#Abominable dream works

[just-luxx]

The extraordinary 11

Meet the Rise of the Brave Tangled Abominable Hero Dragons Next Gen The Incredible Bolt Turning Red

[iphigeniacomplex]

[It is abominable, unquenchable by touch] by Diane Seuss

It is abominable, unquenchable by touch, closer to the sublime than sentimental, more animal than hominid, I've seen it in the eyes of birds weaving on a stem of ragweed, voracious, singular, there is no one like me, Dickinson in her narrow bed, her cold clenched hands, her penmanship unreadable, even following a recipe for black cake, her black cake came out strange, lusher than the template, and every freak I ever met had that same look in their eyes, armless, threading a needle with their lips and teeth, legless, rounding a corner on their cerulean cart, monarchic, imperious, wild, sad, and like every virgin queen, the need for love revolting and grand.

[hunxi-after-hours]

"Qin Zhou's" throat trembled as he quietly closed his eyes, no longer looking at those souls. "I will protect all of you." "Qin Zhou" slowly spoke his promise. In this moment, everyone heard only the promise, but Mu Sichen heard the words that Qin Zhou could not say out loud. "I will protect all of you, so that no divine monster can harm any of you, including myself." Accompanying these words, all of Qin Zhou's emotions vanished. Even desire, even aspiration, even hope — silently, he obliterated them all. All that was left in his soul was that promise. From this moment, he became Him.

ok ok ok I'll admit I haven't read many books that regularly use 祂 ta (the divine third-person pronoun) so maybe this is me 少见多怪 but GENUINELY this was such a cool moment. I almost had to take a lap around the subway car because this was so well done

[aemperatrix]

Fate/stay night: Heaven’s Feel III. spring song, wr. Hiyama Akira (transcript; own tr.)

Marguerite Yourcenar, Fires

Fate/stay night: Heaven’s Feel III. spring song, wr. Hiyama Akira (transcript; own tr.)

[thes-hitoverlord]

The official DreamWorks Facebook 

[chososhoeso2]

I present: Gyarudos

[vampiratecaptain]

woke up w an oc that came to me in a dream and also a cracker of a headache. those 2 things are not related but now it’s becoming part of their lore.

[virentdiv]

when you discover the perfect dreamy jazz music youve been wanting and will listen to it so much from now onward but then you wake up

[kairahara]

I had this really cool dream. There was a couple who were excited to be having their first baby, when the mother went out shopping and an evil spirit caused her to die and took over her body.

She went home- the evil spirit- but the baby inside the body was still alive and developing.

While at work, the father accidentally fell into an abyss; where some sort of eldritch being took his body and forced his conscious out into the abyss to linger for ever.

He too went home, wearing his human skin; and then the dream was both of them trying to trick the other into believing they were each others normal human spouse.

And then the baby kicked. And they panicked.

The possessed mother spirit decided she had to carry the baby to term to prove she was normal human.

The father eldritch abomination in his human skin was genuinely excited about having a human baby. He was a young abomination and had never been outside the abyss before and how exciting it was to come out to see a new form of life forming!

Both of them, as the baby grew inside the mothers body, got extremely attached to the baby and so when the baby girl was born-

Both of them decided they would be her parents and already adored her. They read baby books that were lying around their house to make sure they could keep her alive!

The rest of the dream was the parents acting very not normal; and the baby girl growing and adoring them. And they were a happy family and the little girl was supported by her weird parents

[artis-dead]

Haha teamwork yeah!

[kittyfrisk9]

IdeaDpxDc: A nice moment with a sleep demon.

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, so please use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

Dead On Main.

---

Danny accidentally absorbed some of Nocturn's powers (like in the Vortex episode), and now, with these new temporary abilities, why not take advantage of them? Like a kid with a new toy, Danny (or should I say Phantom: with a new design) has fun every night going from dream to dream.

The dream world is so strange! Without the constant threat of a dream entity trying to take over the world and all that. Now he has fun exploring the most unusual parts of his classmates' subconscious, or anyone's in general.

Even though he knows he shouldn't be doing this (after all, he's a responsible adult now), spying on other people's dreams isn't exactly something a mature person would do.

On the other hand, Danny is the responsible adult; Phantom is the one who uses his new powers recklessly. Plus, no one in Gotham knows who Phantom is, and at the end of the day, he's not hurting anyone. Point in his favor!

It was all fun and games… until he felt it: the unpleasant taste of a nightmare, distressing and desperate. Phantom knows he has to intervene, because, unlike Nocturn, he does not delight in the suffering of others.

So he goes. And what he sees shocks him.

Resonant laughter of a psychopath, the constant pain of flesh being beaten, and the devastating reminder that no one came to help. Phantom doesn't just see it, he feels it. Gross. What is this? Why would anyone be hurting a child? Then he understands: this is not just a nightmare, it's a memory, and someone is suffering from reliving it.

He absolutely will not allow this nightmare to continue.

...

Jason hasn't been having good days lately, mostly because instead of going to therapy, he's chosen to sweep his trauma under the rug and aggressively throw himself into crime-fighting. He's not good at dealing with his emotions, especially when he's been tormented by the same damn nightmare over and over again.

He knows the script by heart, he knows how it will end, but he still feels the same fear as the first time.

His head hurts.

"No, not again," he thinks in terror. Once again, he's tied up, unable to move or call for help. It's colder than he remembers. The walls have a grotesque tint, with laughter written in every corner. But the worst thing is the silence… until the sound of clashing metal begins to resonate.

Everything is a thousand times worse. He's sure the original scenario wasn't like this, but his terrified mind refuses to accept it.

The metallic sound resonates louder, each crash rumbling in Jason's chest. His breathing quickens, and then he hears it: that laugh.

A deep, distorted echo of laughter that seems to come from every direction. The laughter snakes around the grotesque walls, filled with the same letters that repeat his agony. “Ha… ha… ha…” fills the air, louder with each invisible step that approaches.

Then, he appears.

It’s not the Joker he remembers from that fateful night. This one is worse. Bigger, more deformed, with a smile that seems to tear at his own face. The colors of his suit are darker, more twisted. It’s as if his mind has amplified him, made him more monstrous.

“My, my, how little Robin has grown? But… something remains the same, doesn’t it? No matter how many times you live it, it always ends the same way. And to think that you were my greatest work of art!”

His voice is mocking, but behind the mockery is pure cruelty, a wicked amusement that lights up in those crazy eyes.

The Joker leans towards Jason, his face invading the small distance between them. The sound of metal continues to echo, and Jason knows what's coming next.

"Oh, I almost forgot…" he says, pulling out of nowhere an iron crowbar that gleams in the dim light of the nightmare. "It wouldn't be a good memory without this, would it?"

That's when the pain begins. Jason doesn't want to scream, and he won't. Even though that abominable creature is just a representation of his killer, he won't give him the luxury of listening to him suffer. The blows continue, and Jason bites his tongue. It's just a nightmare, it's not real… it's not real.

It's not real.

It's not real.

It's not-

"Hey… Are you okay?" he hears him ask. His shocked gaze turns to where the clown should be and discovers that he's gone. In his place, there's a handsome young man: short, slightly messy black hair, expressive purple eyes, and a body almost completely shrouded in dark shadows.

The mysterious man had a cosmic air about him, surrounded by a mix of special effects of stars and galaxies. Something magical.

And new.

Jason honestly doesn't know what he's seeing, or why he's seeing it. "What?" he says, unable to find another word to describe his situation.

The entity laughs at his stunned state, a reassuring echo very different from the joker's laughter. Then he snaps his fingers, and suddenly he's no longer in that ugly room. He's now in a field of flowers, beautiful and vibrant, looking out at a starry sky.

Okay, this is the part where he asks his brain how he went from being in a nightmare to being with a handsome guy under the stars, hands free and untethered.

"Relax, you're not crazy," the being says as he lies back in the grass. “You were in pain, and I didn’t like it, so I got you out of there. Don’t worry, that abomination won’t bother you again.”

Jason blinks twice, bewildered, not understanding anything. “You… saved me?”

“You could say yes.”

“Why?” He shakes his head. “No, wait, that’s not the question. Who…?” Looking back at the being, he decides to change his question: “What are you?”

He seems to have taken the being by surprise.

It clasps its hands together as it looks up at the sky, trying to act normal. Jason narrows his eyes. “You can call me Void.”

“Did you just make up that name?”

The being looks away, seemingly embarrassed at being found out. “Yeah…” And suddenly exclaims, “Ah, ancients! I'm not supposed to be doing this, much less with one of the bats."

That last sentence had given away more than it should have.

"Hey, how about we admire the night view and then pretend this never happened?" Void suggested with a hopeful smile, turning to Jason.

Maybe it was the soft scent of the flowers, the calm atmosphere, or just the tiredness after so many nights of endless nightmares, but Jason, without thinking too much about it, walked over, lay down next to Void on the grass, and said, "No."

He needed a break.

...

And that's how Jason befriended a dream demon. And how Danny pretended to be a dream demon until Nocturn's powers wore off. He couldn't let the bats find out his identity.

After that, they spent more time together, fell in love, there was drama and there was closure. In the middle of all that, Danny started having tea with Alfred in the dream world, and at other times, he had fun bothering the other bats in their dreams.

But that's another story.

---

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, so please use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

Part 2

[ventique18]

The prince of Briar Valley can't sleep at night.

🐉: "I'm going to destroy that abominable thing."

🌸: "Don't you dare! You gave it to him. He'll think you're punishing him for enjoying your gifts if you do."

The new father has given his toddler son a musical starter pack, which happens to be a cat piano. It gives out an obnoxious meowing noise with each note, as well as a provided microphone that the little boy happens to enjoy singing gurgling whatevers at. At odd hours of the night. The father, with his sharp hearing, recently started dreaming too much of an army of Grims singing to him about tuna and his son rapping verses in a language nobody understands.

🐉: "He will not know it's me if it 'spontaneously combusts' out of nowhere."

🌸: "You're so mean. Your son is taking after you and could one day become a great musician. Like you! Doesn't that make you proud?"

🐉: "It makes me want to kill myself before I give in to insanity."

The flattery method doesn't work.

In the end, they compromise and put a child lock on the cat piano which limits the boy's usage to only appropriate hours of the day. It's only too well that he eventually grows bored of the thing and switches his attention to other more palatable instruments.

It's not too well that Lilia visits with a similar dog piano as a gift.

[sepublic]

So in Willow’s debut, it’s established that Abominations is considered as having better career opportunities than Plants. And in hindsight, it makes sense now; Abominations are valued by the coven regime in the way Blight Industries does them, as industrial Abomatons that can be controlled, as a means of military power and not magitech medicine as Alador shows in the epilogue. Belos buys them from Odalia, he practically assimilates Blight Industries.

This is because Abomatons don’t think for themselves, they’re servants that can replace covenscouts in areas that would challenge morality, and they lack the sapience to be targeted. They’re beings Belos can control without having to learn more of the magic he despises to do so; All of this is in contrast to how Darius or Amity use Abominations as a reflection of their own skill, the individual.

We see how the Abomatons aid the coven regime, and esp see through the Day of Unity; The Abomatons can be programmed, and do nothing without orders; They’re not going to become witches and demons in their own right, they’ll maintain those walls and then do so for the end of time.

They don’t need to be targeted for genocide as victims of the draining spell who would be incapacitated, so they can do their job while that happens. They keep witches corralled because the closer to the ritual, the faster the covenbound die. Of course, those who haven’t collapsed might try and stop the spell by removing the coven heads, which would place them within weakening proximity anyhow…

But that paranoia over covenbound who aren’t yet unconscious is justified; The Abomatons’ own creator rendered their role in the Day of Unity and the regime as a whole obsolete, because he had the strength away from the ritual to help the kids reach the skull, which allowed King to free the Collector and undo everything.

Plus, Belos is loathe to the isles; He depletes its natural resources, he wants all life to die and devastating the ecosystem is another way to do so. Hunter suggests growing Palistrom wood and he’s furious at the idea. So of course Plant magic is devalued, because it’s focused on life, on sustainability, with keeping others alive.

It’s the exact opposite of the cold industrialism that will make the Day of Unity happen and leave the land barren afterwards because the Abomatons themselves are barren in that sense, lacking magic and with little to contribute to the ecosystem, if anything. Plant magic is half of nature, the other being Beastkeeping, I wonder if that is also devalued by the regime?

Makes sense the Demon Hunters have to resort to menial city jobs instead of their traditional livelihood, forced to assimilate into an urban society if their environment has been depleted by colonialism. Adds to Darius and Eberwolf being rebels. And with Terra, it shows how much she’s willing to throw her fellow witches under the bus for utopia.

I remember speculating it since I was a Teenage Abomination; Abominations really is STEM, down to being used for military applications. Given TOH’s critique of the American education system, you can see how this metaphor extends when the work of creating a sustainable society and environment is secondary to destroying enemies and establishing supremacy and capital (As established with CEO Odalia’s motives).

Because it’s fun and easy to destroy, rather than do the banal yet meaningful work of actually building and healing and feeding people, thinking of how society can be sustainable. It’s easy to talk about how you can destroy witches zombies in an apocalypse, instead of how to keep a community of survivors alive; All that talk about how dudes bored with their lives dream about being an action hero at the expense of society’s collapse, without understanding what the world really needs is builders and not destroyers, and that they’d be nothing without the people who do this ‘boring’ work, is so very Belos.

[catboyieejeno]

nct dream reaction ༊*·˚

"i never want you to stop looking at me the way you are right now,"

content: gn! reader (no pronouns mentioned, no other implications of gender), the dreamies being the cutest boyfies, tooth-rotting fluff

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ mark lee

"are you not tired?"

you quickly shake your head, blinking at him with soft eyes, "no," you mumble contently, "i like watching you play,"

mark's cheeks glow a light shade of pink as he stares down at the guitar in his hands, nodding, "okay,"

he continues to strum, pretending that your gentle gaze doesn't make him nervous; quietly, he starts humming along to a random melody in an effort to soothe the hammering in his chest.

you watch, completely enamored by everything that is him: his hair that lacks any sense of direction, the glasses that hang low on his nose, waiting patiently to be pushed back. even the tiny pimple patch on his forehead invites a smile to your lips. the way his fingers strum the different chords on the guitar is mesmerizing, and you think, god, i could watch him for hours.

"i love you," you blurt out.

he stops playing and his gaze meets yours. when the three words leave your lips, mark stops breathing; his eyes glance between yours, greedily soaking in the fondness of your confession.

"and i love you, pretty," he finally breathes out, gawking at the expression on your face, "wow," he mutters. perhaps, it's the lack of sleep or the certain fogginess brought on by staying up until the earliest hours of the morning, but you have never looked more fascinating.

"what?"

"nothing, i just-" his eyes are dazed, deep in thought.

"what? tell me?" you insist.

"it's just... i never want you to stop looking at me the way you are right now,"

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ huang renjun

your eyes dart between the canvas on your lap, an abomination of colorful smudges and scribbles that look like a primary school student’s best work, and that of your boyfriend’s. his painting is carefully done, organized, clearly mirroring the vase of tulips you were using as reference.

“i’m never painting with you again!” you pout, arms crossing stubbornly against your front. renjun, more than amused at this, laughs loudly.

“why, honey? i love it.”

“liar! it looks like terrible, jun-“

“it looks beautiful,” he starts, placing both hands on your shoulders, “because you drew it. it’s... abstract, unconventional,” he encourages, “it’s freaking cool, just like you!”

initially, you roll your eyes but after a few seconds, you can’t help but give in, letting your arms fall to your side in defeat.

“you’re so corny,” you huff, feigning annoyance.

“maybe," he agrees, "or, maybe i’m just secretly convincing you to paint with me again because i love you and i love spending time with you like this.”

your eyes lose their sternness instantly. instead, they widen, looking up at renjun. at his words, you feel your heart swell up, the tips of your ears turning hot. that definitely wasn’t the response you expected.

you wrap your arms around his waist tightly, muttering a shy, “really?”

he bobs his head up and down, fascinated by the way you look at him.

“yes,” he mumbles, “and i never want you to stop looking at me the way you are right now. how's that for corny?"

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ lee jeno

jeno throws his controller onto the desk, cursing loudly.

your head shoots up from the crook of his neck where you were beginning to drift off, curled up in his lap.

"fuck, sorry," he apologizes, bringing a hand up to rub your back, "it's just that fucking haechan- i'm sorry, baby," he breathes out.

"it's okay," you run your fingers through his locks, slightly amused at the way he gets so worked up over a game.

"his girlfriend came into the room so he just left his controller there and kept the game running instead of telling me he was leaving," jeno rambles, "and now we lost two games in a row,"

unable to help the giggle that leaves your lips, you brush his hair away from his forehead, pressing your lips to it, then kissing each one of his cheeks after. he stops complaining, settling for letting you pamper him.

"you're so cute," you whisper. he only grumbles beneath you and holds you closer against him. you give him a peck on his lips, using your hands to smush his cheeks together.

"i'm sorry i woke you up," he whispers once you pull away. you shake your head.

with your fingers lazily tracing his features, you reassure him, "s'okay, i don't mind. i wasn't even asleep yet. just drifting off."

"well, how about i turn off the game and we can go lay down- why are you looking at me like that?"

"like what?" you ask, unaware of the way your tired eyes are glossed over with love as you stare at the prettiest boy ever.

"i don't know," he mumbles, leaning in so his lips are barely brushing yours, "i can't describe it but- all i know is-" his heart skips a beat as you subconsciously bat your eyes, "i never want you to stop looking at me the way you are right now," he presses his lips against yours and picks you up, carrying you to the bed.

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ lee donghyuck

"mmm.. that feels good," hyuck purrs. his voice is muffled as a result of his lips pressing into your shoulder blade, lazy kisses leaving behind a trail of wet marks.

meanwhile, your nails rake up and down his back, tickling and scratching his warm, bare skin. haechan swears he could melt in your arms.

"you're so good to me," he admits, leaning up to take a peek at your face, already looking back at him with so much sentiment, "and you're so beautiful," his brow furrows, "i never want you to stop looking at me the way you are right now,"

"i know you had a long day," you start, smiling as you feel his hand squeeze your side, "it's the least i can do,"

"staying up past a reasonable hour so i can cling to you and complain about my day is the least you can do?"

"i do it because i want to," you reiterate, "and give yourself credit, bub, you do a lot for me, too,"

"i should be doing more," he sighs with discontent, leaning his chin on your chest, "if i wasn't always so busy-"

"you make me my favorite foods on the days you have practice so that i won't miss you too much while you're gone. you run me scented baths when i'm sick and rub menthol on my chest even when there's snot in my nose," he playfully grimaces, although he can't contain his quiet giggles, "and you always let me pick what movie we watch, even if we've already seen it a dozen times," you explain, "i would do this a hundred nights over, hyuck."

his cheeks burn red, and for a moment you think you may be hallucinating. it wasn't common for donghyuck to be flustered, nor was it an easy task to accomplish.

he puckers his lips as if to ask for a kiss, which you gladly give him.

"for the record," you mutter, "i never want you to stop looking at me this way either,"

hyuck shakes his head, "never, baby," before nuzzling his face back into your neck.

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ na jaemin

"hold still," jaemin insists.

you shift around, trying to get comfortable where you sit up on the bathroom sink. your boyfriend stands in front of you, wearing a half-hearted scowl and a bright green face mask that made it impossible to take him seriously. he has one hand on your hip to keep you steady while the other applies the cleansing goo to your cheeks.

"babe," he tries when you wiggle again.

there’s no chance you can concentrate on keeping still with how ridiculous he looks. you snort and shake your head, "sorry, sorry."

"you're lucky you're cute," he grumbles, focusing on getting an even layer of product across your forehead.

having him so close, conveniently situated between your legs, made it so easy to stare at him. you found yourself glancing between his eyes and lips as you pucker up, leaning in.

“ah-ah” his finger comes up between your two faces, stopping you before you can come any closer, “what do you think you’re doing?”

your eyes roll as you move aside his hand, stealing a kiss any way.

“hey!”

“oh, come on, shrek, it’s not that deep,” you laugh, fisting the material of his shirt and pulling him in, pressing your lips against his. he clumsily puts down the green container on the edge of the sink when your kiss takes him by surprise. his hands blindly feel around for the towel, wiping off the excess product so that he can properly hold you and deepen your affection, so much so that the both of you only break apart when you’ve run out of air.

“even covered in green,” he pants breathlessly, “you’re still as hot as ever.”

“you have a way with words,” your thumb swipes at his lip to wipe away what you've smudged.

"i never want you to stop looking at me the way you are right now," he exhales.

"woah, where did that come from?"

"it's just been on my mind for a couple days... i've noticed how your pupils dilate when you look at me, there's so much adoration in your-" he whispers, "well, i just feel like i don't tell you enough that i love you, and that i appreciate the way you love me."

"jaemin..." you coo, but he interrupts you, capturing your lips in another kiss.

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ zhong chenle

every one of his features is perfectly shaped, but boy, are his lips are so deliciously plump and pink. it isn't the first time you find yourself drooling over them, and you certainly don't think it'll be the last.

chenle tears his eyes away from the tv when he catches sight of you out of the corner of his eye, "what's on your mind?"

"nothing," you sharply reply and shift your gaze back to the screen, embarrassed to have been caught staring.

but your answer's not enough for chenle, who sits up and pauses the movie, turning to face you with his brow furrowed in concern.

"hey, what's wrong?" he chimes, poking his finger into your cheek.

"no, nothing's wrong. i just don't want you to make fun of me." you warn.

"why would i make fun of you?"

"for staring at you."

chenle's lips break into a smile and he laughs loudly.

mortified, you gasp and yank the blanket up and over your head, "see! you're making fun of me!"

"no no," he takes your hands into his, moving the blanket out of the way so he can see you clearly, “i’m laughing because you think i'd make fun of you for that,”

“it’s just,” you brush your hair away from your face, “i just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable cause i was staring at you. i know you're not super affectionate, which is fine, but-.”

“you can stare at me all you want. as a matter of fact, i never want you to stop looking at me the way you are right now. the day you stop, i’ll just have to assume you don’t love me anymore.” he crosses his arms, huffing.

“yeah, you’re not affectionate," you laugh, "but you’re definitely dramatic.”

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ park jisung

"i don't understand why i can't have another bite."

you savor the taste of your ice cream and then hold it far away, arm outstretched so that jisung can't reach it, "it's not my fault you ordered a flavor just because it was colorful,"

he whines, grabbing the end of your shirt to keep you close, "it was bright blue! i didn't know cotton candy would taste so bad! stop walking, lovey," his hand slips into yours and he spins you around until your chest presses against his. taking advantage of your proximity, he quickly kisses you. he pulls away with a pop, licking his lips.

"did you just-"

his eyes grow wide, as do yours. "well, you wouldn't give me another bite of yours so i-," even he can't believe how bold he was just a minute ago, "-i had to t-taste it on your lips."

my, that had to have been the cutest thing you've ever seen him do. you're pretty sure your eyes have turned into hearts with the way you're ogling him, "ji..." you start.

"mine tasted really bad," his tone is nervous, defensive even.

"ji," you beam again, but his eyes look anywhere but yours. that is, until your palm cradles his face, directing his attention back to you, "that was so cute,"

his teeth are pressed together, almost gritting as he speaks through them, "it-it was?"

"you should do that more often,"

"do what?"

"be bold like that..."

he slowly nods up and down in understanding, "okay, as long as you do that more often, too."

now, it's your turn to ask, "do what?"

"keep stop looking at me like that,"

"looking at you how, ji?" you shrug.

"i never want you to stop looking at me the way you are right now, and if it takes me kissing you by surprise more often, w-well, then-"

smooch!

and he's done it again!

ੈ♡˳

[lalunanymph]

𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 (part 2)

✧˚ · . three minutes past his 27th birthday, the mass serial killer known as 'dawnbreaker' finally meets the girl from his dreams

✧˚ · . part 1

✧˚ · . warnings:- dawnbreaker!zayne x fem!reader, HEAVY ANGST, mentions of food, mentions of illnesses, mentions of injuries, spoilers for zayne's lore, alternative timeline, mentions of babies, mentions of pregnancies, pet names (darling, my love, beloved), nightmares, mentions of smoking, MCD, brief mentions of su_cide, nightmares, a not so happy happy ending, minors and ageless blogs do not interact. i am not responsible for your media consumption

✧˚ · . dawn says: i had to split the last part into 2 because it was literally so long tumblr said nope sorry girlie this ain't making it into the tags lol

✧˚ · . playlist

“You may know me as Zayne, but I go by another name…” 

He exhales it into the suffocating silence:

“Dawnbreaker.”

Your eyes bulge wider, mouth falling open in horror. Of course, you were aware of that name; you knew who he was.

Serina Callaghan, daughter of Detective Callaghan, had told you numerous stories about the elusive serial killer. How no one could find a trace of him. 

Yet, here he was—standing in your kitchen with remorse etched onto every pore of his body.

You feel a sick sense of nausea bubbling from your stomach to your chest, threatening to spill onto the floor.

You had taken him in… made love to him… held him in your arms every night… when he had killed all those innocent people…

As if reading your mind, Zayne shakes his head. “These people—the ones who had passed on—I never killed them for fun. They wanted me to end their lives because they were overtaken by the disease… by the Abomination.”

His words shock you out of your reverie; tames your urge to grab the phone and call the police. For a split second, you wonder what Zayne would do to you if you were to lunge for the cordless phone; would he escape?

Kill you?

Forcing yourself to be far braver than you felt, you clutched your trembling hands together, taking in a deep breath.

“So, m-mercy killing,” your voice shook, but your deduction was spot on.

“Yes.” He shrugs off his coat, and you eye the wad of cash he takes out and sets on your kitchen counter. “I will never kill someone unless they pay me to do it. I do not like taking lives, but as one of the last Evolvers in this generation… it is my duty to help.”

Evolver? 

The layers of truth were starting to make your head spin. You could barely unravel your spiraling thoughts.

“I thought Evolvers were extinct.”

Zayne shakes his head. “We are rare, but we are still here.”

As if to solidify the truth, he holds out his hand. On his palm, the air condenses, and the temperature in the kitchen drops a few celsius. You watch, gobsmack in silence, as bits of snow appear, coalescing right into a singular teardrop-shaped crystal that unfurls into a shimmery flower with five petals.

“Ice,” Zayne explains, and slowly approaches you. He gently places the flower on the table, right where you were standing. 

He backs away, giving you some space to work out your emotions. You stare at the jasmine flower, in silent contemplation. 

It’s intricate and beautiful, but ice in itself was deadly. 

While it looked harmless falling from the sky, it had the power to bury people under its weight; causing hypothermia, avalanches, and skin burns. 

You glance at Zayne, wondering which category he belonged in—if he was a chilly breeze or an entire fucking snowstorm.

His weary gaze spoke volumes, though he let you reach your own conclusions. Zayne was giving you a choice: one many people in your life didn’t.

Stay or leave. 

Be with him or turn him away.

Two forks of an outcome; you had no idea what to choose. 

Your silence stretches on and Zayne hangs his head forward. He’s about to turn and leave, when you slowly reach out to touch the jasmine flower. It’s cool on your palm, tougher and durable. Not wet and cold like real ice.

“Crystals?” 

Your voice comes off low, hoarse. There’s a dazed look in your eyes, one which tugs on the sorrow lining his soul.

He hates to do this to you; hates how conflicted you look.

“This is what you use to kill people, don’t you?” 

Astute, again. Zayne would honestly be impressed by your wits if he wasn’t painfully aware of how you were holding him accountable for his horrendous mistakes.

“I know you think awfully of me—”

“Why kill them?” You’re breathing heavily now, anguish coating your every word. “What if you could save them, instead? Can’t that be done?”

Zayne shakes his head, unable to meet your eye. “I have spoken to a few scientists about this… but many of them were taken by the Abomination. It’s caused by constant exposure to Protocores and is incurable. The only thing I can do is make sure those infected have a swift end.”

Your silence strikes him heavier than a hit.

“Infected?" you murmur hoarsely. "Constant exposure? A swift end? Do you even hear yourself?” 

You simmer and bubble, cheeks flushed with anger. “Zayne—these are human beings! People with love, dreams and hopes. People with families. They’re not jobs or ledgers. They deserve a bit more dignity than that.”

Suddenly, the despair in his eyes turns ice cold. You’re hopeless to stop him from approaching you, and scramble back until you bump the kitchen counter, eyes wide and fearful. But, he stops just shy of your feet touching, an unfathomable expression on his face.

“I would never hurt anyone. Ever. You of all people should know. Didn’t you say you weren’t afraid of me the first time we were intimate together?” He fights hard to not let his tone turn accusatory, eyes shining with frustration and unshed tears. “What made you change your mind this time?” 

“You killed them… you killed them all,” you’re close to tears, trembling from head to toe. Zayne looks like he’s about to cry as well, begging you to see beyond the murderer you thought he was; to embrace him and hold him and share his burden, even though he knows it’s unfair to put all this weight on you.

He was so tired of pretending that everything was alright. And deep down, he knew you were, too.

This world wasn’t kind to anyone, and he only had you to soothe the ache—to be the light he looks forward to every morning. 

Please, don’t go, he wants to scream, hands balled into fists at his side. Don’t leave me alone… you are the only one I have left. 

A sob bubbles past your lips, and you wrap your arms around you; willing yourself to stand upright and be brave.

“Do you regret it?” your voice is thick, and he longs to staunch the tears falling from your cheeks, but the words are lost in his throat.

“All of them? Did you ever regret killing them?”

Zayne tightens his fists, clenching down hard enough for his nails to leave pale moon crescent indents on his palms. 

“There was a boy I had to kill once. Georgie. He would’ve been thirteen…” he closes his eyes, hoping to find some strength to push on. Zayne was so incredibly tired from constantly fighting.

“We celebrated his birthday at a cafe, too. He loved macarons. And chocolate. But, his mother gave him the disease. I had to be the one to put him down. I still think about him every time I hear ‘happy birthday’.”

His words are simple, but they make you bleed, staring at the floor with tears blurring your vision.

You fall into a thick disquiet, and so did he. Zayne stands upright, like a prisoner about to be read his final judgment; willing you to forgive him—god he hopes you find it in your heart to forgive him.

He wasn’t a good man—a fiend of the night people were afraid of. But, Zayne would never forgive himself if you didn’t take him back. He would dig his knees to the ground, beg for you to change your mind.

In the throes of his own self-loathing, he almost flinches when he feels your arms wrap around his torso. Your head thumps onto his chest, and he realizes you’re fully crying now. He embraces you fiercely, quickly. Holding you fast to him as if you both could fuse together and become one.

You leave tear stains across his blood speckled shirt, fingers digging into his shoulders as violent sobs rip through you. 

“Do you hate me?” He forces himself to ask through numb lips. Zayne doesn’t know what answer you would give—if you would even reply to him.

But, you shake your head, hiccuping his name. 

“Are you afraid?” 

There’s a slight pause, and you shudder, shaking your head again. 

Zayne nuzzles your hair, rocking you from side to side like he was comforting a hysterical child. 

Your sobs eventually stop and you’re both swaying in each other’s arms now. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. Zayne hums in confusion, and you continue. “I’m sorry for being so quick to misjudge you. You’re not the bad guy, Zayne. You were forced into this horror… our world is so fucked up and you were just trying to make it better any way you could.”

You peel your face from his chest, eyes red-rimmed and nose runny. He gently dabs at your tears and snot with the sleeve of his dress shirt, careful not to press down too hard.

He doesn’t say anything else, and you both let the silence scatter and fall where it may. Somehow, your fingers end up in his hair and he’s nudging you back against the hard counter.

Zayne lifts you up effortlessly, parting your legs wide to slot himself in between them, hands gently squeezing and groping your thighs and hips.

The need to reclaim you claws through him, searing his every coherent thought with nothing but the cry of your name.

He looks down the line of his nose, tilting your face up to the light so you meet his eyes. What he finds in your expression makes his heart ache in misery—your sadness and despondency hitting him right in the soul.

“Would you rather I stop killing people?”

It’s a loaded question, one that has your mind reeling. You eye the blood on his shirt, now soaked through with your tears. 

“Only if you promise me you will never find pleasure from it.”

He shakes his head, firm in his conviction. “Never. Not once, or ever. I can promise you that.”

“Do the police know?” 

A good question, indeed. Zayne nods, catching you off guard.

“Callaghan’s colleague. Detective Ivan. He was the one who scrubbed my records clean. He knows not to seek me out because… it means he’s next.”

Zayne lets the words hang in the air. He hears your mind whirring, thoughts piecing together.

“Detective Ivan found out and agrees with what you’re doing? So, the police are turning a blind eye?”

“Yes,” Zayne murmurs, trying hard not to fall into the gravity of your lips; forcing attention to this distressing topic. 

“He was with me when Georgie died. He saw the extent of how the Abomination takes over people. Dark as it is, he agrees with my ethics and now, I only focus on people who come to me through word of mouth. Rarely do I ever hunt them anymore. They choose this end because it is far less painful than the alternative.”

“Which is?” 

He steadies himself with a short breath. “Living as a rotting corpse with no control over your body.”

You suck in a sharp inhale. Your smaller fingers fist the front of his shirt, your mind a million miles away.

Zayne nudges your face towards him, fingers cold on your skin. He swallows hard, and you follow the motion—his throat moving, Adam’s apple bobbing. Impulsively, you lean forward, catching him off guard with a chaste kiss.

He musters a low groan when you begin to tug on his hair; sliding your tongue into his mouth.

Frantically, he grips your thighs, hips—fisting your hair to pull you closer. 

Hot breaths clash. Moans echo around the kitchen. You lean back, far enough for silvery strands of spit to connect your lips to his. 

Zayne devours the dark look in your eyes, and he thinks loving someone shouldn’t hurt this much, but for you, he would go through the agony all over again.

The tormented man wants to swallow you down, break his rib cage open and tuck you safely close to his heart. Your sighs and gasps fuel him to be better—change his ways so he could have you in his life forever. 

“Zayne,” you sigh, all syrupy and love-struck. You play with his shirt’s button, and before he can stop you, you start to unravel all of him.

“—No." He grabs your hands in a panic, stopping your intentions in loosening his buttons. Those scars on his skin flash behind his mind, marking him as a lost soul and unworthy of you.

You shake your head, determination lining your pretty features. “Don’t hide from me anymore, Zayne. I want to see you—all of you.”

He’s helpless to stop you from unfastening his armor, greeting those silvery scars with a soft gasp.

There was a reason he never fucked you with the lights on—those lacerations on his body caused him shame.

But, you don't recoil out of disgust like he expects. Instead, your pretty fingers topped with pink nail polish trace the milky white divots; those signs of pain and abuse he had to endure for his entire life.

Peering at you pass thick lashes, he sees you lick your lips, the desire on your face as clear as day.

“You’re so beautiful, Zayne.”

Not giving him a chance to speak, you dip your head forward, pressing your soft lips reverently to the scar just above his heart.

Zayne feels like something seismic has just happened—an internal earthquake which rocks him apart. 

Outwardly, the world doesn’t change; the flickering light he keeps on forgetting to fix over your sink still casts intermittent shadows across your face; the outside world whirs with sounds of robots and automated deliveries.

Nothing has changed and yet, everything inside of him has fundamentally been shifted.

A strangled sound emanates from his chest, and you look up quickly, afraid that you might have hurt him.

But, Zayne’s not in pain—not in the least. His green eyes shine verdantly like a forest after a storm, locked right onto your flushed face. You think that out of all the realities in this messed up world, you might find the real meaning of adoration in them.

He cups your face, smoothes your cheeks with his thumbs. 

“I love you.”

It’s the first time he’s ever said this out loud. His breathing stutters, caught off guard. And you’re staring at him, too. All wide eyes, and parted, perfect lips. 

Slowly, you defrost, bringing your hands up to your face, pressing your palms to the back of his hands. 

The silence is deafening—a pin could roll off the counter and fall to the ground, sounding like an explosion. Zayne swears he can hear the blood rushing in his ears. 

“I love you, too.”

Your voice is soft. Fragile. It echoes with shades of fear, but never uncertainty. 

For if there was one thing you were certain in this life, it was that you were completely, sincerely and stupidly in love with Zayne.

His eyes ripple close, and so do yours. Foreheads gently touch, breaths shared as one. The two of you stay like this for a long time, savoring this quiet, beautiful connection you had both created in such a short time.

Zayne has never known love in this lifetime. 

Slowly—surely—he was starting to warm himself up to the idea; falling deeper and deeper into a head on collision with your devotion. 

None of it scares him; how could it when it’s the stuff of his dreams? Of a forever stretching into the tiniest moments: languid mornings over shitty cereal and sappy medical romcoms on your beaten up couch and nights spent warming your sheets.

He can’t fight it; this feeling of always wanting to be by your side.

And so, he openly and fervently welcomes it.

“You’re glowing.”

Serina’s offhand comment brings you up short, and you fight back the creeping flush threatening to overtake your cheeks; preferring to bite your lower lip and turn you face away so she couldn’t see your growing smile.

Her silence isn’t judgmental this time. Rather, it’s tainted with a cynical curiosity.

“I guess Zayne really does make you happy.”

You hum, going back to your supplies of flour and sheets of freshly roasted nuts.

“He’s staying with me now.”

“Oh.”

You don’t turn to face; don’t have to because you know she’s making a face behind your back. 

“Is he coming to pick you up later?”

You think about him astride his motorcycle, dark locks whipping in the wind; fitted black trench coat, pristine suit and tie clinging right onto his frame and feel your stomach twist with nerves.

“Mhm hmm.”

Serina pauses, and you could tell she was struggling with something to say. 

“I’m happy for you.” 

Whatever it was you expected to drop from her mouth, it wasn’t this.

You turn around, and the incredulity must've been transparent on your face because she bursts into laughter, doubling forward to cackle with glee.

“Your face! You look like I just came out and told you I sold children’s blood by the bag.” 

She snorts and straightens, wheezing slightly. “I am happy for you, you idiot. I’m glad you’re not fish food yet and you’re glowing and you have a stupid amount of hickeys you try to cover up every day with that shitty concealer I got for you five fucking years ago. Point is: I’m happy for you.”

Serina emphasizes the last word, and you shyly lace your fingers together, feeling both sheepish and incredibly exasperated.

“I… Thank you.” Not knowing what else to say, you flash her a small smile, one which she returns instantly.

Scoffing, she runs a hand through her platinum blonde hair and tosses the rag she was holding across her shoulder, gesturing to the door.

“Go. I can handle closing time. I know you’re dying to see Zayne tonight.”

You perk up, in disbelief. “Serina—” 

“Leave those nuts in the fridge. They should be easy to chop up and temper with our chocolate bark tomorrow.” Hustling you out of the kitchen, you squeal at the feel of her cold fingers prodding your lower back. “Now, go. Call Zayne up and let him take you home. I’m sick of your love struck puppy expression.”

Despite yourself, you laugh, and unlace your apron. “Are you sure you can handle it? I can stay with you and help.”

Serina makes a face, though you could tell she was joking. “Ugh, and have to be around you for another hour while you pine for and miss him? Yuck. Get out of here.”

She jokingly swats you with her towel and you get her message loud and clear. 

“Okay, okay. Goodnight, you ass.”

“Goodnight, simp,” she drawls, and you scoff, rolling your eyes while you pick up your phone to call Zayne. 

Serina waits together with you, smoking a cigarette and filling you in on the latest online celebrity gossip. 

When Zayne arrives, sharp on time and sharply dressed as ever, she shoots you a smirk and a wave. You wave back, and slip on the helmet he passes you, stradling behind him to speed off into the night.

They look happy together. 

The young woman chuckles tiredly, scrubbing a hand down her face. She trudges back into the cafe, cleans up the remaining plates and cups, humming under her breath. As she fills up the dishwasher for its final load of the night, she hears the front doorbell tinkling.

Frowning, Serina wonders if you had left something behind when the sound of heavy footfalls resounds in the quiet space.

Thinking nothing of it, she straightens, a scowl on her blush rose lips.

“We’re closed,” she calls out in her most polite voice.

The presence in the dining space does not remove itself. From her stance inside the kitchen, she could just make out the silhouette of a tall man partially hidden behind the pillar separating the main hall from where she stood. 

Fuelled with distaste and annoyance, she rounds the corner, fully prepared to fight off this stranger and tell them to piss off.

“I said, we’re closed—”

Her words are cut off when she notices a faint glow of purple surrounding him. His eyes which were once blue were now soulless and drained, clapping onto hers, their pupils widening slightly.

Strange bulges appear on his body, and in the limited light, they seem to move up and down his arms. 

Crawling like they were filled with life.

She takes a step back, a sharp scream piercing the air.

The man falls back, putting his hands over his ears. He yanks on his graying hair, teeth bared and spittle splattering onto the ground.

“Shut… up…” 

His moans rattle and thump, filled with pain. He looks at her, and in the briefest of moments when they make eye contact, Serina could plainly see the anguish in them—the desperation for someone to end it all.

“Please,” his hoarse voice makes her skin crawl, her hairs stand on end. “Someone… Help me… kill me…”

The stranger falls to his knees, back arching like a cat poised to throw up all over the polished, hardwood floors. 

He heaves, and spittle drips from between his clenched teeth. Serina can’t move; completely frozen to one spot, locked on the sight of his pale hands curling into claws.

Those choked sounds he made would haunt her for the rest of her life. But, nothing could prepare her for when he lifts his head and the bulge under his right eye bursts, revealing a dark, tentacle appendage dangling from his cheek.

“Please,” he begs her with what was left of his humanity.

“You have to help me… you have to save me.”

Zayne’s arms wrap around your waist as you’re stirring a pot, his hum of adoration and contentment rumbling against your back.

“What?” you tease, picking up some bay leaves and tossing them into the fresh marinara sauce. “Are you excited to make me cook even after I slaved for a whole night in the kitchen?”

He clicks his tongue, kisses you right on your pulse point.

“Feisty. And here I was, about to fully offer you my assistance.”

He drops his arms, and you turn back to him with a pout. 

“I was joking,” you backtrack, fluttering your lashes. “I could really use your help,” and add, “Please,” when the beginning of a smirk plays on the corners of his mouth. 

“Alright,” he hums, grabbing a handful of sweet basil and a knife, chopping them up finely to be added to the pasta sauce once it was done.

It was comfortable working alongside him. Zayne didn’t need endless chatter to fill in the void, and neither did you feel obliged to talk his ear off. 

You start to hum, and he tunes in, admiring the rise and fall of the melody; how clear and bright your voice is.

“Would you like to put on some music?” He suggests, pointing to the old radio sitting atop your kitchen counter, a fine layer of dust on its smeared screen. 

You take him up on the offer, nodding. 

Zayne pushes a button and the last recording you had on plays in the room. A voice from long ago vibrates with nostalgia, reminding him of days passed and a comfort only found from warm sheets on a Sunday morning.

“Why don’t you ever let me into your home?” 

He pauses, glancing at you. “Pardon?” 

You exhale a laugh, and a teasing quality takes over your smile. “Your apartment. How come I never see it? Do you have piles of bodies you’re hiding from me?” 

A slender, calloused finger materializes by your hip, poking into your side. You flinch and giggle, locking eyes with his amused expression. 

“Careful. Do not go around unnecessarily exposing me.”

“So, you do have them under your floorboards.” 

He decides to challenge you back. “Are you afraid?” 

You scoff, picking up a wooden ladle to stir the sauce. “You must be mistaken, Zayne. For it isn’t me who should be afraid of you, but you of me.”

He resists the urge to pick you up and spin you in his arms for being so damn adorable. Reigning in the cute aggression, he titters a laugh. “And why is that so?” 

“Because,” you turn to him, your teasing smile growing wider. “I know things you don’t know. I have a certain set of skills not many have knowledge of and I can and will use them to my advantage.”

“Oh, really?” He drawls, raising a brow. The expression draws his handsome face into a comical curiosity; it nearly breaks your resolve not to laugh. “Enlighten me on these skills.” 

You clear your throat, setting the ladle down. “For example, I can bet you that I am a better dancer.”

Unexpectedly, he sweeps you into his arms, grabbing your left hand with his right and encircling the other one around your waist; you had no choice but to place your other hand on his broad shoulder to keep your balance. 

He was close—much too close—and it makes your face burn hot, your mischievous quips dying in the back of your throat. 

Zayne holds you fast, sure—swaying you from side to side as you both slowly circle the room, one gliding footstep at a time. He makes sure to lead you properly, careful to keep you two in an orbit far from mishap. 

You feel safe enough to lay your head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat and breathing alongside the sweet, romantic music. Eyes falling close, you lavish in this sense of serenity and comfort you had never felt in your life.

Zayne, too, takes a second to savor this moment. He gazes at the peace suffusing across your face and feels his heart growing lighter.

I want this for the rest of my life.

The thought jolts him from his reverie; scares him enough to convince himself to take it back.

But, as much as Zayne wants to delude himself, he can’t run away from the truth.

He wants this for as long he breathes on this godforsaken planet. As long as the seas ebb and flow and the sun turns on its fucking axis—he wants you. Zayne doesn’t care what others might think; how they would make a mockery of your connection to him. He would kill anyone who tries to get between you both. 

And he hopes that deep down, you feel the same way, too.

He wakes up in the early morning to his phone vibrating on the dresser.

Zayne groans, feels a sinking weight on his chest and realizes you had fallen asleep sprawled on top of him.

His instincts override his fuzzy mind to not wake you up, nimbly grabbing his phone and answering the call without looking at the screen.

“Zayne.”

The voice on the other end jerks him fully awake, and he resists the urge to jolt upright, remembering you were still fast asleep.

“One second,” he murmurs into the receiver. The other man hums.

Zayne puts the phone back down, gently scooping you up and rolling you to the side, tucking the covers under your chin.

He sits upright, turning to plant his feet to the ground and picks the phone back up. 

“Detective Ivan?” 

“We have an emergency.” 

Zayne stops scratching his bare chest, tired green eyes sharpening from the urgency in the older man’s tone. Ivan would never call him unless it was serious and usually there was only one reason why he would. 

“An Abomination has attacked a young woman in a cafe. Nightstar Cafe. One of those oldy diners that open till early morning.”

Ivan doesn’t hear Zayne’s sharp breath, nor is he there to see how terrified the younger man looks, turning his gaze to the sleeping woman next to him.

“A young woman? Was she blonde?”

He can feel Ivan frowning on the other end. “How did you know?” 

Zayne concocts a lie. “I saw the cafe in passing. Is it serious?”

“We have no visual on the Abomination and neither on the girl. We’re stuck and we need your help. Only you can track her down.”

Zayne racks his brain, thinking of his apartment that’s almost an hour away from yours. If he could get to his tracking systems quickly, maybe there was still time to solve this case…

“Alright,” he made up his mind. “Give me half an hour to find her. I’ll alert you to her whereabouts.”

Ivan breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Zayne.”

“Do not mention it.” He clicks off the call, turns to find you still fully asleep. As quietly as he could, he stands and gets ready, dressing in a nondescript black t-shirt and a pair of dark jeans, bundling up with his trench coat to keep the autumn chill at bay.

Just as he’s about to grab his bike keys, he hears you stirring.

“Zayne?” 

Your voice is fringed with exhausted curiosity, bleary eyes blinking and trying to pin onto his figure in the total darkness.

He’s next to you in a heartbeat, bending down to place a kiss on your forehead. “I have an emergency. You stay here and rest, alright? Wait for me. I’ll be home for you soon.”

You could only nod obediently, watching him rush out of the room; the front door closing behind him with a loud thud. 

Wondering what could’ve spurred Zayne into such a frantic mode, you close your eyes, about to drift off when you hear a knock. 

Woozily, you get to your feet, stifling a yawn. The hem of his too big shirt brushes your thighs, and you rub your eyes, frowning when the knocks get more insistent.

“Coming,” you call out, and trudge to the front door. 

Peering through the security monitor, your heart skips a beat when you notice your best friend on the other side, her expression wild; eyes darting down the hallway and jaw strained.

“Serina? What’re you doing here at this time?” 

Your voice carries out to the front, and you hear her over the security intercom.

“Babe, please. Let me in. Something terrible has happened. I can’t explain it, but I need your help.”

She sounds afraid and terrified, and your heart squeezes in fear when she glances down the hallway again, as if she were being chased.

Without another thought, you unlatch the door for her, and she comes barreling in, sinking to the floor the second you shut the door closed.

You fall to your knees next to her, reaching out to touch her shoulder. Squinting in the darkness, you faintly make out splotches of darkness on her tank top, and it’s not until you switch on the lights that you notice it’s blood. 

“Serina!” you gasp, and in the brightness, her irises have completely pin pricked, only a thin ring of blue surrounding them. 

She grabs your hands, tugs you closer to her face. Your heart is about to fly out of your chest, and you fight back, trying to break free from her grasp.

But, she’s fueled by fear and something else—something which ramps her paranoia up to concerning levels.

“Man. Wanderer. He hurt me. Tried to kill me. I ran… I ran here. I had no idea where else to go.”

Her words slur and clash in a cacophony of confusion. You can’t make heads or tails what she’s trying to say, but you attempt to piece it together for her sake.

“Hold on, hold on. Breathe.” You grab her thin shoulders in your white-knuckled grip, trying to shake the fear out of her. There was no time for confusion; you needed to know exactly what happened to her. “Start from the beginning, please. I can’t help you if I don’t understand.”

Without warning, tears fill her eyes and she pitches her head forward, breaking into silent sobs. 

Your arms automatically wrap around her, pulling her into your embrace. She cries, screams and wails, breaking down in total fear.

“It’s okay,” you soothe her, like how you had soothed Zayne many, many times in the aftermath of his nightmares. “You’re fine. You’ll be safe.”

She shakes her head, hiccuping incoherently. “He hurt me. He cut me with his teeth. I—” A full body shudder goes through her. 

Alarmed, you rock back on your haunches, eyes wide and locked on her pinched expression. “Serina, are you okay—?” 

The words die on the tip of your tongue, and you instinctively stand up, backing towards the wall when you notice her eyes starting to glow a bright purple.

“Serina—!”

She curls onto the ground, crying out in pain. Her body starts to writhe, and a gruesome crunching sound cracks through the air.

Too late to escape, you watch in horror as her body convulses, the bones of her spine breaking and twisting. Her skin turns a revolting shade of purple, and spittle froths down her mouth.

Before the petrifying purple light entirely consumes her body, she manages to hoarsely cry out two words which shakes you to your core: 

“Save me.”

SOBS im sorry to have to cut it here but it was too long </3 last part coming soon !! reblogs and feedback are sincerely appreciated 🩷

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy my concept, repost my stories or translate and post them to other platforms

[yuukiiqwq]

The first time Satoru saw you was through the window of a coffee shop. He didn't know why his eyes went to you and why he was even looking at a coffee shop. Like, let's be honest here, who likes that bitter drink anyway? Sugar is all he needed! So someone explained to him why he is entering that very coffee shop! His leg just moved on his own! He doesn't like coffee!

Yet here he is, sitting at a table as he looks through the menu and places his order with you. You stared at him as he listed all the sweet stuff he wanted in his drink, questioning what kind of abomination was he making. And when you finally get through with his order, you watch as he takes more sugar packets and dumps them in! What is this man doing!?

"He's kinda hot."

"Excuse me?" You quickly turn around to look at your boss and best friend.

"What? I know a good-looking guy when I see one. And I saw him looking at you through the window."

"You're delusional," you scoffed before the both of you laughed.

The whole time, Satoru was looking at you as he sipped his coma inducing drink. Something was pulling him to you, and he doesn't know what.

What was supposed to be a one-time thing soon became a daily thing. He would come every day at random intervals during the day, order his coma inducing drink, and make jokes with you, causing you to laugh at how stupid he was being. And every time, he would be mesmerized. It took Satoru a while, but when he realized he liked you, he didn't hesitate because why would he? He is the Satoru Gojo. He knows he's every girl's dream. Call him cocky, but it's the truth!

"Hey, let me take you on a coffee date," he said with a cocky smile as he gestured to the seat in front of him.

You stared at him before letting out a laugh. He was asking you out to a coffee date at the place where you work. What kind of date was that? He doesn't even like coffee! How silly can this man get? But despite all that, you couldn't help but smile and take a seat across from him. He did grow on you after all. And your friend wasn't exactly wrong...

It seems like you'll be taking your lunch break a little early today. You're sure your friend wouldn't mind. After all, you could clearly see her peeking from behind the counter.