#He said “I broke a rib” then proceeds to get up

[84reedsy]

I need more of Scott making these noises....in this position.

Thank you for your time.

[crossingthedreams]

medication — gregory house x f!reader

a/n: posting this late, as always, for @angstober day 06 — medication. this is inspired by a real life scenario that happened with someone I know. please, if you���re suffering through any sort of violence, reach the authorities. I am not, nor will ever be, specialized help, but I am available to listen in my dm’s should anyone need to vent. always, always, always put your safety and well being first. 

summary: you meet your former lover once more, but in the worst possible scenario. 

word count: 584

warnings: domestic violence. angst. horrible relationship dynamics. mentions of family death. abortion. mentions of past relationships. reader is injured. 

TRIGGER WARNING. Domestic violence. Abortion. Please proceed with care. 

“You should leave him”.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at the man at the door. Instead, you kept your gaze fixed on the medication falling in small drops from the transparent package into your veins. 

Hospital rooms had such a surreal vibe to them. Nothing seemed real, as if the words you uttered in there weren’t important and would have no impact on your actual day-to-day life. 

It was why you brought yourself to say, still not taking your eyes from the clear medication. “I wish I could”. 

You heard his steps approaching, hitting the floor rhythmically with his cane. 

His staff must have been so confused when he decided to be the attending doctor on your case. It was almost funny imagining the reactions, even though you never met the three young doctors working under his wing. 

You weren’t a mystery, and your case was just boring. You fell down the stairs and broke a couple of ribs, and got a black eye in the process. Nothing much, right? 

Wrong. And Gregory House saw right through you. 

He knew very well you didn’t fall, and he knew that black eye was a result of a very specific injury. 

In all the years he’d known your family, he never would have imagined you would lie for a man who was hurting you. 

The thing is, he didn’t know the whole story. The nuances, the finances. The reasons why you couldn’t just get up and leave. You didn’t deserve to leave.

You turned your face towards him. He was close enough now, so much so you could see the specks of light green in the baby blue of his eyes. He put a folder carefully on the movable table in front of you, and seemed to ponder on what to say next. 

You didn’t want to hear it. “There’s a lot of strings attached”, you simply said, hoping this would end the matter once and for all. “You knew my father and you are a smart guy, you can figure it out”.

“You’re pregnant.”

“No, I’m not.”

He tilted his head. “Sorry, who is the doctor here again?”

You shook your head, as if the motion itself could stop reality. Your eyes filled with tears, but you didn’t want to cry. Not here, not in front of him.

“You don’t have to go through with this. And I mean both the pregnancy and whatever hell you are living back home”, he said in the sweetest way he knew how. He took a small bottle from his coat and held it out in front of you. “Take one pill, and he’ll never know. Doctor-patient confidentiality”.

You smiled a little, mostly because of his tone. House never tried to be funny, but at least he was trying to lighten the mood.

“Your father was a terrible man, and I hated him almost as much as he hated me. Of course, he didn’t sleep with my daughter, so there’s that”.

You rolled your eyes, which hurt due to the bruises. But still, the small smile lingered. House brought up the torrid affair you two shared before your father passed very rarely, and never without a motive.

“You should leave him, kid”, he repeated. Your smile faded, and your face showed only pain. “If you ever need anything, you have my number, my work address and my home address. Call me”. 

He left the bottle of medication on the table before leaving. Confidently for once, you took it. 

[copinghex]

Deus ex machina | A.S

Summary: When three armed men broke into yours and Arthur's house, you knew you were doomed. You locked your newborn into a room and prayed he'd be spared. When Arthur told you to hide and got rid of the invaders, you didn't believe it. It felt like an unrealistic, badly written book. But life isn't a book and if Arthur had such skills, there clearly was much about his past you didn't know.

Even with shaky, sweating hands, you protectively stood in front of your baby's crib. The stiletto you held was the only weapon you believed to have in the house. The room's door was locked and it was the only barrier between you and the war zone outside.

The shadows of three men behind the front door was all you saw before Arthur told you to hide. Then, all you could do was listen, the men's heavy steps, what you assumed was them going through the drawers, how they broke every porcelain decoration and how they knocked down your beloved bookshelf.

If this was a book maybe you wouldn't be so scared, you'd be sure if they got to the room you'd be able to fight, finding strength in the darkest side of motherhood, staining your hands with blood for the baby's sake. However, it wasn't, and even if you'd kill for your child if needed, you knew the chances of getting out alive were few.

To complete the disturbing scenario, you could barely hear Arthur's steps, as if he was gone from the house, abandoning you and the child for his own survival.

Walking closer to the door, you pressed your ear to the wood surface, holding your breath to hear clearly.

“Where's the bastard?” one of the men said.

The dialog continued in a foreign language and suddenly, you jumped away from the door, holding the stiletto in the direction of the noise. Your chest moved up and down worryingly fast as you heard what you assumed a machine gun sounded like.

Shouts were heard followed by strong stumbles. Everything went silent. Looking back to the crib, you wondered if you should unlock the door, all the diverse possibilities of what could've happened messed up your mind but eventually, when no other sounds were heard, you knew there was no other option.

Walking out the room as silently as possible, you had to stop the urge of vomiting at the scenario in the living room. 

Two men's dark blood covered your beautiful mat, their eyes were still open, glassy and lifeless, not matching the surprised expression on their faces. In the hallway to the kitchen, laid another one, with a knife wound in the ribs and another in his throat.

Before you could call for your husband, water sounds attracted you to the bathroom. There he was, breathing heavily, frenetically washing his hands with a gun near his feet.

“It wasn't supposed to happen,” he drawled, looking at you through the mirror.

You immediately teared up, not sure of how to proceed from there, he had just risked his life to keep you safe but also, he kept this side of him hidden for years. Whoever this man was, it wasn't the Arthur you married. Only when his hand washing got too aggressive, you snapped out of trance.

“It's okay,” you whispered, taking his hands on yours, you washed the blood away while he rested his head on your shoulder.

He brushed his face against your cheek, his mustache scratching your sensitive skin. Intertwining your fingers with his now clean ones, you squeezed his hand tightly.

“What the fuck was that, Arthur?” you got courage to ask.

“I had to do it,”

“But what-” you looked at the gun at your feet, “What the hell is that?”

Staring at it, the world got quiet for a minute, Arthur's blue eyes burnt on you as yours saw nothing but the gun, as if it had come out from a trench itself. To be honest, you wouldn't know how to accurately describe a weapon that was used at war, perhaps it'd be rusty and permanently damaged like the soldiers to handle it.

Or perhaps it wouldn't, so trying to keep the mess your life had just become the clearest as possible, it'd be fairer to say the gun came out from one of the books in the living room, brutality ripped from the pages when the invaders knocked the shelf down.

And of course, as if in the last chapter of a book, the hero Arthur Shelby remembers the gun he conveniently had at home, a little souvenir from his years as a soldier that now would be used to save everyone. What a beautiful, extremely unrealistic ending.

Except that your life wasn't a book and if your husband had reason to keep a machine gun in the house, then he wasn't who you thought he was.

His wet hands gently wrapped around your arms, “It's alright now, love, I'll just call Tommy and we'll know what was that about, eh?” 

“Tommy? There are three dead men in my living room and you want to call Tommy?” you scoffed, “Call the police!”

“We can't do that,” 

“What?! Are you serious?!” 

“Love, I-” he gulped, “I can explain, alright? Come to the kitchen with me and I'll explain everything, we'll have a nice cup of tea and I'll explain,” 

“I'm not going out there,” you argued, surely the bathroom wasn't proper to have such a conversation, but you didn't think seeing those corpses again for a single cup of tea was a nice exchange.

“Stay here then, I'll come back in a second,” he walked to the door, looking back at you with apologetic eyes before adding, “I'll be back, alright?” 

He was away for only a few seconds, returning with an old newspaper in hand.

“Remember when we just moved and you read the newspaper every day? Remember a Thursday morning you thought it was weird they didn't deliver any?” 

He handed it to you, the headline talked about a club being invaded and a man being murdered, below there was a blurry picture of Arthur and John, they looked much younger than the publication date and the journalist explained local gangs were always prime suspects, but were never caught due police bribery.

“All this time I've been hoping you wouldn't recognize me,” he explained.

You gulped, leaning on the sink and putting the newspaper down. How should you even feel about this? Disappointed? Angry? Fooled? Your stomach sank as you squeezed your eyes shut and when you opened it again, Arthur was right in front of you, cupping your face between his calloused hands.

“I never meant to lie to you, I didn't know how to tell and- You'd leave me if I-”

He stopped talking as you pushed his hands away. This time you leaned on the wall a few steps away from him, you touched the gun with your bare feet, even with Arthur's explanation it still didn't make any sense to you.

“Forgive me, love,” he pleaded.

Any answer you could think of was silenced by the baby's cries upstairs. Your throat tightened and you sighed, “Clean this mess, I'll tend the baby.”

“So am I-”

“When you know what this was all about, we'll talk again.”

[dangermousie]

Turkish shows catch up post

Bambaşka Biri continues mad fun and got even darker. ML may have an impressive torso

But I'd def stay far far away, because he's got two personalities and his main one (a sweet, well-adjusted TV presenter) has no idea about the other one, that goes murdering child abusers and is so so so fucked up. Here he is after setting a dude on fire:

This will not end well.

His thing with the Lady Prosecutor is fire of a different kind, tho I am pretty sure her dad was involved in whatever ML is avenging (tho ML doesn't know it yet.) Not sure btw that here he is a presenter personality and not the murderer one but it's hot either way.

Get it, lady! Before you have to put cuffs on it.

Safir continues to be delicious addictive trash. Her fam is awful and her ex is worse but luckily Ates is stellar, stellar, stellar. There is a reason he's the one she calls whenever she is in trouble or just emotionally tormented (also unlike awful ex, he can take no for an answer, at one point she said she changed her mind about marriage and he was all fine, whatever is best for you. But she decided to proceed mmm. For a woman who's never been allowed in charge of her life between her fam and ex, it must pretty refreshing.)

When he told her she does not need to be afraid and that he's here mmm. But also, unlike ex, the moment she agreed to marry, he proudly and openly took her hand and walked in to his fam to tell them to their faces he's marrying her, take it or leave it.

I checked out Yabani, which is a bit like Ates Kuslari boy edition. I genuinely like poor ML, who's had a dog's life and whose own father had him beat to hell because "how dare you claim you are my long lost kid, you are a scammer, I won't wait for a DNA test like a sane person."

The mom is pretty awesome though. Too bad she's the only one. I can't even imagine how daddy is gonna react "sorry I probably broke some ribs, son!" (Earlier he was saying nutty things like "his gaze don't look the same as when he was a kid, so he can't be my son." WTF, shocking that an adult man who's had a rough life on the street doesn't have the same gaze as a loved rich kid. Shocking!!! Oh, and can't even imagine druggie brother's reaction. Ugh.

Anyway, this one is fun and I don't even have a ship tho I know who they are gonna hook him up with - I don't have anything against that couple, I am just more about found family with his fellow street kids and him and mom.

[feathersflurry]

Fractal -Prologue

A SephirothxFem!OC Fanfic

TW: Death, Child abuse, intimidation

The light from her grandmothers old television set emanated through the dark room, and ominous music broke through the static. The whirring sound from the Sony playstation hummed in her ears as she fixed her eyes on the screen at the vibrant eyes of the silver haired man walking into the flames of a now burning town. His eyes gazed over what seemed to be his work as his hair moved with the wind and his blade was held firmly in his hand. She clicked the start button on the controller to pause the intro to Final Fantasy VII. Her eyes were transfixed on the man before her as she furrowed her brow before her. His eyes were distant the longer she looked at him. She studied him a bit further as she reached her hand out and touched the screen. He looked like he didn’t want to be involved in the merciless killing of innocent people. He didn’t like being seen as a monster. There were so many more things that she could see, but she couldn’t quite place. All she could see was a feeling similar to what she felt when her father came to retrieve her. 

“Are you hurting?” She asked him. 

Her grandmother walked in at that moment. She could tell by the slow padding of her house slippers and the click of the light. It didn’t quite bother her, as she’d been adjusted to the glow of the television. The sound of cushions shuffling behind her meant she needed to move further away to avoid getting scolded. She didn’t need to be told. Several clicks sounded behind her as she continued playing. Wood clicked and metal scratched together, as the elder worked. A soft sigh escaped the little girl as a smile escaped her lips. It sounded like another doll was in the works. 

She would continue to play the game day by day, carefully learning the story and working toward the boss battle and reading between the lines. She would seek out books about the final fantasy lore and tilt her head curiously about the storyline and what was left unsaid. She would check out references and even go into the character backstories. Whenever she was left at her grandmother's house for long periods of time, she would proceed to play and talk about the game as her grandmother would nod. The old woman would slowly sew away at her project and nod as she listened intently. A pile of papers sat neatly on the table before her with a closed pen. Unfortunately those papers were there for a reason, as two years later, the same little girl at seven years old would be standing at her grandmother's grave. Not two hours later she would be chasing her father down about her grandmother’s house. 

“This is my house!” She shrieked. “Grandma said that this place was to go to me!” A much taller man with dark hair and a larger build swung around, eyeing her with monstrous intent. His fury flooded the room as she in all of her tiny ferocity stared him down. He sneered at her audacity and scoffed he slowly turned. He snapped his head over his shoulder at the sight of a doll with black clothing as the little girl set her eyes on its familiarity. Its long silver hair and black gloves was all to familiar to her and she immediately leapt after it once her father gave the order to drop it in the wastes. She was unaware of the pain she would be in in the next few moments. The loud bang from the tin can, would send a ringing through her ears. The sudden feeling of her father slamming her head into the hardwood floor as he began to beat her. The feeling of her ribs breaking beneath the much larger man as she looked up at the doll who she called her friend. 

Sephiroth. 

“See Seph?” She gasped between blows, reaching out to try and touch the doll as tears blurred her vision. “I told you I…” She trailed off. She couldn’t even remember what she was going to attest. She was going to protect him? She mocked herself. She couldn’t even protect herself or her grans house. Her vision continued to blur and all began to fade. The Sephiroth doll proceeded to show concern if only for a brief moment, and in just a second began to take on the appearance of a young boy of about seven or eight as he reached out in earnest. His eyes were filled with sadness and concern for her. 

“Who hurt you?”

<< | < |•| > | >>

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Multitudes - Chapter Eighteen

Spinning and Stumbling...

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov/Steve Rogers

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> Aftermath and after-effects.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 2261

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) Guilt, poor-self care, 'it should have been me' energy, passive suicidality, significant weight loss and talk of weight, threats.

𝐀/𝐍 -> Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Please read the warnings, and proceed with caution. You know the drill. A surprisingly feel-good chapter in the end, though. Corresponds to Magic and Madness - Chapter Six. Masterlist can be found here.

Check it out below, or on AO3 here! The snazzy Black Widow divider comes from @/firefly-graphics and I love it <3 The Multitudes Universe one is our own!

<- Previous Chapter (17/72) Next Chapter (19/72) ->

Everything was a blur of white and red.

The evac came quick, but the blood had started to slow beneath my fingers, my tears getting heavier as his pulse got lighter. “Stay with me, Clint. You can’t do this – not now. Not when we’ve gotten so close. I said I’d give you a long and happy life, remember? You can’t be the one to break that promise. You can’t do this to me – to us. Widow owes you that date, right?”

“I will go on the date, Clint. If you stay with us, I will go on the date. I promise.”

“You hear that, hon? You’ll get your date. And then the two of us will show you the best night of your life.”

The quinjet felt cramped with Clint strapped to a bed, but at least I could touch him. At least I could hold his hand while Tony worked frantically to stop the bleeding.

But nothing was as torturous as being forced to wait in the hallway when Stephen rushed him into theatre at a hospital I didn’t recognise, with muttered assurances that he’d do his best.

Not ‘he’ll be fine’.

‘I’ll do my best’.

Waiting.

Endlessly waiting.

I curled up on the floor, refusing to move.

There was a rotating cast of Avengers, each trying to convince me to eat, to go home and get some rest – even to just sit on a chair.

No. No.

We should have been better. We should have been better.

We should have protected him. We should have protected him.

Five hours, thirteen minutes.

The whole time, we sat on the floor, pressed against the wall.

Our hand over the shallow would between my ribs-

Our breathing getting harsher and harder-

Our head getting lighter.

That bullet would have ripped through my lung if he hadn’t been stood there. That bullet would have ripped through my lung if he hadn’t been stood there.

It should have been me.

It should have been me.

“It should have been you.”

We looked up into Strange’s bleak expression, blinking. “… Wh… What?”

He nodded at our blood-streaked fingers, jaw set tight. “I said, ‘Let me take a look at you’.”

We blinked again, feeling nothing. “We’re fine. How’s Clint?”

Smiling wryly, he offered us his hand. “Let’s make a deal.

“Clint had a lot of internal damage. A lot. I’ve patched him up as best I could, but…” Stephen sighed as he slid the needle through our numb, cleaned wound, and we didn’t wince. “You’re lucky he was in front of you. You would likely have lost your lung, but instead it just broke the rib.”

“Lucky,” we scoffed, and he flinched.

“He’s not come around yet. He… We had to perform an ileostomy. There wasn’t enough intestinal tissue left to salvage. He’s been fitted with a bag – if he… That will be permanent.”

We winced, cutting our gaze to his. “Will he wake up?”

Stephen hesitated, his fingers shaking slightly against our skin. “We don’t know. He lost a lot of blood and sustained significant injuries. He underwent massive transfusions. The fact that he survived surgery is reassuring, but…” he sighed again, shaking his head. “I’ve had this conversation too many times lately.” We cocked our head, and he smiled weakly. “I said almost the exact same thing to Clint, when it was you that may not wake up.”

We sat in that plastic chair by his bedside.

We sat with our fingers in his, our head on the sheets.

We sat, and we cried.

We sat, and we begged.

We sat, and we prayed to a God we didn’t even know if we believed in.

Nick sent another therapist – someone to debrief us. To see where we went wrong.

Where I went wrong.

Where I went wrong.

We didn’t speak.

Bruce brought food – endless homemade meals and take-out.

We didn’t eat.

Wanda tearfully begged us to come home, to get some rest.

We didn’t move.

On the third day, someone stuck an IV in our arm, filled with sugar water.

We pulled it out. Again, and again, until there was no sugar. Only water.

We ate for him.

Why would we eat now?

There’s nothing left to eat for.

Nothing left to fight for.

Just let me die.

Just let me die.

When we were lucid, we spoke to him.

I told him stories about the farm he always wanted. I told him I’d been thinking about our future – two kids, three dogs, and a cat. Some chickens, but not for meat. There’s been enough killing.

Widow told him about their first date. That they were terrified, but so excited. That they trusted him not to hurt them, despite everything. That they were sorry for everything.

But then the walls came down once more.

There was no sense of time. No sense of anything but the steady beeping of his monitor, the hiss of oxygen through the tube in his nose.

I couldn’t watch when they fed him. I couldn’t watch when they changed his dressings, and the bag nestled into his hip.

Widow watched for me, their presence wreathed around me protectively, shielding my eyes.

On the twelfth day, I half-expected him to wake up. Poetically beautiful.

He didn’t.

It wasn’t until the thirteenth day that he coughed and spluttered, choking around the tube in his throat. My hand slammed into the button on the wall without thinking, desperate fingers finding his face.

He can’t breathe He can’t breathe He’s choking He’s choking Help him Help him

Tony’s arms found my waist, pressing against the wound in my side as he lifted me bodily from the room, kicking and screaming, straining to be back with him.

“He’s awake.”

My head shot up from where I was cradled in Tony’s arms, his gentle grip the only thing stopping me from barrelling back into the room. But at the nurse’s words I threw my head back, hearing the genius curse as my skull collided with his jaw, scrambling to my feet and down the hall before he could stop me.

“… Clint.”

“Natasha.”

Our name. Our full name – his indicator that he was speaking to both of us.

His voice was weak, vocal chords chafed by the tube, but he raised his arm to me, beckoning.

I fell into his side, sobbing uncontrollably, kissing his stubble-rough face with abandon.

He smiled weakly, his eyes meeting mine.

Clint. My Clint. My Clint. Our Clint.

“You’re too skinny, my love.”

“Thirteen days,” I whimpered, fingernails digging into his neck. “Thirteen days, Clint. I didn’t think you’d wake up.”

“Have you been eating?”

I recoiled, glaring. “…No. We haven’t been eating. Just like you didn’t when it was me lying in the hospital bed.”

He smiled weakly, his forehead touching mine. “I’m awake now, honey. Eat some damn food.”

I laughed softly, more tears falling down my cheeks. “Okay."

Steve dropped off a pasta salad, snorting about the bruise on Tony’s jaw.

I ate it while Clint was dragged further into an uncomfortable consciousness, closing the empty tub just as Stephen knocked on the door.

“How’s my never-ending pair of patients?” he joked with a weak smile, and Clint’s eyes cut to me.

“’Pair’?”

“The bullet that hit you-”

“Stephen,” I warned, glaring.

My archer paled, eyes scanning my available flesh desperately. “It got you? Where? Are you okay?”

I sighed, lifting the hem of my shirt, showing the small, rapidly healing scar on my ribcage. “I’m fine. Luckily, the mess it made of your insides slowed it down,” I quipped, and he grinned, touching a shaking finger to the mark.

“I’ve never been so glad to be shot.”

Stephen cleared his throat, and I let my shirt drop as I sat on the edge of the bed, our attention returned to the doctor. “Clint… You had extensive internal damage. We managed to repair most of the damage – though you may find complications arise over time.”

“…But?” Clint prompted in the silence, one eyebrow raised. I saw him surreptitiously shift his feet, and sigh with relief.

“But… We couldn’t save everything. You lost a significant of intestinal tissue. We’ve had to fit an ileostomy bag.”

My partner nodded, swallowing dryly. “How long?”

“For life.”

His jaw tensed as he nodded again, ever the stoic soldier.

“… You can be upset,” I prompted, turning to him with concern. “It’s perfectly understandable to be upset.”

He paused, then met my eyes steadily, his deep cerulean unwavering. “It sucks, Natasha. It’s going to be an adjustment. But no… I’m not upset.” My brow furrowed, and he smiled. “All this – the bag or whatever – it means that I’m still alive. I’m still here for our life together. Are you kidding? I’m ecstatic. I’ll take the damn bag with a smile for my future with you.”

It took five more days for Clint to be discharged from the hospital, with similar instructions to those I’d had – bed rest, daily check-ups, and taking it easy.

I spent every moment of my time by his side, telling him all the things we’d said while he was asleep.

Stephen examined his stitches every morning, and checked on his ileostomy bag. He said he was healing well, but I was still too scared to look.

Since the day after Clint came home, Bruce had been dragging me back to our morning vitals, with a pained grimace and a red wrist band as my reward for the first visit. Clint had flinched when he saw it, but I’d waved him off.

“It’s fine. I’ll get it back in no time.”

I’d stood in the bathroom not thirty minutes later, speaking to the ceiling.

“Friday, what’s my current weight?”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Romanoff. I am forbidden to discuss weight or perform calculations-”

“Override code – 2 1 14 14 5 18.” Banner.

“Your current weight is 92.2lbs.”

Four pounds below our lowest weight.

Don’t we… Deserve it? Isn’t this our punishment, for not being good enough?

I deserve all this, and more.

It was that day I started water loading before weighing in, making myself fat and heavy. First one litre, then two, then three. My weight hit 94 fake pounds, and Bruce relaxed a little.

Almost seven of those were not real.

I was officially in the danger zone, skirting the edge of reality and fantasy. The world moved around me now, and I left no footprints when I walked anymore.

Widow was quiet – even they could find no satisfaction in this. Not in the way our hands shook and we left curls of hair on Clint’s pillow when we stole from his bedside in the middle of the night, carefully keeping our heart rate low enough to not get caught. Not in the way our skin turned sallow, or in the way the hair from our head seemed to have resprouted on our cheeks.

This was not the glamourous, strong person they thought we would be. This was only pain, and vomiting until our throat bled, and muscles that screamed as they ate themselves.

Clint looked at us with pity in his eyes, but we couldn’t feel enough to care.

Bruce knew we were tricking him – doing something, somehow – but he couldn’t figure out how, his searches becoming firmer and more desperate the more skeletal we became.

93 (86).

92 (85).

91 (84).

90. 90 fake pounds, and 83 real ones.

But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t let the pain seep back in, so I drank more. And more.

79lbs.

It was that day – the day my BMI hit 13.1 – that Bruce snapped, slamming his clipboard against the table, making my frail body tremble.

“I don’t know how you’re doing it, Natasha. There is no way you’re still 90lbs.” He ran a hand through his hair, taking in my ragged appearance as I weaved, fighting to stay upright. “How are you still doing this?”

“I’m fine,” I murmured, my voice cracked from lack of use.

Just let me die.

Just let me die.

My fault my fault my fault my fault my-

“Friday, please scan Ms. Romanoff’s weight.”

No.

Friday was smart. Friday didn’t include water weight. That’s how I knew.

“I’m sorry, Dr Banner. I am forbidden to discuss weight or perform calculations-”

“Override code – 2 1-”

“’Banner’ isn’t a very imaginative override code, Bruce.”

He turned to us with a horrified expression, and even Widow couldn’t take as much pleasure in his devastated realisation as they’d have liked as they smirked humourlessly. “What, you thought we would not remember? My my, Doctor. You underestimate us.”

“Override-”

“No, Bruce. I cannot let you do that. If you proceed down this path, you will regret it. We are still stronger than you realise… Strong enough to bring out your secret beast, certainly. But perhaps not strong enough to stop him from snapping us like a twig.” Their voice was cold and calculating, but only one thought echoed around our head.

You cannot take us from him. You cannot take us from him. Not yet not yet not yet not yet.

We promised him-

- the rest of our lives.

You will not take us from himyou will not take us from him.

“Natasha-”

“That’s enough, Bruce. I’m going to leave now, and I will not be coming back. Stay away from us. I am not your concern.”

Widow turned silently on trembling knees, air whistling through the space between our thighs, too desperate to leave to stop and change.

We didn’t even make it to the door.

[chlerc]

last night ; charles leclerc

— summary; in which he shows up right at her doorstep although he swore that he wouldn’t come back here again, and there he was yearning for the comfort of her arms.

pairing — charles leclerc x f. reader ( third person story )

word count — 796.

content — friends with benefits but charles broke it off between them, he said he wouldn’t return yet he was back there asking for a forever.

NAVIGATION + author’s note: first drabble and i have no idea how to end it off so please bear with the ending 🙏🏻

THE LAST TIME HE said it was over and he wasn’t coming back was a weekend ago. Yet, here he stood in front of her with his gray hoodie and black sweatpants. The hood of his hoodie hides the way his face usually glows in the bright moonlight, illuminating the perfect facial features he had.

“What are you doing here at half past 3 in the morning? And you shouldn’t be seen here at my doorstep, you’d be on the front page of every sports gossip page tomorrow!” Her voice comes off as a whisper, her eyes droopy as she rubs at it.

His cherry red lips clash against her luscious ones, savoring the slightest taste of her chapstick present. Charles pulls her by her waist, closer to his chest than it already was before. The pieces of her heart that had been struggling to fit into the world became so quiet when in his embrace ; it was as if they had found peace, as if they needed his glue to bridge their gaps and connect.

She pulls away, tugging at his sleeves for him to enter, just in case anyone actually followed him here. Everything was a contract, or a relationship in summary, friends with benefits. One gets needy, they have fun, and they leave but come running back again. He was different, the one that sticks out like a sore thumb from others. Charles would stay till the next morning and she’d be woken up to the fragrant smell of pancakes drizzled with maple syrup and coffee.

They’ve been friends since too long, she was his source of comfort when he came running to her with his arms wide open for comfort and anger from a fucked up race weekend. Neediness got the better of him every night he had landed back in Monaco, leading to many other nights before this and the pair of best friends agreed to be solely friends with benefits.

“You can’t just show up here like nothing happened, like whatever you said last week didn’t matter and then proceed to kiss me, Charles.” He leaned against the door, hands tucked in the pockets of his sweatpants and his expression made it hard for her to read him. “One last time please, I had a bad weekend and I just need one more night with you.” She knew she would agree to whatever he said, zero doubts and hesitation. He was her weakness.

Her heart felt fireworks in them whenever he was near her, yearning to be released from the rib cage. Her heartbeat keeps a steady rhythm until the thought of Charles running to her apartment after a horrible weekend, then its tempo raises into a new genre all together. Butterflies occupied her stomach at the slightest thought of him, burning pink cheeks whenever she welcomed him. She was in love, and she knows she shouldn’t be, after all they were just friends with benefits, before he broke it off.

He had a way to her heart, like a key unlocking a lock and before she knew it, she was nodding at his request. Horrible weekend? As if she hadn’t been awake, watching him take pole position and race winner for the weekend. “Horrible weekend but you won the race and clinched pole position, Charles. What are you talking about?” She watches as he takes a step forward, embracing her in his arms.

“Horrible weekend because I knew you weren’t at home waiting for me to celebrate with you. I know I said last weekend was the last time I’d be here, and honestly? I don’t know what I’m doing here, I just know that I want to be in your arms tonight.”

His words tugged at the strings of her heart, looking into his eyes, the window of a soul. He was handsome from the depth of his eyes to the gentle expressions of his voice. He was handsome from his generous opinions to the touch of his hand upon her own. She loved the way his voice quickened when he sparkled with a new idea, or was so enjoying one of hers that he lost himself for a moment and quite forgot the mask he wore for others.

Charles brings his hand up to her cheeks at her silence, stroking them with his fingers as he gazes into her eyes. His eyes steady on her as they were filled with nothing but a longing desire. He had told himself it’d be the last time he would show up here, yet there he was in the comfort of her arms.

“Mia cara, nothing matters more than you. I want to keep coming back here to you after every race weekend. Would you let me do that?”

[dazuya]

Don't smile at me like that

Knights of Favonious! reader trying to keep calm when everyone's been saved. Everyone will be alive, right?

tw: //blood, injuries and death.

_________________________________________

Mondstadt had mostly been a quite town with people living freely. Or just as they say. It's the city of freedom! Everyone doing their own thing. But gathering together as one nation.

It had also seen it's fair share of crimes. Mostly petty thefts or some brute force here and there. But what it hadn't been subjected to was an attack. A brutal violent attack ordered by the abyss. After taking control of Divalian had failed. They struck the heart of Mondstadt. It's city. Everyone had been instructed to stay in their homes. While the Knights fought endlessly for their freedom.

After days of going on, After days of madness, After days of shedding blood. It seemed to stop. Thank the lord barbatos. He seemed to listened to his people and helped them.

Everyone sighed a breath of relief. In the headquarters right after the war. The soliders were tended to. Most of them had small cuts and maybe a broken rib or two. The Captains along with mondstadt's dark Knight, Diluc gathered in the Acting grand master Jean's room.

Everyone sighed a breath of gratefulness. Finally, The city was okay. None of the citizens were harmed. None of the Knights actually lost their life. Right?

One captain sat there awfully quite. Y/n known for taking jabs at Kaeya. Known for outwardly expressing what must've been going was quite. Everyone was lost in thought as to how to proceed with the meeting.

Jean finally broke the silence. "I'm really glad to have to you captains well and alive. I should've been more sharp. I will assure this won't happen again. Not now. Not ever." The Captains nodded. Feeling hopeful.

"Y/n and Kaeya. Please stay back later so that we can discuss further strategies as to how to protect the city." Said Jean looking at the two. One nodded and the other didn't seem to catch it. Kaeya looks to his side and to his horror, He sees you gripping your torso.

"Y/n? Hey. Look at me." He said while trying to pry your hands away to check what was wrong. A gaint hole. A deep one. Just enough for them to bleed through your uniform. Just enough for you to lose your life if not treated in time.

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?! God, you're so fucking dumb. Why?" He yelled. The other captains rushing to your side. Jean was frantically trying to heal you Lisa and Kaeya held on to the hope to see you well and cheery again.

while you could only look at them and smile as you tasted iron in your mouth. Ah the bitter taste. "Please take care of my Dogs. And take care of yourselves too." Maybe today my whole facade of having my life together would shatter.

"Don't you dare smile at me like that. Don't you smile like it's your last day here. Don't look at us like that!" Lisa was starting to cry. Just when everything was going alright. They were gonna lose their morale. Their moodmaker in the knights' family.

"Did you get hurt when protecting me from that one abyss mage? I told you I could've taken care of him?! Archons, if only you could've listened to me!" Kaeya's yelling was loud and frantic. What was he supposed to do? Another person who was important just walking away from his life.

"I can't let someone i love die, Kaeya. I must say, having you all here with me when I'm gonna go is quite endearing no?" you chuckled. Of course, Trying to lighten the mood. But it didn't worked. Not right now.

"Please tell me you love me when you're all well. Please tell us you love us when you're back again. Don't say it right now. Just rest." Kaeya sighed. His hands clasped with yours.

"Jean, Please. Anything. I'll assist you. Just hurry up. I can't bear to watch that smile on their face." Lisa sits down next to Jean trying to look up spells which would be useful right now. By the looks of it, There's a hole in their torso. One which looks like it's been shot by an from an abyss mage icicle.

"Y/n. You should've said something earlier. We would've assisted you way longer. The thought of not having you and venti fighting in my Tavern does make my heart shatter." Diluc spoke with having doubts in his mind. Was this another hard goodbye he'd have to say? He practically grew up with you. You were like another sibling to him. After Crepus's death, He saw how Kaeya would open up to you. His eyes softening whenever you're around.

You'd only have positive effects with the people around you. Now you were coughing blood in agony while brushing off the pain.

"My my. I never expected Luc to say such touching words. How has he changed from that little boy huh?" The pain was getting to you now. It was hard to focus your sights on one thing. It was hard to just look at Kaeya. Somehow your heart felt more pain. It was like being torn apart.

"Luc. I think you'd love my very own pen collection. It's yours. Maybe write me cute letters. Haha. Jean. You can have, well you can have my clothes. I don't have use for those outfits anyways. They'd look pretty cute on you, don't you think? Lisa. I'd like to give you my books. Yes. The ones you begged for me to give you. They're yours. And Kaeya You can have my necklace. Open it when I'm not around. I'm sure you'll find it lovely? i don't know. I feel like you guys would like my things. Of course you can throw them out. It's up to you guys." After finishing what you had to say. It seems like you were in the middle of a group hug. Everyone there was clinging on the hope of you. Sobbing. But it was you crying. Hot tears rushed down and somehow everything felt real right now. Everything was about to be gone.

"H-hey Kaeya. Did I ever tell you I- I loved you so much? I think I'm a fool to not tell you that enough. I love you with all my heart and soul. I wish I could've been around longer to get married to you. I love you Kaeya. So much. I love you guys too. Luc, Jean and Lisa. You guys were very colourful. I couldn't thank you more." Their faces were blurry now. You couldn't seem to hear them at all. Not when Kaeya was crying and cupping your face. Not when Diluc was trying to calm everyone. You couldnt hear them.

"I can't hear anyone but i hope you're not taking jabs at me yeah? Let a dying person die with praises no?" A laugh escaped your lips. That seemed to be the last of it.

"Wake up, dear! Come on. You promised a future with me only to leave me here? That's cruel of you. Wake up, Please?" Kaeya muffled sobs against their body proved useless. He couldn't hear a heartbeat. Seems as if they had actually passed.

"That's enough Kaeya. Don't.. I- I don't know what to say I'm sorry." Diluc was staring at the ceiling trying to contain his tears. He mustn't let the others know. He should stay strong.

"Jean. Why isn't Y/n talking? Please. Say Anything. Something. Talk about how annoying i am as a librarian. Just anything goddamn it?!" Lisa doesn't seem to be accept it either.

"I'm sorry. I could only watch your glory. I wish I could've done more for you." Jean held their hand.

Everyone was alright except for the fact that they had to let go of something so important that it almost made them lose sight of the gathering. It was almost a silent agreement to hunt down the mages which did this to you and later kill it with their bare hands.

Even after years, Everyone seemed to honour Y/n's wish for them to keep their things.

Diluc kept a ridiculously large collection of pens in his room and in the Tavern. He wouldn't walk out of his house without a pen in his coat. Always carrying a part of his sibling from another family. He'd also right cute letters with the assistance of venti and send them to your address. Although no one read them. Or so he thought.

Lisa read the books they left over and over again. Looking the cute doodles. Smiling to herself. The first thing she saw was "To Lisa." She knew you were gonna gift her these regardless. Every year, she'd go to their grave and read a chapter from the book. Like a bonding time of sorts. Something that won't happen anymore.

Jean couldn't bring herself to wear their clothes. The only thing she tried on was a scarf. A scarf they knit for her. The only one she thought she was worthy of wearing. Ah it looks cute. Just like they said. Only if they were around to make her more clothes.

Kaeya opened the necklace after a year of getting it. He broke down that day. It had a picture of kaeya and his beloved. Smiling. Kissing. Being in love. Something he wouldn't ever have. Something he'll never have again. After cleaning their home, He found a letter. A letter addressed to him. It was simply filled with sweet nothing's. Just saying how much they loved him. He infact found a whole box of it. He could sit and hug the box hoping for some comfort but instead got his heart broken.

The letters Diluc sent were also read by him. He could only read so much until he stopped. He just stopped reading them. He just put them in the back of his memories. Occasionally remembering about them and going to your grave to profess his love for the hundredth time in a month.

"I wish you didn't smile at me like that when you said i love you." He said while looking down at their grave. His first love would be his last.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In between the city walls of dying dreams

This if for @buckyownsmylife​​ 2k challenge. I chose the character Andy Barber and the AU ex-con.

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); somnophilia, drugging, breeding, oral, fingering.

This is dark! (ex-con) Andy Barber x shy!reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: One night, you’re saved by the last person you expect, but you don’t know that he’s only saving you for himself.

Note: So I woke up at like 4am and couldn’t sleep. My biggest mistake during my insomniac fits are scrolling tumblr and then I see a writing challenge and decide, hey I hate myself enough to write 6k+ words for a tatted up Andy Barber so here we are.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The streets were shiny and slick as the rain pattered across the pavement and the eaves trickled loudly. The door of the convenience store chimed as you stepped out into the drizzle with a plastic bag hanging from your elbow. It was late and you were eager to be home after a ten-hour shift, your return delayed by your visit to the shop.

A man stood beneath the beaming ‘lotto’ sign and you kept your head low as you passed him. He kept his hood up but you recognized the grey sweater. You had waited behind him as he paid before you and offered only grumbles to the cashier. You weren’t too talkative yourself although the clerk recognized you from frequent visits. You only lived a block away and it was one of the only places open after your evening shifts.

Your boots splashed through shallow puddles as you passed by the alleyway you took in the daytime, keeping to the halo of the streetlights along the grimy stretch. You had no illusions about the neighbourhood and it often reminded you of its vices. If you kept quiet and faded into the background, it couldn’t eat you up. Living downtown meant that you had to learn to ignore the alarm bells in your head and just keep going. Be vigilant but don’t be bold.

As you cleared the mouth of the alley, you heard footsteps emerge behind you. You picked up your pace and gripped the strap of your purse slung across your torso. You pulled out your phone and angled it to see the shadow following you.

There was a shawarma shop on the next corner. You could hide out there until the creep got tired and left. It was your usual trick and the owner, Mo, was especially skilled at scaring away the rabble. 

The man got closer and you gulped. You would have to start running if he got any closer. You thought of swinging at him with your plastic bag, the bottle of vitamin water would give him a good knock. You walked faster and squeezed your phone as you brought up the dial pad. There was no one you could call who would get there fast enough.

You tripped and felt the hand on your arm. You were spun back against the wall and you threw your bag around to hit your accoster. It bounced to the ground as it was batted away and the plastic bag tore in half. The bottle of vitamin water rolled over the curb and your can of soup was dented on impact. The candy bar was tangled in the white plastic and you were trapped against the brick.

“Wallet.” The man’s knife slid from the handle with a threatening whisper. “Phone!”

He wrestled your cell from your grasp as the blade kept you from resisting. He cut the strap of your purse and yanked it free from your body. Shit. That can of soup would likely be your only meal for the rest of the week… if he didn’t stab you anyway.

You readied yourself for the worst but it never came. You were suddenly released as the man was shoved away from you and the blade clattered to the ground. The stranger in the grey hood kicked his ass so he sprawled across the pavement and bent to grab the blade. He retracted it and booted the mugger a second time.

“Stay down.” He warned as he knelt to pick up the can of chicken and rice and the dark chocolate. He fished the vitamin water from the gutter but the seal had broke and it was mostly gone.

The mugger groaned and pushed himself to his hands and knees. The other man stood and pushed down on his back with his thick sole until the attacker was on his stomach.

“I’m gonna crush your ribs if you don’t get outta here. Now.” He jabbed the mugger’s side sharply. “Go!”

The man scrambled up to his feet and wheezed. He stumbled away and the other watched him until he disappeared. Finally, he turned to you and held out your goods. You took them shakily and shook your head at the vitamin water. He bent to grab your purse and your phone and held them out in turn.

“You okay?” He asked.

You nodded and took them shyly. You never said much to anyone but even if you tried, you expected your voice wouldn’t rise. You huffed at the broken strap of your bag and the scratch across the back of your phone. The screen protector was a spider web of cracks and you were thankful it wasn’t entirely fucked.

You clung to everything and warily sidestepped the man. You dropped the wet bottle in the stinking bin behind him and turned back. You looked at him and froze. He was taller and broader than the man who attacked you. He still held the knife and could do worse.

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

“It’s fine.” He slid the knife into his pocket. “He didn’t cut you?”

You shook your head again. Even as his face was shrouded in shadows, you couldn’t look directly at the man. You never really looked anyone in the face, you often spoke to their shoes or the void above their heads.

“You live far?” He asked and again he received a negative gesture. “You want me to walk you? Or I can watch?”

Your eyes widened at the spatter of rain against the concrete.

“Miss,” he said with exasperation.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” You whispered as if convincing yourself too.

You slipped past him quickly and he stepped back with a surprised stammer. Your soles slapped the pavement as you rushed away from him. You couldn’t be sure he wasn’t as bad as the other man. He might follow you home and try to get even further.

But he didn’t pursue you. You didn’t hear his footfalls behind you, only the steady fall of rain.

“Good night,” you heard quietly as you got to the corner. 

You didn’t look back and kept on around the bend. You sprinted all the way to your building at the end of the side street and fumbled for your keys at the door. You took a breath when you were inside at last. You were lucky but not many downtown were. That wouldn’t happen again.

🌆

After your close call, you didn’t return to the convenience store for several days and you only did so in the daylight. You had a rare day off and the spree of rain finally ceased. The sun beat down on the buildings and reflected hotly off the sidewalks. There wasn’t much to do, or much you could afford to do, so you didn’t do much in your free time.

You had to get out of your apartment, had to enjoy the nice day before you were once more trapped behind a desk. You walked up to the store and grabbed an ice cream bar from the freezer. You paid in change and claimed your treat with a tight-lipped smile.

As you approached the door, it swung outward and you retreated before you could collide with the other body. You muttered a sorry and stood aside as you waited for your path to clear.

“Hey,” the deep voice was familiar and sent a chill through you. “It’s you.”

You looked up at the man as the ice cream added to the cold flow through your veins. The same grey hoodie and broad shoulders. The man’s deep blue eyes shone beneath his tidy undercut and a thick beard trimmed his chiseled jaw. He was less sinister than the shadow you met days before.

Your eyes quickly flitted away as you remembered yourself and you looked at the door. You nodded as you cleared your throat. Speak, goddamnit.

“Thanks…again,” you croaked weakly. “S-sorry, I’m in your way.”

You tried to step around him but he was still firmly planted in front of the only exit.

“Wait,” he said gently, “Hey, I… don’t wanna seem weird but I was worried about you.”

“You don’t know me,” you said quietly to his shoes.

“Yeah, but that’s a scary thing to deal with.” His voice was firm but comforting, almost warm. Your eyes clung to the tattoo between his thumb and index finger.

“But…” you swallowed, your ice cream would start to melt soon. “You helped me. I’m okay now.”

“Well, good,” he said and finally moved. “I’m happy I could help.”

“Thanks.” You reached for the door but he beat you to it. He pushed it open and held it for you, forcing you to brush against him as you left.

“Be safe.” He called after you as the door chimed and you stumbled out onto the sidewalk, barely missing another pedestrian.

You crossed the street and stepped over the low hedges between the café and the pawn shop. The small park was oddly peaceful amid the chaos of the city and you didn’t mind sitting under the shade of the fragrant leaves. You sat at an empty picnic table and unwrapped the chocolate dipped bar.

You listened to the birds and watched the squirrels as you ate. You pulled out your phone but didn’t have enough data left to do much. You put it down as you licked clean the little wooden stick and shoved it back into the wrapper.

You flinched as a shadow blotted out the sun and you blinked up at the figure as it stopped before you.

“You again.” He smiled and your eyes fell back to the grass around his boots.

You crumpled the empty wrapper nervously and let out a nervous, “heh, yeah.”

“I’m not… following you.” He said and chuckled. “I know we kinda keep running into each other but I swear, I’m not some creep.”

You nodded and watched his fingers straighten. The ink on his knuckles made you nervous.

“Can I sit?” He asked.

You looked beside you as he pointed to the bench and you shrugged. “Could I stop you?” You uttered.

He turned and sat beside you. He took a breath and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a pack of smokes. He opened it and offered you one. You shook your head and he closed the carton, tucking it away without taking one himself.

“I won’t smoke around ya then,” he said. “I’m Andy.”

He held out his hand and you eyed it. Your lashes fluttered nervously and you squeezed the garbage. He waited patiently. You felt the heat on your neck and you reached to shake his hand. He gripped yours firmly and his strength made your wits flurry. You gave him your name and looked down at your lap as he let go of you.

“I don’t blame you not wanting to talk to strangers. Especially around here.”

You stayed quiet and twisted the wrapper around the stick. Your leg jiggled and he ran his nails over his jeans.

“Maybe you’re just shy and that’s okay too. I just thought, well, there’s a lot of shady characters around here and it’s good to have someone lookin’ out for ya.” He scratched his beard and leaned back against the table. “I just wanted to say that if you see me around and you need someone to scare off the other hounds, I’m more than happy to give them a good bite.”

You pushed your tongue against your cheek and stilled your leg. You nodded.

“Alright,” he stood and the whole table shifted with his weight, “Now, I’ve said my peace. You take care of yourself.”

“Thanks,” you wrung your hands around the bending popsicle stick entwined with the wrapped.

“Oh, and… I think I grabbed the right one.” He reached into his hoodie pocket and you noticed the awkward shape jammed into the pocket. He revealed the bottle and placed it on the table. “I’ll see you around.”

You stared at the label. It was the right flavour. You looked up and watched him head out along the path. He unzipped his sweater as he went on and pushed his hands into the pockets. You pinched your lip with your teeth and took the bottle of water. Maybe there were nice people in the city or maybe you were just that pathetic.

🌆

Back at your building, you were relieved to be out of the sun and the stifling humidity. It would be a rough summer and your box fan would do little to stave off the heat. 

After your run-in with your hero, you decided to take a walk and finished the entire bottle in your casual stroll around the paths and the little creek on the other side of the park. It was later than you thought when you got back and fought with the jammed key slot.

You opened up the inner door of the lobby at last and grunted with frustration. Not only did the slot threaten to bend your key but the door was heavier than you. You climbed the first short flight of stairs and grabbed the old banister to continue your trip up the winding case. 

You stopped as the platform above creaked and as another resident came down with a basket of clothes in hand. You stayed at the bottom to let them pass but as they descended, they stopped a step above you. Your name had your head up and your eyes, for the second time that day, met two stunning blue irises.

“I didn’t know you lived in this building,” Andy said as he cradled his laundry and turned to face you. “Small world.”

“I didn’t--” your words dwindled and you focused on the lip of the basket instead of his face. You didn’t talk to your neighbours, not since the old man had threatened to choke you in the lobby.

“I just moved in.” He said. “My first place since… well, the first place I’ve had to myself.”

“Oh,” you breathed and picked at your frilly shirt.

“Well, let me just get out of your way,” he angled away from the stairs. “I’ll probably see you around. Don’t hesitate to say hi.”

You nodded and gripped the railing as you continued up the stairs. As you reached the platform, you glanced back and he was still watching you. He smiled and finally turned away, heading towards the laundry room as he began to whistle. You climbed the next flight and took a breath.

Coincidences happened but you just couldn’t handle so many at once. Andy had been nothing but nice, he saved you from being robbed and he even replaced what he didn’t owe you. You just couldn’t believe it. 

People could be good, they could be kind, just not in the city.

🌆

Your run-ins with Andy continued. You passed him in the hall several times before you realised he lived on the same floor. Your suspicions were confirmed as you grabbed your take-out and saw him unlocking the door only a couple away from your own. You even managed to drop your fliers on his boots when you were grabbing your mails.

Each time, he was friendly and each time, you barely said a word. He was a curious man. His tattoos labelled him as dangerous but his demeanour was welcoming and compassionate. He was entirely off putting and you lived in the city long enough to be wary. And you were shy enough to be evasive.

You were tired after another late shift. The bus ride had you yawning by the time you reached your stop and your short walk to the building was less than enjoyable as the usual weirdos were out with the full moon. You shoved your key into the slot and swore under your breath as it refused to turn.

Finally, it pivoted and you yanked on the handle as the door behind you swished open and closed. A hand grabbed the side of the door and helped pull it back all the way. You peeked over your shoulder as Andy held it and you thanked him with a squeak before heading through.

He followed you a few steps back as you started up the stairs.

“You work late a lot.” He said from behind you.

“Yeah…” you said as you turned up the next flight.

“You work far?”

“Not very,” you replied as you turned again.

“Yeah, I used to be on nights and that was hell.” He humoured as you pressed on.

Your toe caught on the lip of the top step and you went hurtling forward. You tried to catch yourself and cried out as you landed on your wrist and felt an agonizing twinge. You hissed and turned over, holding your arm as it throbbed.

“Shit, are you okay?” He asked as he stooped to look you over. 

Your purse had landed in the corner of the platform and your flat had slipped off in your descent. Embarrassed, you lowered your arm and nodded. “I’m fine. Just… hopeless.”

“Here,” he took your shoe from the step and slid it onto your foot. “Hey, it happens. I almost did the same thing the other day.” 

He paused and you felt him staring. You looked him in the face nervously but his eyes weren’t on yours. You felt a tickle as he pulled your skirt back to your knee. You hadn’t realised how far up it had flown.

“Let me see your arm,” he said as you rested it on your leg.

“No, it’s fine, I--” You waved him away with your good arm and but he took your other gently and bent to look closer.

He tutted as he touched the flesh and you winced. 

“It’s swelling,” he felt firmly along your wrist, “I don’t feel a break but a sprain is a serious thing.”

“How do you--” you stopped yourself. “I’ll be okay.”

“You need to wrap it.” He let go of your arm and stood. 

He grabbed your other elbow and helped you to your feet. He stepped up onto the platform and scooped up your purse.

“You have something to wrap it? You’ll need the proper support.”

You shook your head. “It’s not that serious.”

“It is. You landed on it with all your weight. I’m surprised you didn’t break something.” He insisted. “I have something, I’ll wrap it for you.”

“Really, I can…” you voice fizzled as you tried to steady yourself. “I can do it myself.”

“But will you?” He kept his hand on your arm and guided you up the last steps to your floor. “Please, for my own peace of mind, let me help.”

You stared at the stained carpet as you stopped beside him. “Why?”

“Why are you so afraid of me?” He asked.

“I’m not-- I…” You frowned. “I just don’t know you. I-I-I’m just quiet.”

“I’ve tried to know you so why don’t you let me?”

You drew away from him and watched his hand drop. You stared at the tattoos and he curled his fingers.

“Oh, yeah, well, I guess I can start by being honest.” He sighed, “Yes, I’ve been to prison. I’ve been out for a year now, I’m finally off parole, I have a job, and I’m working to live a clean life. Is that it? You think I’m some goon?”

“No, I…” you looked at the floor again. “I don’t care about that. I’m just… I don’t know what to say to people so I don’t say very much.” You swayed nervously on your feet. “And no one ever really tried to hear me anyway.”

“Well, I can do the talking or we can both just say nothing, but please, you’re wrist, an untreated sprain can do a lot more damage.”

You tilted your head back and forth and another stab of pain went through your wrist. You nodded and looked to the wall. “O-Okay.”

“Alright,” he exhaled and nudged you lightly as he urged you down the hall. 

He stopped at his door and you waited for him to unlock it. You stared inside as he pushed it open. You didn’t really know him and what you did know wasn’t reassuring. He was a convict and you were about to be completely alone with him.

“Or I can grab the bandage and meet you at yours?” He offered.

“No, no, I’m… tired. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said.

You entered and he followed. He put your purse on the small square table beside the shoe rack and you stepped out of your flats. He bent to untie his boots and left them beside your shoes. He urged you on and you looked around at the surprisingly cozy apartment. It was tidier than yours and smelled like fresh linen.

“I’ll be right back,” he gestured you to the living room and went down the short hall to closet at the very end.

You ventured past the couch as you looked around. There was a degree hung on the wall and you went closer to read it. You heard him searching the closet as you raised your brows at the framed certificate.

“Got it,” he entered and you turned away. “Ah, yeah, they disbarred me when I was charged but ah, well, it’s something to work towards. The old me.”

You bit your cheek as you stepped away from the wall and he beckoned you to him. He had you sit on the couch with your arm up as he pulled a chair close. He unwounded the beige bandage and placed the end against your wrist. He began to wind it around your arm and hooked it between your thumb and index. You watched him work and it calmed you. He pinned the loose end and placed your hand atop the cushioned arm of the couch.

“There.” He said as he sat back. “How’s it feel now?”

“A little better,” you pulled your hand into your lap. “Thank you.”

You stood awkwardly and played with the pleat of your skirt. “I should probably go.”

“If you want to or… I have some wine. It might help with the pain.”

“Oh?” You weren’t much of a drinker but you didn’t want to be rude.

“It was a gift from my parole officer since I can legally drink now. He said it better last me the next year but I haven’t even opened it. Don’t really have a reason to but… so you want a glass or should we say good night?”

You scrunched your lips and thought. You felt as if you owed him; for the night he chased away the mugger and then the park and now this.

“Uh, sure, but just a little. I don’t drink much.”

“No problem,” he stood and you sat back down.

He went to the kitchen and you listened to the clink of dishes and click of the cabinets. You looked down at your wrist and moved your fingers. Your wrist hurt a lot but the bandage alleviated some of it.

“I realised I don’t have any wine glasses,” he said as he approached, “So, I hope you don’t mind wine in a mug.”

He handed you a cup and sat down with his own. Yours had flowers around the rim and his read ‘Best Dad Ever.’

“Got ‘em from the Good Will,” he chuckled, “I’ve been meaning to replace them but you know, work.”

“Yeah,” you raised the cup and tasted the bitter red. You wrinkled your nose and he gave a low snort.

“Yeah, I never really liked cabernet but it was a gift,” he said and took a drink himself. “So what kinda work do you do?”

“I’m just a temp.” You tried another mouthful and nearly choked.

“Like office work?”

“Yeah, a floating secretary. Nothing special.”

“Mmm, yeah, I got a job down at the factory. Another favour from my parole officer but it’s not bad work.”

Your lips slanted as you thought. You didn’t say much but your face was good at filling the silence.

“What? Go on, ask it.” He leaned forward with elbows on his knees as he took another gulp.

You mirrored him and swallowed the sour wine. You wiped your lips with your sleeve and crossed your legs. “You said you were a lawyer before, isn’t it kinda… I dunno.”

“It’s different but it’s better than prison.”

“Yeah, I guess it would be.”

You looked down as silence laced the air and you didn’t know what else to do but finish the wine. You could leave then. You drained the cup and set it on the round table next to the arm of the couch. You blinked as you felt the buzz of the alcohol already.

“It might just be me, but that was strong,” you said.

“No, it is,” he put his mug down too, “like thirteen percent or something. I think maybe he was trying to sabotage me.”

You tried to laugh but it came out an awkward sniffle. You tapped your foot as you tried to think of what to do or say. 

“Well, thank you but I think I should--” You stood so fast you got dizzy and nearly fell back as you held yourself up against the couch arm. “Whoo, okay, I’m going.”

“Yeah, alright,” he stood too. “It is late, I guess.”

“Mhmm,” you focused on your footsteps as you passed him and he followed you to the entryway. You took your purse and faced him. “Thank you.” You held up your wrist. “I owe you.”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna say it myself but… you can repay me with one little thing.”

“Oh?” You pushed the strap of your purse up your shoulder as you slid your feet into your flats and swayed just a little.

“Finish the wine with me. I’m free on Saturday, we could order dinner and maybe watch a movie.”

You pouted in surprise and your eyebrows shot up. “Well, I…”

“Friends.” He said quickly, “That’s all. You pick the movie and I’ll bring the cabernet.”

You sucked in your lip and thought. He hadn’t done anything wrong to you. He had done more than he should have for you. And you were being stupid. He was older than you, certainly. The short greys poking out at his temples betrayed at least forty years and he was just another person trying to get by. 

“Okay, I can do Saturday. I work till five, just a half-shift.” You explained. “Should I meet you here or?”

“Yeah, we can do it here.” He touched your shoulder and his hand slowly slipped down your arm. He reached past you and turned the knob and pulled open the door. You moved closer to avoid it hitting you and smelled his woodsy cologne. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” you backed through the door clumsily, “thanks.”

“Saturday.” He pointed at you and then his temple, “Don’t forget.”

“I’ll… try.”

You left him and felt him watching you until you reached your door. You didn’t look back as you let yourself in and locked it behind you. You heard his own shut and let out a breath. What were you doing?

🌆

You couldn’t forget your promise to Andy. You never made plans. You were content to be alone and watch old reality tv shows and forget about your responsibilities. You hoped instead that he might forget and spare you another awkward encounter. You were never a social butterfly and conversation was like pulling teeth. It wasn’t that you didn’t long for companionship, it was that it was so impossibly difficult.

But he was waiting for you. As you passed his door at 5:46, he opened it and nearly had you jumping off your feet.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry.” He said, “Just a friendly reminder.”

“Yeah, I just need to get changed,” you fidgeted, “fifteen minutes, okay?”

“Take your time,” he smiled, “any thoughts on a movie yet?”

“No,” you cringed, “sorry.”

“Go on. I’ll be waiting. You can let yourself in.” He closed the door and you went onward to your own.

You pulled out your most comfortable jeans and a shirt that wasn’t too formal or casual. You changed and fixed your hair a little and switched your socks for less sweaty ones. You slid on some shoes and reluctantly left your apartment. You went to his and knocked before you dared to enter.

“So, uh, I know I said take out,” he called from the kitchen as you inhaled the scent of garlic, “but I got a bit carried away.” “Andy,” you kicked your shoes onto the rack and crept down the hall. “You didn’t have to--”

“I haven’t cooked like this in ages. Oh, and,” he turned as you peered in from the doorway and turned back with two wine glasses poured to the brim, “I got real glasses.”

“Wow, uh…” You took the stem and carefully held it so as not to spill.

“So how was work?”

“Slow.” You answered honestly.

“Saturday’s usually are,” he turned back and stirred the frying pan. “I’m almost done so why don’t you go look for something to watch and I’ll be out with dinner.”

“Okay…” you voice trailed away nervously. He wore a tee that exposed the rest of the tats that stretched up his muscular arms. You couldn’t help but stare at the skull that seemed to look back at you.

You went to the couch and sat in the corner. You sipped the wine and it still burned your nostrils and tongue. You set the glass down carefully and turned on the television with the remote. 

You curled your legs up under you habitually and flipped through the titles. No rom coms, that’s awkward, and no horror movies or he’d pull that old high school trick. Maybe a war movie? Oh wait, that one’s about lawyers, that would be good. Or it might make him sad. Hmmm.

You settled on a superhero movie and waited with the intro paused. He appeared shortly with two plates and set them down on the coffee table as he sat beside you on the couch and pulled it closer.

“Nothing too special. I made my own spaghetti sauce though, so much better than the jarred stuff.” He combed his hair back as he set out your cutler with a napkin. “What are watching?”

“I’ve never seen this one,” you said as you hit play and the title flashed up, “Have you?”

“Oh, I don’t really watch that stuff but hey, never too old to start.” He picked up his fork and leaned forward. “Hope you enjoy. I might be a bit rusty. My-- People tell me I put too much garlic in everything.”

“I’m sure it’s great,” you pushed your legs over the edge of the couch and sat forward. You took your cutlery and carefully spun the noodles.

You were thankful for the loud crashes of the movie’s opening scene as it meant you could eat and not have to talk. The spaghetti was good and compared to your usual quick and easy meals in a box or can, it was gourmet. When you finished, you wiped your mouth and took a long gulp of the wine without thinking.

You sat back as you grew engrossed with the superheroes origin story and nearly forgot about Andy until he got up to clear the dishes. You offered to pause and he bid you to keep on. He was back in a moment and leaned back beside you. You squirmed and reached for your wine again. The taste was less stringent with each sip.

As the hero readied to face the villain, you emptied the glass and hugged yourself as a warmth glowed in your veins. You felt a hand on your leg as your eyelids drooped and you slumped into the couch. You could still feel the fingers as your fly was unzipped and you groaned as your limbs would not obey you.

The noise of the final battle faded and a heavy weight settled between your legs as tickles lined your neck and jaw, a final hungry kiss on your lips sealing your consciousness.

🌆

Andy’s POV

The wine was potent but Andy was sure to add a little extra kick. Her nerves kept her drinking the dark cabernet and she couldn’t taste the crushed pills through the acidity. He could taste the fermented grapes on her lips though and she moaned beneath him as he rolled her shirt up her torso.

He sat back to make sure she really was out. He snapped his fingers in front of her face and tapped her cheek. She mumbled but only lolled her head. He was done being patient with her. She was so shy it was enraging. He did everything he was supposed to do and she still wouldn’t even look at him. Oh, but she would feel him.

He ran his hands along her figure and basked in the warmth of her skin. How long had it been since he’d felt a woman beneath him? He didn’t like to think like that; didn’t like to remember the past and all he’d lost. He was trying to rebuild and this was the first step.

His hands settled on her stomach. It wasn’t flat and it was bit squishy, he liked that. He closed his eyes and pictured how it would grow. He would be a father again, and a husband. He would be the man he once was.

He shuddered and opened his eyes. He stripped her shirt off completely and bent to catch her nipple in his mouth as it spilled from her bra. He reached around her to unhook the bra entirely and yanked it from under her. She twitched but could not wake as he sucked at her tit and then the other.

He recalled that night on the street when he chased off that other man. It wasn’t the first time he saw her, in fact he had followed her to the store. She didn’t notice him slip in behind her or that he paid for a magazine he wouldn’t read. He remembered how he resisted that night. How he wanted to put her against that wall and finish it then and there.

Her pants slid down her legs easily as he backed off the couch. Her panties tasted like her as he pressed his mouth between her legs. He slung her knees over his shoulders and nuzzled her through the cotton until she soaked them entirely. He pulled them aside and continued to coax her. She came as a ripple flowed through her body and he drank up her unconscious excitement.

He tore her panties down her legs and looked down at her with heavy, hungry breaths. He read that women were more likely to conceive if they were aroused. He swiped his shirt over his head and undid his jeans impatiently. He was incredibly hard and he needed her around him.

He bent her legs, one leaned against the back of the couch as the other hung over the side. He dragged his fingers along her cunt and growled. He shoved his fingers into her and spread them. She was so tight it made him throb.

He pulled out and grabbed his dick. He pressed his tip against her clit and rubbed circles around it. She muttered again and turned her head but he wasn’t afraid of her waking. Even if she did, she couldn’t stop him.

He positioned himself against her entrance and pushed his tip just inside. He gasped and bit his tongue. He could’ve cum at that. He snapped his hips against her and her whole body jerked as he reached his limit. She gurgled and he thrust again.

She clenched around him, her walls hungry for him. He rocked his hips into her and watched her squirm, her eyes flitting back and forth behind her eyelids. He bent over her and pulled her arms above her, holding her hands together against the arm of the couch. He fucked her hard as the entire couch jolted beneath their bodies.

“You like that?” He whispered in her ear. “Huh, this is what you wanted. What you were so afraid of.”

He grunted and bucked even faster. Her body reacted to his and as she came, her juices added to the noise of his intrusion. His flesh slapped against hers loudly as the movie’s effect faded into the background. He grabbed her chin and watched her sleeping face as he pounded into her.

“You want it. You want me. You want me to fill you up.” He snarled. “You want my baby inside of you. You want to grow for me.” He sucked on his tongue as his body began to tense. “I’m going to fuck my baby into you, you bitch.”

He buried his head against her neck and bit into her flesh as he came. He shook on top of her as he emptied inside of her and slowed. He whimpered as he stopped his hip and lingered inside of her. He sighed and panted as he fell limp over her.

“Don’t worry, we’re not done.” He promised her deafened ears.

🌆

You were sore and stiff. You were trapped and suffocating. As you rose back to the surface, you felt the weight over you and began to panic. Your thighs were raw but numbed and your core felt hollow. You tried to remember more than the taste of wine but it was all a fog.

You opened your eyes and felt along the shoulder against your chin. The tattooed skin smelled of sweat and you could barely move beneath Andy. As you tried, you felt him inside of you and squeaked. Then the real panic began and you couldn’t breathe at all.

You beat on his shoulders and he grumbled. You felt him growing inside of you and you flailed against him.

“Please, please, get off.”

He shook his head and raised it slowly. He sat up but brought you with him as he kept you around his hardening dick. He held you in his lap and watched you struggle with his tired eyes.

“What’s the matter, honey?” he asked languidly.

“What did you--What are you doing?” You shoved against him and yelped as he tilted into you from below.

“What did I do? Oh, you don’t remember?”

“Don’t remember? Let me go! Please.” You whined. 

“Come on, don’t be like this. You asked for it, honey.”

“Wha--”

“Oh, you really are a lightweight,” he whistled, “you said you wanted me. You practically begged me to fuck you.”

“I didn’t-- I--”

“Well, what do you remember?” He purred as he subtly rocked into you. “Huh?”

“I don’t--I can’t remember.”

“You really going to do this to me? Act like you never wanted it? Like I didn’t try to resist you, honey, but you wanted it so bad.”

“No, I…” you stared at the tattoo across his chest.

“Look at me,” he gripped your jaw and your eyes flicked up to his. He thrust into you as far as he could and you yelped, “Tell me you don’t want this.”

He bit his lip as he continued to fuck you. Your thighs clenched around his but you couldn’t escape his grasp.

“You look at me when I fuck you, huh? Yeah, look at me.”

You covered your face and he pulled your hands away. He twisted your arms behind your back and sped up as he bound you against him.

“It’s alright, honey, I already filled you up nice and good,” he cooed, “This. Is. Just. For. Good. Measure.”

He spoke between shallow breaths and your own heartbeat picked up. Your eyes welled as you couldn’t resist the waves and you came with a pathetic mewl. He pulled you close and turned his face up to kiss you. He nibbled your lip and growled as he came inside of you. 

You closed your eyes and waited for him to stop. When he did, he wouldn’t let you go. You fell forward and hung your head beside his as a sob lodged in your throat.

“It’s alright. It’s what I want.” He caressed your lower back, “You’ll want it too. You just need time.”

[happyandticklish]

A Matter Of Spirits

Notes: Does anyone actually want a Dorian Gray fic? Probably not. Am I going to write one anyway? Abso-fucking-lutely. I do have a fic request that I’m editing right now, so that’s also coming soon. Based off the book, not any of the film adaptations. 

Summary: When Dorian refuses to sit for a painting, Basil turns to Henry for assistance. 

“Dorian. Please.”

The other continued to slump in his seat, staring off into the distance in that irritating, brooding fashion of his. This had been going on for a while now, no matter how Basil attempted to persuade the other. Dorian was in a mood which meant he would not sit for the painter and he most certainly wouldn’t smile. Normally, Basil was patient with Dorian’s swinging fancies, leading him to great heights of euphoria one moment and the depths of despair in the next, but today was different.

The painting wasn’t for himself this time. A client had offered a great price for it, a sum that left the struggling artist dazzled. Normally, he didn’t sell portraits of Dorian—they were his secret joy, a beauty he could admire without the prying eyes of others. But that much could not be ignored, and so Basil had decided to make an exception, just this once.

Unfortunately, it appeared his plans were going to be ruined if Dorian continued to act like this. Basil’s brow pinched in annoyance and exhaustion as Dorian fell back against the couch, one arm thrown over his face, the very picture of agony.

“It’s just one painting,” Basil tried again, trying to force his voice to take on an appealing tone. “One painting and then you can go about your tantrum.”

“It isn’t a tantrum,” came Dorian’s muffled protest. “How can you expect me to pose when I’m miserable?”

“I hardly think the situation calls for one to be miserable—”

“My favorite pair!” Dorian interrupted, sitting up suddenly to glare stricken at the other. He pointed to his pants, which now spotted a rather unfortunate blue ink splot. “Ruined. It’ll probably never come out, and even if it does, there will be a stain, and then where will I be? How am I to go on with stained trousers?”

Basil resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It was true that the paint might not come out, but Dorian was not one who could be accused of having a low supply of nice apparel. He had dozens of other pairs, all fairly similar in style. There was no need to get so worked up about the accident. Nevertheless, Basil knew if he put it like that his painting would never come about.

“What’s all this about?”

The pair turned to find Lord Henry strolling idly into the room, one hand poised elegantly on his cane. He was always elegant, no matter what the setting. Basil would have been impressed by it if he didn’t find it so irritating. Henry glanced between Dorian, distraught on the couch, Basil, standing next to an empty canvas, and finally at the empty chair in the middle of the room where Dorian would under normal circumstances be posing. He raised an eyebrow.

“Henry,” Basil said, a note of relief to his voice at the presence of his friend. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I let myself in. Dorian, whatever is the matter? You look as though poor old Basil here has just made an attempt on your life.”

Dorian sniffed, tilting his chin up petulantly. “He has, at least to me. Look at this!” He pointed to the stain, as though that itself should have been cause for outrage from the other.

Henry blinked, before nodding slowly. “I see. He has… stained your pants? To what end?”

“It was an accident,” Basil explained, crossing his arms. “I was showing Dorian some of the new colors I had got brought in recently, and a bit got on him, that’s all. He’s overreacting.”

“Ruined,” Dorian repeated with a lack of anything else to say in his defense.

Henry balanced his cane on the edge of the sofa, coming to take a seat beside the other. He examined the stain carefully, making sure to glance at it from all angles. Basil and Dorian watched him, both waiting to hear whose side he would take. Finally, he leaned back, clapping his hands together definitively. “Why, Dorian, you have nothing to worry about! It’s only a little stain, and hardly noticeable at that. A quick wash ought to fix it.”

Dorian fixed him with a suspicious glance, but it was difficult to doubt Henry, and finally a bit of hope came into his eyes. “Really?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Henry assured him. “Now, come, you’re being ridiculous. Sit for Basil. He only wants a portrait, nothing more. Surely you can accomplish that?”

Dorian looked as though he were on the edge of giving in, but finally he turned his face aside stubbornly. “I can’t. The mood is ruined. I can’t pose when my spirits are so low. I’ll look dreadful.”

Basil threw his hands up in frustration, ready to give up altogether and try again tomorrow, though he knew it would heavily delay the process. Henry, however, was not deterred. “A matter of low spirits, you say?”

There was a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and all at once Basil realized his plan, recognizing the look from years of being around the other. Dorian had not yet experienced Henry’s fullproof method for cheering one up, and so he simply frowned in puzzlement, reluctantly glancing back at the other.

“What is it?” he asked apprehensively. “Why do you look like that? Henry, what—hey!”

Dorian’s next words were overtaken by a surprised giggle as Henry’s hands found their way suddenly to his sides. He squirmed back against the couch, weakly attempting to bat the other away. “W-Wahait, noho!”

“I’m simply raising your spirits, nothing more,” Henry replied calmly, expertly maneuvering against the clothing protecting the other and finding each and every spot that had Dorian desperate to get away. “After all, you’re laughing, aren’t you?”

Dorian was, quite a lot at that, and the sound was breathtaking as Basil listened and watched the scene unfold. His laughter had always been uproarious, a carefree, wild sound that brought to mind the joy of childhood; Dorian had never been one to hide away his emotions, always feeling and existing in his truest self. But now that same laughter took on a more frantic cadence, breaking off into fits of giggles and every once in a while a sudden shriek when Henry hit a good spot. It was unreasonably endearing, and Basil felt a blush fighting its way onto his features. He knew he should look away or help—though whether he was to help Dorian or Henry he couldn’t say—but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight.

Dorian was a mess of limbs, his outfit thoroughly rumpled by this point, something that he would have cared about if he wasn’t so focused on the way Henry’s fingers skillfully climbed his ribs. “P-Plehehehease, Ihihihi’ll dihihie!”

“I’m certain you shall be fine, there’s no need for dramatics,” Henry dismissed, working around Dorian’s attempts to shove him off. “Besides, to die of laughter would be a worthy death in my opinion.”

Basil scoffed at the vague poetry, stepping in and placing a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Don’t you think he’s had enough?”

“That is up to Dorian himself,” Henry replied, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous delight.  “Well? What do you say, my friend? Are you significantly cheered up yet?”

In truth, Dorian could already feel his poor mood dissipating, but despite this he continued to persist. “Of course not,” he huffed, grabbing at Henry’s wrists finally and holding them firmly. “This is ridiculous, I am not still a child. I have no time for such silly behavior.”

“And yet you were certainly acting like one earlier,” Basil commented without thinking, and Dorian shot him a betrayed look.

“Basil is right,” Henry agreed. “Which is why he’ll be assisting me. I can’t have you squirming around so much, you’ll only get in the way. Basil, his arms please.”

Basil snapped his head up, having not expected to get brought into this. “Well, I don’t think—”

“Basil is far too soft-hearted for this torture,” Dorian interrupted before he could finish. “He is not so bold or ruthless as you.”

The comment worked better than anything Henry could have said to convince him, and in the next moment Basil was on the couch behind him, slipping his hands under the other’s arms and securing them in a tight grip. “Henry, proceed.”

Dorian’s eyes went wide as he realized his predicament, and he surged against the hold to no avail. “Wait, hold on, there’s no need—ahAHA!”

His words broke off into wild cackling as Henry continued his attack, wiggling his fingers with quick, deft gestures under his arms. “Feeling anymore cooperative now?” Henry teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Thihihihis ihihis cruhuhuel!” Dorian protested, his actions growing more desperate as the vulnerable spot was continuously pursued. Yet no matter how he thrashed, there was no escape. “Bahahahasil!”

“Yes Dorian?” Basil asked, growing more confident in his actions as he listened to the sweet giggles, and the delighted expression that Dorian was doing a poor job at hiding. “Going to me for help will do you no good, not after all you’ve put me through this afternoon. I’m afraid you’re simply going to have to face the consequences of your actions.”

“Mehehehean!” Dorian kicked his legs out uselessly, throwing his head back into Basil’s chest. He jerked suddenly when Henry’s fingers began to travel, pinching up and down his ribs. His laughter pitched several octaves, and his hands flapped about, attempting to grab hold of anything that would help him out. “AhAHAHA, HEHEHENRY!”

“Dorian, please, calm yourself,” Henry said, shaking his head. “You are causing quite the ruckus, what if the neighbors hear?”

Dorian could hardly reply, too lost in his own laughter. Each tweak or prod of his ribs had him spasming, his layers doing little to protect him. The spot appeared to be unbearably ticklish, worse even than the cruel scribbling under his arms. Dorian was no stranger to his own sensitivity, a fact which had been brought to his attention in stark clarity when he was a child, but he hadn’t been tickled in many years and he was unprepared for just how intense it could be.

Finally, he managed to form enough coherency to spew a stream of giggly protests. “I-Ihihihihi dehehehehemand thahahahat—ehehehe, aha—thahahahat yohohou stahahahap ahahahahat ohohonce! Ihihihi wihihihill—ah! Heh, nahaha, nohoho! I wihihihill gehehehet m-my, mihihi—stahahap ihihihit, nahahahat thehehere!”

“You’re not making any sense, I’m afraid,” Henry informed him sympathetically. “Really, I have spoken with you about the benefits of proper articulation before, there’s no need to stammer so. Basil, can you understand a word of what he’s saying?”

“I can’t say I do,” Basil replied, and suddenly his own fingers had been added into the mix, scribbling over the edges of his armpits from where he held him tight. Dorian shrieked, unprepared for the double assault, and burst into a round of cursing as his laughter advanced to an even more frantic pitch. “I suppose we’ll just have to keep encouraging him until he remembers the proper form of speech.”

Red had begun to creep across Dorian’s features as well, a testament to the teasing that was slowly working to unravel with along with the tickling. With that, his stubbornness finally caved. “Ohohohokay, OHOHohohohokay, I-I’ll sihihihihit!”

Henry and Basil exchanged a pleased glance and collectively sat back, releasing Dorian to wrap his arms around himself in a giggly pile between them. After he had regained his breath somewhat, Dorian managed a half-hearted glare in Henry’s direction. “That was wholly uncalled for.”

“Are your spirits not cheered?” Henry pointed out. “You cannot convince me you weren’t enjoying yourself. You’ve never been one to give in so easily to something you weren’t willing to engage in.”

Dorian blushed, sitting up straight and adjusting his jacket with a cough. “That is ridiculous, Henry, utterly ridiculous. I did nothing of the sort. And to think I thought you were a man of intelligence.”

Henry raised a wry brow, shrugging his shoulders. “If that is what you must tell yourself, I will let you believe it for now. Don’t fool yourself into thinking I won’t discover the truth on a later occasion, however.”

Dorian’s stomach flipped not unpleasantly at the idea, but he merely scoffed, springing from the sofa and bounding over to the sitting chair. “Well, if I’m going to sit, I’m going to need a change of outfit at once. Look at me, I look positively tousled, like I’ve been out in a storm!”

Basil watched him as he continued to waltz about the room, making endless comments about dress and hair, but with a far more agreeable air than before. “Thank you,” he whispered gratefully to Lord Henry, who startled at the sound, tearing his gaze away from Dorian where it had previously been taken.

“Yes, of course old friend, always happy to help. Although you might be careful he doesn’t discover your weakness as well.”

He reached over and tweaked Basil’s side playfully. Basil yelped, having not expected the sudden attack, and batted away his hand quickly. He flushed, glaring at him. “Quiet down with that, will you? For your information, that is not information that will be getting out anytime soon.”

“Basil! I can hardly paint this portrait by myself now can I?”

Basil’s attention immediately snapped back to the other, and he rose to his feet, offering an obliging smile as he made his way over. “No, you cannot. You would make a miserable artist.”

The two continued to talk and bicker contentedly as Basil helped him fix his hair which had gotten tangled in the earlier tussle. Henry watched them with a knowing smile, certain they would figure themselves out. Perhaps not that day, but eventually. After all, they must do it in their own time.

Henry slipped out quietly while they talked, allowing them to have the day to themselves. 

Maybe one day, he thought with a gentle smile. 

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Wilfords Demands: Separated

Summary- 5.6k Curtis x You. Curtis lost the tournament and has been cast back to his original home, the tail end. You are now contained in Wilfords precious engine to see the crazy ramblings of Snowpiercers Leader. You also must find out Curtis’s fate and you believe you can find him, if you can just get beyond that door Wilford likes to disappear into. Dividers made by @firefly-graphics​

Warnings- Stressful situations, spitting, hitting, demeaning talk, threats, language. You also find out what happened with Curtis’s other children, its dark and upsetting. Proceed reading with caution. Thats as descriptive as Im going to get in that warning. 

Chapter 6 / Wilfords Demands Masterlist 

As you were dragged away, you could hear the cheers echoing off the steel walls. You could feel the overwhelming sensation of panic settling in your chest. It was all consuming as you started struggling against the man dragging you behind Claude, trying to pummel your fists against his padded chest and scratch at him. 

“Let me go! CURTIS!” you screamed, resorting to trying to bite at his hand wrapped around your upper arm. Claude scoffed seeing you give the guard a hard time and snapped over quickly, open palmed, she slapped your face to stun you. 

You panic turned to white hot rage at the woman, turning on her but the man tightened his grip, stopping all your movements. 

“For once in your miserable fucking life, will you stop it?! Jesus Christ you are not worth the effort Wilford puts in you. You don't even make a good whore.” She spit in your face before turning back to open the door to Wilford’s chambers once more, jerking her head to direct the guard to bring you in. “He will be back soon, make sure she doesn’t do something stupid can you? Just don't hurt her, Wilford will have both our heads if anything happens to the precious prize.” 

She sneered out the last words at you, You spat at her with a smug smile when it landed on her face. She screamed in disgust and wiped at her face with her sleeve. “Tail Ender Pig, you are all so disgusting.” continuing to mutter as she left the room, the guard released you, standing at the door and his eyes followed you as you were sure to put distance between the two of you. 

Wilford’s area was the same as before. More luxurious than the others, you went towards the engine, the furthest you could get from the guard when he barked out. “That's far enough.” 

Flipping him the bird, you moved to sit in a nearby chair, rubbing at your belly protectively. 

Right now the anger was the only thing controlling your fear. You had no idea what was going to happen to Jace, was Curtis even still alive. You couldn’t think like that, because you would lose it if Curtis was dead. 

He promised you that he would find a way, swore to you. 

But promises made were not always kept. You swiped at your face furiously to hide the tears, thinking about Curtis would have to come later, when it actually could sink in. For now Curtis was still alive, he would come for Jace, that was all that mattered. 

Time seemed to stretch, tension building when you heard the door shift open. The guard stepped aside and Wilford walked in, followed by Grey who was bloody, limping and spotting several cuts and bruises. 

I hope you feel every single one Curtis gave you, you hissed in your mind looking at him before turning away. 

“Well look at you sweetheart, told you we would be getting to know each other better.” His hand came to stroke your cheek and you jerked away, making him laugh. “Soon enough you will learn not to pull away.” Grey said while Wilford handed him some towels to clean himself up. 

“As promised, she is your prize. You just have to wait till after the birth.” 

You shifted in your seat, your hand still protective over your stomach to face Wilford, ignoring Grey for now. “Where is Curtis?” 

“Well she isn't going to be much longer till she spits out that spawn for you. I don't mind waiting.” Grey spoke over you, ignoring your question. 

“Weeks Grey, not long at all.” Wilford flipped to a calendar, and to your disgust you saw where he had appointments set up with the doctor. Your name, some others, you shuddered at it. 

“Is Curtis still alive?” You started again, but both men ignored you once again when you finally gave a scream, willing them to at least acknowledge you. 

Wilford blinked at you calmly while Grey scowled at you. “Curtis really didn't teach you any manners did he? Know what we are doing first.” 

You hitched your chin, refusing to back away from him in fear. 

“Curtis is no longer your concern Y/N.” Wilford started. “You won't be seeing him again.” 

Your eyes welled up at these words and your face pinched trying to process these. You can't break down right now. Jace needs you to keep it together. 

“Fine, but this child is my concern. I need to know what his future is going to be.” 

Wilford broke in a grin at this one, rubbing his hands together. “Of course, you spent all this effort supplying me with Curtis’s child. I have high hopes for this one.” 

Fuck you were going to be sick, listening to him. “I want to raise him, he is mine as you said.” 

Grey cocked a brow, his arms folding over his chest with a laugh, Wilford joining him. “Ah- no. This child is mine. I already have a name. Trust me, that whole Jace Tyler was cute and all, I heard all about why you wanted that name but no. Joseph Wilford the second will become my successor. Hopefully. Curtis was always my favorite.” 

You spared a look at Grey who’s features clouded slightly but then went back to victorious. “Well Curtis is washed out, past his prime now.” He pointed out and Wilford shrugged a bit. 

“Happens to all of us. Why I needed Y/N to get pregnant rather quickly, before the tournament. I'm still taking a risk, but such a pretty thing who's a survivor from the tail end. I like Joseph’s chances. So for now Dear, your stuff is being removed from Curtis’s quarters, being moved into Grey’s. For now though you will be staying with me. Grey, how about you go get cleaned up, celebrate your victory.” 

Grey gave one final swipe of his towel, smirking. “I think I will just do that.” Cold eyes swept over you, possessive now. “I will see you real soon.” Sure to run his fingers over you again and grasp your chin tightly when you tried to pull away, his touch hurt, bit into you as he dug fingernails into your skin to mark you. “Keep up that act, I like breaking women in.” 

Letting you go with a cruel laugh, he left the engine. Wilford seemed oblivious to your distress. “Come Dear, let me show you your cot. You need to rest. Most certainly, can't have you stressing the baby.” He tugged you to a stand, leading you to a corner near the engine humming and pushed you to sit. “See this is pretty good.” 

You couldn't help it anymore, everything you had hoped for had shattered in moments. You curled as much as you could away from Wilford rubbing your back and sobbed into your arm, mourning Jace’s father. 

Curtis first noticed the pain. It riddled him hotly with every sway of the train's movements. His fingers curled against rough fabric underneath him. When he tried to move pain seared through him everywhere making him grit his teeth and sink back into the hardness beneath him. “Don’t try to move mister, Mama said you needed to stay still.” came a young boy's voice near his ear and Curtis strained his neck to look next to him, nothing but shadows and more darkness filling his vision but then movement caught his attention. 

A boy, young by the looks of him but it was hard to tell without proper lighting. Big eyes stared at him though as the boy crawled closer to him. “Where am I kid?” Curtis grunted out as the boy lifted a gelatin block to his mouth and took a bite. 

“This the back of the train Mister.” He shoved the block at Curtis, setting it on his chest. “I will go get my Mama. You can have some if you're hungry.” The boy smiled and crawled away, dropping away from sight and scurrying off. Curtis curiously picked up the block and sniffed at it, wrinkling his nose at the smell and set it off to the side. With a groan he tried to sit up again, but gasped again in pain. “Fuck!” 

“Fuck is right.” A woman came into view, carrying a lantern with her to light up her way and sat at the edge of the bed. The little boy crawled in on the other side and grabbed at the gelatin block to bite into again, squeezing it a bit in his small hands, humming happily at his food. 

“Mama, I thought you said that's a bad word.” 

“It is Timmy, but he's allowed to say it. Go on now, shoo. Let me talk to this man.” she waved her hands at him and yet again the little boy, giggling this time climbed upwards into what looked like more bedding above Curtis. 

She watched him with a soft smile till the boy was gone, then turned her attention back to Curtis. “That's my baby Timmy and my name is Tonya.” 

Curtis frowned a bit at the name, then it clicked. “I remember you…” he grunted and Tonya smiled with a nod. 

“I remember you to, but back then you were still a youngin’. Barely 17, still young and hot headed. If you are back here, I’m assuming you're still hot headed?” Tonya chuckled as Curtis tried once more to sit up, and she pushed against his chest to press him back down. “Whoever did this to you did a number on you. Mostly your ribs and possibly your shoulder. You are gonna have to just stay put for a while.” 

Curtis worked his shoulders and she was correct, the pain in his collarbone and down his back was enough to make him see sparks. “Yup, I have to agree. And not hot headed… There was a tournament and… Fuck.” This time he surged up to a sit with a yell, holding onto steel grating above him, gasping. “I have to get out of here right away. They took her and I promised to keep her safe, keep our son safe.” 

Tonya shook her head confused. “Who? What are you talking about? You should lay back down.” 

Curtis stubbornly swung his feet over the edge of the bunk and moved to sit on the edge, looking around. More and more of it was familiar. In the years he had been up front, none of it had changed. Except there was less crowding then before. 

“Y/N, she's up at the front and in serious trouble. Fuck.” He swore again and pushed to a stand, bracing his hand against the framework and tried to make sense of where the door was. Tonya was right next to him, following along. 

“Wait, Y/N? She's up there still alive?” 

“Yes.” Curtis weaved among other people and Tonya tried making him stop. “She was in my care, Wilford… “ He came to a stop at a steel door, looking it over to see any way to open it. “Wanted her to get pregnant with my child. Once he has what he wants, he is just gonna throw her to monsters.” he hissed while pressing his hands against the door. 

“You are not getting that door open Curtis.” Tonya wedged her way next to him and made him turn around, being as week as he was at the moment. “You are telling me shes pregnant? Our Y/N is pregnant?” Her eyes glowered at him and he squared his shoulders slightly. 

“Yes, due anytime now. I told you, she was brought to me for a reason. It wasnt what either of us wanted but…” He turned back to the door and up towards the ceiling, looking for cameras or anything to get someone's attention. “... It turned into something more. And I need to get to her now.” His gaze turned intense looking at Tonya. Her hands were at her hips accusing but then her gaze softened a bit and she sighed. 

“There is no way out Curtis, don't you think we have tried? Its a box, a prison. This is hell on earth and you are now stuck in it with us.” 

Curtis could feel his breath quickening and his heart racing. 

He had to get out of here, he had to get to you. 

Time seemed to turn meaningless while you stayed with Wilford. He had the doctor monitor you daily, check constantly for the moments you went into labor. But you shut down, not talking or acknowledging the others around you unless you were forced into it. Wilford though didn't seem to notice. He talked all the time. Rambled joyfully about everything to do with the engine. Tinkering away at little things in it, tightening screws and bolts. Running inspections. “Dear this whole train keeps us alive. And it needs so much care and love.” He would sing softly as his hands stroked along the metal wall. “Just a gentle touch for our sweetheart here.” 

You would curl up your legs onto your cot, or try to, it was hard with your belly. He was fucking crazy the way he spoke to the engine. The constant hum of the engine and the spinning didn't help either, it made your head pound till you felt like you were also going to go a bit mad in the room with him. 

The nights though were the worst. The engine would seem louder without Wilford’s constant chatter. You would stretch on your cot across the room from Wilford, who slept in a large plush bed. It was hard, almost impossible to get comfortable and relax. It wasn't because the cot actually bothered you, you spent years either in a hard bunk or leaning against a wall in the tail end. 

Instead you were used to sleeping with Curtis. His body would be pressed in against yours, his arm wrapped around you to hold you close and your head would be cushioned on his chest or shoulder, or a hand draped over his stomach. He was warm and safe. That is what you missed. Your hands would rub your belly, sniffling to yourself. You refused to let yourself cry in front of Wilford. But in the night when your only company was the hum of the engine, you let yourself talk to Jace about Curtis. 

How much you missed his father, letting yourself mourn for him because it was the times you thought maybe he actually didn't make it. Those thoughts you cursed yourself, because he couldn’t be gone. He hadn't even gotten to meet his son. The nights were the hardest, the only time you didn't have to pretend to not exist and it would become overwhelming. When it became too much you would sing softly to your belly. 

Don't take my sunshine away. 

The only thing unusual about the engine was the door. Just a door near the spinning blue lights that made the engine come to life that you studied. It was better than going into a trance watching the blue orbs circle slowly. Wilford would once in a while disappear into the room and wouldn't come back out. Just a few times you leaned just right in your cot when he disappeared into the room, catching sight of computer monitors. That had to be how Wilford was watching all of you. 

That made you shiver, the idea Wilford watched you and Curtis doing everyday things. You didn't even want to think of what else he spied on. But more importantly if you could get in there, maybe you could find Curtis. Or see if he was still alive. 

One morning Wilford was cooking what you guessed was supposed to be breakfast. The smell of onions, potatoes and eggs was making your stomach roll viciously. Curtis had always made sure no eggs made it into the room. Wilford wasn't quite as considerate. You were just coming out of the bathroom, having rinsed your mouth out when the smell hit you all over again. Luckily nothing was left to come up. 

“Sweetheart, just think when I have Jr, I will have him ready to take over the engine.” Wilford said cheerfully, sliding eggs onto a plate with a sickening splatter. Your stomach did another roll, and you did your best not to gag. It didn't click with his Jr. spiel, since you never thought of your son as anything other than Jace Tyler. Wilford slid a plate on a small table near your cot for you. “Go ahead eat, I want Jr big and strong like his sire. Make his Poppa proud.” He turned away and you ignored the eggs, recalling his earlier statement. 

“Take over the engine?” 

Wilford made a show of cracking another egg into a bowl, holding up the shell. “Did you know these would be extinct if it wasn't for me? Something so simple… “ He studied it before tossing it into a nearby garbage bucket. “No more chickens. Or oranges like you have in that glass next to you. Fresh squeezed by the way. No more bread.” He picked up two slices of thick sliced bread. “Nor butter, because cows would be extinct.” He dropped them into a pan to crisp and sizzle. “Everything Y/N would be extinct, if it wasn't for our Snowpiercer.” he flipped his eggs and slid them onto his plate. 

You remained quiet, refusing the eggs, the toast and the juice he had set on the table, watching him. 

“But I won't last forever. I can fix this train, but there is no way to replace my body parts. So next best thing. Make the perfect replacement.” He went to his table and sat down. “Why I searched you out for Curtis. Women in the front, been ruined in less then twenty years we have been on this train.” He said disgusted as he started to eat, shoveling a forkful of eggs into his mouth and chewing. The yellow burst of yolk on his lip certainly made you gag this time, covering your mouth while trying to turn away. 

“No, I needed someone smart enough to survive but also untouched.” His grin turned cool as his eyes raked over you. “You survived the tail end, were strong enough to survive the lockbox as well as stunning, how you came out of there a virgin I don't know. But it worked out for me. Perfect for Curtis. All his other children before, just weren't perfect enough.” Another forkful of runny eggs and toast. You were struggling trying to wrap your mind around what Wilford was saying. 

“W-what happened to the others?” You asked shakily, scared of the answer. 

“Ahh, they didn't work out. We tried, sometimes the babies wouldn't shut up, other times they got to a certain age and would struggle with the motor skills. There were a few who got sickly.” Wilford shrugged as he sopped at his plate with his bread and popped that into his mouth. You though, your arms circled around yourself protectively as the horror of what he was saying made your heart race. 

“You just- got rid of them?” 

“Of course, I can't keep them if they can’t be useful. That's when it clicked. Curtis, he was fine. He's everything I wanted, big, strong, smart. Until you came along, he thought logically. It's a flaw, his falling for you, made him weak. But nothing I can't overlook I suppose. So many other perfect qualities in a leader. It was the woman.” He carried his plate to the sink and approached you. You shrunk back on your cot and he cupped your face in delicate warm hands, hands that never did hard work. “I needed a strong woman to match. All the front end bitches I paired with him threw off weaklings. You Sweetheart are going to give me the perfect prodigy. I considered switching Curtis for Grey for a while, but ahh he is too volatile to throw me a good son. No, it had to be Curtis and You.” He brushed your cheek gently and then grasped your hair to yank you forward towards the plate of food. “Now eat this gift I give you, because I need that baby to come out healthy.” 

Claude entered the room, clipboard in hand with a smile. “Sir if you're all set, we are ready for the inspection in the greenhouse.” 

“Oh yes Claude, be right there.” He beamed as he pointed at your tray of food with a snap of his fingers. “I want this gone.” Turning he made his way to Claude, the two of them chatting as they left the room, leaving you all alone. 

Your heart raced and breathing came out in a rush. With a swipe of your hand, you pushed the plate and glass off the table to shatter against the floor in a mess, screaming in a shrill burst. Overwhelmed with what he informed you, you couldn't hold it all back anymore, your scream just got shriller and tense to bounce all around you from the steel walls. Your voice ended up giving out with a croak and you dropped your heads into your hands sobbing at the fate of your son. 

You can't let this happen, just can't. This isn't what you or Curtis wanted for Jace. Your head lifted and eyes were wildly looking around the room, trying to figure something out. Attacking Wilford would do nothing. You could possibly hold him at knife point, but it would only be a matter of time before you were captured again, and it would just be worse for you and Jace if you had managed to kill Wilford. No, it needed to be more permanent. Something that would overthrow the whole train. 

Your eyes fell to the door, the door with all the monitors and control panels. You needed to be in that room and that's when a plan started to form. 

Although Curtis couldn’t find a way out of the tail end didn’t mean he wasn’t busy. Curtis started to get to know more about the tailenders, those who were ready to fight for there freedom, those with special skills that could be used in a revolt, listen to the stories of the horrors they have had to do to survive. It became more then simply getting back to you, now it was about getting these people out of here as well. 

Curtis started timing the guards coming through, trying to figure out how to work the inspections and feeding times to his advantage. After all this time, they should be fairly slack, rituals loose purpose after a while. 

But he didnt see his opening. No matter how many times he timed the lengths the doors were open, how long they stayed, how hard the cart full of the blocks were to manuever. It was all so precise, the same everytime and there eyes were watchful, always willing to bash a tailender should they step out of line. 

There was just four counts when all the doors were open and Curtis could see down the length of the train. It just wasnt enough time to get through several train cars. Tonya was perched next to him, listening to him count under his breath. 

“Curtis, don’t. We’ve tried that. It just ends with them culling us.” She hurriedly whispered back to him. Once they left he turned to her. 

“Then what Tonya? Y/N might have had Jace and tossed to Grey. Who even knows what will happen to my son.” Some frustrated tears caught in his lashes and some managed to escape, making a track down his now sooty dirty face. He dropped his head into his hands and Tonya rubbed at his back, trying to be supportive even though she delivered the harsh reality. 

“I know Curtis…I’m sorry, I just don’t want you going on a suicide mission. Y/N needs you, so does that little boy you got coming.” 

Curtis took a ragged sigh and stared back up at the camera beeping above the door, flipping it off before pushing to a stand and disappearing out of sight to continue trying to figure out a way to get back to you. 

You waited, you could be patient. You learned a while ago when you first joined Curtis to watch, it was also the harsh lesson he taught you in the beginning. It was how you got to know him as the man you cared for today. You were quick to learn that Wilford wasn't predictable. He would go into the room at random times. Sometimes for hours, sometimes for a few minutes. 

No matter how much you looked around the engine from your perch on your cot, you couldn't see where there were any cameras in the engine room. But you were still wary. Thinking maybe he was trying to catch you doing something, spring out of that room with a gotcha. 

But you were smarter. No, you were patient. Storing it all away. 

The worst was when Grey would come around. He seemed to turn into Wilford’s pet, always coming in to chat with him or ask favors. Oftentimes he would sit across the table, staring intently at you with a sneer. His eyes roaming you up and down like he had a right to take you whenever. These times you would hitch your chin up and stare back at him. Refusing to give him the satisfaction that he won. 

Maybe he did win your body. But you refused outright to give him any satisfaction in that. It didn't matter though, for Grey you were just a prize. You didn't matter to him except what you could give him. 

“She must be due soon, right?” Grey drawled out, moving to a stand and approaching you. In your bid to defy him, you didn't move an inch to draw away from him. His hand fisted in your hair, twisting viciously to have you look up at him. “Excited right? I'm sure it gets a bit boring just sitting here on your cot, waiting for time to pass with that little bastard inside of you.” 

You work your mouth to draw out some spit, hocking it at him as best you can at the unnatural angle. It earned you a loud smack, whipping your head to the side. Not a word dropped from you in pain as you glared up at him. Grey leaned in closer, his hand wiping at his face and wiping his hand clean in your hair he still had fisted in his other hand. 

“Nasty little thing arn’t you? Treat Curtis like this? Or did you just drool all over his cock every chance you get?” His fingers bit into your cheeks as he pressed harshly against the hinge of your jaw, wrenching your mouth open. “Don't worry, soon this will be all you know.” He spat in your open mouth, making you heave and try to pull away from him as he lewdly groped his crotch, laughing at your distress. 

“Grey, leave her alone… you will have her soon enough.” Wilford finally interjected, beckoning Grey forward towards the room. “I got something to show you anyways, step in here.” 

Grey snickered at you before sauntering over, passing through the door and Wilford followed him in, closing themselves in. You grabbed at some of the bedding, bringing a corner of a blanket to your mouth to try to tear at the fabric. You just needed a little bit. 

Your teeth ripped into the cloth and stitches, wrenching at the fabric till you could feel it weakening. 

Another pull, another twist and you could feel the fabric starting to give. Your eyes darted back to the door. “Come on…” You whined out and then there was a distinctive rrrriiippp… 

Balling the small bit of fabric in your fist, you got up to approach the door. Careful you pressed your ear to it, trying to listen over the engines humming, but it was pointless. The whoosh whoosh whoosh of the spinning mechanisms made you sigh in exasperation. You didn't want to ruin your chance by not being prepared.

Pressing against the wall, you tried to think about what you knew. The door was pressured close to guarantee a seal. Your eyes roving up to the mechanism that worked the door. It also made it close slow. You could wait a good five seconds after they left the room to do what you wanted. You could pretend you were passing by to go to the bathroom, seeing the door was just beyond your main target. Stepping back a few steps, you paused. Eyes on the handle, waiting for them to walk back out, swing the door wide open. 

It felt like hours till the handle jiggled and sure enough it swung wide open with both men leaving, laughing about some shared joke between one another. You started counting just like the way your Grandpa showed you when you were a kid playing hide and seek in the apple orchard.

One Mississippi

 You stepped forward as if you had been striding from your cot, which neither of you bothered to give a glance. The door clicked into reverse. 

Two Mississippi

Your chest clenched seeing the door start to close, the two men were a step away from you now where you could pass between them and the door. 

Three Mississippi

In passing, you rolled the ball of fabric in your palm, your hand brushing against the inside of the door jam and nimbly shoved the ball into the hole that would seal the door shut. Continuing on past. 

Four Mississippi

You paused at the bathroom door, your hand giving a shiver of anxiety while listening before opening the bathroom door. Please don't latch, please don't latch…. 

Five Mississippi

The door shut, but there was no distinctive click the door handle locked. You glanced over your shoulder to see it looked sealed. You yanked on the bathroom handle and escaped into the bathroom, covering your mouth as a gasp of relief escaped you, tears brimming your eyes at knowing it worked. Now it was just hoping Wilford left before he found out what you had done. Sinking to the floor, you took several breaths to try to calm your racing heart. Tilting your head back and closing your eyes, your hands pressed against your belly, whispering. “Jace, we are gonna find your daddy and figure it out from there. Right kiddo… we got this. We are going to be okay.” 

After giving yourself your pep talk and you weren't feeling like Wilford was going to figure it out and bust through that door, you made your way back out to see Claude had joined Wilford and Grey. 

“Well I need to go do my inspections.” Wilford motioned towards to exit, Grey took a glance at you shuffling back to your cot. Coldly he looked you up and down, obviously checking you out. 

“Will be seeing you soon Y/N.” You didn't respond, looking away as you lowered down onto your cot. He left and Wilford reached out for a clipboard Claude was holding, scanning over several papers. “What's the numbers on the tailenders?” 

“High hundreds. We took a count this morning. Its getting overcrowded once again.” 

“Ahh, I know it was getting bad once more. Gonna have to do something about that.” Wilford sighed. “Just need to get creative about it.” You did your best to keep from retaliating. “And how's our special guest there?” 

This made you perk, curious as to who he would be talking about. “Oh settling in nicely, like he never left.” Claude retorted as the door opened, and you couldn't stop the flutter of hope. Maybe it was Curtis.. Could be Curtis they were talking about. The door slammed shut and you started to count. 

Wilford could stay away anywhere from ten minutes to an hour. As anxiously as you wanted to run to the door and go in the room of cameras, you couldn't do it too soon. Wilford would just rush back in and stop you. All this effort, lost. 

So you waited. Counting like before till you were sure it had been a good ten minutes. Easing off the cot, you approached the door and rested your hand to the door handle. 

God let this work. You screwed your eyes shut and started to ease back, the door moving just as easily as if it was properly unlocked. Not even a turn of the handle. Slipping inside and pulling out the fabric from the hollow spot in the door, you let it shut you in. 

Camera, so many grainy moving pictures, it made your head thump with the intake of information. You started moving from screen to screen, searching faces to try to find Curtis. No matter how many you looked through, searching the garden cars, over to the kitchen crew, entertainment cars full of kronole high individuals, none of them had Curtis. You made your way down the line, cars with animals, people making equipment, prison cars. Still no Curtis. You bit at your lip, your fingertips pressing against screens, like you were crossing off people. 

“Come on Curtis, I need you to show yourself.” You passed to the last row, people all from the tail end. You leaned in close, mentally crossing off sections till you stopped at the door. It was a flash of familiarity that brought you back to that screen. 

“Jace… I found your daddy.” Your voice broke in relief, seeing him studying the door and camera, scowling up at it. You remember that look, the one that he was frustrated with his situation. You had never been so relieved to see him looking pissed off. “Thank fucking god you are still alive Curtis.” You fell back to sink in an office chair. “Now how do I get you out?” 

[intheticklecloset]

A Silent Confession (Haikyuu!!)

Primary Universe

Masterfully combining several prompts at once like a boss! It helps that so many people wanted a Kuroo/Kenma fic with lee Kenma. This shy boy is so cute! Enjoy! ^^

7. “Don’t look at me like that!” “Like what?” “Like you’re going to…do something!”

3. “Don’t do that, I’m ticklish!”

10. “I’m not going to do anything.” “Then why are you smirking?”

19. “I see that smile. Come on, laugh!”

27. “You haven’t said stop this whole time. Do you like this?”

28. “I guess I’m going to have to punish you…”

You’ll notice for some of the numbered prompts I didn’t use the exact quote, but a variation thereof. This was to help prevent repetitiveness as well as maintain believable story flow. They’re still in the fic, just perhaps not word for word.

~

“All right, Kenma,” Kuroo said, stepping into the gym where his friend was waiting for him. “Meeting’s over. We can go.”

Kenma hummed in response, shutting off his game and putting it into his bag. He’d been passing the time so well he didn’t even realize how late it had gotten. Kuroo felt bad for making him wait when he really didn’t even need to; the setter could have gone on without him. But at the same time, he was grateful to have someone to walk home with at this time of night after a long captain’s meeting.

Kenma grabbed his oversized red sweatshirt and threw it over his head, then picked up his backpack, turning to face his taller friend.

“Oh, wait,” Kuroo said, reaching forward to grab at the fabric and tug it down. “It’s a little crooked.”

To his surprise, Kenma gasped and twisted away. “Don’t do that,” he murmured, and Kuroo swore he saw his friend’s cheeks turn pink. “I’m ticklish.”

Kuroo blinked, surprised, then smiled. “Sorry.”

“Come on. Let’s go home.”

Together they shut off the lights in the gym, locked the doors behind them, and began to make their way off campus. It wasn’t until they were a good distance from the school that Kuroo glanced sideways at his shorter friend, who looked as tired of life as he always did. Something in the back of his mind kept nagging him. He replayed the moment he’d fussed with the sweatshirt in his mind. He hadn’t even touched Kenma directly; where had that strong reaction come from?

“So,” he said after a moment’s contemplation, breaking the silence, “you’re ticklish?”

Kenma didn’t reply, but again Kuroo thought he saw the slightest flicker in his expression. Interesting. Having been friends with the silent boy as long as he had, he’d gotten pretty good at picking up on the subtle differences in vibes he gave off. He could tell when Kenma had an opinion he was too afraid to share, when he was annoyed by his teammates, and even when he was secretly excited about something. But this vibe was different somehow. It wasn’t easy to get a good read on.

He decided to proceed with caution, even as he sneakily reached down to poke Kenma’s side, testing his reaction.

Again a gasp, and Kenma took a hopping step to the side, out of his reach. His amber eyes looked up at him, but again, the captain couldn’t discern the exact emotion behind them. “Kuroo.”

“What? I’m not going to do anything.”

“Then why are you smirking?”

Kuroo hadn’t even known he was smirking. “Sorry, it’s just – how have we known each other all these years and I didn’t know you were ticklish?”

Kenma broke their gaze. “It probably never crossed your mind.”

He was right. For as much as he tried to get Kenma to break out of his comfort zone, Kuroo knew his friend had limits and really was very shy. He preferred to remain quiet most of the time, and the captain had never thought to change that about him. He was quiet, but he was also highly observant, and that made him not only a great volleyball player, but a wonderful friend as well. Kenma could pick up on Kuroo’s subtle changes in mood better than he himself could sometimes.

The setter spoke up again, albeit quieter than before. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Huh? Like what?” Again, Kuroo hadn’t even realized he was looking at him in a particular way.

“Like you’re going to…” Kenma trailed off, taking the slightest step further away from him. “…do something.”

Kuroo hesitated. That step away was obvious, but the reason was not. He legitimately couldn’t tell if Kenma was uncomfortable, or if he wanted him to do something. He knew outright asking would get him nowhere. The setter was really good at clamming up when he felt awkward, and one vibe he was picking up on right now was an awkward one.

Deciding he needed to be bold, Kuroo suddenly reached out and snatched Kenma’s arm, whirling him around to face him and make eye contact. Kenma’s gaze met his for only a second, but it was enough. Kuroo almost couldn’t believe the excited shine he saw there.

“Do you want me to do something?” he asked, his voice teasing now. “Something specific? Perhaps related to this conversation?”

Color blossomed in the setter’s cheeks. He kept his eyes downcast. Said nothing.

“Kenma…” Kuroo grabbed his friend’s side and squeezed once. “I asked you a question.”

Kenma let out a little huff of air – not quite a giggle, nowhere near a laugh, but a reaction nonetheless – and started to step back again.

Kuroo tightened his grip and pulled him closer. “Not going to answer me? That’s not a very nice thing to do. I’ll have to punish you for that, you know.”

Kenma made a little noise in the back of his throat and started to twist away, but Kuroo pulled him even closer and trapped him in a bear hug, the setter’s back against his chest. If he’d wanted to get away – if he’d wanted to be left alone – he would have said or done something by now. His silence was telling enough on its own.

“I think,” Kuroo said, gradually worming one hand down to Kenma’s ribs, “I should put my new knowledge to good use. What about you? Anything to say?” He curled his fingers and dug in through the thick fabric of the sweater. “No? Then don’t mind if I do.”

Once again there was a little gasp, and Kenma started wriggling in his arms, hands reaching to grab onto his wrist instinctively. “K-Kuroo!”

“Yes?” This sweater was really in the way, but the captain pushed through it. “Feel like talking now?”

“H-Haah!” Kenma bit his lip and shook his head, his lips wobbling as he fought back a grin. “Ah! Kuroo!”

“I see that smile!” Kuroo exclaimed playfully, finally giving up on tickling through the sweater and sliding his hand under it to make contact with bare skin. “Come on, laugh!”

The skin-to-skin touch was way more effective, as Kenma sputtered and started writhing more, soft snickers escaping him. “Kuroo!”

“Yeees? You keep saying my name, but then you don’t communicate with me.” Kuroo was grinning now, too, and he prodded his fingers into the grooves of the setter’s ribs. “Don’t be such a tease, Kenma.”

“Ahahaha!” Kenma choked on a laugh, his arms flailing as his body arched away from the captain’s. “Y-You’re the tehehease! Kuroo!”

“If all you do is say my name without further communication, there are going to be consequences.” Kuroo’s fingers slid down to the hem of his friend’s jeans, teasing the hip. “Something you’d like to tell me?”

This time the sound that escaped the setter was nothing less than a squeal, and bright, bubbly giggles started to pour from his mouth as he twisted even more. “Ehehehehehehe! Kuroo, plehehease!”

Please. A word he never heard from his quiet, shy friend. Kuroo beamed. “Anything you’d like to admit, perhaps? Hmm? You haven’t told me to stop yet. Do you maybe…” He found the hipbone and pinched, enjoying the shriek that he got in response. “…like this? Do you like being tickled, Kenma?”

“Kurohohohohohoo!” This time his name came out as a desperate, breathy giggle, and Kenma managed to twist himself around enough that the captain could see his wide smile, scrunched up nose and eyes, and pink cheeks. “P-Please, I-aiehehehehehehehe!”

“Do you like this, Kenma~?”

The setter whimpered. “I cahahahahan’t s-sahahahay it!”

“That’s fine.” Kuroo smiled, his heart swelling at how adorable his friend was being right now. “You can just nod. That’s all I need.”

Kenma whined again, but after a moment managed a brief nod in the midst of his giggling, and with that, Kuroo tackled him into the grass and slipped both hands under his red sweatshirt, scribbling wildly from his ribs to his belly to his hips. Kenma shrieked with giggles, curling up instinctively and rolling around as the sensations shocked his nervous system, but he never once protested the way their night was suddenly unfolding.

Kuroo laughed with him, deciding to experiment further by shoving his hands all the way up to Kenma’s underarms.

Kenma screamed, throwing his head back and curling up even more and kicking his legs wildly and shoving his arms down protectively and letting his laughter burst out of him loudly, uncontrollably, unabashedly, and Kuroo could not get enough of it.

He quickly moved to straddle his hips, keeping his hands firmly in the hollows of the setter’s underarms, scribbling, digging, swirling, and everything in between. “Oh, yes. I like this side of you, Kenma!”

“KUROHOHOHOHOHOHOO!!” Kenma cried, lost in hysterics, but still not protesting or even really fighting back.

Kuroo sighed dramatically. “Didn’t I just say there would be consequences if you kept saying my name and nothing else? Really, Kenma. What am I going to do with you?”

The answer was simple, really. He was going to keep tickling, and keep teasing, and keep watching his friend’s face contort with uncontrollable happiness as loud, bubbly, and decidedly un-Kenma-like laughter filled the late night air for a long, long time.

And Kuroo – like Kenma – would enjoy every minute of it.

[angstyaches]

The Strong One

I accidentally posted a reply to this ask too soon (instead of saving it as a draft as I’d planned) but here is what Mushroom Anon said:

ngl your self indulgent fics are some of your best ones. okay so my request was : a generally stoic and strong character getting sick from emotions? like from a panic attack or anxiety? their s/o is worried because ???? what happened?? turns out they’ve been having a Really Stressful Week TM and proceed to get pampered and loved. For felix and elliot. omg also how about : a little outsider shot of the two of them here pov ryan and nancy. thanks! 🍄

Post Thicker Than Blood Arc (i.e. after Felix comes back from visiting his mother’s nursing home etc.) And dude, I LOVED the Ryan/Nancy POV idea, holy shit. Thank you so much for that addition!!

CW: secrecy, bickering, panic attack, emeto, mention of (past) deaths.

___

“Good morning, darling,” Felix chirped as he entered the kitchen. Elliott was sitting at the marble countertop, one hand propping up his chin while the other tapped away at his laptop keyboard. Felix wasn’t sure what Elliott was working on these days – and he tended to get huffy and defensive when asked – so Felix made a grand gesture of cupping a hand around his eye while walking past. Look, darling, I’m not looking!

“Morning?” Elliott glanced down at his watch, tilting the laptop screen so that it was almost halfway shut, despite Felix making it obvious that he wasn’t looking. “It’s basically the afternoon.”

“Hmm?” Felix took hold of Elliott’s wrist, tilting his head to read the time. “No, it’s still the morning for seven more minutes and twelve more seconds.”

Elliott grunted. “Oh. Well. You got me.”

Felix chewed his lip, his feathers a bit ruffled by Elliott’s tone. He glanced through the kitchen towards the sitting room. “Where is everyone?”

“I think Nan dragged Ryan to the farmer’s market.”

“No!” Felix gasped. “I wanted to go, too.”

“Should’ve woken up earlier then, huh? Maybe joined me on a morning run?”

A grin spread across Felix’s face, his natural response to Elliott’s attempts to mould him into a morning person. It hadn’t happened in the last seven years, so it wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

He leaned his head against Elliott’s shoulder, even though his hair was still dripping wet from his shower. “I love it when you nag me. You in the mood for a drop of coffee?”

“No, Fee, I’m fine.” Elliott tugged the laptop screen even lower, as though he thought Felix was trying to peek.

Felix looked up, a bit startled by the solemn tone of Elliott’s voice, and confused by just how protective he was being on his screen. His partner looked down at him, still the taller of the two while sitting on the island stools. His eyes portrayed an uneasy darkness that made Felix frown.

“Is…” Felix’s heart skipped a beat. “Is everything alright, darling?”

Elliott blinked. “Yes. Why?”

“I – you just seem…”

One of Elliott’s eyebrows arched.

“… Tense,” Felix grimaced.

“Tense?” Elliott repeated dully. “Well, excuse me. Not all of us had fifteen hours of sleep.”

“Huh. Okay.” Felix pursed his lips and padded unhappily across the white tiles, towards the coffee maker. He felt silly. He could usually handle Elliott’s teasing and such, but something about the way he was acting felt strange. It was like something had shifted between them.

Felix felt his heart sink as he scooped coffee grounds into the machine, his motions slowing.

It had been three weeks since Felix had returned to the Aldridge’s townhouse, after spending a few weeks up north and visiting his mother in her nursing home. Beyond his first few days back, Elliott hadn’t questioned him too much about what had happened up there, so Felix had assumed – hoped – that he’d decided to put it all behind them. But there was a chance he had changed his mind since then, right?  

Felix blinked, realising he’d spilled grounds on the glistening white countertop. He barely cared. He turned around. “Elli?”

“What?” Elliott had lifted the laptop screen again, still sitting stiffly as he navigated some screen that Felix wasn’t allowed to see.

“Are – are you still angry with me?” There was a tiny hitch in Felix’s voice, which he couldn’t help. He didn’t want to take Elliott’s mood and make it all about himself, but the thought of Elliott quietly holding onto resentment made Felix’s stomach hurt.

Elliott let out a rasping sigh and slapped the lid of his computer shut. Felix jumped on the spot, watching with wide eyes as Elliott dropped his head into his hands where he sat. Felix was overcome with worry, sure, but for a tenth of a second, all he wanted to do was check that Elliott hadn’t broken his laptop and lost whatever secret project he was working on.

“Darling?” Felix laid down the coffee scoop and wrung his hands. “If – if this is about anything that we talked about, I would want you to tell me.”

“No.” The word was murmured so softly that Felix barely heard it. Elliott let out a shaky, audible breath, his face still hidden in his hands. “No, boo, you – you and I are fine.”

“You – I’m sorry, you keep using that word. Fine…”

“You and I,” Elliott huffed, “are perfect, Fee.”

That should have been reassuring, but Felix still had that sinking sensation in his chest. Elliott’s shoulders rocked forward slightly, like he was trying to curl into a ball where he was seated.

At least this time, Felix didn’t have to hesitate in coming to Elliott’s side. “Elli,” he sighed, sliding his arms around Elliott’s waist, resting his forehead on his back. “Talk to me.”

“I…” Elliott started off shakily, gulping so hard that Felix heard it from where he was positioned behind him. “I-I don’t…”

As he waited for Elliott to find the words, Felix gently moved a hand up and down over his ribs, hoping the contact was soothing and not stifling. Elliott’s chest was rising and falling way too quickly for Felix’s liking. He decided he should probably back off and give his partner space to breathe, but as soon as he started to move, Elliott grabbed one of his hands and tugged it towards his chest again.

“You have something, now, or someone who… who can tie you to your old life.” The words vibrated within his chest and his back as he choked them out.

Felix frowned and lifted his head, looking up at the back of Elliott’s. The taller boy’s dark hair was scooped into a messy bun. The ends were knotted and ratty. It hadn’t been cut in so long. “Darling, I don’t want to be tied to that life. I want to be tied to this life, with you.”

“I know, I know, but it got me thinking about the people I used to know, and how…” Elliott shuddered in Felix’s grip. “How they would all... I knew it was a long shot, but I tried finding some names online, but we – Jesus, most of us didn’t even have full names, we were just trying to survive –”

“Darling,” Felix whispered, at a complete loss for anything more substantial to say.

“I mean –” A dark tremble of laughter broke through Elliott’s voice. He swivelled the stool, stepping down and taking a few steps across the tiles. “It’s pointless to even look for them, right? What are the odds any of my old friends also happened to end up becoming immortal vampires, huh?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Rhetorical question, boo.”

“Sorry.” Felix followed a few steps behind Elliott as he went to the kitchen window. It didn’t even seem like he was looking at anything in particular, but simply exposing his retinas to the light from outside.

“Elli?” Felix said quietly.

Elliott glanced at him, just for a moment. His eyes were dark and wet, his lips trembling as he gradually lost the battle against full-on hyperventilation. He shook his head violently, gaze wandering aimlessly again. “I don’t – I don’t feel right. What’s wr… What’s wrong with me, Fee?”

“Darling, try to slow your breathing.”

Elliott slammed his palms down either side of the kitchen sink, his shoulders buckling forward under the pressure of the gasps and heaves racking his body. “Felix, what’s wrong with me?”

“You’re panicking,” Felix said, shocking himself with how calm he sounded. He closed the last few paces between them, unable to resist being next to Elliott while he was in this state. “I’m right here, alright? I’m going to touch your back, Elli, but – but please, tell me if it’s not okay…”

“Don’t,” Elliott gasped, shaking his head violently. His mouth bobbed open as he lowered his shoulders even further, eyes widening. “G-going to –”

A moment before Elliott started dry heaving, Felix realised what was happening, and obediently took his hand back. As a rule, Elliott detested being touched when he was sick, and Felix had learned to stop fighting that a long, long time ago.

Felix flinched at how violently sick Elliott suddenly was. His head was practically in the sink at one point, his body buckling under the intense convulsions. It was impossible to distinguish between the laboured breathing and the dry heaving, but every sound and every lurch made Felix’s heart twist a little tighter in his chest.

“Darling, I’m sorry,” Felix choked out. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise you had all of this going on inside you.”

Elliott whimpered at that, attempting to lift his head a little higher. “Fee, I just –” He was immediately interrupted by a wet belch, and a clear stream of saliva that he needed to spit away from his lips into the sink. “You just got back, I w-want – wanted things to be normal… for you.”

“Elli,” Felix whined. He couldn’t believe what was happening here. Elliott was trying not to cry as he spoke, and Felix almost lost it too, though he did his best to keep a hold of things. He couldn’t be sure, of course, but he had a feeling he knew exactly what Elliott meant by ‘normal’. He meant the normalcy where Felix could be a mess and Elliott was forced to be the strong one.

He watched as Elliott brought his elbows down gently in front of the sink, letting his head drop against them as the nausea finally seemed to past. He trembled and sighed deeply, seemingly in resignation.

Felix cleared his throat softly. “May I touch you?”

A very quiet chuckle emerged from Elliott’s buried face. “You may.”

Felix rested a hand gently on Elliott’s back, introducing the slightest amount of motion so that his fingertips grazed over a small portion of his spine. He lowered his forehead to Elliott’s shoulder again, this time with very little weight behind it. He needed Elliott to know he wasn’t leaning on him, but that he was there for him.

And he was capable of being the strong one sometimes.

___

“You know, there was a time where you would have helped me bring the bags in from the car,” Nancy sulked. Her arms were outstretched and wrapped around half a dozen bags from different vendors which were pressed against her chest.

“It is not my fault that you insist on buying so much,” Ryan said calmly, following her wife to the doorstep with her hands in her pockets. “For example, you did not need to purchase onions from three different stalls.”

“I told you; they’re different varieties!”

Ryan sighed as she opened the front door and stood back to let her wife into the front hallway of the townhouse. “An onion is an onion, love.”

“Felix,” Nancy grumbled, turning as she walked and narrowing her eyes at Ryan. “Felix will back me up. Felix! Felix, sweetheart!” she called towards the stairs.

The response from within the house was a muted sshhh, which sounded much closer than the upstairs bedrooms. Nancy frowned, meeting Ryan’s gaze for a moment as she closed the front door. Ryan made a beeline towards the kitchen and Nancy followed, dragging her feet slightly on the tiles as she struggled with her bags. She paused by the kitchen island to deposit all of them, watching as Ryan rounded the far corner and stared at what was happening on the sofa.

“Oh, sweethearts, what’s happened?” Nancy gasped, rushing over to stand next to Ryan.

Felix was sitting – almost upright – at one end of the sofa, white Elliott curled up next to him, his head resting in the smaller boy’s lap.

“Is… Is he asleep?” Nancy whispered.

Felix nodded silently. His poor eyes were red and a little puffy as he glanced back and forth between his two foster mothers.

“Anything we can do?” Ryan asked in a low voice, slipping her hands into the pockets of her slacks again. Nancy couldn’t help but pout; oh, sure, you’ll ask them if there’s anything they need you to do, but you won’t help me carry a couple of bags into the house.

A weak smile tugged at Felix’s exhausted expression, and he shook his head. His fingers drifted over Elliott’s head, brushing back a thin strand of his dark hair. Nancy once again couldn’t help herself, this time pursing her lips and wondering how long it had been since Elliott had cut his hair.

“Everything’s okay,” Felix murmured softly. “I’ve got him.”

[dreamescapeswriting]

BTS Reaction || Hiding Abuse From Him [Request]

A/N: PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE READING THIS POST! I just wanted to say this before anyone proceeds PLEASE READ THIS! As someone with a person history with the happenings within this post I want to say to anyone who wants to talk to me I’m always here for you if you need me. I’ve tried to make this as less triggering as possible and I’ve written this to raise awareness about it rather than indulge in it. I may write about yandere/ mafia/ obsessive relationship tendencies but I do not associate myself into that lifestyle nor do I approve of the abusive tendencies. Also please do remember that none of this is real. It is Fan Fiction meaning it is not real.

https://1drv.ms/w/s!AuIjOULvjrOgbN7nd3MceyvJmQk?e=9vuvmu

Please also know that I’m really unsure about this post and if ANYONE asks me to take it down it will be down in an instant as I know what it’s like to be in this sort of situation as I said before I’m writing this because A) it was a request and B) to raise awareness about it it’s not as if I’m a random account writing about it without knowing what they’re doing, I have a person history with abuse and I want to write about, I do not wish to cause anyone upset.

WARNING: As stated previously this references abuse! Please do not read this if you’re uncomfortable and please remember this isn’t real and I tried to make this as least triggering as possible.

THERE IS NO TAGLINE ON THIS AS I DON’T WANT PEOPLE WHO DON’T WANT TO READ THIS TO READ THIS! I WILL ONLY TAG @yoongisdumplingcheeks​ because she’s read through this for me and confirmed it is okay for posting

Seokjin:

You were getting changed into some of your boyfriends' clothes, you were staying the night for the first time in a while but you'd forgotten to bring a change clothes with you so he told you to take something from his wardrobe so you did, you grabbed one of his hoodies and some boxers you could use as a pair of shorts from him.

"Hey, I got us a movie from Jungkook he said it's good," Jin said as he walked into the bedroom, you squealed quickly pulling the hoodie down over your body and covering yourself, Jin had seen you naked before but you still didn't want him to look at you right now. 

"I've seen you all before." He teased walking over to you and running his hand over your cheek, rubbing his thumb under your eye. His hands slowly started to travel to your hips and you flinched, he stepped back instantly and stared at you, you plastered on the biggest fake smile you could manage and looked around the room nervously for something to change the conversation to but he wasn't going to let this go easily, Jin smiled at you and nodded over to the bed for you both to snuggle and watch the movie together.

"You're beautiful, you know that right?" Jin said as you were cuddled up against his chest, his fingers drawing invisible patterns on your thighs, you hummed at him trying to act as though you were paying attention to the movie but you were too busy worrying about what he'd seen on you, you'd done your best to hide them so this wouldn't happen. You'd only been dating about four months, you didn't want to unload everything onto him. 

"You'll always tell me if something was bothering you right?" You turned to look up at him in the eyes and nodded, which was a barefaced lie but you didn't want to bother him with this. 

"Of course." You got up from the bed and looked at him. 

"I'm going to have a shower." You kissed his lips and left the room, shutting the bathroom door and stripping down before stepping into the shower and letting the hot water relax your body aches. 

"Hiya baby," Jin whispered, his lips kissing your neck at first you relaxed back against his touch and titled your neck to the side so he would have a better angle but then you felt his body tense up and his hands freeze as he touched your hips, shit. 

"Babe?" He questioned but you turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around your body and avoiding his eyes. 

"What did you do?" He questioned, he'd seen the brusies across your rib cage and you knew there was no way of getting out of the conversation. 

"I tripped at work, fell down the stairs because of my heels." You lied trying to think on your feet but Jin knew you too well, you were always careful at work and you never wore heels to work, you left them under your desk and wore flat shoes to get to and from work so you wouldn't hurt as much.

"Who did it to you?" You looked down at the floor not wanting to answer his questions but he took the jumper from the floor and handed it to you, he could tell you were feeling insecure about it he didn't want to push too much but he needed answers if he was going to be able to help you. 

"It's nothing Jin, it's just a couple of brusies." You said trying to stop him from pushing on but you knew he would only keep trying to find out what was going on. 

(X)

After telling him everything he put you in the car and drove you home, walking into the house with you and going straight to your bedroom ignroing your father who was calling out your name and yelling at you for bringing a boy home. 

"Pack everything you can in here for now, we'll come back for more if you need it or I'll get you it new." He said to you, kissing the top of your head and putting a suitcase onto your bed, you wandered over to the wardrobe dragging everything you could manage over to the bed and folding it into the bag, the door burst open and your dad was standing there and demanding answers from you. 

"Please just leave me alone." You whispered as you folded up a shirt putting it into the suitcase, your dad came over to your side but before he could touch you Jin stood between you both and stared at your dad. 

"Don't you hurt a single hair on her head." Jin was mad but he knew you didn't want to make the situation worse so you took hold of his hand and shook your head. 

"I'm taking her with me, you won't see her again. You're lucky, if it was down to me-" He didn't get to finish his sentence cause you zipped up the bag and started dragging him backwards out of your bedroom, your father standing there and yelling out abuse about how he raised you and how you were just going to leave him for some stupid boy. As soon as you were in the car with Jin you broke down into tears trying to ignore your dad who was standing in your bedroom window and watching you, you looked over at Jin who hadn't started driving yet, he was making sure you were okay first, taking you into his arms despite the gear stick that was sticking into his arm he comforted you, rubbed your back in small gentle motions and kissing the top of your head. 

"You're okay, I promise. You're okay." You nodded but continued to weep into his arms, you'd never told anyone before about what you went through but it finally felt good to talk about it and get it all off your chest.

"I love you." You said as you finally started driving back to his place, he squeezed your hand and you smiled. 

"I love you too."  

Yoongi:

"Hey Yoongi, I brought you something to eat." You said as you walked into his studio, he grumbled something about how giving you the passcode was a mistake and he would need to change it but you ignored him, going over to the small coffee table and laying out the food you made for him.

"I thought you couldn't come today?" He asked turning around in his chair to see you, you smiled at him and looked around the small studio.

"I managed to get out of work early." You said as you started to sweat, you were wearing a thick jumper and some leggings in the hot office and it was a bad combination.

"Take your jumper off, you'll die in that." He chuckled you laughed along but ignored him, going over to the shelves and looking around for some chopsticks, he always kept some stainless steel ones inside for you both to eat with. Yoongi was your best friend, you'd know him since you were both kids and when he debuted you were there by his side, bringing him food when he needed it because you knew he always forgot whenever there was a comeback on the way or just always forgot to eat. You wanted to take care of your best friend.

"Top shelf." He said to you as he watched you struggling, you stretched up for the pen pot full of chopsticks and Yoongi watched you, laughing because of how short you were and then stopping as soon as he saw the sleeve of your jumper roll down he dropped the notepad he had in his hand and stared at them, as soon as you turned around to look at him he dropped his gaze onto the table and offered to get them for you. You sat down on the sofa, clueless that he'd just seen the purple marks across your wrists and got ready to eat.

"So how's your boyfriend?" He asked trying to lean into the conversation, you looked up at him and nodded.

"He's great." You were lying. He knew instantly when you were lying and you were lying to him right now.

"Did he do that to your wrist?" He asked bluntly, he wasn't going to beat around the bush he wanted answers to why his best friend was covered in bruises and not telling him about them.

"Did what?" You questioned trying to play dumb, you pulled your sweater over your hands and looked at the food, your appetite was gone as you got onto the subject of your relationship and you tried to avoid it.

"How's the comeback coming?" He shook his head coming over and sitting beside you on the sofa, he took hold of your hand and you tried to stop him from rolling the sleeve up but he did it anyway, looking at the bruises that were forming there.

"It was my fault, I pissed him off when he was trying to work." Yoongi felt his heartbreak as he heard you trying to defend what your boyfriend had done to you, he looked at you and then lifted the bottom half of your jumper up on your stomach, a purple mark across your side, you slapped his hands away and moved away from the sofa to get away from him and his questions.

"I should go, he wants me home to make dinner." You said trying to make your way over to the door but Yoongi stood in front of it, demanding answers.

You'd finally broke down and told Yoongi everything, starting with the real reason why you weren't supposed to go to the studio that day, it had nothing to do with work but that your boyfriend didn't want you to be around Yoongi because he saw him as someone that could take you away from him, you'd ended up crying into Yoongi's arms about how it was all your fault but Yoongi was mad at your boyfriend, not telling you how mad he was because he knew it would only upset you.

"It wasn't your fault." He whispered as you whimpered into his chest, he took your wrist and looked at the bruises wanting nothing more than to stay with you all day and kiss them better but he also wanted to find your boyfriend and kill him for what he'd been doing to you.

"I'll go get us some hot chocolate." He lied laying you down on the sofa and leaving the studio. As soon as he was in the lobby he went on the hunt for his car, going to drive to your shared apartment and sort all of this out.

(X)

"Yoongi?" You groaned as he threw a bag down on the floor in front of you, you sat up on the sofa and noticed it was one of your overnight bags and he had two more in his hands. He dropped them all onto the floor and shut the studio door,

"You went to my apartment?" He nodded and shut the studio door,

"You're not going back to him, you can stay with me at my place." You looked nervously at your phone, there were no messages from him at all and that only made you more uneasy.

"I told him if he comes near you or comes in contact with you I'll sue him, get a restraining order and he'll never be able to show his face again." He told you coming over to you and taking your face in his hands, making you look at him and not your phone or the bags with your clothes inside.

"You're safe now, I'll look after you...I'll always look after you." You leant forward and left a small kiss on his lips, pulling back and smiling softly at him, you both knew it was going to be a hard route to take but he wanted to be able to look after his best friend like you'd looked after him all of those years, he couldn't stand the thought of you ever being hurt again.

Hoseok:

You walked through the BigHit building with your head down, you were coming in to practise for the first time in weeks and you didn't want your manager to see you and strike up an unneeded conversation about where you had been. You went straight into the dance studio and shut the door, taking off your cap and letting your hair down, you sighed taking off the thick jacket you'd been wearing and stared at yourself in the mirror, you lifted the baggy shirt you were wearing for practise your fingers lingering over the skin of your sides and wincing as the skin was sensitive because of the fresh bruises that were formed there. You shook your head going over to the stereo turning it on to get ready to dance to, you'd been behind on your choreography because you didn't want to come in with anyone else to practise so you waited for a Sunday when the building was almost empty and the dance studio was free all day.

Hoseok heard the music as he came down the hall to the dance studio, he thought it was free all day so he looked from the small glass window on the door and saw you practising, he was going to walk away at first until he saw you wince as you hit the floor during a move, he opened the door and walked inside as he got closer to you he could see the bruises on your sides as you moved since the top was baggy and lifted up over your bruises leaving them on display, concern washed over him but you hadn't even noticed him in the room until the music shut off and he was by your side, throwing about 100 questions at you all at once but you didn't hear them because he was talking so quickly.

"Hobi?" You questioned taking his hands and trying to calm him down, he stared at you his eyes full of worry you stepped away from him trying to remain professional. You had Hoseok had a personal history, he was your boyfriend before you both joined BigHit Entertainment and you ended on good terms but thanks to work you didn't see each other much and then you fell out of touch, occasionally seeing each other in the building and greeting one another.

"What's wrong Hobi, I can't understand when you spitfire questions at me like that." He wasn't laughing though, his hands went to your shirt and he lifted it, you slapped his hand away but you knew it was too late, he'd seen the bruises.

"What-"

"It's from dancing so much, I went too hard and hurt myself." You lied hoping he would drop the subject and leave but that wasn't Hoseok, you knew it wasn't.

"Are you going to tell me the real reason or shall I call your manager?" You looked at the floor of the dance studio and then back up to him, he wasn't going to drop it easily and it wasn't as though you didn't trust him because you trusted with your life but this wasn't something that came easy to you, you didn't just spill your feelings out to him anymore, you weren't together.

"Please just talk to me." He pleaded, taking you over to some leather seats in the back of the studio and sitting beside you.

"Hobi it's nothing." You tried to tell him but he knew when you lied, you always avoided eye contact with him and when you tried to hold eye contact you would end up looking away and staring at the floor.

"Tell me."

(X)

You stared at the house in front of you, Hoseok had brought you home to get some clothes and he was going to take you back to the dorms to stay there until they found you somewhere else to stay instead of the shared apartment you had with your boyfriend.

"I'm scared." You whispered as you walked up the staircase to your front door, he took hold of your hand and smiled, reassuring you he would be there the whole time. You walked through the door and you heard music blasting throughout the house, your boyfriend was home which wasn't a great start but Hobi gave you another squeeze and you walked up the staircase towards your bedroom, the music getting louder the closer you got.

"Why is he here?" Your boyfriend questioned as you opened the door, he was sat on the bed with his laptop you looked at Hoseok who nodded.

"Emotional support...I'm leaving. There's nothing you can do about it and if you come near me I'll call the police." You said through a couple of stutters, he slammed his laptop shut and you flinched squeezing Hoseok's hand but you stood your ground, not wanting to show your boyfriend you were scared of him.

"Leaving? That's funny. Leaving me for him are you?" He questioned looking Hoseok up and down and then over to your hands that were still interlocked.

"That's fine...Totally fine. I can sell the story, my Idol girlfriend leaves me for her ex idol boyfriend." You ignored him dropping Hobi's hand and going over to the wardrobe while your boyfriend continued to rant on about how he was going to drag your name through the mud and ruin you.

"Do what you want...I'm not yours anymore." You said as you finished packing your clothes and going back to Hoseok who looked as though he was ready to throw your boyfriend out of the window.

"Let's go Hobi." You whispered tugging on his hand and pulling him through the house, your ex-boyfriend following you down and towards the car, as soon as you were inside he started to bang on the windows, screaming your name and gaining looks from the neighbours. This is what he wanted, he used the fact that you were an idol against you, claiming he would ruin your name but right now you didn't care, all you cared about was getting out of that situation and away from him.

"You're over! I'll ruin you!" He screamed as Hoseok drove off down the road, you relaxed against the seat and Hobi rubbed your knee in a reassuring manner.

"He's gone...I'll make sure that nothing comes out in the papers or online. I'll make sure you're protected." He whispered to you with a small smile on his face to keep you smiling.

Namjoon:

You hadn't seen Namjoon in months, it wasn't as if you could just walk around to his apartment whenever you wanted to, your boyfriend made sure of that. He didn't want you going near Namjoon, claiming he was just going to turn you against your boyfriend and that he didn't trust him but Namjoon was your childhood best friend, you'd grown up next door to each other and you trusted him more than you trust yourself so it was hard when you couldn't go to him with every problem anymore, especially when the problem was the person you were living with, you felt hopeless and defenceless.

"Y/n?" Namjoon questioned as you showed up on his doorstep that night at 2 am, he looked around and dragged you inside confused as to why you were on his door at 2 am and why you were dressed in nothing but an oversized jumper and some shorts, you were soaked through because of the rain.

"What did you do? Run here in the rain?" He was laughing but he noticed you weren't so he stopped, taking you up the stairs and telling you to get something from his wardrobe and he would get you some hot chocolate and wash your clothes.

"I shouldn't have come here." You whispered to him as you stepped into his bedroom, you looked out of the window scared that your boyfriend had followed you but he hadn't.

"It's fine, I wasn't asleep I was working." He said trying to reassure you but it wasn't what you were worried about.

"Thanks, Joonie." You whispered as he handed you some of his clothes, an 'FG' hoodie and some shorts that you were going to have to double up the knot on.

"I'll be right back." He said going to make a drink, as soon as he was gone you took off the wet clothes and started to dry yourself off with a towel he'd gotten you.

"I got you some-" Namjoon stopped as he saw the bruise that was across your waistline, you rushed to cover yourself up but he walked over to you and moved the jumper up to see the mark, you pushed him away and pulled the top back down over your body.

"Joonie-"

"You told me you were okay! You promised!" He said to you tearing up at the thought of someone hurting you like that, it was true. The last time you saw Namjoon was when you went to dinner for your birthday, and he asked you about why you flinched when he came near you, you promised him it was nothing you were just a little jumpy after watching a seriously scary horror movie, he was feeling stupid for believing you and he couldn't believe that you were in pain and didn't tell him.

"What did he do to you?" You shook your head, trying to think of something you could say to come up for the bruises but nothing was coming to mind, you were too tired to think of an excuse and you never could lie to Namjoon, you hadn't seen him in months but you still couldn't lie to him you looked at the floor not being able to come up with something.

"I left him...I left that's why I'm here and that's why I have the bruise." You admitted, Namjoon walked closer to you and stopped in front of you holding his arms open for you to step into them, you wrapped your arms around him and he hugged you back, rubbing your back gently as you sobbed against his chest, you both dropped onto the floor as you cried to him. Telling him everything you'd been holding back, about how you had to ignore him but you'd been dying to see him again and Namjoon held you as you admitted everything to him, promising you he would keep you safe for as long as he could and he would always be there.

(X)

"I love you Joonie." You admitted not looking away from your hands that were locked together, you'd been sat on his double bed cuddling for the last three hours, talking over everything and getting a plan to get your stuff out of that house that your boyfriend was in and you came to the realisation that you were in love with your childhood best friend, he kissed the top of your head and gently rocked you back and forth.

"I love you too." He whispered back to you, telling you to get some sleep. You were both exhausted from the long night of talking and he had to go to work soon.

Jimin:

You decided to spend the day with your brother, Jungkook, and his friends at their dorm. You'd spent the day playing video games and annoying your brother before deciding to make them a giant meal for you all the share. The whole time your phone was on silent in the living room, faced down on the cabinet so you couldn't see the mass amounts of texts that were coming through from your boyfriend. You told him you were going to see Jungkook and he said that was fine until you told him everyone else was going to be there too, he freaked out and told you you weren't allowed to go and that it was a bad idea but as soon as he left for work that morning you went anyway, you missed your brother and his friends and they missed you. Jimin missing you the most since he had a giant crush on you, he always had but he kept it to himself because of the fact that you had a boyfriend and you were Jungkook's sister, he didn't want to do anything to ruin his friendship with Jungkook so he kept it hidden and decided it was easier to be friends with you.

"This is amazing! I'm jealous of James getting all your cooking to himself." Jimin joked as he pushed more food into his mouth, you laughed and then looked over at your phone. You should probably try and calm him down before you went home, you got up from the table and went to text him, telling him that it was no big deal and that you were fine and no one had touched you like he was claiming was happening.

"You okay?" Jimin questioned as he came into the room and saw a glimpse of the text conversation, you locked your phone and put it into your pocket.

"Perfect, I'll do the dishes when everyone is finished." You said to him, trying to find a reason to stay as late as you could without having to go home.

"I'm sure James is missing you, you should go," Jungkook said as he walked into the room, you shook your head and went into the kitchen, Jimin following behind you and telling you he would help out with the dishes and that way they would get finished quicker.

(X)

"Whoa." You looked at Jimin as he yelled out and then down to your wrists, your sleeves had rolled up while you were drying up the plates.

"Jimin, no." You said trying to stop him from going to the kitchen door, he turned around to look at you and frowned.

"You can't tell Jungkook, he'll see red and blow this out of proportion." You pleaded sitting him down on the chair and going over to the door, shutting the door quietly so you wouldn't drawer attention over to you both.

"Blow this out of proportion! You have bruises on your wrists!" You teared up as you heard him say it and he felt the pit in his stomach grew as he saw you, he took your hand in his and made you look at him.

"You have to leave him, I wasn't going to say anything but after the texts I saw and this." He said pointing at your wrists.

"You have to leave him." You were nodding in agreement but it wasn't going to be that easy, you'd tried to leave him before and it didn't end well.

"Jimin I can't just walk away from him, I have everything in that flat and then where will I go. I can't go home." He shook his head,

"You can come here, you can have my bed, I'll move onto the sofa until you're back on your feet." You sighed and shook your head.

"Jungkook will kill him." You whispered wanting to hide it all away again and never deal with it but your phone was starting to go off again and you took it from your pocket, he was calling you.

"Let me." You didn't have time to stop Jimin as he answered the phone and began talking to your boyfriend.

"Listen to me carefully." He barked down the phone, you were shaking as all the thoughts of what could happen ran through your mind.

"You will stay away from her, we will be round to collect her things and you will be out of the house while we're there. Do I make myself clear?" Jimin paused for a couple of seconds, staring down at you and running his thumb over your face to get rid of the tears that had escaped your eyes.

"Good. Bye." The phone was hung up and Jimin went into your contacts, blocking his number and looking at you.

"If you don't want to tell Jungkook we won't but you're not going back to him. You're not going to anyone that will hurt you like that. You deserve the world." He whispered to you, you felt your stomach flip as the words left his mouth and the way he was staring down at you, he smiled softly kissing the top of your head and you frowned a little.

"Jimin?" He looked at you again and you stood up and without thinking you kissed him, pulling away after a couple of seconds and looking at the floor, he chuckled and kissed your temple.

"You're not in the right frame of mind right now, but when you're able to think straight and we have you sorted we'll come back to that." He whispered to you, going over to the door and opening it again.

Taehyung:

"I'm coming!" Taehyung yelled as he heard a banging on the front door, he rushed down the staircase and unlocked the door opening it to see you standing there, hood up and facing the ground.

"Can I stay with you for a little while, I can't go home." He tried to look at you but you kept your face down.

"Sure, come in." You rushed inside and rushed over to his bathroom, slamming and locking the door so he couldn't come inside. You and Taehyung had been best friends since he debuted with your older brother, you'd gotten close because of your big personalities and it felt good to have someone who worked with your brother as your friend.

"Do you want a drink?" He asked from outside the bathroom door,

"No, you should go to bed. I'm going to have a shower and then go to sleep." You said hoping he would just leave but Tae felt something was wrong in the bottom of his stomach and wasn't going to make it that easy for you.

"I'm not tired, was going to get a movie on. Have a shower and watch it with me." You hummed in annoyance and he went to the sofa, setting up the TV and was prepared to wait outside the door all night if he had to. You winced as you cleaned up your face, knowing you had to go out there but you were going to make yourself look a little better than when you first came to the door, luckily he hadn't seen you which meant it was going to be a little easier to hide.

(X)

"You love this movie, it's that old Disney one you've been demanding I watch-" He stopped as he looked up from the TV screen to see you standing there, the hood still up over your head but your face was on display now, worry rushed over him and he stood up coming over to you and gripping onto your arms.

"What the fuck?" He questioned turning your face towards the light so he could get a clearer view of you, you pushed his hands away and sat on the sofa.

"I slipped on my way home." You lied looking at the screen and trying to ignore the pain you had in your head and face.

"Do you have any painkillers?" He went off to find some and came back with a glass of water and painkillers, watching you as you hissed at the cup hitting your busted lip.

"Where did you fall?" He questioned, he didn't believe you for a second but if this is what you were going to tell him he was going to question you on every detail until you told him the truth, especially if you weren't going to go home where your brother could see you.

"On the car park outside work, I slipped and smacked my lip on a bench." You said to him putting your glass on the coffee table, staring at him as he stared back at you. He folded his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrow,

"And your eye?" You looked at the Tv.

"Happened when I slipped." He sat beside you and stared at you, looked at you as you tried to pretend to concentrate on the movie but the pain in your head was too much for you to be able to stare at the screen for too long so you looked away and at him.

"Why did he do it?" You scoffed pretending not to know what he was talking about but Taehyung knew what was happening the moment you said you couldn't go home, home is where you shared with your boyfriend and if you couldn't go home you wouldn't go to your brother because that would mean too many questions so he was the next best option.

"What did he do?" You teared up remembering it and then looking at Tae.

"I told him I was leaving. That I was in love with someone else and he did it okay! But he's gone, it's over and I'm fine. It'll go down soon and I'll be out of your hair." You pleaded but Taehyung just took you into his arms as you sobbed out words to him, talking about everything you'd been through with your ex, the whole time he stroked your hair and reassured you that everything was okay.

“How did I ever give someone the power to fuck me up this bad?” You whimpered against him thinking back on all the other stuff he’d done to you that you hadn’t shown anyone.

"He assumed I was cheating and when I told him you had no idea I was in love with you he didn't believe me." The words left your mouth before you could register them and Taehyung's arms froze on you.

"You love me?" You stood up moving away from him.

"Coming here was a mistake, I'll leave. I'll get a hotel." But Taehyung took your hand in his and shook his head.

"You're not thinking straight right now, once you've rested and you've gotten better we'll talk." He promised you, laying back against the sofa and pulling you with him, your head laying on his chest and your eyes closing as you listened to his rapid heartbeat.

As soon as you were asleep he kissed your head,

"I love you too though."

Jungkook:

You couldn't wait to get to your boyfriends' apartment, Jungkook, you'd had a really long day at work and you really missed him. You hadn't seen him in over a week because you'd been rushed off your feet with work and home stuff,

"Kookie!" You yelled once he opened the door to you, you threw your arms around him and he chuckled picking you up and spinning you around in the air.

"I missed you baby!" You giggled bending down to kiss him and then moving away from him, you stunk because you'd been rushing around the office all day and then ran from the train station to his place.

"I missed you too! I have a game plan for tonight, you have a bubble bath or a shower, we order takeout and put on a movie. Have a chill night together?" You nodded in agreement with him and took your bag up the stairs with you towards his bedroom, you stopped in his room taking a pair of his boxers and a shirt from his drawer and going into the ensuite to have a shower to wash away the worries of work and relax before going to spend time with him.

"You're so fucking gorgeous." You heard Jungkook groan as he came up behind you in the shower, you giggled leaning back against him as he kissed your neck, sucking and leaving small marks, you were on cloud nine until he stopped and his hands ran over your wrists, you'd forgotten about them.

"Kookie, it's not what it looks like. I just got stressed at work and started rubbing my hands and then I didn't notice how ba-" He shook his head at you, you were lying through your teeth and he knew that instantly.

"What happened? Tell me the truth." He turned off the water and got out of the shower, handing you a towel and wrapping himself up, you sat on the edge of the bathtub together and he looked at you as you stared at the deep purple marks,

"I-" Before you could even speak you broke down into tears and he crushed you against his chest, holding you as you cried.

"Hey, hey, hey. I've got you. I've got you." He said as you continued to weep against him, trying to find the words to tell him what was happening and why you were covered in small and large bruises on your wrists.

(X)

"You're not going back there, we'll send in a letter of resignation and you will never have to go back." He assured you. You were both sitting on the sofa together eating the takeout he'd ordered, you'd told him everything about the bruises. How it was your boss who got stressed and took it out on you, dragging you around as if you were a rag doll and nothing more.

"I need the job Kookie." You whispered as you pushed some rice into your mouth and looked at him, he shook his head.

"We'll find you another job, I'm not having you got back there and first thing tomorrow morning we're calling the police. I'm not having it." You agreed with him and he sighed as he watched you cry again, you knew you were going to have to go to the police or it would only keep happening to other people, he rubbed your knee and you smiled weakly at him.

"I'll be here, always. I'll go through this with you, every step of the way." You nodded and looked around the room for your phone, you were going to have to document it all so you took photos of each of your wrists and saved them in a folder, Jungkook pulled you closer to him and kissed your temple.

"I'll be here." You nodded again and laid your head on his shoulder as he fed you some of the food from his plate, making you giggle at him, you knew it was going to be hard getting through this but with him, by your side, you knew you could manage it.

[winterscaptain]

perfect.

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

request from anon: I don't know if you already did this but how about a hotch x reader where she is insecure about her size? Please and thank you 😊

a/n: thank you for your request anon. i hope you enjoy it! words: 1158 warnings: discussion of body image, body dysmorphia. light swearing. this content may be triggering for some, please proceed with caution. 

for those on the tag list - please let me know if you would like to be excluded from any works that include specific triggers! 

ao3 | masterlist | requests closed

“Why doesn’t anything look right?” You muttered to yourself as you rifled through your closet a third time. It was mostly empty hangers at this point. Most of your wardrobe was tossed aside on your bed - casualties of your nearly-two hours spent finding an outfit for the bureau’s annual awards gala. 

Aaron, of course, had been ready for a while, needing only to adjust a couple elements of his daytime attire to adhere to dress code. He had only needed your assistance straightening his bowtie, so he was left to putter around the house as you met your wits end in the bedroom.

“How’s it going in here, love?” He was in the doorway, leaning on the frame. You appreciated that he always gave you space when you needed it, and that he always knew when to circle back. 

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you tried to blink them away before your head left the closet. You did your best to recover, and leaned out of the closet with what you hoped looked like a smile. “Fine. I just can’t find anything I want to wear.”

His chin tipped to the side, and his brow lowered as he squinted at you. “What’s wrong?”

You swallowed and took a deep breath to try and stave off your tears, and before you could say anything, he crossed the room and wrapped you in his arms. You breathed him in as the tears fell, and he rubbed your back. 

“I’m gonna ruin your shirt,” you mumbled into his chest. 

He laughed a little, pulling you even closer. “I have other shirts, sweetheart.” He pulled back and framed your face in his hands, “But I only have one of you.”

You gave him a watery smile, but then remembered you were still in your bra and underwear, having thrown off all your clothes in a fit of frustration. The smile fell from your face and you crossed your arm over your chest, your lower lip disappearing into your mouth. 

“Hey.” He tipped your chin up with his finger. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing fits and I feel like shit and I don’t have anything that looks good and I’m not going.” It all came out in a rush, and the tears started again. “It’s not fair! I don’t look like Emily or JJ or Ashley. I can’t -” 

Aaron cut you off, his voice gentle. “That’s enough.” He took your arm and led you to the edge of the bed, where he shoved some formal wear out of the way to make enough space for both of you to sit. “Sweetheart....you are so beautiful. I love every single thing about you except your aversion to doing dishes.” 

You smiled in spite of yourself, small and shaky. 

“Do you remember when you saw my scars for the first time?” 

You nodded and reached out, playing with the fabric his dress shirt right over the particularly angry scar on his ribs. 

“Did it change the way you feel about me?”

You shook your head, still focused on the crisp feeling of his shirt on your fingers. 

He searched for your eyes, and you lifted your head. Gravely, he asked you, “If I shaved my head tomorrow, would you still love me?”

You laughed aloud. “Yeah, probably, but you’d be pushing it for sure.” You paused and hastily added, “Please don’t.”

He chuckled and gathered you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin. “You know as well as I do that my love for you includes and supersedes appearance, just like yours does for me. I love everything about you. There’s nothing I would change, and I can and will support you in anything and everything that makes you feel beautiful and confident.” He leaned back, meeting your eyes. “Do you want some help finding something? We’ve still got time.” 

You nodded, and he held your hand as you stood. He started combing through the rejected clothes on the bed, arranging things into neat piles as you wavered off to the side. You weren’t certain of his sorting criteria, but you watched nevertheless. 

When he was satisfied, he stood and put his hands on his hips. “Alright. So these are things I absolutely love on you that are really comfortable, and these are things that can probably go back into the closet.” 

You stood beside him, and mirrored his stance, making fun of him. “Alright, SSA Hotchner. Where do we go first?”

He smiled, and held up one of your first rejects - a soft, surprisingly formal long-sleeve, calf-length black dress. It was one of your favorites, but it had looked all wrong in the mirror when you put it on over an hour ago. 

“I tried that one.”

He heaved a facetious long-suffering sigh “I know, but I’m here now and I’m always right. Humor me.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile and swiped the garment from his hand, unceremoniously wrangling it over your head. You straightened and adjusted and fussed over it until Aaron put his hands over yours. He stood behind you, your hands still trapped under his, and turned you toward the mirror. 

“See? Beautiful.”

“Yeah, but -”

“Are you really trying to argue with a former prosecutor right now?” He said, an eyebrow raised. 

You met his eyes in the mirror. “Aaron…”

He shook his head and circled you, settling between you and the mirror. He brought his hands to your shoulders. You could feel the warmth of his palms through the soft jersey fabric, and it settled into you, easing the ache in your chest. His touch trailed down your arms until he reached your hands. He raised them to his lips, kissing one, then the other before replacing them at your sides. His hands traveled to your ribs, running down to your waist and your hips. He pulled you to him, and all the air left you in a rush. “Forgive me, but after evaluating the evidence, I’m afraid I’m forced to disagree with your assessment.” 

You couldn’t help but feel a little better. He always had that effect on you, but when he really tried, it was alarmingly easy to believe him. “Alright, counselor.” You laughed as you looped your arms around his shoulders. “Nothing further.” 

Aaron kissed you then, his hands covering a broad swath of your back. His lips were gentle, almost reverent, as they moved over yours. He lightened up after a few moments, his deep kisses turning into quick and playful pecks that landed all over your face. When he was sure you were laughing, he pulled back with a fond smile. 

“I’ll grab you some water while you finish up, and then we can go whenever you’re ready, okay?”

You brought your hands to his cheeks. “Okay.” 

With a final kiss, you let him go. 

Before you could get to the bathroom, you turned just as he was rounding the corner to the hallway. 

“Aaron?” 

He turned over his shoulder, his brow soft and concerned. “Yeah?”

You offered him a small smile. “I love you.”

A broad grin broke across his face. “I love you, too.”

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @saintd0lce @good-heavens-chris-evans @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @vintagecaptainspidey @micaiahmoonheart @thatreallyis-americas-ass @marvels-agents100 @newtslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @sebbybaby0 @lilsiswinchester @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em 

[peterparkerspooderman]

Spill your guts or fill your guts Pt2

A/N: This post doesn’t carry on from the first part. You can read it either way. I hope you all enjoy!

Summary: You and your ex, Harry Styles, are star guests on James Corden’s game show, Spill your guts or fill your guts. Questions are being asked and tea is being spilt.

Warnings: Sexual innuendos and sexual jokes.

Pairing: tom holland x reader

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You rub your sweating hands together, shaking out the nerves backstage of James Corden’s show. You have been invited to be a guest star on Spill your guts and fill your guts, your heart racing in anxiety about what questions are going to be asked. With your head in the clouds you don’t notice your ex, Harry Styles stop to stand next to you.

“No need to be nervous, it will be fun.” Harry says, trying to calm you down a bit, his hands in his pockets.

You and Harry didn’t leave on bad terms. You both just didn’t feel you were meant to be in a relationship and stayed friends. You still talk to each other regularly and Harry was happy when you told him a year ago that you and Tom Holland got together.

“I’m just scared of what questions are going to be asked.” You chuckle nervously. Harry lets out a small smile.

“It will be fun, trust me. We’re just going to have a good time and if a question gets too much, there will be a disgusting plate food for you to eat instead.” Harry says sarcastically, a wide grin on his face.

“Hilarious.” You say, bumping your elbow into his ribs.

“Now won’t you welcome the stars of the show!” You hear James’ voice from behind the curtain, on the stage.

The stage curtain opens to reveal you and Harry, you both make your way to the table, waving and smiling at cheering fans. You and Harry sit opposite each other while James sits in the middle, directly facing the audience. The smell of the revolting foods makes you gag.

“Welcome y/n y/l/n and Harry Styles to spill your guts or fill your guts, a game show where you will get asked a question and if you don’t want to answer it you will have to eat a disgusting food that is chosen for you.” James explains, a mischievous grin on his face.

“Sounds great” You say with a cringe due to the foods that are in front of you.

“Amazing” Harry states, flicking his eyes over to you.

“Fantastic but before we begin I just wanted to clarify something. You two have dated before correct?” James asks, looking at both you and Harry.

“Yeah, we broke up a year and a bit ago.” You explain, looking at Harry for confirmation, he nods his head.

You hear the crowd “oooo” at the memory of you and Harry being the “Star Couple” in peoples eyes. You shift your body in the seat, crossing one leg over the other, your arms draped over them.

“Alright, let’s begin by showing the people what we’ve got. We have bulls penis, salmon smoothie, cod sperm, ant yoghurt, giant water scorpion, bird saliva, cows blood and pork tongue jelly and finally cows tongue” James explains, earning gags from the crowd and from both you and Harry while James turns the spinning table to show the camera.

“Alright so Harry will ask a question to y/n, y/n will ask me and I will ask you” James said

“I’ll go first.” Harry volunteers. James gestures to the table for him to proceed.

“Y/n, I will give you the cod sperm.” Harry says, you lean forward to smell it and instantly regret your decision, your hand coming up to your nose to block out the smell as best as possible but to no avail.

“How kind of you,” you sass to Harry, he responds with a smirk.

Harry picks up a card and smirks at you, oh no.

“y/n, is Tom a carrot, or a beer can.” Harry reads, the crowd and James gasping and laughing at the question, your eyes wide.

“My parents and Tom watch this show!” You exclaim. You look at the cod sperm and look at Harry, a shit eating grin on his face. You exhale. “I’d have to say he’s a Monster can, not a beer can.” You say so softly that if you weren’t wearing a mic, no one would have heard you.

The crowd gasp and whistle at your answer, Harry and James’ faces are in utter shock. You cover your face in embarrassment just thinking about how much trouble you’re going to get into from Tom.

The questions are asked and foods are eaten with gags coming mostly from you. A question that made your eyes widen and cheeks redden.

“Harry, what to this day still turns you on about y/n?” James reads. The crowd goes insane with gasps and murmurs. Harry looks at you then to the ant yogurt topped with scorpion.

“Pick your words very wisely.” You warn, not wanting to look if Harry chose to answer or not.

Harry takes a minute contemplating what to do. “On a scale of 1-10 how mad will Tom get if I say it.” Harry daringly asks.

“I would say a 7.” You guess. Is he actually going to say something? You never knew he still thought about you that way.

Harry clasps his hands in front of him before taking a deep breath before saying.

“I can take those chances.” He says, looking at your red face before adding “Her rosy red cheeks. It reminds me of what she looks like after-“

“Don’t finish that sentence” You cut in, not wanting to make Tom even more jealous and not wanting to let the whole world know what you look like post-sex.

Harry sends you a smirk, you face burning. James sitting between you two with his mouth hung open.

“I can’t believe you answered that” James said in disbelief. Harry just shrugs his shoulders, a smirk on his face. He spins the table, until it lands on the bird saliva. You gag at the sight of it. You shoot daggers with your eyes to Harry.

He picks up the card and puts it down after skimming it. His cheeks red and an embarrassed smile on his face. Oh no, what is it?

“Y/n” Harry reads, his face still red, your anxiety skyrocketing, “Who is better in bed, me or Tom?” Harry asks, his chest shaking while he laughs. Your mouth falls open, looking behind you for the writer of these questions but luckily for him, he’s no where to be seen.

“Your write and I are going to have a stringily worded chat after this.” You say to James, his mouth open in shock but letting out a loud laugh. The crowd laughs at your mild threat to the writer.

You look at the bird saliva, a whiff of it enters your nose and you almost throw up. Why are you on this show? You hesitate, the crowd getting excited due to the opportunity of you answering the question.

“I can’t answer that.” You exhale, thinking over your options.

“Then drink” Harry says arrogantly, his arms leaning on the table.

“I-I would have to say-“ you cut yourself off, the crowd booing at your change of mind, you give them all a shocked expression at their outburst. You contemplate again about what to do.

“I can’t believe this is happening, y/n, are you going to answer?” James asks in disbelief. Harry and you are probably the best guests he’s had on this show because of all the tea that has been spilt, what is another spilt tea going to do?

“Before I answer I would like to say that there is no drastic difference.” The room so quiet you can hear a pin drop. “I’m sorry Harry but Tom takes the cake for being the best.” The crowd erupts with shocked noises. James’ jaw is on the ground by how wide open it is and Harry’s face is red and embarrassed.

James closes the show for the night, shouting over the crowd.

The only thing that is going through your mind is how Tom will react to everything that was said and his monster dick.