case of over-exposure, treat the poisoning with direct injection of zeolites to negate the radiation.’

“Eureka!” Tord jumps up in a flash, spooking Paul in the kitchen and accidentally throwing Patryk off of him in the process. “I have it! I can fix this!”

“Wait!” Paul practically stampedes out of the kitchen, looking confused and more than a bit shellshocked. “What’s going on? Do you have the cure already? Sir?” But it’s too late; Tord’s gone before Patryk even hits the ground.

…

He’s not sure what to do with himself, or rather, he’s not sure what to do with his concoction. The demon is in the final stages of creating it when he realizes he still needs to get Tom’s approval.

He can't go back and give it to Tom secretly. No, this time Tom needs to agree to it: give his full consent. He sighs, rubbing his aching head. Like Tom will agree to this after what I've done. He knows that it can work, and given enough time, he’s sure that within a few years, Tom will be happy that Tord did this. Yes, if all goes according to plan, then Tord’s life can finally get back to normal again. Just the thought lights his insides up, but everytime he makes his way to Matt’s apartment, he loses his courage and goes back to his own place.

What if Tom won’t take it? It won’t be that surprising to Tord if that happens, but regardless, he hopes that Tom might listen to reason. ‘Like you should have?’ A voice mocks from an unknown location in Tord’s mind, causing the demon to growl inwardly- ‘It’s your fault you’re in this mess to begin with’. Tord punches his head in anger, successfully pushing back his nagging conscious, although the pain leaves him with an almost unbearable migraine afterwards. This is getting him nowhere. The incubi sighs, giving his feet a thoughtful look. He has to get Tom to drink it- he just has to. It’s the only way to start fixing this mess.

It’s not until Tord’s out the door that he’s again having second thoughts. What if Tom doesn’t answer? Is he even home? All of these worries overflow Tord’s brain while he struggles to beat down his own anxiety, though it’s about as successful as trying to put a forest fire out with half a cup of water. Tord’s halfway through an internal rant when the door to Matt’s apartment swings open, Tom looking like an absolute wreck on the other side. He’s half-shifted, and his face is pale and sickly.

“Hey, Tord,” Tom interrupts the self-deprecating monologue without even his realizing it, voice sounding groggy and tired. He hasn’t been sleeping well lately, if at all. “What’s up?”

Well, he isn’t yelling yet. That’s a good sign. “Can I, um… can I come in?” Tord asks, not feeling very comfortable with talking about this in the hallway.

Tom hesitates, before nodding and stepping aside for the Norwegian. Tord hurries inside, giving the living room a quick onceover. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, save for Matt’s usual bad taste in furniture, but Tord can’t see any obvious signs of damage. However, Tord feels an uneasiness wash over him. He looks around expectantly, not really sure where he’s looking for. Didn’t Tom take something with him? Something important? Tord paces through the kitchen and hallway, Tom right on his heels, sipping from a canteen of what smells like alcohol. Alcohol? Since when did Tom drink during the daytime?

Just as Tord thinks to ask Tom about it, his eyes land on an empty dog dish on the floor, and it all adds up. “Where’s Hamilton?” He asks, crouching by the couch to look around for the corgi. “Hammy? Pupper? Thomas, have you seen-” The demon cuts off his speech when he sees Tom’s face, his expression blank and depressed.

Tom shrugs, not looking very interested. “Dunno…” He admits, looking around a bit, though he doesn’t seem to think finding Hamilton is very important right now. “Took him for a walk, then I got a headache… the rest is kinda blurry,” He scowls at the floor, appearing angry with himself. “I think he… wanted off the leash. Seemed scared. Didn’t wanna hurt him so I just sorta… let him off the leash.”

Tord stares in horror at Tom, before his gaze softens. “Oh God, Thomas… I’m so sorry,” He whispers, pulling the short Brit into a tight hug, ignoring the contact-high in favor of focusing his attention entirely on comforting his estranged boyfriend. “I should’ve been here, with you, but instead I let my own feelings scare me away. I’m so, so sorry.”

Tom seems partially confused, further confirming Tord’s theory that the poor boy’s drunk as all Hell and beyond. Regardless, he leans into Tord, humming in contentment. “I’ve missed this,” He admits, running one of his hands over Tord’s hoodie, enlarged nails catching occasionally on the fabric. “I’m sorry that I’m a mess.”

“You’re not a mess, Tom. I am. I’m the one who’s done this to you,” Tord says, petting Tom’s hair. “I’ve made your life worse than Hell.”

Tom pauses, pulling back to give Tord a weird look. “... Guess that makes you kind of a jerk, huh?” He states rather unabashedly, the alcohol in his system cutting off his brain-to-mouth filter in favor of just saying whatever’s on his mind.

Tord laughs, tears building up in his eyes until they’re overflowing, dripping onto Tom’s shoulder once he hugs him close again. “Yeah… I guess I kinda am, huh? I’m just a big, horrible jerk.”

Tom softens visibly, before hugging Tord even tighter, secretly pressing a kiss to his chest. “Well, even if you’re a jerk, I still love you.”

That just makes Tord cry a bit harder, momentarily forgetting about the serum. He’ll talk with Tom about it later- for now, he’s perfectly happy with just holding Tom until all this bullcrap fades away.

…

“Hey, you up?”

Tord grunts, giving his waker a grimace. After his earlier breakdown, he crashed on Matt’s couch while Tom took the spare bedroom. After all, he doesn’t want to force himself onto Tom, not while their relationship is still so obviously damaged. Slowly, the incubi sits up, biting his lower lip in pain, a headache making itself known. He must’ve dehydrated himself with all that crying, as embarrassing as that is for him to admit. As if realizing this, his waker walks off momentarily, before returning to his side with a glass of water. Tord takes it gladly, chugging it down in an eager rush.

“You alright?” It takes a second, but Tord quickly recognizes his waker as Tom. What’s he doing here? Shouldn’t he be sleeping?

“I’m fine,” Tord mumbles, voice still tired and craving sleep. He shakes it away though, much more eager to talk with Tom instead. “How about you? Holding up?”

Tom shrugs, taking a seat on the end of the couch, placing Tord’s legs over his lap so that he can sit down better. “I guess I’m alright,” He says, though he doesn’t look convinced. He glances at Tord, trying to figure his words out. “... So what are you doing here, Tord? Finally ready to explain this? ‘Cus let me tell you, I kinda wanna know what kinda fucked up monster I am.”

Tord nods in understanding, secretly reveling in his legs being on Tom’s lap. Sure, Paul and Patryk’s touches have been plenty rejuvenating these last few days, but to be touched by his significant other… it’s almost enough to lull Tord back to sleep, but he resists the urge. “In all honesty, I’m not sure what exactly you are, classification-wise. Yes, many mad scientists have created Frankenstein-like creatures, but nothing like this has happened in recorded history. You could be classified as a kind of changeling, but most changelings have several different forms, therefore I’m not sure-”

“-Not like that,” Tom interrupts, unimpressed by Tord’s response. “I mean, am I safe to even be around? Am I like Balis?”

Tord softens, biting back his urge to shift and nuzzle Tom’s cheek. “Of course you’re safe, Thomas,” He promises, before brightening, all at once remembering why he even came here. “In fact, I‘m working on a new serum in my lab that shoul-!” He starts off excitedly, eager to gain Tom’s favor again.

But Tom immediately reels back, looking very visibly scared and upset. “No. Fuck no. I’m not letting you experiment on me anymore!” He explains, shivering at the idea of it.

It takes every bit of Tord’s self-control to not break down right there. He’s made Tom afraid of him now- dang it dang it dang it- but… he knows that this can help him. That this can save him. He just needs Tom to trust him one more time. “Look, Tom… I’ve been a real piece of shit for the last few months. I’ve made your life so much more complicated. But I know that this can help you. It’ll be like a deterrent- it will lower your radiation levels and keep you from transforming until we can find a way to safely train you in your abilities, or better yet, find a way to cure you. If you have any trust in me left, then please… give this a shot. All I want is to keep you safe, and this is all I’ve got left to do that.”

Tom glances between Tord and the floor, weighing his options with caution. Slowly, Tom nods while bringing his gaze back up to Tord, inky black void meeting bright red. Tord can see the terrified hesitation in Tom’s eyes, but he can also see that deep down, after all this, he trusts him.

“When do we start?” Tom questions, giving Tord a nervous glance.

“I’ll get to work on it right away. I should have a finished chemical solution within the next day. For now, though-” He sits up and hugs Tom as tight as he can, almost going limp as the tension leaves his body. “-I’m just glad you’re finally safe, Thomas.”

Tom rolls his eyes, but still ruffles Tord’s hair, giving the demon a lopsided smirk. “Yeah yeah, quit the waterworks, drama queen,” He orders halfheartedly, running his fingers through Tord’s light brown locks. “... You wanna watch a movie? One with a cheesy ending?” He offers, picking up the remote to the TV off the coffee table.

Tord nods eagerly, smiling in contentment as he leans on Tom. Finally, he can rest peacefully. He can relax after all this worrying. As a result, he’s out cold within the first ten minutes of the movie, yet he never feels Tom leave his side. Not even once.

…

“That’s it?” Tom asks, suspicious of the green liquid. They're still getting back to that complete trust they had before, but right now, Tord’s willing to take what he can get.

Tord nods, kind of proud of the serum he’s made. “It should be a sort of ‘nuclear suppressant’. It should make you less likely to transform at first, but over time, I’m hoping that it will cure you of your, uh… Affliction.”

Tom snorts at Tord’s word choice, but decides to just ask about the serum. “So how does it work, like- Do I just drink it?” The demon gives a small noise in affirmation.

“Drink it and it should reduce your headaches, symptoms, etcetera. If something happens like you’re actually shifting, I have a stronger concoction that is meant to be injected,” He supplies the pen-like injector to Tom. “You can use it on yourself if you’re quick enough, but if not I’ll be keeping one on hand as well, just in case.” Tom nods slowly.

“Lots of fail-safes, huh?”

Tord shrugs sheepishly. “I just doubt myself a lot these days.” The slight change in the human’s facial expression at the words gives off pity, but Tord ignores it, smiling tiredly. “Go on, though, give it a drink, tell me how it is!”

Tom hesitantly takes a sip after sniffing the liquid once more, and pulls a face once he’s done. “It’s certainly not tasty,” He quips, scrunching up his nose. Tord laughs a bit at that, taking the solution back.

“I’ll see if I can improve the taste any. If all else fails I’ll increase the potency and you can just mix it with your drinks.” He pauses though, going over the chemical components in his head. “Probably not alcohol, though.

The human lets out a long, dramatic sigh. “What even is the point, then?” The two share a chuckle and shy smiles.

This can work, Tord thinks.

…

Tom’s on the serum for about four weeks and he reports back every day how he’s been feeling. Tord marks it all down and goes over the data, excited and giddy. It seems to be working; whenever Tom remembers to drink the proper amount of serum he has remarkably less headaches, mood swings, and bouts of intense hunger. He still gets his craving for meat, but Tord expected a few permanent changes, not to mention there was still time for some of the symptoms to fade.

In all honesty, Tord thought it would be impossible to change Tom back to completely human, but the results from his research don’t lie: his boyfriend’s getting better. The news has been uplifting everyone’s spirits, so, in an effort to keep them high Tord surprises Tom with dinner reservations at the local fancy restaurant.

“We normally don’t do ritzy,” Tom manages when Tord tells him the news.

“We can do ritzy.” The demon tries to say but even he knows the statement falls flat. A pause, then, “You have a suit, sweet boy?” The human groans at the nickname.

“I think I do somewhere,” He gets up, scratching his side while he looks around. Tord notices that he almost pats his thigh as if to call the dog, but he hesitates and lets the arm fall to his side. Tord feels a pang of guilt but tries to take his mind off it by helping him look.

After looking around the closet, some (still) unpacked boxes, and anything else that opens, they manage to find a pair of dress pants, a tie, and a pair of nice shoes that all seem to fit Tom, but none of it matches and the tie has a big stain on the front.

“Guess we’ll need to go suit shopping,” Tord mutters, scratching his head.

“Do you have a suit??” Tom demands, trying to feel at least a little better. Tord smirks and snaps his fingers, and in a flash of flame he has a handsome dark suit on, with a bright red tie to match his eyes. The human narrows his eyes and mutters, “You asshole.” Before stomping off to find his wallet.

Things are finally getting back to normal.

…

They go out and find a perfect suit for Tom: it’s a dark grey, just a few shades lighter than Tord’s, and it already fits him perfect. They also find a pair of smiley face cufflinks, which after a few minutes of bickering while trying to decide if it’s even appropriate, they end up buying them. Tord can tell that Tom is already quite fond of them.

The pair visit a few more shops and browse, remarking on anything they can to try and get a laugh out of another. It’s too soon when Tord realizes that their reservations for ‘Ritz Central’ (as Tom has been referring to it for the last few hours) are fast approaching, so they swing back by the apartment to prep and then make their way to the establishment.

Five minutes in and it’s already at a rocky start. It takes them forty minutes to be seated, despite the reservation (there was a mistake in the books or something, Tord was fuming). They finally sit down and Tord tries to make a joke but Tom is straight faced, impassive, unmoved.

Tord thinks he’s going to actually die.

The waiter comes, he’s kind of rude about how their hair is styled and Tord has to bite back an insult in fear of embarrassing Thomas. He takes their orders and shuffles of and the demon sighs.

“Sorry this hasn’t been great so far…” He starts with, trying to make amends, but Tom just shrugs. Tord starts fiddling with his napkin. “At least the mall was fun...?” Another shrug.

“We don’t do ritzy.” Tom states flatly and Tord does his best to not look crestfallen right away.

“Guess not,” He mutters, turning away to avoid showing Tom he’s disappointed.

They sit in silence for a while, Tord floundering to find a way to save the night. He ultimately orders more wine, which seems to make Tom a little happier. It’s the small successes. They drink and do their best to make small talk when they can, sipping during awkward silences. At one point Tord swirls his glass and Tom mimics him, just more exaggerated. It ends up in a wine swirling contest which ends with lots of people staring.

Tom falters, not liking all the faces on him, and Tord frowns deeply. He sends a hot glare at all the prudes who turn their noses up at the pair, but the damage has been done, and Tom’s back to silent and anxious.

The food finally comes, and they start eating the fancy meal. Tom ends up not really liking his, Tord can tell from the expression shift, but still the human chooses not to say anything and he shovels the dissatisfactory food in his mouth.

“Ha, you think a place this fancy would at least know how to cook a steak?” Tord jokes, but apparently it’s the wrong thing to say, because Tom stops mid-chew and throws the demon a look so fierce it should’ve killed him. It kind of does, in a way.

Tord looks down at his plate, deciding he’s not very hungry, and Tom sighs, pushing his food forward. “Maybe we should just get this to go.” And Tord nods sadly. They’re waiting for the waiter to come back with the check when someone next to them gets champaign, and the bottle is so loud it startles everyone in the room, including both Tom and Tord.

Tom jumps so far, though, that he bumps a waiter behind him, who drops a dish of something hot onto a lady’s lap. She starts screaming, the waiter starts apologizing furiously, and worst of all: everyone else starts laughing.

Thomas looks like he’s about to cry.

He sits down, eyes looking directly at his lap and hands stiff at his sides. Tord wants desperately to comfort him, but also not make more of a scene in front of the entire restaurant. He fumbles with the check once the waiter returns, but when he tells Tom they can go, he realizes that the human’s eyes have moved to become one big cyclops eye in the middle of his face.

Without a moment’s hesitation Tord takes off the jacket of his suit and throws it at Tom, who is already starting to stand to catch it. The shifting human pulls it over his head and runs towards the bathroom and the demon follows, pulling out the tiny gun he always keeps around his ankle. He summons his mask just like he did with his suit, and then he gets started evacuating.

“Everyone listen up!” He shouts, unloading a bullet in the ceiling. Everyone gasps at the sight. “I want all you obnoxious fuckers out of here before I tear every one of you apart. Get out of here single file: kids first, then adults. Take what you need, I don’t want your purses or wallets. I just want everyone out of the building NOW!” Tord punctuates the last word with a bullet and people pour out, more confused than terrified.

It seems like Tord doesn’t have a second to think before a spiny, purple monster pushes its way through the brick wall to his right, Kool-Aid Man style.

“Oh yeah,” Tord says under his breath, quickly shifting into his demon form and flapping out of the way when Tom’s huge fist plows its way into the ground, smashing a table in half on its way down. The demon figures his best bet for surviving is to just dodge each hit as he can, rolling or flying out of the way while Tom tires himself out.

Except he doesn’t. The beast is relentless as he slashes and bites at Tord, roaring in fury the entire time. In a fit of anger, Tom grabs a table and hurls it at him when he least expects it, hitting him square in the chest. He hits the wall with a choked out “Oof,” and immediately starts scrambling to move the table as best he can, remembering when Balis got thrown at the wall and Tom tore into his prone figure.

Instead of chasing, though, the monster sucks in a big breath and clacks its sharp teeth together, somehow managing to create a big gout of fire. Tord manages to get free in time, but the spot he was just at is engulfed in flame in a matter of seconds.

“You can breathe FIRE?!?” Tord exclaims, completely unaware of the fact. Monster Tom doesn’t respond but takes advantage of the demons shock to ram him with his huge horns. It was growing obvious that not only was Tom not tiring out, he was getting angrier as the minutes passed. Tord needed to find a way to sedate the monster immediately.

“The serum!” The demon shouts, in a moment of realization. All he had to do was get back to their table and find his jacket. Tom attempts to charge him again, but Tord flies above his head and past him, heading back to where the table they sat down at was. His jacket is nowhere to be found.

Tord smacks his forehead. “I gave it to him when he ran into the bathroom!” He recalls, spreading his wings to take off. Before he propels himself forward, though, Tom comes up from behind, roaring and grasping his right wing, yanking it back with intense force and breaking it like a twig. Tord cries out in pain and Tom shouts in victory, throwing the demon at the far wall.

Tord struggles to stand and shake himself off. Deciding now is probably not a good time for wings, he shifts all the way back to his human form, running as fast as he can to find some cover. Tom spits another fireball at him but luckily he dodges, jumping out of the way and over a table. He rolls for a bit, tucking in his limbs and skidding under another table.

Tom seems to have lost him because the loud roaring is replaced with a contemplative clicking, as well as a series of annoyed tail-slaps. Tord uses this moment to ready himself: he can summon the suit to him just like before, but it would create that flash of fire and Tom would know where he’s at. He needs to do it at the perfect time.

The monster sniffs the air loudly, slowly making its way towards Tord’s hiding spot. The demon readies his fingers, and holds perfectly still. 1… 2...

3!!

As soon as he snaps Tom resumes roaring, furious and beastial. Tord fishes through his pockets as quick as he can, trying desperately to find the injector that will knock Tom out- But the monster is back on him, grasping his entire body with one claw and squeezing down. Tord cries out but manages to pull his arms free, serum held high so he can bring it down hard enough to pierce Tom’s leathery flesh.

“Sorry about this one, babe!” He gasps, plunging the needle into Tom’s skin as hard as he can. Monster Tom howls in pain, dropping Tord immediately. The demon scampers away but stays close, watching Tom slowly and drowsily lie himself down with a *thud*.

Before Tord’s very eyes, Tom shifts back to his normal self, body shrinking and morphing. The transformation back isn’t as grotesque, Tord realizes when he doesn’t hear the bone snapping and shifting into place. It also takes a lot less time, because before he knows it, the small human he’s in love with is lying on the ground, groaning in exhaustion.

The Norwegian advances towards Tom slowly, making his way through the rubble and wreckage of the restaurant. He falls to his knees and inspects the human’s body to see if he’s gotten harmed, but there’s not a single scratch on him.

“Hey,” He says, trying to roust his boyfriend. “We gotta go before the cops get here.” Tom grumbles in response, shifting on the floor so he’s lying on his back and looking up at the ceiling. The human refuses to speak, eyes just staring upwards and blinking slowly. Tord looks outside nervously but settles that the police haven’t arrived so they still have time. He lies down beside Tom and looks up with him, worried, tired, and anxious.

They don’t talk for a while. Just stare up at the claw and scorch marks that managed to get all the way up there. For once, Tord can’t even imagine what Tom’s thinking.

It isn’t until police sirens can start to be heard that Tom pipes up. “Tord,” He grumbles out, voice scratchy. The addressed demon turns to look at the human, watching the red and blue lights from the cops flashing across his tired face. Despite how loud the commotion is from outside, Tom’s next words are all Tord hears, and they ring in his head for hours afterwards.

“I think we should break up.”

…

They broke up. After managing to get home unbothered from the police and getting back into comfortable clothes, Tom packed up what he could and left to Matt’s apartment, promising to come back and talk to Tord when he could. He doesn’t take his medicine.

Tord goes through the week dazed, not doing much else other than repeating Tom’s words in his head, over and over again, and then going to bed when he can’t stand to hear it anymore. After a week Tord wakes up to Tom in the apartment, making breakfast for himself.

“Sup,” Tom says cooly. Tord doesn’t say a word, just sits down at the table and waits for the human to keep breaking his heart over scrambled eggs. “Don’t look so hot.” The demon doesn’t even respond and Tom sighs.

“Tord. We can’t keep doing this,” No response again, so he just keeps going. “Every time we’re separate you mope and it’s all you can focus on. How many times is this going to happen before I can just make you forget about me?” Despite the obvious frustration Tom must be feeling, he speaks calmly and evenly, just trying to make Tord understand.

But there’s no forgetting Tom, not after all they’ve been through. They’ve spent the last few years or so together, in every sense of the word. They’v heisted together, lived together, slept and ate together, made decisions together… Though, Tord supposes that he kind of did start making decisions for Tom in the end there. Really, after everything he put Tom through the human should hate him, but he can’t expect Tord to just forget and move on. It just couldn’t happen.

Tord conveys all of this by letting his head drop to the table, and Tom sighs.

“I guess I feel you there,” He mutters, putting two plates of eggs and bacon down before the pair. He sits next to Tord and starts shoveling food in his mouth. Tord manages to take a few bites of the bacon, finding satisfaction and comfort in the crunch as he chews.

“If you can’t forget me then we need to stay together,” Tom says and Tord freezes, shocked. “Not like how we were. We’ll probably never be like that again, but, like it or not, we rely a lot on each other. The money we share is all I have to my name, and it’s impossible for me to get a job now. Not to mention I need you to keep making my meds.” He sighs, obviously having worked all this out in his head and not liking the answer he came up with.

“So I’ll stay.”

It takes a while for Tord to process it all. Tom is staying, but things can’t be like they were. He’s not sure if he’ll be okay with that, in the long run, but he can do his best to put up some walls. After all, they don’t have a choice, like Tom said.

Tord nods, voice cracking out a small, “Okay.” Tom tuts and rubs the demons back slowly. Tord leans into it and sighs, appreciating the comfort.

The human chuckles softly. “Even though I want to so much I can’t hate you,” He sounds defeated but presses on. “I could never hate you, Tord.”

The demon nods, weary and nervous. “And I could never forget you.”

…

Months pass. Tord puts up his walls. He falls back into his old personality, defaulting to snarky and condescending when he can and just plain mean when the first two don’t work. Tom builds his own, too. He’s mostly quiet now, choosing not to speak much to any other denizens of the complex when he doesn’t have to, keeping to himself and drinking the day away. The two carry on like that for a while, and fall into the old pattern of: arguing, refusing to speak to each other, then making up sometime a few days (or even just hours) later. It’s not the healthiest pattern but it’s theirs.

They work through their issues together as much as they can, even if part of the process of ‘working through it’ involves lots of shouting and arguing. They become known as the loudest residents on the fourteenth floor.

“You guys might want to start keeping it down in the future,” Matt says to the pair over lunch one day. He’s been spending more time with them when he can, knowing that they’re less likely to argue when they’ve got company. “I’m looking to get a roommate as soon as possible.”

Both Tom and Tord look surprised. “Rooming isn’t cheap, and not all of us have bank-robbing money,” Matt points out and the other two nod. “I’m thinking about putting an ad out on Craigslist. I won’t be able to enchant it or anything but the charm on the building should be enough to keep non-paranormals away.”

“It’ll be nice to see some new faces here,” Tord remarks, yawning lazily. “Not to mention that you could use some company that isn’t us.” Tom digs a knuckle into the demon’s rib but agrees.

It’s a little later in the evening, when Tord is scrubbing at the dishes from dinner when Tom brings up the idea of new people in the complex. “What kind of person do you think Matt’s new roomie will be?” The demon hums in thought.

“Hard to tell before they get here.” He pauses, putting the dish he’s working on down and turning to look at Tom. “Why do you ask?”

The human shrugs but looks down at the table in thought. “Just curious.” Tord nods in understanding. “I’m sure whoever it is will be good if Matt approves of them. He’s a good judge of character.” Tom nods as well and gets up to grab some ice cream. Tord trusted that whoever Matt found and accepted would be someone they could get along with as well. After all, Matt was always trying to find other people for Tom to get along with so he could get some days out of the house.

Yeah, the new resident would probably be pretty swell.

[pandabearlikes]

Temporary Affairs II

Table of Contents 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Chapter o9.  His True Love

  With your head buried in Jongin’s chest, you sniffed his scent that always had the ability to calm you through your most trying times.  If anyone asked you to describe the scent, you’d simply describe it as the fragrance of the most perfect man in this entire world – unique and special, limited edition, just for you. 

  Yoona tumbled in your tummy – really, her way of saying, “Good Morning, Omma!”

  “Good Morning too, Sweetpea,” you chimed.

  The male sleeping next to you stirred so you quieted down to not disrupt his sleep. 

  The baby continued to create different shapes and formations inside your stomach.  You watched parts of your belly raise then fall.  Taking your hand, you followed the pattern, guessing where she’d kick next by lightly tapping on different areas as if playing whack-a-mole.  When the theatrical movements ended, you sighed contently.

  “Yoona, thank you so much for staying,” you’d been vocally saying on a daily basis to remind yourself of your blessing. 

  A light peck landed on cheeks.  You turned to your side to see that Jongin had already woken up.  He gazed at you with those dark dreamy eyes again.  Internally melts.  Even the baby is melting, I swear Oppa.  So staph.  Staph.  But he continued and you don’t turn away, already captured way too deep to escape. 

  “I love you,” he said and you winced.  I know…I know you do.   

  But you don’t say a word.

  Suddenly an agonizing ache radiated from your lower back to your stomach.  You groaned, clutching your abdomen in panic. 

  “Jagiya??  What’s wrong?!” Jongin anxiously questioned, sitting upright.   

  “Oppa…Oppa…it hurts,” you bit your lip and clawed his arm. 

  “I’ll go get the doctor,” he said, jumping off the bed. 

  “Noo, can…can you help me to the bathroom?” you asked shyly. 

  He blinked, confused then mouthed a “oh”.  Supporting your back, Jongin slowly walked you over to a small cubicle in your hospital room, IV drip and all.  As he waited outside the bathroom, you massaged your cramping legs and throbbing back.  You mentally laughed at the thirteen-year-old you who thought having her period was the most painful thing in the world.  Well, she sure didn’t know the feeling of having a six-pound baby sleeping on her bladder and her bladder shifting to another region of her body, in turn causing all your intestines to reorganize like some tetris game.  What did that mean?  That meant constipation.  YES, CONSTIPATION.  You groaned willing for your body to release the toxic parts of you. 

  “Jagiya, are you okay?” your husband asked for the fifth time, getting impatient. 

  You looked at your watch and realized twenty minutes had passed.

  “I’m…fine,” you answered, weakly. 

  “…Jagiya, can you let me in?” he asked.

  No…nnoo…why would you want to come in?  No, of course I won’t let the love of my life smell the odor of my waste…

  “I’m really fine,” you tried to convince, but you ended up groaning again when you strained.

  “Please?” Jongin pleaded, trying to turn the doorknob but you kept it locked. 

  “Oppa, I’m fine,” you repeated.

  “I’m going to break the door,” he said sternly and you could almost imagine him backing up to gather momentum to slam into the door. 

  “NOOOOOOO!” you shouted then twisted the lock, “It’s open!” 

  Immediately, your husband opened the door and walked in.  You hung your head, expecting him to either complain about the smell or laugh at your pain, but instead he squatted down in front of you and stroked your hair. 

  “Can you let me stay with you until you’re done?” he questioned.  Omg, why are you so dumb you handsome man?  Can you not smell the scent of rotten eggs and onion? 

  You opened your mouth to answer but a loud splitting wet fart echoed in the cubicle.  Omg.  Out of humiliation, you buried your face in your legs. 

  “Aww,” Jongin hummed, and stood up, bringing your head against his stomach. 

  Squirming you begged, “Oppa, can you go out?” 

  “Why?”

  “Because this is embarrassing!” you confessed.

  “What is?” he questioned, chuckling at your shyness. 

  You parted your lips to answer but another unappealing noise sounded.  Flushing bright red, you hid your face in his abdomen.  He curled his arms around your head and you looped yours around his hip.    

  “What’s so embarrassing about pooping?  We all do it. Just let me stay with you so I’m not driving myself insane with worry,” he soothed. 

  Pouting, you reasoned, “But it smells so bad in here”.        

  “Smells like rainbows and cherry blossoms to me,” he joked, sniffing in the scent to demonstrate.  Omg, you Pabo.  I love you so much. 

  You whimpered and slapped his arm playfully. 

  “I love you, Jagiya,” he said. 

  “I know, you Pabo,” you responded and he bent over to peck your pouting lips.  Omg, I swear I’m going to die in the hands of Kim Jongin. 

  “I love you,” he repeated, standing up again to massage your back.  I know, Pabo.  You just told me that ten seconds ago. 

  “Why do you love me?” you asked, more to deter his attention away from another incoming windy noise than actually waiting for an answer. 

  “Because my wife is so lovable,” he started.

  You cut him off, “No, I’m not.  I’m so childish and crude.  I swear a lot and I have a child’s diet.  I’m picky and I annoy you all the time”.

  “But you’re passionate and hardworking, honest and bubbly, always puts other’s before yourself…” he countered. 

  You rolled your eyes and cut him off again, “You’re exaggerating”.

  “I’m not!” he sounded offended.

  “Am I really that good?” you asked.

  “I’m not even done listing.  Jagiya, stop cutting me off,” he laughed then continued, “You can be so cute, yet sexy, yet elegant all at the same time.  Your eyes are the biggest, most beautiful things I’ve ever seen in my life,” he lifted your chin so he could gaze into them, “they’re so innocent like a baby’s but curl outwards like sexy cat eyes”.

  You looked at him skeptically. 

  “And best of all, when you smile, they twinkle like stars and curve into arches,” he detailed.

  “So you fell in love with my eyes?” you jokingly questioned, wrapping your arms tighter around his hip. 

  “I’m not done yet.  There was this defining moment when we dated that I knew I was falling in love,” he started again.

  You raised your brow at him.  

  “Remember when you got super sick that one time?” he questioned, his eyes smiling down at you. 

  “…Uh…no?” you admitted and he pouted like a lost puppy so you tried your hardest to dig through your memory, “…you mean the first time you let me use your jacket?”  But that was so long ago…that’s impossible that he liked me that early on…

  His face instantly lit up and he nodded happily that you remembered, “I was so upset…no disappointed?...no more like confused why this girl kept pretending like she wasn’t sick.  All the other girls I dated always whined and complained for me to baby them.  Pftt…one even pretended to be sick to force me to ditch an important basketball tournament.  But anyway, the fact that this silly girl hid her own suffering so that others wouldn’t worry was just so beautiful to me…”

  The whole time as he was talking, you were gazing at his expression…the gentle curl on the corners of his lips…the batting of his lashes when he described your eyes…the twitch of his brow when he talked about the time you were ill…

  And every time you cut him off thinking he was done, he always still had something to add.  It made you wonder how all these qualities you thought were flaws…to this Pabo were strengths. 

  By the time he got to describing the little cute noises you made right before you fell asleep, you had actually been done doing your business for almost twenty minutes but you just let him continue rambling on and on because he looked absolutely delighted and cheerful.  I love you so much, Kim Jongin. 

  A knock on the door disrupted you two from your little world. 

  “________, are you in there?” Minah’s voice asked. 

  “Y-yeahh!” you replied, a bit flustered at the situation. 

  Jongin pouted that his little story of why he loved you got interrupted.

  “You can tell me tonight?” you whispered to comfort the tall, dark, and handsome man.  He nodded so you cleaned up and walked out with him to greet your intruder. 

  Upon seeing you, Minah immediately broke down into tears, apologizing over and over again about the tiny, ridiculous argument you guys had that almost cost you and your child’s life.  And even though you were expecting for her to comfort you, you ended up comforting her instead so she’d stop feeling so guilty. 

  -----

  A few days later, when you were healthy enough to get out of bed, Jongin and you took a stroll around the hospital to loosen up your leg muscles since you’d been lying in bed for so many days.  In your hospital gown and slippers, you waddled down the hall with your husband sturdily supporting your back.  When you passed the nursery, your lips parted in awe. 

  “Oppa!  Look at the babies!” you gasped. 

  Your fingers unraveled and grazed against the window that separated you and the little creatures.  Most of them were asleep but a few were awake, kicking their feet and wiggling their baby grape toes.    

  “They’re so cute!!” you continued to cheer. 

  Beside you, with an arm over your shoulder, Jongin peered into the nursery as well.

  “Hehe,” you giggled when one of the babies responded to your tapping with one of his own. 

  Jongin kissed you on the cheek and stayed still for a little longer than usual.  I’m going to melt. 

  Ecstatic and re-energized from your stroll, your hubby and you began walking back to your room so you could rest your throbbing back.  Jongin stroked your hand with his thumb. 

  As you rubbed your gigantic stomach, you stated, “I can’t believe we still have over three months to go.  I feel like I’m a whale already”.

  “A whale?  Maybe a panda, but not a whale,” Jongin joked. 

  “What does—” you started but something took you by surprise.

  A nurse lost control of her cart and it was sent zooming across the hall toward you.  You just stood there stunned out of your mind, internally screaming for your legs to move but they were rooted onto the tiled floors.  Sensing the dangerous situation, Jongin quickly pulled you over before the cart crashed just centimeters from where you had been standing.  You covered your mouth, wheezing from shock. 

  “Jagiya, are you okay?” Jongin asked but you’re so rattled by the sudden event, you were speechless.

  “Don’t scare me!” your husband said desperately.        

  You looked at him but you couldn’t muster any energy to talk at all.  Instead, your legs grew weak and they caved in.  Jongin instantly sensed your fall, allowing you to rest your entire weight against him.  In his chest, tears started flowing from your eyes. 

  “Jagiya, are you hurt?  Does it hurt anywhere?” he asked fearfully, holding onto you so tightly you thought you were suffocating.

  As you continued to panic and lose yourself in your sobs, your temples began to hurt and the room started to ripple. 

  “Ma’am!  I’m so, so sorry.  Are you okay?!” the nurse spoke but when it got to your eardrums, it sounded like loud thunderous bangs. 

  “Oppa…” you managed to murmur before you fainted into his arms. 

      Two days later, that almost catastrophic event was still bothering you.  Thankfully, Jongin was beside you and you had fainted from your emotions running too high and not because of any physical injury, but it was like a reality check.  What if Oppa wasn’t there?  You held your palm on your stomach protectively.  Yoona had given you a second chance already, you weren’t sure if she would be willing to give you another one.  But you had made a promise to do everything in your power to keep her safe…even if it meant keeping her away from you. 

  Beside you, Jongin held your hand and meticulously helped you cut your long nails.  Silently, you observed him as he cut millimeter by millimeter, making sure not to hurt you.  When he was done snipping, he took a pink filer to smooth out the edges before blowing the dust away.  He motioned you for your other hand and you obediently gave it to him. 

  “Let’s get a divorce,” you surprised yourself by saying. 

  Jongin paused what he was doing and looked up at you. 

  He chuckled and pinched you on the nose, “Stop joking around.  You scared me to death”.

  “I mean it,” you said firmly.  Omg, _______ah, what the heck are you saying.  What’s wrong with you?  Are you ill?  Are you being possessed?  What in the world are you doing??!?!?

  “No,” Jongin said firmly, then resumed giving you a manicure. 

  You harshly pulled your hand from him to catch his attention. 

  “Oppa…let’s get a divorce,” you almost begged.

  “WHY?  I DON’T UNDERSTAND!” Jongin was furious, his nose flaring and lips trembling. 

  “I…”

  “Did Lee Sohee say something to you again!?  I’ll go yell at her!” he shouted.

  “No…no…Oppa…I’m scared,” you said tearfully.

  “Of what?” he asked in a much softer tone. 

  “I’m not fit to be a mother.  Yoona is not safe with me.  I’ll give birth to her and you can keep her and marry another woman,” you said.  Omg, _______ah, what the hell.  Are you out of your mind?  You shook your subconscious away.

  “That’s ridiculous!” Jongin yelled, angry that you even had the guts to say something like that. 

  “No it isn’t!  Oppa, you saw.  I almost killed Yoona twice within one week!” you defended.

  “Jagiya, those are accidents!  It’s not your fault!” he reasoned. 

  Ignoring his rationale, you said, “But I’m scared I’ll hurt Yoona.  I’m so childish and clumsy.  I can’t even take care myself, how am I going to take care of a baby?” 

  “Shhh…it’s fine,” he tried to hush. 

  “No it isn’t, I’m not fit to be a mother,” you continued to argue.

  “Do you not want to be one?” he asked seriously. 

  What?  What do you mean?  You looked at him confused.

  “W-what –”

  “Then we don’t need to have children,” he concluded. 

  You stared at him in complete confusion and utter fear.  Did…he just suggest to get…rid…of…the…baby?

  “We don’t need to have children, if you don’t want them,” he repeated.

  You looked down to your hands and they were shaking. 

  “We’re having six children,” you recalled Jongin requesting when you first announced to him of your pregnancy. 

  “Wh-what…” you sniffled back tears.

  “I just want to be with you.  If you don’t want children then –“

  You slapped him across the face.  Electric currents ran through your hand.  Jongin stared blankly at the white wall of the hospital room.  His cheek turned pink from the blow.  You gasped when you realized what you did. 

  “Oppa, I’m sorry,” you apologized then crumpled into tears. 

  He loved you and that was why he said those things.  Just like how you loved him but for Yoona’s safety you would willingly leave. 

  “Jagiya, please.  Please don’t leave me,” he begged as you two hugged. 

  I don’t want to either.

  “I know…I know being a parent is scary.  I’m scare too but it’s okay because we’re new to this.  It will take time.  Just like how the first time you babysat Youngwoo, it was terrible, right?  But then you got the hang of things and it got better,” he prepped and you nodded, digesting his every word, “but I don’t want you thinking that if anything happens to our child, that it’s your fault, because it isn’t, okay?”

  You nodded into his shoulder. 

  “Jagiya, I love you,” he said.

  “Oppa, I love you too,” you replied. 

            a/n: ~melts into a puddle in front of Jongin~  though if my future hubby ever suggested to get rid of baby I’d punch him across the face xD.  But omg the bathroom scene is my favorite hehehe it’s so reality based.  Hehe you know when a guy’s a keeper if he doesn’t mind the smell of your poopoo tehehe.  ヽ( ´ ∇ ｀ )ノ 

  Sohee���s back next chapter uh oh.  Get your pens ready my unicorns!  We must protect Yoona at all cost!!!!!!!