#I want to rip their skin off consume their insides and crawl inside of their warmth with them still being alive and conscious

[f3m-b0t]

I read a book and now I’m contemplating the romantic intimacy of cannibalism

I want to be with them and also be them… at the same time?

I’m so normal I promise please I’ve lived an average life and am complacent with its simplicity I feel content and comfortable with it but damn I’m feeling like I should just say anything rn

[danosrosegarden]

bark like you want it - edward nashton x fem!reader (NSFW) ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

{kinktober: day nine. prompt: squirting. 🎃}

{contains: dom edward, vibrator torture/overstim, mentions of multiple orgasms, and descriptions of squirting.}

There came a point where everything fuzzed together and blurred into one ecstatic haze. You'd lost track of the amount of times you'd felt the tight, knotted ball of heat burst and scatter in your gut, that warm fever shimmering throughout your limbs all the way down to your curling toes.

Eddie was normally sickeningly sweet and preciously soft, always so willing to get to his knees and bend to your will. He'd get into moods, though; it was like you could sense a bug had crawled underneath his skin, cravings festering in his blood cells, and the thirst couldn't be quenched until you were a trembling, sweat-slicked disaster.

Whatever it took, he'd do, even if that meant he had to enlist the help of a toy. The first time you'd brought up introducing toys to the bedroom, his stomach lurched with a wild species of...what was it, jealousy? He felt small and stupid, his heart growing green with envy because of a piece of buzzing silicone. But damn if that little guy didn't get the job done. He'd never seen your back arch or heard your syrupy moans pour from your mouth the way they had when he pressed the fluttering vibe up to your twitching clit. It brought you pure, unfiltered bliss, and he couldn't handle ripping that away from you because of his own insecurities.

Besides, it didn't matter what was making you soak his sheets...he just needed to see you gush for him. It felt so intimately dirty, to watch the excruciatingly pleasurable waves of shock roll through your quivering body. He'd hold you tight through the overwhelming, intoxicating euphoria. Though he did enjoy torturing you with nonstop currents, never-ending waves of orgasm after orgasm, he still was that sweet, soft man you knew deep inside. When each glimmering sheet of ecstasy washed over your body, he'd press the vibrator even closer against you and coo into your ear.

"There we go. Just like that. Good, good."

Despite how it looked (your nails clawing against the wet sheets underneath you, your poor, weak legs shaking, and the nearly pained moans escaping from your gritted teeth), it wasn't about inflicting hurt. It was about hand serving you so much pleasure, you wouldn't know how to consume it all in one serving without bursting.

Think of all the times you'd pumped at him with a steady, firm hand after he pleaded for no more, please, I can't take any more! Wouldn't you like to feel what it was like? Weren't you curious to experience those sparkling spirals of paralyzing paradise twirling around in the pit of your stomach, even just once? It was only fair that he got to toy with you a bit, too.

He couldn't give it to you right away, though. That wouldn't be a fair game. When you did this to him, your smirk was condescending and in your pupils swam a power-drunk swirl. He wouldn't forget how you'd make him beg for it, and he wouldn't let you get off the hook without asking nicely for it, either.

He'd wait until the high was so close, you could taste it on the very tip of your tongue. He'd help lift you up to grab it, sure, but not without permission.

"Why should I let you cum again, huh? Tell me, baby, and you can have it."

His voice was thick and husky, glazed over with scorching, scintillating lust. It all brought him just as much delight as it did you, you squirming, skin slicked with your own juices while his hand reached around to rub buzzing circles onto your throbbing clit.

"B-been so good for you. Please, please!"

You hardly recognized the squeaking squeals trickling from your open mouth. Jesus, that's my voice?

But oh, you really had been so good for him, taking everything thrown at you in such diligent, devoted stride.

His mouth bent in a devious but proud, oh so proud curve. Didn't you deserve one more reward?

[cthulhusstepmom]

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

ITS BEEN STARING US IN THE FACE THIS ENTIRE TIME COMRADES WE'RE FOOLS

GHOST IS THE MOTHERFUCKING HEADLESS HORSEMAN

imagine with me a monster au

Price: gargoyle. stony skin, nigh impenetrable but pieces can snap off. he lost a horn that way. during the day he's restricted mostly to the indoors or he'll turn into a statue. he has wings he most definitely has wings. he smokes because he likes the tickle of it and he despises getting wet cause it makes his joints ache and his skin swell. he eats a balanced diet, mostly birds and the occasional green thing(he prefers moss) and he needs to swallow rocks to help him digest.

Gaz: naga. I like the idea of him being a sassy little rattlesnake. he does have venom but he can control it so it's not like he's gnawing on a steak with enough punch to knock out a platoon. he does swallow prey whole, it's really fucking disconcerting, and he eats like once a week. not completely cold blooded but much below room temperature and he gets really slow. he gets crabby in the winter because nagas naturally hibernate. nagas will only bite as a last line of defense because their fangs are actually pretty fragile in comparison to most real snakes.

Soap: amalgamation(think Frankenstein's monster). he's technically undead but it's kind of confusing because he is a completely separate person than any of his parts (legislation on this is a bitch and it flip flops every election cycle). amalgamations are usually not purposely made, they can happen just about anywhere, usually in morgues, funeral homes, or graveyards(lots of them crawl out of mass graves). no one has ever seen an amalgamation naturally come together, despite hundreds of years of trying (the magic works with Toy Story rules) but they can also be purposely made(very fucking illegal and unethical). a lot of times amalgamations are pretty off-putting, most undead are, but Soap is just like the best parts of everybody crammed into one package. and he's trans cause I said so and it's thematic.

Ghost: people jokingly call him a horseman of the apocalypse but oh if only they knew. no one is quite sure what Ghost is, bets are mostly on amalgamation because of just the sheer number of scars he has when people catch a glimpse; it can look like he's literally sewn together(natural amalgamations have smooth seams, made amalgamations are usually sewn or stapled). those who know are aware that Simon Riley went missing as a human man and returned as Something Else. he was beheaded before they buried him, in a world of monsters Manuel Roba isn't going to take risks, kicked his head into the coffin with him before nailing it down and shoving it back into the earth. but now his head is gone, destroyed, ripped to bloody pulpy, bits, instead of his traitorous commanding officer, Ghost used his own jaw in his desperation to escape the grave as a newly wakened undead. everyone wants to see what's under the mask, see behind the black pits of the skull, but the ringing hollow truth is that there's nothing there. and there can't be, not anymore. he doesn't eat, but he will absorb the energy of those around him and it can affect his mood if there are strong emotions. over the years he's learned to control it, to only take a little from everyone but he can siphon all the energy out of a person (if they don't have much his power literally starts burning fat to convert it and consume it, it withers you from the inside out).

I will be writing this stay tuned

[idkfitememate]

Blood on the Wall

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : Me Me Me!!! x You!!!

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. : 715

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW :Extreme descriptions of gore and death!!! As well as some extremely concerning thoughts of physical harm onto one’s self and others and of “attractions” to death!! I do not condone any actions in this story, so simply think of it as such, a story! Thank you and merry reading!~ <3

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊˚ Love y’all! Just feelin’ angsty lol!

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

I want to be splattered against a wall.

I want you to watch as my blood drips down, rolling through the groves and cracks of the wall.

I want you to be covered in my blood from the blow, to know something of mine, my essence is covering you…

I want to see you as you realize chunks of my body as blown across you. When you brush a part of my brain matter off you.

I want to hear you whimper as you taste my blood in your mouth. You had been staring – open mouthed – as I exploded against the wall.

I want you to walk up and slip on my discarded skin. Pieces lie – strewn across the floor. Your face as you collapse into the puddle of my blood would look so nice.

I want you to accidentally look into one of my eyes as it rolls over to you, to make eye contact with the discarded thing. Looking at me and only me.

I want to feel your fingers run across my exposed guts, feather-light touches on my sensitive insides. Places I shouldn’t be able to feel now able to feel you touch.

My body will turn and churn and bubble and groan. My insides will empty themselves and become hollow for you.

I want you inside of me. Use me. Take me. Pick up the skin that was once my face and wear it like a mask. Hold my hand as you peel back the layers of skin that hold its bone, rip the nails out and start with the fingers. Climb inside of my exposed chest cavity and play with me like a puppet. Push your hand up my esophagus – the blood forcing itself into my chest and out my nose hole and gapping, toothless mouth – and push your fingers behind my lips to force my mouth open. Feel my cold tongue beneath your fingers and press your nails into my exposed gums. Push your fingers pass my sinuses and through my nose cavity, wiggle them through the hole like worms will when they eat my corpse. Pull and push the muscle in my eye sockets, slowly squeezing the blood out, ringing the flesh dry of the substance.

Watch as bugs crawl into my body, under small patches of barely clinging on skin, as they rummage around and begin to clean my bones of this awful rot.

As they trail between your fingers in order reach other places on my body. To continue to consume what’s left of my flesh.

As they stop to taste you, only to realize you’re still alive and to continue to eat me.

Do you feel guilt? Or do you feel anguish? I want to know the answer as my eyeless, toothless, skinless body stares up at you. As you watch a centipede move through the ear that’s only attached by a strand of flesh and muscle and come out one of my eye sockets.

Because don’t fret, I adore this feeling. The feeling of my body being tormented in ways I could never describe to another person. A part of me wants to watch as you cry and sob over my death, saying that I’m “TOO YOUNG! THEY WERE TOO YOUNG TO DIE!” But another part wants to watch as you beat the person responsible for doing this to me, as you beat them in to a bloody paste to match my own.

But the smallest part of me? Deep deep down inside of me? Wants you to love this feeling just as much as me. To love the arousal pooling in my puss filled gut as my stomach opens with a sick *pop!* noise and my internal acid spills out. As my intestines slowly unwind themselves from each other, breathing for the first and last time. As my lungs fill with blood and push my heart closer and firmer against my rib cage with squelching noises to boot.

And watch as you fall into a sick, arousal filled insanity as you realize that you are the reason I’m like this. You are the reason I am bloody and disgusting and dead. I tried to help you. Tried to save you. And this is my repayment. You did this.

And I couldn’t be happier at that fact.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

[librarian-computer]

Warning for under the cut! There is descriptions of gore and violence!

Cw gore.

Cw violence.

I want her face to be shattered a bit, but not in the small pieces kind of way like glass. But big chunks. I wasn’t the side of her face to be cracked and broken off, but not from head down, from her cheek to her other cheek, her mouth completely gone. All the ichor in her body has small eyes opened on the surface, much like the design of my persona. Her legs are disproportioned and she cannot walk, but she doesn’t crawl either. There’s ichor on the ceiling and she hangs down on it on thick strings and vines of the substance, suspended and able to use the walls to claw her way around. She’s not the fasted, nor can she see good, but she has appendages that come her face and sides that can reach out. They don’t have a long range, nor does she use them as attacks whenever a toon is being chased. But she will summon them randomly throughout a map, especially in front of a machine after a failed skillcheck. Her summoned appendages won’t hurt the toons, but they will sense the toon there and alert her, allowing her to strap to the ceiling and get to their location quickly and kill them or attack them with her claws.

There’s the twisted’s that are sad and rabid and all that, their emotions consumed them, and for her it would be her anxiety. She has sensitive hearing and can hear a failed machine from across the map. She doesn’t have very good vision, nor does she have a good attention span (ADD go brrr), but she’s fairly fast.

Just imagine a purple, blue, and pink marble that’s distorted, morphed, and twisted. All of her organs morphed and mangled to act as extra appendages, her legs split apart and rotten to become appendages as well, every bon in her body pushed and compacted inside of the ichor, bone sticking out of her hips and tail bone. Her entire face broken, from the right side of it all the way around her head, only one eye still there while the other was completely gouged out by her pencil that was lodged deeply into the side of her face. Her pupil contrasted to a thin dot, and her fingers bent and sharpened at the tips into long gross claws that she uses to crawl on the ceiling, her hands planting into the walls. Every bit of black on her body that’s rot and twisted with ichor has eyes open and alive inside of it like a disease or whole separate organism. Every eye looking in every direction, or looking directly at you. Her breathing ragged and raspy, hoarse, barely audible, bated, and pained, tear streaking down her face to join the rest of the ichor. Chasing after you for every little sound you make, pushing the appendages through your skin and coiling them around your internal organs and ripping them out, tearing them apart, and infecting you. Just like her. And eye will open on your chest with the discomfort of guilt and heavy dread, like anxiety. Abandoned and lost, just as she was.

Here’s the process

The ichor was always in the toons. It just wasn’t infected. She lost all of her hearts. But she was fine? She felt just as she did before, a bit anxious and stressed from the latest events, but that’s normal now. But it got worse. Her anxiety didn’t go away, it stayed, and it worsened more and more. She became more irritable and more antsy, twitchy, odd, and weird, it made her a bit diluted. It was inside of her before it showed itself physically. She would have breakdowns and random panic attacks for seemingly no reason, from seemingly nowhere. More panic attacks, more freak outs. It hurt so bad. She felt sick to her stomach, it felt like it was twisting into knots. She was losing sleep more and more, until she had more than often occurring all nighters. Her eyes bloodshot and a little red, but that was just from the lack of sleep, right? It got worse and worse and worse until she felt more and more headaches and migraines more often. The last time a splitting headache that she was none the wiser was actually head splitting, a crack forming on the side of her eye down her cheek and the end of her lips. Her eyes reddening more, burning. Her stomach was beginning to hurt a lot, as if she was having cramps in her intestines and other organs there. It was all so sudden when she barely even felt it tear her stomach right open, splitting it a part and allowing most of her guts to slide and hang out, ichor slowly morphing and covering all of it until it was all just squirming and writhing appendages. The same goes for the right side of her face. Her eyes were completely red now. Hoodie and turtleneck torn past the chest, everything else just a mass of tentacles and appendages that had a growing amount of eyes opening on the ichor. The ichor on the ceiling holding her up like puppet strings, her newly bent and sharpened fingers allowing her to use the walls as support to “crawl” on the ceiling. She can’t remember WHERE she even got twisted. But it sure wasn’t in her room, nor the museum.

.

Here’s Carpy

:)

And her twisted design

:)))

[jaewrotethis]

20- Nightmares...

What happened on this day was impacting enough to take over my night. My dreams consumed with what I’ve felt today. I send myself to my bed sooner than the rest. Pan became just another boy in the room full of boys after leaving me on the balcony of the big front room. I couldn’t care, though. I was too determined to think over everything that happened today. I wanted to be alone to pick my brain apart, my day apart. So to my room I go, turning away from the front room and into the dark, maze hallways.

Alright, do the thing. I tell the second voice in my head, since she managed to navigate through the halls this morning.

You do it.

How.

Just think about the room.

I close my eyes at the dark hallway.

Stay relaxed.

I breathe out and I picture my torn blankets, my ripped sheet. The broken dresser and fluff mess of the entire room. The cold and forever opened window directly across the entrance and the smaller door to its right. Another breath and then I open my eyes to the room given to me. I stand in front of the open door. The room I so ungratefully tore to shreds sitting quietly behind the threshold. I walk in slowly, trying to find a sense of home or maybe comfort, trying to convince myself that this is mine. Over to the mattress, away from the forever open window that leaks a cold, cold air to flush my room, I walk.

I stop to put the lamp back where it belongs, on my night stand then walk the room to replace everything back where it should be. I put all the drawers back into the beaten apart dresser and the trunk back into the closet. I pick up what’s left of the pillows that were gifted to me and put them on the head of the mattress. Then the ripped sheets and the torn open quilts. I make the bed with the pieces left over and crawl inside of it. Having to curl up to be covered completely by the ripped quilts.

The bed is cozy, it’s warm. I lay for hours, the night crawling on and on, longer and longer as I just think of my entire day. Too much to recall to sleep, too much to go over to drift off. I wish I could write down the stops my train of thought kept making and riding passed before I forget any of it. From waking up to fuzzy bugs all the way to fighting pirates and then ending the night on a new note with Pan. A note of him possibly saving me, though he’s done it about four times today I’m nearly certain it’s all set up. There’s so much, too much to keep track of.

Did Pan plan every last event?

Did he make sure I had no weapon on the pirate ship so he could give me one when I needed it most?

Could he have really shown me how to fly just so he could catch me from falling to my death?

Or was it just so he could take it away and give it back whenever he says so?

Did he make sure to save me from the Mermaids to mess with my head?

Was the whole Slightly thing just abuse or did Pan set that up?

Why would he set up something so fucked?

Is it because I denied his help of flight after the Treasure Hunt?

Is he really that petty?

Would he really stoop so low?

When sleep did come, it was not welcomed.

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

Again, I’m flying. Over the mountains of Neverland I can see every valley and spring and forest that I saw earlier today. Still so vivid in my memory, I won’t ever forget my first flight over Neverland. I fly free, no Pan under me to keep me airborne, just me and my happiness. The sun is warm on my skin, I feel like I belong somewhere, finally. I couldn’t stop smiling even if I wanted to.

I fly the route that I was taken on today as it’s so fresh in my mind still. Over the Dark Forest that surrounds the hideout and onward to the valleys beyond. Over soft grasses and hidden lagoons. It’s just when I’m approaching the mountains furthest from it all, behind all the valleys, that the magically blue sky has a gray cloud growing. A mean looking storm that was so far away earlier, now in front of me. I can’t seem to stop advancing towards the gray storm forming in the mountains, seeping into the sky like ink in water. My faith dwindles. And as I’ve learned, doubt cannot be planted when flying. Just one shift, just one little second of uncertainty and I’m falling from the sky. The storm growing, casting nighttime and nightmares over the island.

I try, oh how hard I try, to stay lifted. Up and down I go as the belief comes and goes. Coming when I remember how the happy faith felt just a moment ago and going just a second after as I feel the fear of how I almost just fell. Until I’m crashing to the forest floor, somehow now underneath me, valley and mountains gone.

It’s dark. The trees are black. The rain is light but cold. I suddenly know exactly why I need to get up and run. So, I’m running through the forest under the dripping canopy that streams the smallest bits of moonlight every few feet. I’m sprinting through bushes, branches, shrubs. Getting nicked by thorns and scrapped by wood, tripping over roots and stumbling through plants but I can’t stop running. If I let him run faster than me, if I let him close the distance he’ll end my life, I know he will. Blood begins dripping off my neck, down my chest with the searing pain of them being created.

I breathe in rhythm as I sprint. Fresh painful woulds lay deep on the back of my neck and along the bottom of my skull. My temples also cut open, leaking out my crimson blood. It burns painfully but there is no time to stop and clean wounds. The wind yanks my hair behind me as I run my open vest flapping along with it. I push through bushes, and slap through water. My mud stained boots dig into the soil underneath me, kicking up dirt with each step that I push behind me, arms out to pull myself forward, anything to get away, to keep running, to go fast, go further. My legs feel like led, my lungs are burning for air. My body suddenly is exhausted and tired, I’m drained. My own weight is too heavy to go on anymore. I’m out of stream, I can’t run any longer. My breathing harsh and my blood pounding in my ears, I rear right, skidding in the dirt around a sharp turn of a cliff.

My legs skid under me making me hit the ground, palms first. I push myself back up to my feet before I can lose precious seconds. I’m running not much longer, but so much faster before I burst through thick bushes. I jump through thick, tall, green stacks of plant before realizing there is no floor on the other side. The bushes sit on the top of the steep hill I am now tumbling down. Big rocks dig into my back, they slam into my arms, into my legs as I yelp and grunt to each one in angry pain. My sides roll over the sharp jungle floor that cuts, ripping my skin. My head tucked into my chest, knees slamming into dirt, I try using my arms to shield my head.

Finally the earth decides to show mercy with a flattened clearing. Ramming hard into a stump stops my agonizing fall as it flips me over. The pain is tricky. It strikes my spine and bites my fresh bruises. With each second that ticks by the pain cuts my skin then disappears to the shock trying to take over, only the shock fails and the pain returns stronger and deeper to the bone. My lungs vibrate inside my chest as the wind has been knocked from me, stunning me on the floor momentarily.

Flat on my back I stare up at the dark forest, panting and coughing once my breath finds me again, my vision a blur. The world is tipsy. I shake my head, grabbing at it to try and stop the new headache that rolls pain down my body. I hear a holler in the darkness from up above. Beyond the hill I fell from. A deep call of a certain someone in search of the one that isn’t at his command. Fear pins my heart to my chest. Pure terror floods my veins and adrenaline pumps my cells to sit me up, ignoring the throbbing pain in all my bruised muscles that ache to relax. The hollering growing louder. He’s getting closer. I need more distance.

“You can not hide! You’re exposed everywhere you go!”

My eyes wide, the sweat beading my forehead with the dripping blood as his words successfully frighten me. With each word my nerves spike higher and leap in my skin. What if he’s right? What if I don’t away, if I physically can’t get away? How much actual pain and torture could he cause, how much worse can it be than what’s already been horribly done? Out of breath and shaking with fear I force myself to stand up. My eyes dart around for his figure, or a hiding spot, or a weapon, or better yet, someone who will help me. A twig snaps behind me just as I’m fully standing, wobbly and riddled with weakening pain. I spin round, whipping my wet hair out of my face. Darkness engulfs the trees that surround me. A black smoke coming in. Another twig snaps. It’s too quiet. The wind stopped, the trees gone quiet, even the rain is gone. I hold my breath, turning in a circle, searching in the dark smoke clouding in, closer and closer, erasing most of the forest from view.

“Why run?”

Two small words spoken in my ear. I jump, choking on a scream. My heart pounds, matching my rapid breath and I can barely see his silhouette in the dark. He’s right in front of me, standing tall and broad. Not a single breath missing, not tired, worn, or even breaking a sweat. I know that demonic smirk is plastered on his face. I gasp turning to run but two strong hands dig into my shoulders. I yelp as I’m yanked back and thrown to the floor. I trip on my feet. I am tired. I can’t fight anymore. Dirt finds its way into my skin, opening new cuts on my hands. A groan whining from me but I’m only trying to see straight, to find any relief in any of the many aching pains.

“I told you. You aren’t capable of hiding from me. You are not able to defend yourself,” he snatches me up and throws me at a tree, like a toy.

I hit the ground, gasping and crying out but I bite my lip immediately. I regret the sounds of pain. Each noise of fear and pain I make gives him pride. And if he’s going to kill me, he won’t have the satisfaction of breaking me. I won’t let him have it. Though it seems like he knows this and has made his own personal game of trying to snatch it from me anyway. And I know I can’t let him win. So though I’m shaking with fear and critical pain I’m channeling any strength left to hide it from him. I crawl away, suddenly dressed back in my white asylum clothes, Lost Boy attire gone.

“You’re helpless, weak, and worthless,” his hands grab my shirt at both shoulders and yanks me at himself. Then Pan introduces a new type of fear to the game when he says, “I ought to let the boys have at you,” and throws me once more on the floor roughly near the bushes that peak through the black smoke.

Exiting the bushes comes Slightly. His face evil and yearning for a certain type of pleasure. Slightly reaches for me with ghostly hands in the dark and I can’t help the shriek scratching from my throat. I’m crawling backwards, away from the bushes when from behind Slightly, more boys emerge from the shrubs, the same look on their faces, the same evil hands trying to grab me.

“Scared, little Jane. Pathetic girl on my island, why are you still living?” I hear Pan’s cold voice behind me.

Pan’s hands grab my shoulders again, pulling me swiftly and so fast I don’t feel my body being slammed into the ground until it’s already happened. I gasp for air as he drags me. He pulls me in the wet dirt. I panic and kick, clawing at his hands.

“No! Let me go! Let go!” I thrash and pull away, trying so hard to get on my feet but he’s stronger, hes always so much stronger.

He yanks me hard making me cry out again and shoves me in front of him. I have no control over where my feet land and where my body is being sent, I can’t stop him from shoving me into a small cage that sits in the dirt.

“No, please! No, no, no! Let me go!” I fight him but his fist connects with my chin and I’m sent flying back against the wooden bars.

I’m jammed into the cage as he tries slamming the door shut, but I jump forward to grab the bars. I push on the door with everything left in me. I’m just barely stopping it from closing all the way but it’s really just him dragging it out. A mean smirk on his face, like he enjoys watching me try so hard for something he can so easily end with an effortless thrust of his arms. My teeth chatter with panic, I don’t want to die. If the door shuts and the click rings out, indicating it’s locked, all hope is lost. The door cannot close. I cannot die locked up.

“Pan, please! Please, don’t do this! Don’t lock me in-”

“If you want out so badly, get it done yourself,” he says harshly. “But we both know you’re too weak to fight for your fate. You’ll stay locked in here until you’re dead.” He spits.

“No,” I whimper, still pushing the door.

He leans in so our faces are close, having complete control of the indecisive door..

“Yes.” is his last word.

Then his arms thrust forward, forcing the door shut all the way. A satisfying click rings out in the exact moment the dark scene is snatched away.

- - -

“Jane! Open the door!”

What?

My eyes open to a yellow blur. I squint, making sense of the ceiling above me. There’s hard pounding at the door. My heart seems to have the same speed as it did in the dream and it’s making my body shiver and shake through a rapid pulse. My brow is damp and so is my back and neck. I breathe out, convincing myself that it was only a dream and I’m not in danger right now, I’m not locked away and I’m allowed to be alive..for the time being.

“Jane!” the door handle quivers roughly, “Open up!”

I shake my head, wiping my cheeks of tears and brow of sweat before swinging my feet over the bed. I fall to the door with sleep swimming behind my eyes and shuffle with the lock before swinging it open. K stands outside my door. His shirt is sweaty, and wet around the collar. His face is red like he’s been running for a while and his eyes are wide with concern. One hand placed on the door frame.

“Are you okay? What’s going on in here?” he speaks rushed and steps to look inside my room. I back up, to let him have a look but my distracted eyes drift to the door.

“I didn’t lock it...” I whisper.

“What?” he urges.

“I-I, I’m not sure,” I touch the back of my neck, looking down and biting my lip.

“Are you alright?”

I nod my head quickly, “Fine. I’m fine. Sorry-I-it, I don’t...”

“What happened? You were screaming, like you were being murdered, what did you do?” he steps inside now.

I back up again, I grab at my hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-I mean, I’m sorry I woke you,” I say, still trying to calm my heart. I move around him to look down the hall, hoping I didn’t wake any others.

“What happened?” he asks me from inside my room.

“Did I wake anyone else?” I ask as I finish scoping the hall.

A door four down opens up and on instinct I jump back inside my room, bumping into K but I don’t care. I close the door, feeling fear bubble up again in my chest and turn straight into hyperventilating. K looks at me oddly. My wide eyes meet his and he goes to place his hands on my shoulders but pulls back himself when I glitch away.

“Jane. Breathe.” he says, trying to gain my focus.

I hold his stare and obey, inhaling deeply, then exhaling. It works as I feel the prickles of panic begin to disappear.

“I-It was-uh, just a nightmare. I didn’t mean to wake you, I-”

“You already said that,” he smiles.

I breathe out harshly, “Did I wake anyone else?”

“Calm down, would you?” he widens his smile. “I was up training, you didn’t wake me.”

I listen to him again and I breathe deeply through my nose. He waits patiently for me to find my relax as I’m replaying the convincing in my head;

I’m not in danger I’m allowed to be alive right now. There’s a door right there, I’m not locked up.

It’s alright. I’m fine.

“Nightmares are common here. What was it?” he asks me.

I shake my head. “I shouldn’t have woke you, I’m alright, really,” I go to open the door but he backs away from it.

“What was it?”

He stares at me with a soft look like he knows what I fear, like he has the same fears. He seems to drop some sort of wall and some how I know it’s something I’ve forgotten how to do. I can feel himself letting any restraint go and opening up to be vulnerable. Even more so, he is daring me to join him. His arms open up to me, challenging me to be as vulnerable as he is, to share any fear, to allow any comfort.

And then, I can’t stop my feet walking to him or my arms opening for him, I don’t want to stop them. I reach over his head and embrace him in a deep hug. I’m stiff at the foreign contact but then it’s just too easy to relax into him. He feels really warm and he smells like damp forest.

For a moment, I’m not in Neverland. I’m in a different place, a place I haven’t been to in so long or might’ve even forgotten it existed. It’s a warm place, a place I don’t think I want to ever leave. He holds me in this hug until I feel ready to pull away and when I do, it’s nothing but comfortable silence as I walk to the bed. I lead him, somehow knowing he won’t move unless I move him in my room. My eyes glaze over to my torn blankets thrown on the floor again, and the lamp that was once on my night stand beside them.

I clear my throat and sit with him on my bed, “I, I don’t want to remember...”

“We all get nightmares,” he tells me.

I exhale, “There was, I mean... it was too dark,”

He waits.

“It was Pan. What do you think happened?” I say harsher than I meant. I drop my head, exhaling.

“Even more common. It was a dream. It wasn’t real.” he assures me.

I look at him. I find a want inside of me to scoot closer to him, so I do. He doesn’t flinch or stiffen or feel uncomfortable in any way so I relax even more by resting my head on his shoulder. Such new contact and an experience I’ve never had before, it warms my insides. As if some normality finally found me.

“He is real, K, and he’s in the next room,”

K stays quiet for a moment, “What did he do?” he asks finally.

“What he always does. Brings fear, plays mind games on a power high. Makes it impossible to feel any sort of strength, then expects my soul in return,” I spit.

“We know a different guy,” he defends the master of my nightmares.

“He hurts, K,” I say, knowing he can’t deny that.

It’s quiet for a long time as the night creeps on. I begin to feel my eyes drifting close with a heavy sleep. No longer wishing to remain in the pity party, I get up and walk to the head of the bed. I crawl inside of my torn sheets and get comfortable. I want to ask him to continue the contact. A concept so odd to me, I can’t find how to do it.

Just ask.

I bite my lip, searching so hard for the words to say.

Just do it.

I inhale, feeling dizzy from such an unknown request.

Say it. Just say it.

I open my mouth to speak, but my tongue goes dry.

Just say it!

“You don’t have to leave,” I finally spit out.

He looks at me from the edge of the bed, “Jane. Pan, um, wouldn’t, I mean there’s a, type of...”

I stare at him, understanding that of course Pan still has control, but also so saddened by his rejection of my plead for more comfort. A plead that was so, so hard to put out there. It’s only more anger towards Pan. As if he thinks he has some sick claim over me that stops any type of comfort I might find in his camp.

“Right,” I barely whisper and turn the other way.

Try one more time.

I hear him get up off the bed.

Just one more time.

“K,” I stop him.

“Yeah?”

“...I won’t tell, if you don’t,”

I hear him exhale and I know I did it, I took control back.

He crawls onto the mattress with me, beside me. Such contact as laying with someone is an entire mystery to me, something I’ve never ever felt before. Never have I ever felt such closeness with any person. The asylum was too hectic to get cozy with the girls and before that my life was too...unstable to bask in boys’ arms. Something inside of me tells me to be afraid, but it’s not loud enough. The yearn for comfort is so much louder. K doesn’t get into the covers with me, he lays on top of the messed up blankets, on the edge of the bed. I turn to face him, testing my own waters. Seeing what feels like too much, and what is not enough. He seems so calm, as if he could fall asleep at any second. It assures my decision to ask him to stay with me. He isn’t the slightest bit interested in doing anything that would be at me. He is only here because it’s what I want, what I asked for. And if he is so calm and collected sharing a bed with me, than I can be to. It only assures me even more when he lets me curl on him as I please, not moving a single inch unless I do it for him. He doesn’t make any move to get closer to me, only lets me get as close I feel comfortable with. It’s nearly perfect.

“Thanks, K,” I whisper to him. ��Goodnight,” he whispers back.

I wipe my cheek of the small tear left over from the nightmare. I feel my smile and get even cozier against his chest. I nudge his arm with my shoulder so he knows he can close the cuddle. He obeys and wraps his arm around me when I settle. I’ve never felt so comforted. It’s ecstasy. He is so warm. He doesn’t smell bad but of moss and wet wood. I find the label for the place I’ve never been to. It’s safety. For the first time, in a very, very long, I feel completely safe. Nothing else but safeness, not even stress. No fear, no anxiousness. I’m safe in this bed, beside my friend. I close my eyes and remain lying with my friend until sleep engulfs us both.

I should’ve known Pan would destroy the only comfort, the only safety I had. For the next morning, K was taken away by Pan’s orders. All because I had a bad dream.

[onosodaisilarap]

➠ 📄

███████▒▒▒ 70%

██████████100%

Gift.

[�̴̶̸̴̳͎̮̲͖̘̭̮̐ͬͦͨ̐͋̈͆̕͡͡͞�̸̽ͨ͗ͣ̅͑̀ͮ͏̷҉̧̢̡̧͈̬͉͓̳̳̰̪�̴̷̨̛̫̩͔͓̯͉̼̮̊͗́̽̓͑ͫ͛̕͟͟͞�̢̧̄̌̆͒ͭͤͮ̾͡͏̷̙̯͈͍̰̥̗͠͞͠ͅ�̢ͬ̊ͬͮ̌̎͌͒͏̴̸̧̛͍̹͎̜̰̘̟̦͘͜�̓͆̆̈́̊̈́̓ͤ͏҉͈̮̫̟̺̰̤͈͘͟͠͠͝͡�̨̅̔̀͒͆ͣ͊̇ edit: disturbing content. Proceed with caution.]

I open the door. My eyes fall to the small box on the ground.

A beautiful red ribbon.

My hands pick it up and I walk inside, locking the door behind me. What a strange feeling...to sit at the table, staring at this mysterious gift. There's not even a note attached...my fingers undo the ribbon, slowly, as if the growing weirdness doesn't fill up my throat. It's like a thread snaking around my neck, but not tight enough to make my curiosity subside. That's how I open the box, and look inside of it, and see a heart shape, looking fluffy, like a plushie. I pick it up and hold it in my hands, the fluffiness and softness of it is warming. It's not heavy, but not light. I smell it. It has a strawberry scent. It's pink even.

I squeeze it softly, feeling something inside. It's like a lump, that occasionally throbs or moves. I can't quite figure it out, but I know it's strange. So, then, I ponder. Is it candy? Is it a plaything? I lick the surface, it's sweet. That's when I decide to take a bite, crunchy and juicy. A bitter strawberry taste runs over my tongue.

Crawling.

Small and sticky, crawling over my legs, falling from the open hole, within the pink, slightly red juice. I spit. A chewed tiny corpse of a roach beat along with groove and saliva. The other insects, the worms, consume my entire lap, crawling up, everywhere. I can't breathe...can't think or move as I am now paralyzed, frozen in place, with the dizziness taking over my head. I can feel the vermin climbing on my skin, right up to my pelvic area, to slide under my cloth. To slide inside of me, to squirm and fidget themselves. Into my guts, they pierce and consume. I can't scream, or cry, or speak...but I grunt. I stare at the ceiling as I die, as I rot and drop the heart.

Unsainted. The worms tangle around my tripes, insects chewing my organs. These vermin contaminate my body quickly, to make space for their new home. An ecosystem of pain and torture in which I wish to leave them be and switch to another corpse. One that didn't get invaded, scratched, to turn to dust. A tangled of heaped muscles, tensed up. I was once someone with a name, before the gift found my house and the parasites took over.

I had a name.

I was someone.

I was someone with a name.

To get them out, what could I do? Shakiness consumes me. To throw up, I need to get up, but all I do is cough the blood, gagging on it. My wide eyes couldn't see it, even if I tried to. My wide eyes could never see, if not the anger I felt, and also, the hopelessness. How miserable must one be...my heart throbs in response to my thighs getting warm by blood and strawberry juice, oozing, dripping on the ground. It makes me sick...damn sick to the point of staring at them when I lower my head and wanting to rip myself with a knife. The same one I used to open the box, I want to use it to kill them all and stab that heart a million times.

But then they are...gone. Right after I gripped the knife. They are gone, like they have slipped off, or died. Like they never existed. For a second, I see a real heart on the gap between my legs, but it's just that candy. The pain is over...I am clean, picking the heart up again, from the chair.

My legs still shake. But I see a butterfly.

[idle-soliloquy]

constant

Jegulus microfic - prompt: constant (august 2nd), 724 words, @jegulus-microfic

Part 2 of soul, 1, 3, 4, 5

CW: explicit, cheating, slapping

“I love you.” 

James soaks him up, devouring him with his inexorable gaze, pupils black as night, no speck of brown left to witness. Regulus feels consumed. Ripped into little pieces and digested. 

“You’re so beautiful.” 

Regulus knows he is. He’s covered in sweat and come, his cheeks flushed crimson, eyes wet with unshed tears. He slides his thighs together, relishes in the smooth glide, and a ragged breath escapes his parted lips, his tongue darting out invitingly. James kisses him, slow and languid. 

Regulus bites back. “Stop it.” 

“Stop what?” 

James’ nails bite into his thighs and he forces his legs open, diving back between them, back into familiar terrain. He starts licking him clean, from the head to the base, drags the flat of his tongue over his stomach, dipping into his belly button to scoop out the come that gathered there. 

Regulus feels groggy, woozy and detached from it all. He keeps his legs parted, knees pulled up high. His fingers skim over his nipples and pull callously - a spark of lingering pleasure pierces his gut and travels down the length of his splayed limbs. His foot arches, toes curling in the air. Every nerve lights up, connecting pathways in his brain, the ones that Regulus works hard to keep apart and severed. Regulus prays they disconnect soon. James has to stop. It’s too much, too good, too perfect. 

James bites the soft inside of his thigh, bruising the skin. He licks again, tentatively, and then once more; the rough surface of his tongue tickles and soothes all at once. 

“I love you,” James repeats, dipping his tongue inside him, and Regulus thrashes in his grip, grinding his teeth, biting on his lip with fervour. 

“Stop,” he gasps. “Too much.” 

James ignores him, refuses to abide. “Use your safe word if you want me to stop.”

He nips at the skin there and it’s sore, agonising even. Regulus squirms away, back arching off the bed. “Fuck, stop.” 

“No,” James licks into him again, penetrates him with words and flesh, digging deep and tasting him so thoroughly, Regulus thinks there’s nothing of him left, nothing else to savour. He’s becoming bland, an empty vessel. James chips away at the void. His love is seeping through his pores, slathering over Regulus. It itches when it sticks and melds into his skin, and like acid, burns off the protective layers Regulus worked so hard to assemble and against all odds, maintain. 

“I love you,” James murmurs between bites and licks and slides of his hot tongue and Regulus cannot take it anymore. 

“Red.” 

James stops immediately, choking out an apology. He crawls from between his legs, chest heaving. His eyes are full of excruciating remorse.

“I’m sorry.” He cups Regulus’ cheeks into his trembling palms. “Fuck, sorry baby. You always like this, I didn’t think-”

“It’s fine,” Regulus breathes out. His stomach twists and knots. He wants to bolt, shroud his face in shadows so James can’t penetrate him anymore, with his gaze and hands, and his soft, sickeningly sweet words. “I’m fine. It was just a lot.” 

“I’m sorry,” James whispers, contrite. Like a beaten dog, he drops his head and begs for forgiveness, resting his forehead on Regulus’ bare chest. 

“Stop saying that,” Regulus says. 

“Saying what?” 

That you love me, Regulus thinks. It’s a constant reminder, a gruelling pain, but one with blunted edges. It doesn’t cut, it rubs and chafes and grinds down, until it rips through his skin and rearranges his insides. 

“Stop apologising.” 

“I’m sorry,” James says, and then laughs, desperately and frantically, and Regulus rolls his eyes. He plays into it, turns it into a joke, a quirky misunderstanding. A tender moment shared between lovers. 

Later, when he rides Barty on the kitchen floor, moaning shamelessly and screaming his lungs out, he hears the same accursed words repeated in a sadistic parody of James’ sweet confession. 

Regulus hits him, hard over the face, and sits back down, feeling the cock inside of him glide over his prostate, making him come in white streaks and rivulets all over Barty’s chest and neck. 

“Don’t you dare,” he gasps, voice ragged, pleasure coursing through his veins like poison. “Don’t you dare say it. This is not love.” 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, darling,” Barty replies with a cruel smile.

[angel-0f-verdun]

6 Intoxicating Inertia

Previous Chapter

I laid my head down in Maverick’s lap, feeling the booze flow through my system and fog my brain. It felt good to relax finally, I closed my eyes ready to let sleep consume my being. Maverick was fiddling with my hair taking it down from the bun I had it in. He ran his fingers through the messy pieces causing my eyelids to get even heavier. I didn’t know what it was but he had this ability to completely put me at ease. The car door closing woke me from my drifting, Goose and Crystal had disappeared.

“Babe, we’re back,” Maverick said to me. I groaned not wanting to move from my comfy position.

“What’d you call me?” I asked him, raising my head from his lap, and getting close to his face. I blew a stray strand of hair out of my face effectively hitting him in the face with it. I let out a giggle at his surprised reaction.

“Maeve, why would I call you anything else? I mean, unless you wanted me to,” He replied with a tenderness in his tone, watching me with those hazel eyes, my eyelids wanted to fall even more.

“You’re cute… I would like--” I stopped, thinking about how dark it was outside.

“Alright, alright let’s get you inside and patched up,” Maverick said softly to me, moving to get out of the car. He grabbed my hands as I pouted, not wanting to get out. He wouldn’t be able to move me past the center console, he moved up the passenger seat and folded down the backrest. I crawled on top of the seat in its flattened position not willing to use my feet. I reached out to him.

“Up!!” I said, my voice taking on the inflection of a child hoping to get what it wanted. He moved in giving me a hug, I took in his smell, spearmint and apples.

“You smell gooood.” I complimented him, enjoying his scent clinging onto him. He attempted to get out of my grasp with no success. Prying my hands off his figure, I groaned in his ear, annoyed that he wanted to get away from me.

“Thank you Maeve,” He thanked me, a grin appearing on his face.

“Mavvvv stopp” I begged him to quit moving as he was making my world spin. He picked me up and threw me over his shoulder the sudden movement made my stomach churn unhappily. He shut the car door after successfully getting me out and walked towards the house, up the stairs, and to my room. He set me down in the chair near the desk.

“Stay here, don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.” He told me as if I were a dog that was prone to not listening. I nodded, starting to unbutton my dress whites, I didn’t get very far as the buttons were moving around. Frustrated, I wanted to just rip the shirt in half, but I kept trying, closing my eyes and feeling the buttons with my fingers instead of trying to focus on them. Although, closing my eyes made the room spin even more. As I got to the last button I sighed happily ripping the shirt from my arms, when it slipped over my right hand I winced feeling a small twinge in my hand. I threw the shirt in the closet and as I went to examine my wound Maverick walked back in with a small white box in his hands. He knelt down in front of me, took my hand, and placed it on the desk. He opened the box and retrieved an alcohol swab, ripping open the packaging. 

“This might sting a bit,” He instructed me looking into my eyes before looking back to the split skin on my knuckle. I watched as he pressed the swab down on my wound letting the tiny wipe pick up the now dried blood. I winced feeling the slight tinge of the alcohol as it hit the cut. I let out a hiss at the uncomfortable sensation. He lifted the swab and threw it in the trashcan, getting another and wiping around the cut getting all the blood off the skin that hadn’t been ripped. Maverick then retrieved the ointment, placing it gingerly on my knuckle.

“You know, this probably needs stitches,” He said as he went to grab a bandaid from the kit. I waved my free hand at him brushing him off. 

“Whatever it’ll be my newest addition to the collection… Just a new memory,” My words were starting to slur and I knew it was only a matter of time before I fell asleep. 

“A good one, I hope.” He replied as he finished closing up the kit and moving back towards the hall bathroom to put it away. I nodded, standing up from the chair a bit wobbly on my feet. I trudged over to the bed trying to slip out of my pants as I walked. It proved a difficult task as I tripped over the excess fabric and fell. 

“Fuck.” I exclaimed as I hit the floor. Maverick came racing into the room, the look of shock on his face had me giggling again. 

“Hell Maeve, I thought I told you to stay where you were.” He said to me. I just smiled, closing my eyes. He held out his hand to help me up, but I had another idea, which was to pull him down to the ground with me. As I did he let out a grunt as he tumbled down next to me, avoiding falling on top of me. 

“I should’ve seen that coming.” He said as he let out a chuckle, his head next to mine. I could tell he was staring at me based on the direction his voice was coming from. I looked in his direction,

“You know I would never admit this sober but I think you and I could have made a real go of it,” I told him the smile falling from my face. He propped himself up on his elbow looking at me more seriously.

“What do you mean could have?” He asked me. I opened my mouth attempting to phrase my next words carefully but my brain was going too fast for me to pick what I wanted to say. I shook my head ignoring my conscious voice. 

“Do you ever think about what you would be doing had you not joined the Navy?” I asked him attempting to get us past the awkwardness that I felt pressing against me.

“We still can and I’ll prove it to you,” I heard him quietly whisper, not letting the subject slip from his grasp easily. I smiled attempting to hide the pain I was feeling in my heart from a past life. He continued to answer my question, “Not really, it was always one of my dreams. My father was a fighter pilot, lost during Vietnam. I always assumed he was killed in action but our family never received confirmation. What would you do?” He asked me. 

“I’m not sure, I’ve always been this way. Growing up all I wanted to do was get away, the Navy gave me that. Now, I don’t know after all I’ve been through following this path, sometimes I think I would have been better off doing something else.” I told him, letting my eyes close, completely this time. 

***

My alarm rang out loudly, pissing me off. I groaned, reaching over to smack the damn device off, when I did my hand ended up hitting something softer than plastic.

“Ouch, what the fuck?” I heard his voice clear as day and I knew who was in here with me, Maverick. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, but what the hell are you even doing in here?” I asked him, annoyed, my head starting to pound from all the loud noises. 

“I must’ve fallen asleep… Sorry, I was watching–” He started as I grew more confused. He reached over to turn off the clock. I fell back onto the pillows covering my face with the extra one to block out the light. I grimaced, feeling the pain in my hand almost immediately when I tried to move it. I had no recollection of what had happened last night and wasn’t sure I wanted to know. 

“Can you get me some aspirin?” I asked him, changing the subject entirely. 

“Yeah give me a second.” He said as he moved towards the hall bathroom. I immediately flashed back to last night when Maverick was bandaging my hand, running back and forth between the two rooms. I sighed as I heard Maverick return from the bathroom with a glass of water and pills. I removed the pillow from my head, not willing to meet his eyes.

“Thank you,” I murmured out. I threw the pills into my mouth and swallowed a sip of water with them. I could see him nod from my peripheral vision. 

“Better get dressed. We’ve got class and flight time today from what I hear. Should be enough time to power through your hangover though.” He told me, leaving the room to go to his own. I nodded, throwing the covers off my body and moving towards the closet. My hand gravitated toward my flight suit, picking it up off the hanger setting it down on the bed. I looked at the clock wondering if I had enough time to shower. It was 06:00 so I knew I had ample time. I had already put my toiletries in the bathroom yesterday so I knew I had what I needed. I went to the hall closet and grabbed a fresh towel before heading to the bathroom. I closed the door behind me, locking it before I started to get out of my clothes. I started the water, letting it heat up to the perfect temperature, and hopped in. I scrubbed myself until I felt the smell of booze was gone. I washed my hair to make sure that it wasn’t greasy from last night. Once I was done I got out, dried off, and brushed my hair making sure to get every last tangle before I threw it into a ponytail, I would do the rest of the bun later. I wrapped the towel around my body and left the restroom for my room. I put on a clean undershirt and shorts then put the flight suit on followed by my socks and boots. I grabbed my flight bag and helmet and started down the stairs to the kitchen. 

“Hey, how’s the hand?” I heard Crystal greet me from the table across from the island. She was chomping on a bowl of cereal. 

“Agh thanks for reminding me. What the hell happened last night?” I asked her as I grabbed some cereal, milk, and a bowl. 

“Well, do you want the condensed version or the detailed version?” She asked me. I groaned, it was worse than I thought if that was her question to me. 

“Detailed, I guess,” I told her.

“How much do you actually remember?” She asked knowing it wasn’t much.

“Well, I remember getting to the bar, getting drinks, talking to Iceman… After that, it kind of goes blank.” I told her, pouring the cereal into the bowl, followed by the milk. 

“Well, you chugged one of your vodka tonics because ‘Don’t Fear the Reaper’ came on. Then you went to the bar to get another. Started a bar fight, kissed Maverick, and then I took us home before they called the cops… You really don’t remember any of that?” She questioned. riddling off the list of things that were an absolute blur to me. 

“I mean I kind of remember— wait, go back, I kissed Maverick??” I asked her.

“Yeah, just to fight some dude who pissed you off I’m pretty sure.” She smiled as she took another bite of cereal. 

“Well, I’m glad it wasn’t someone else who woke up in my bed this morning,” I told her. She practically choked on her food. 

“WHAT?” She asked me, completely taken for a loop. 

“Yeah, I smacked him thinking he was my alarm, rude awakening for him,” I told her, walking over to the table to sit down. 

“What happened?! Oh my god, does this mean??” She started rambling. I stopped her with my hand to quit. 

“I don’t know, I haven’t asked him yet, and no it doesn’t mean we’re a couple,” I told her, rolling my eyes and starting to eat. 

“I remember him bandaging up my hand and that’s really it. Fucking hurts like hell today, should’ve gone to the hospital honestly.” I told her as I examined my knuckle, wondering if there was an Ace bandage stored around the house somewhere. 

“Well Maeve, you should probably talk to him and figure out what happened between you two.” She said as she took a sip of her coffee.

“No, because then it makes it a big deal and I’m not really sure where I’m at with the whole situation,” I told her not willing to back down from my stance. She nodded as I continued eating. 

“Where are they anyway?” I asked her, noticing that the boys were nowhere in sight. 

“I think they’re eating outside.” She told me, the day shift and night shift were colliding and we had such different patterns. I groaned, not willing to move from my spot here just to talk to him about something so trivial and ridiculous. I would’ve rather not known anything at all but my curiosity got the best of me. 

“How’s the hangover?” She asked me.

“Ah, splitting my head in two, but I’ll be fine, what time did we get back?” I asked her.

“Around 22:00.” She answered. I normally recover fast from things like this. The regulations required us to stop drinking 8 hours before our flight time, so our flight time being around 10 am, we would’ve had to stop drinking at 2 am. Since it was more than likely that I stopped drinking by then I’d be legal and fine to go on the flight. I heard the door squeak open and close behind me and I knew our company had arrived. 

“I see you managed to find the provisions that Crystal and I picked up Maeve.” Goose said. I smiled as I felt him pat me on the shoulder and sit in the chair to my right, as Maverick took my left. 

“How’s the head?” He asked me. 

“It’ll be better when we get this class over with,” I told him, not wanting to really do anything today but sleep until this passed.

“You happen to pick up an Ace bandage?” I asked him.

“Yeah actually with Crystal’s proactive thinking, we did.” He said as he looked to Crystal who handed me the bandage out of a Walmart bag. I smiled at her gratefully. It was black which would be fine with the uniform. I put down my spoon, starting to wrap my hand in a brace-like fashion. Maverick noticed I was having an issue with starting the wrap and grabbed the bandage from me without a second thought.

“Thank you,” I told him quietly. He smirked at me as he finished up the wrap, placing his hand on it to make sure it was good to go. He lingered there for a moment before clearing his throat and standing.

“We should probably get going,” He said taking my bowl from me and taking it to the sink. I grabbed my stuff again and headed towards the door, my keys in my hand. 

“Crystal you wanna ride with me?” I asked her. She looked to Goose, 

“Actually I was going to go with Goose, it’ll give you and Maverick a chance to talk” She whispered the last part. Goose spun around looking for his keys to keep himself occupied as he had heard that last part.

“Alright Maverick, let’s go,” I grunted out to him walking towards my car and unlocking the doors. I waited for him, noticing that he wasn’t near me yet, I spun around toward the front door. 

“Mav!” I yelled at him, wondering where he went. 

“Yeah, I figured we could take my bike?” I groaned, getting into my car and grabbing my Raybans before locking my doors and conforming to his decision. I put on my sunglasses, 

“Fine,” I said as I put my hand through the strap on my flight helmet and my flight bag on my back. He got on first and started up the bike. I followed his lead straddling the bike.

“Don’t you dare kill me!” I told him as I gripped the metal behind me. He laughed, as he pulled out of the driveway slowly. He started going faster when we hit the highway, weaving in and out of traffic. He slowed down abruptly causing me to fall into his back. I wrapped my arms around his waist and I felt his breathing stop for a moment. 

“Finally Reaper, Jesus.” He said under his breath, I smirked as I realized he had been wanting that in the first place. This wasn’t the time or place to talk about last night with him so I decided to just enjoy the ride. It wasn’t too long before we pulled up to the security gate at the airport, I peeled my hands from Maverick’s waist, giving my ID badge to the guard. They let us through, giving us the ID cards back. Maverick pulled up outside a hanger, parked his bike out of the way, and stopped the engine. I got off the bike and walked into the hangar seeing a makeshift classroom on the hard concrete inside instead of planes. It felt like home, just off the runway. I would love to renovate a hanger like this one into a home, but that was a far thought, almost no guy would want to live somewhere like this. 

“Reaper!! Fucking awesome night last night. You definitely earned my respect, Mav, you better watch out, some of us might want a shot at her too.” Iceman greeted me, I nodded sitting down and waiting for Crystal and Goose to show up, resting my head on my arms covering my face from the light.

“Yeah, I would expect you to be hungover from last night, you want some aspirin?” I heard Slider ask me. 

“Please,” I said as I heard Crystal’s chair make a terrible squeaking noise across the floor as she arrived.

“Sorry.” She whispered to me. I nodded ignoring the pounding that had started in my head. Slider handed me two pills out of his bag and a water bottle. I nodded in appreciation as he went back to sit down. Taking the pills quickly with the water, I knew I had some a couple of hours ago but more could only help at this point… Hopefully, it would solve all the issues I was having. 

“Good morning everyone as you can see behind us your jets have been delivered. You’ll be happy to know nothing arrived broken. We’ve already done a preliminary inspection on them just to be safe. While you’re in this program you’ll be trained and evaluated by a few civilian specialists. The civilians are here because they are our very best source of information on enemy aircraft. One of the most qualified is our TAGREP, callsign, Charlie. She has a PhD in astrophysics and she’s also a civilian contractor, so you do not salute her. But you better listen to her because the Pentagon listens to her about your proficiency. It’s all yours Charlie.” Jester said to us as he stepped out of the way of Charlie who was currently strutting down our makeshift aisle in her high heels. I wanted to burn a hole through her heels with my eyes as the noise was very irritating on the concrete and did not help the migraine that threatened to take over. She spun around to face us, she had very pretty blue eyes that were complimented by her short curly blonde hair. I sighed pissed because more than likely she would have affairs every couple of months with the students in her class. These men were hard to resist, even to a woman of a higher stature, they embodied everything that someone could possibly want, but when you got to know them they were difficult to get along with. I almost envied her position, had I not gone the military route perhaps I’d be teaching and free of my past that plagued me every step I took. 

“Thank you, hello, we will be dealing with the F-5s and A-4s as our MiG simulators. Now then as most of you know the F-5 doesn’t have the thrust-to-weight ratio that the MiG-28 has, and it doesn’t bleed energy below 300 knots, like the MiG-28. However, the MiG-28 does have a problem with it’s inverted flight tanks. It won’t do a negative G pushover. The latest intelligence tells us that the most it will do is 1 negative G…” She paused watching Maverick lean over to Goose and whisper into his ear. I rolled my eyes, apparently, it was already time to be a show-off and annoy all the other pilots and RIOs in the room. 

“Excuse me, lieutenant. Is there something wrong?” She asked Maverick as he slid his sunglasses onto his face to block out the sun that was threatening our eyes. 

“Yes, ma’am, the data on the MiG is inaccurate.” Maverick cleared his throat before telling her that she was an idiot. 

“How’s that, lieutenant?” She asked him amused, preventing herself from laughing out loud. Maverick took off his glasses to emphasize some sort of point he was getting at. 

“Well, I just happened to see a MiG-28 do…” Maverick started, Goose didn’t let him get very far though. 

“We... We.” Goose said, looking at him pointedly, annoyed that Maverick had left him out, a smile broke out on my face. Fucking Goose, never wanted to be left out of the action that Maverick got them into. Crystal elbowed me, 

“I taught him that,” She said snickering. I almost lost my composure, these men were toddlers sometimes who couldn’t find a way to stick up for themselves. But I’m glad Crystal had taught him where to find his balls. 

“Sorry Goose.” Maverick paused looking at his RIO before turning back to Charlie. 

“We happened to see a MiG-28 do a four-G negative dive.” He corrected himself, making sure Goose was included this time. 

“Where did you see this?” She asked him more questions. 

“That’s classified,” Maverick told her, I could tell he was smirking before I even heard the words come out of his face. 

“It’s what?” She asked this time confused.

“It’s classified. I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you.” Maverick continued to mansplain to her. 

“Lieutenant, I have top-secret clearance. The Pentagon sees to it that I know more than you.” She countered, I will admit it seemed she could stand up for herself. She almost impressed me, but barely. 

“Well, ma’am, it doesn’t seem so in this case, now does it?” Maverick replied his smart ass just couldn’t stop with the snarky comments. I understood this in a way because civilians did like to pretend they were smarter than we were. It was almost as if they just thought we were there to fly and look pretty but didn’t know anything.

“So Lieutenant, where exactly were you?” Charlie persisted in asking him. 

“Well, we…” Maverick paused dramatically yet again to receive praise from Goose. 

“Thank you,” Goose replied before Mav continued. 

“Started up on his six when he pulled through the clouds and then I moved in above him.” Maverick started to explain finally getting to his point. 

“Well, if you were directly above him how could you see him?” Charlie asked. This conversation was starting to feel a bit personal to both of them. I could feel eyes on my back which made me turn to see Iceman. 

“True?” He mouthed to me. I shrugged, not entirely sure because it was before my shift that they were engaged with the MiG and we’d really never had a conversation about it. 

“Because I was inverted,” Maverick told her. 

“Bullshit.” Iceman coughed out. 

“No, he was man, it was a really great move. He was inverted.” Goose said, looking back to the perpetrator who had called them out. 

“You were in a four-G inverted dive with a MiG-28?” She asked this time disbelievingly. She wasn’t alone, no one really seemed to believe it. I wasn’t sure what I believed. 

“Yes ma’am,” Maverick told her. 

“At what range?” She asked continuing on her line of questioning. Maverick and Goose stopped answering to have a sidebar. 

“About two meters?” Maverick asked Goose.

“It was actually about one and a half I think. It was one and a half. I’ve got a great Polaroid of it. He’s right there. It must be one and a half. It was a nice picture.” Goose explained to not only Maverick but the entire class as well. I heard two other pilots behind me stifle their laughter. 

“Lieutenant, what were you doing there?” She asked.

“Thanks, I like my pictures.” Goose was continuing on his random thought, “Communicating,” Goose said to Mav giving him the answer. 

“Communicating… Keeping up foreign relations. I was you know, giving him the bird.” Maverick said unrelenting. 

“You know, the finger,” Goose told her as he flipped off our new instructor in question. 

“Yes, I know the finger, Goose.” She said, I smiled, I always did enjoy Goose's dry sense of humor. He could always make me laugh when it was needed. 

“I’m sorry, I hate it when it does that. Sorry.” He apologized to her putting his middle finger away. 

“So you’re the one,” Charlie said to Maverick. I just about choked on the water that I had been sipping on for this entire conversation. 

“Yes ma’am.” He replied. 

“All right, gentleman, we have a hop to take. The hard deck on this hop will be 10,000ft, there will be no engagement below that. Move it.” Jester said from the back of the classroom breaking up the weird energy that had filled the room. I sighed, what had transpired in that classroom had made me want to puke, had we learned anything? No not really except that a MiG can in fact do a negative G pushover. I had a feeling that Charlie had manipulated that conversation out of Maverick in order to find out who the pilot was on the briefing she had read for that particular mission. Crystal and I walked down the hallway through the upstairs lounge and to the girl's locker room. I leaned my head against the cold metal enjoying the feeling. 

“You gonna be alright for our flight?” Crystal asked me, genuinely curious as she put her books in her own locker. 

“Yeah I’ll be fine, let’s go blow some bitches out of the water,” I said to her putting my things away as well and heading out to the tarmac for the preflight. 

Next chapter

[werdlewrites]

The Season of the Witch: Allumage

Chapter Thirty: Do You Believe in Monsters?

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summary: "Will’s still out there-” The blue eyed girl takes pause, noting Autumn’s uneasiness has left her almost statuesque with a pounding heartbeat echoing within her chest. Brows furrow, a quick glance to an exposed arm as sleeves had been rolled up high as the heat from cooking became overwhelming. The evidence is as clear as day, and yet she still asks. “You saw it, didn’t you?” warnings: I can't think of anything. THE USUAL TENSION wc: 4,237

There’s a cloud of confusion, dark and heavy without hope to find a beacon for guidance back home. Lost in a place that once felt familiar. It snuck in through the crevasses - any small opening it could find when you swore the fortress was strong and impenetrable. But it's inside, wound through every vessel and poisoning the blood in your veins. A spider to creep in through the breaks and build its web - make a nest, find a new home to let insects blossom and fill every corner with their venomous bite. It settles and fills your lungs, stealing away every breath until your heart begins to ache with oncoming death. But it's there, too. It grips around your chest and pumps the organ with force - keeping you alive and trapped in the confinements of some monster that sought to consume you from within. There’s no time here. A weakened backbone surrendering to the end, letting it move in waves until her vision begins to fade. She submits to the blackness before a light suddenly pours in, violent against the void as a war breaks out just beneath her skin. It’s the beacon - battling through hell to show her the way. With a gasp for air to pain her lungs, she’s back in the produce section of Bradley’s with a firm, yet kind hand to rest on her shoulder. The eyes of a woman she cannot recognize look to her with worry, a somberness as she unknowingly plucked Autumn from the devil's grasp.

“You alright?” the questions in a hushed voice, not wanting to cause a scene as shoppers passed by. The girl continues to fight through the haze, lips parted with a bewildered stare on the woman as words crawl forward. She can only nod at first, before a mumbled, “Y-yeah,” comes through. The woman isn’t so easily convinced, looking to speak once more though the teen is quick to interrupt with a forced grin, a dry chuckle on her lips. “Rough day, y’know how it is. Just..ready t’go home and get t’bed.” The stranger doesn’t waiver from her spot, studying the girl in search for more but Autumn continues to smile, pushing past the dark cloud. “I’m okay. Thank you,” There’s a gentle nod of acknowledgement, still seemingly displeased but accepting enough to leave in peace - sparing a glance over her back at the girl before moving further down the aisle.

“Is it so wrong of me to ask you to stay?”

He fills the girl's mind, taking that feigned smile and crushing it in an unseen grip. His angered and hurt voice booming in the background.

“You’re trying to run off to your other family!”

There’s nothing concrete that comes afterwards. A memory of her standing in the living room, watching as he paces - fueled by her denial to rekindle what once was. There’s anger, heartbreak, and small moments of fear as every second after comes crashing together with force. She stormed up to him, and he screamed back - but it’s an empty memory, their voices ripped from her mind and every word spoken. Their encounter only appearing in hazy flashes with a vision clearing once she was sat in the store's parking lot. The unknown left her in a petrified state, staring at a bundle of bananas for an unknown time until her rescue had come from around the corner. Autumn’s fingers tremble as they pull the fruit from the pile, body still working to overcome the terror buried within. Fake pleasantries dance across the counter as she checks out, arms tight across her chest as a shield for anything to upset the balance she struggled to keep hold of.

She doesn’t go back - not to him. Not to the only home she’s ever known for fear of what awaited her. What had she said? What was done? Was he lying in wait, anger in his eyes as he stares out the windows for the moment she comes home to drag her across the battlegrounds. Would locks change? A father pushed beyond his limits and surrendering his daughter to the forces of nature, no longer his burden to bear. Maybe they’d live in eerie silence, just ghosts to one another as they pass by in the hallway until she could make it out on her own, safe from the suffocating stillness. Her path is set, the same as it was an hour ago - moving through the night towards the Byers home that rested in serene peace. A warmth - a comforting embrace to pull you inside and Autumn was desperate for the relief, shoes scuffing along the gravel with arms filled by grocery bags. There’s a sigh that passes in the cold night as she reaches the porch, sanctuary just beyond the door she knocks against. But as her skin makes contact with the wood, there’s something there - something to fill her sight as quick as the flash of a camera. A baby, fast asleep in a cocoon of warm blankets, cradled with care in long arms to keep them safe. And then it’s gone, leaving Autumn lost momentarily - unable to understand this new message calling out to her. Cold November winds are enough to pull her back into reality, a wince as they sting her cheeks. Once realizing no one was coming, not even a small shadow to creep by a window or frantic footsteps, she opts for plan B. There’s a spare key pulled out from beneath an empty pot - a likely hiding place but unlikely for anyone to bother abusing it for malicious intent.

The home is empty, papers filling the coffee table and the one just out in the kitchen to seem as though someone had just been there. No attention is given to the pages, brushed aside as arms ache from the weighted bags. Items spill out, and the girl is quick to collect them all to store away - blinded by another sight of the infant still sound asleep as small fingers gently run along their cheek. But Autumn refuses to give in to the taunt, a groan of frustration echoing in the silence as cookware is pulled from cupboards. “Fuck off,” she mutters, hoping someone, or something somewhere in the universe would take the message and grant the girl a moment of peace. And for a while, it seems to work, or she is far too engrossed in cooking to hear anything. Autumn is back to her roots, something to come second nature as the oven preheats while she chops and mixes ingredients. She’s lost in time, letting the heat fill the small space and leaving her brow to sweat from the work. Hearing his name in the long span of nothingness is enough to frighten the girl, nearly burning her palm on the stovetop.

“Will?”

There’s someone else; a girl. An unknown voice calling his name and it dances through the air like a song, though it’s filled with pain. Autumn ignores the sizzle of the pot just at her back, eyes now scanning frantically through the kitchen and out into the living room where all remained still.

“Hurry.”

It’s as clear as a summer's day, filled with brilliant sunlight to show the way. Though it brings her panic, heart now racing as she pictures that final moment with him before all slipped from her grasp. It was undoubtedly him - speaking to someone, somehow. “Just hold on,” Autumn moves quick down the hall, pushing the door open to Will’s room, finding all was the same as before - numerous lamps included. The girl never anticipated to find him suddenly upright on his bed or at his desk, but hopeful to seek something in the great expanse. Yet, he never returned. She was left in the lonesome once more, shoulders weighed down by the pressure of grief as the room was sealed off once more. A boy lost in the darkness, just out of her reach, taking shelter in a crumbling fortress before he fades into nothing. But he’s there, or is it a piece of madness with the lack of rest that has her hallucinating? She could try again - even if it all ended in the same way, but her spirit is left shattered, reaching out to collect the pieces one by one until the holes begin to fill. How can you save someone, if you’re not strong enough to make the journey on your own? The pot boils, the sound of milk threatening to rise just over the edge pulls Autumn back towards the kitchen to continue cooking, working on autopilot as the casserole dish is slowly assembled with various foods, creating a dish well loved inside the Reid residence. She works in silence, only the sound of dishware clinking together as she moves. It isn’t until the pan is in the oven that the front door bursts open, startling the girl just as she sets the timer down. “Autumn?” Jonathan cries out, voice trembling and fueled by panic as heavy steps carry him in search for his friend. Having seen her jeep in his driveway had sent a boy just on the edge to topple over, worried she would be taken too - or lie dead at his feet. But she’s there, and momentary relief finds him as he lingers in the doorway, fingers tight on its frame to keep him steady as they lock eyes for the first time since he ran to her for comfort. The girl says nothing to his sudden entrance, merely offering a small wave before he bounds forward. “What’re you doing here?” A dumbfounded expression moves across her features, glancing at the yet to be cleaned utensils and now dirtied pot. “Helping?” His gaze is quick to flicker across the kitchen, noting the changes and obvious work she’s put forward when no one asked - a selfless act of someone who just wanted to be there for those who needed it. And yet he takes her by the hand, pulling her with his body as he moves back the way he came. “You can’t be here,”

It’s so painfully similar to when Hopper ripped her out from this same home, dragged towards the front door and left on the cold, wooden porch. When wide eyes find Nancy standing just off to the side, she finds herself tired of the secrets - piling so high they begin to drown out any sight of the sun to shine above. Though she knows her own lies add to the collection, leaving her equally blamed. The teens' feet dig into the carpet, forcing the friends to separate and leave the boy in a wide eyed haze, his chest rising and falling with anxiety building. “Autumn,” he pleads, reaching for her again but she’s quick to retract, as though a snake had sunk its fangs deep through her flesh when all he had to offer was the warmth of security. It’s a painful silence, looking between the doe eyed girl and Jonathan, searching for answers in their eyes until a large box catches her attention. The bear trap stands out above the rest, reminding her of the story Jonathan once shared of his fathers cruelty. This isn’t him, it’s out of character. Or at least it was.

“You two committin’ crimes together now?” “Autumn, you can’t be here,” the boy begs, a voice more frail as time ticks on - precious seconds wasted. “So you’ve told me,” she retorts in a bored tone, crouching down to the weapons and other equipment they’ve gathered in wonder, and he’s quick to join her side with a hand resting on her shoulder, grateful she allows it to stay. “I’m serious, Autumn. It’s dangerous. Please-” The declaration earns him a snort of amusement. “The only danger I see is being guilty by association. Look at this shit-” Suddenly, her voice cuts through the heated tension, sweet yet firm enough to guide attention her way as she stands tall above them both, eyes red from dried up tears. “We’re setting a trap.” Nancy is confident, whereas her new friend practically winced away at her words - fearful of what may come, refusing to meet Autumn’s quizzical gaze. “A trap for what?” Neither party give the girl what she seeks, sharing uncertain glances in the uncomfortable quiet. She nearly surrenders to it, raising the white flag of defeat as a heavy sigh escapes her chest, now standing with the intent to leave and let Jonathan take over whatever she had planned for the dinner. “We know what happened t’Will.” Again, the name falls heavy on her heart, clutching and pulling at every string that holds it together. She waits for the punchline, the other shoe to drop and nothing ever comes, letting her stew in this blooming mystery shrouded by a dark veil, while his mind is filled with the echoes from his baby brother, suffering in the dark. “Something took him,” a weary gaze fell on the blue eyed angel, lips seen quivering despite her head now hung low in attempts to hide her pain, her sadness. “Took him and Barb,” he concludes, voice now somber, and peaceful. A stark comparison to only moments ago.

“Something? Something like what?” “Something bad,” her voice is fragile now, just a whisper in the air. Nancy is still locked in a mournful trance as she traces the patterns of the nearby sofa, lost in her own thoughts as she thinks back to her friend, and all that she could have endured before that final breath was taken. “A monster.” The words sink deep, a vibration in her bones as it rattles and shakes the teen where she stands with eyes wide. Memories unforgotten, yet pushed to the side in order to survive in the darkest of nights where it threatened to come for her again. “A monster? What d’you mean?” Jonathan remains defeated, shoulders collapsed with wandering eyes as he fights through an unseen battle - to give into her, or to pull her out the front door for her own safety. His mother was now out there with Hopper - fate unknown and he couldn’t stomach another loss. But she’s in it now, looking between the pair with a sickening color in her face, a familiar haunting presence ever lurking in the distance. “She saw it in the woods,” he explains, and it’s enough to reach within and steal away her breath. Claws made of thin yet strong bones working their way through the opening, seeking to pull her down to hell and tear her flesh apart. “But it’s more than that. We think - we think it comes from-” “The lab,” Nancy interjects, finding her anger over the loss of Barb to keep her head held high and back straightened, ready for a fight - ready for war to come spilling in through the door at any moment, though eyes still glisten with hurt. “Hawkins National Laboratory. Something - something terrible is happening there,” the girl confesses, the distance between herself and Autumn lessening as her fear is easily read in tired eyes.

“Something opened. I can’t explain it. But it came from that lab and it killed Barb. But Will’s still out there-” The blue eyed girl takes pause, noting Autumn’s uneasiness has left her almost statuesque with a pounding heartbeat echoing within her chest. Brows furrow, a quick glance to an exposed arm as sleeves had been rolled up high as the heat from cooking became overwhelming. The evidence is as clear as day, and yet she still asks. “You saw it, didn’t you?” A deep, steadying breath fills a withering cage around the girl's heart, giving life and enough strength to flinch away from her words. “That’s what happened to you. To your arm? Jonathan said-” A familiar fire begins to boil at the center of it all, pulsating outwards and burning against her skin as Autumn’s glare lands on her friend. A sudden clear understanding of him leaving her in the dark, while confessing all of her secrets to someone she had barely known. And he can feel the heat radiating, burning through his skull as they share a connection. And while any other time, he would have learned to take the hint and retreat from her fury, he instead pushes through the barricade of flames to take her by the wrist. "We need t'talk."

The duo stumble out onto the porch before either of them have the time to blink, the door slamming shut behind and the sound carries out into the night. The only sign of life out in this corner of Hawkins where all others had faded into sleep. The boy releases his hold on her, the chilled air filling his lungs in rapid fire as an anxiousness courses through him, eyes locked on Autumn like a magnet to metal. “You tell every girl you meet about your crazy friend?” she questions, unimpressed and still simmering in this new anger as it rose from the ground up. The words fall on deaf ears, his own thoughts speaking far too loud to hear anything beyond himself. “Did you see it?” He’s unbothered by the squint in her eye, the momentary confusion as she asks, “What?” He presses again, closing in on her and despite the love shared between the two, she finds herself taking a step back, her spirit shrinking away under his gaze. “Did you see it?” Lips part with words caught on her tongue, vision filling with the sight of it coming for her again - all teeth and full of death, crawling along the ground to stalk its prey. A wind to blow through the nearby trees has her gaze flickering out into the depths, looking for the beast hiding away in the shadows. “N-no, yes-” her words are quick, fumbling over one another as the terror rises. “I don’t know. I don’t know what it was.”

The boy falls back, pain and disbelief swimming through hazel eyes - thinking back to the day in the school parking lot where he held onto her, searching for something behind a wall she built so high. How far did the lies go? “God damnit, Autumn,” Jonathan mutters, a hand moving to conceal his face - to hide his hurt as the pile of secrets begin to sway with the weight, threatening to come crashing down. “I don’t know what I saw! I was scared, okay? I just thought,” there’s a heavy pause, drinking in the sight of his disappointment and it sparks something in the darkness. Less fear, and more anger. “Like you would have believed me anyway!” “I asked you!” he fires back, working his way in closer, sinking to her level for aching hearts to connect. “And then what, huh? Would have believed in monsters then? Been there for me? Been there for your mother?” He tells her of Joyce’s so-called madness to run rampant through the home. He sees her sat cross legged just above the covers, the word “monster” opening a book that was once deeply concealed and setting it loose inside her mind. She tried to talk then, tried to reason with him and he drowned her out. Unwilling to accept something so unnatural despite it being all she’s ever known. “How can you begin t'understand-” “Because you won’t let me!” he defends, though is cut short as her voice carries far out into the night. “It’s not anyone else’s burden t’bear! It’s mine!”

All falls quiet at the Byers residence, leaving the two friends to stand and bask in something new - something to linger just around the corner before showing its ugly face. It was pain. His breath now stolen, leaving him hollow to drink in the sight of her breaking heart, letting her ache fuel him. He thinks of the record store where they first met, and every moment to come after until they stood here beneath the moon’s radiance. How much weight did she carry on her own? Refusing help with a kind, and fake smile whenever asked if she was okay. There was a willingness to keep the dark for herself - reaching out into space to gather up broken pieces, the terrors, and pocketing them so those around her could live in ignorant bliss. Sacrifices she made, and he asked for more in order to find his brother. “I didn’t want it t’be real,” the girl before him sinks in on herself, vulnerable - the wall to cage her in not just chipping away, but instead crumbling at his feet to set her free to a world she’s protected herself from. “I thought - I thought maybe,” she’s choking on brewing sorrow, bubbling up inside, hot and leaving her nauseous with a gaze locked on the wood paneling beneath them, counting each nail in hopes this feeling passes. “I thought it was all in my head. I thought it was my demon t’fight alone,” her voice fades into the night, eyes glistening with sadness as it tried to push forward, leaving the girl on weakened knees as the pressures of life begin to weigh her down. And Jonathan can feel the shift in the air, watching as her head hangs low to conceal the truth; she was giving up - giving in. Letting everything she’s held at arm's length come crashing in, unable to ignore the torture of evil comments from nobodies in the school, or the tear of her mind as faceless people pulled at her from the inside.

The gap between them lessens, tension gone and filled with warmth as the boy stands before her, waiting for a sign - for anything. No wanting to break through a barrier like he once did. “It was only us in the woods, Autumn.. How-” “I don’t know,” her response is quick, and shaken as she frantically pulls at sleeves, taking shelter from the cold winds. She hides within herself, arms wrapped around her torso - giving comfort she desperately needed but never asked for. “I don’t know. Not yet.” There’s honesty laced in her words - no longer piquing a sense of doubt in Jonathan. Fingers coil up against his palm, fists resting just at the boy's side as a final question echoes somewhere in the distance, chewing at dried lips in fear for the answer. “Did you see him out there? In the woods?” She won’t look him in the eyes, instead shaking her head before a “no” falls past trembling lips, unseen by her friend. “But you did see him, right? Mom said-” The sound of a choked back sob reaches his ears, a gasp as she struggles for air as a tidal wave comes down, crushing her. It tries to swallow Autumn whole - to pull her down. She’s left without strength to swim towards the sunlight, instead letting emotions overtake and wrack her body until she’s left with hands pressed to tearful eyes. Frail knees begin to buckle, only held steady on two feet as warm arms cocoon her, pulling her close into something familiar and secure. Jonathan holds her, a dampened face tucked into his shirt leaving behind remnants of her pain. He keeps her tight to him, giving her the encouragement she needed to let go entirely, a blubbering mess against her friend as he sways their bodies from side to side.

Maybe he’ll never truly understand. Maybe he’ll never know how deep it all goes, even if she tries to explain it. And maybe it’s for a good reason, knowing she had seen Will in his darkest moments, while he remains unsure if he could have survived that same horror. But he wants to try, so his arms remain firm until her tears begin to dry, steady and slow breaths working to keep her in line. “Thank you for looking again,” he offers softly, feeling the gentle nod of her head in reply. And they remain together, basking in the cold breeze with the sound of distant wildlife acting as a lullaby to lure her into comfort, eyes now heavy from the dam breaking. Jonathan forgets his intention to push her away, despite the internal clock screaming and ticking. Wondering how far Hopper and his mother made it - and if that creature was with them, or out there, just beyond the treeline. Suddenly, there’s a light cast on the pair as the front entrance opens. Nancy stands, a halo around the angel with eyes sparkling with curiosity, dancing between the two as they slowly pull apart. Autumn scrubs at her cheeks with a lowered sleeve, sniffling away the remnants of grief before the other girl breaks through the silence. “We need to hurry. Come on,” Nancy steps to the side, giving room for the friends to pile in but her words immediately bring a question to Jonathan, a gentle hold on Autumn’s arm. “We? What ‘we’?” In her silhouette, there’s a small smile seen. “We could use all the help we can get. I mean, if you want to,” uncertain eyes fall on Autumn, though something within them beckons for her to cross back over the threshold. She nods in agreement much to Jonathan’s dismay, hand falling back to his side in defeat. “I want t’end this nightmare.”

taglist: @brittney69

[scriptofdevilswan]

Let her Go.

You see her when you close your eyes

Maybe, one day you’ll understand why 

Everything you touch surely dies

                                         Each time you hope you try to put in the effort to be better. To be the kind of man who can say exactly how he feels with the happy, the pain that ignite a fire under your skin. You fail. Each time you try to replenish your demons you find yourself falling short. A love that consumed to the death of times leaves you breathless grasping for air. That’s what it felt like with her; with Tessa from the moment I laid eyes on her. Yeah I made mistakes our relationship started as a lie, of deceit. I lied, It was a bet. It would be easy to say it  was all a game maybe knowing it was over now would hurt less. Hardin knew it stopped being a game the second he kissed her. The second her lips touched his salt water swirled around them. Lost in the sensation of her lips. Consumed by her; the love he felt; protective. Too protective, the jealousy each time he felt her slipping away. A fight that left us bickering in the rain, screaming fuck you, or the normal screw you. A fight he would’ve done for the rest  of his life. He wanted her. 

Tessa was everything to him. She made him want to pursue his wants, his inner dreams of longing. He struggled with the idea of letting go, of letting his dark days turn  to alcohol. Each time he replayed the moments in their place, the idea of them together on their couch. Her blonde locks on his lap, his hands holding one of her favorite books as he recited the words to her. A whisper in the night. The repeated nights we stayed in; like this place the loft i brought for us was our hide out from the forces threatening to tear us apart. Her smile, her laugh when I nearly burnt the stove, we laughed, we loved to our hearts content. And suddenly it felt like love, the unconditional consumed love wasn’t  enough. 

It be easy to blame my bad habits. Of tempers when I was left in the dark, or my ability to shut down. I had lied like it was my only ability. I had played a straight face each time I lashed out. When the pain felt unbearable I rather push her bottoms, I’d rather hurt than to come clean. To feel vulnerable, to feel weaken in my devotion to her. Tessa was my life line; she saved me from circling the  drain. I was a piece of shit before I met her. Before I lowered my force fields for her. She was my better place. 

Until the ultimate lie; the games gone, the unexpected was the thing that teared us apart. Hardin had been sober for months now; since the day she told him she wanted distance from him; from us. That we felt suffocating; and yeah I didn’t understand then. But I had hurt her; and each person in her life; her mother, told me if I loved her to let her go. Each time I came crawling up with false apologizes and I did the same shit each time. I pushed her away I’d rip off a piece of trust and her heart each and every time. I lived a life without her. I didn’t want to live another day without her. I loved Tessa. I wanted her and only her. Was wanting? Desiring one person enough to keep us in the others orbit? 

Hardin thought they were forever, despite every fiber screaming at him at she was better off; he couldn’t he couldn’t let go. That last night; the last time I tasted her lips. Heard her moans aloud, the last time we were molded together as one you never believe the last kiss was the last kiss. Except this time my secrets; my book the  words I wrote about how Tessa made me feel. The words of love that kept me at peace tore her up inside. I tried to explain; I didn’t ask for a book, I didn’t ask to be published. But the writer  the poet inside of me was screaming yes. I would’ve never said yes without her blessing, this story was ours; the pain, the happy and everything in between. 

Hardin Scott fell in love, the girl who was opposite of him, the girl who took his breath away. The girl who he loved most in the world; it was her always her. He didn’t lash out as much, He didn’t push the family he had away; he went to visit his mother more; he forgave and he had to say he owed it to her. Teresa Young. She changed him, she was his other half. 

Flashing to the present; he sat in the discomfort of the chairs at the local New York Book store; his reading, his line of audience that came to hear his words. Yet each time he glanced up to the door all he saw was her. Her covered blonde locks. Her pink coat shielding her from view. But I knew it was her; she came. She cared or was it to let go? Each time I hoped to see her face. Her eyes that always took my features in. Her hands tracing my skin with her smaller palms, and i held her face in the palm of my hands, tracing her lips with my  eyes until I’d crash right into her. I Knew Tessa; she needed space and she’d forgive or I was hoping. I had changed for the better; and i had hoped with time the blonde would come back to me. 

We were  two pairs of a whole, inevitable,two souls that were made for each other. 

“ Hardin.. Wrap it up.” I froze in my trance as I glanced up to my publicist, blonde locks in view as she patted my shoulder in encouragement. ‘ Yeah.” I muttered more to myself as I wrote my famous signature now on the book; before I offered that charming smile before I started to stand up. After it was my new legacy; the book that changed who I was. 

Eyes peeled to the door for the very last time as the last of the guests started pouring out those doors. Exhaled sigh of defeat. I was once told to let her go; let her be happy. I never did, I chased until I lost my train of thought. I led with desire and for the first time I did let go. Tessa was free; and I’d be in the wings if she came back.

[nimble-stuff]

XI. TRAUMATIC TOUCH AVERSION || Donnie - Blue Raspberry, Part II The rescue happens. Donnie reels in the aftermath.

Fandom: ROTTMNT

Also on AO3

Request a Prompt here!

@badthingshappenbingo​

CWs: - A character is groped by another character. Both characters are teenagers. The behaviour is condemned and specifically discussed as something reprehensible. - Discussions of non-con and consent issues - Very long - Awkward sex talk with Big Brother Raph

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Donnie sank deep into himself. He couldn’t get it out of his head. There was no sleep, despite his best efforts to rest up before his brothers arrived. He had to be ready. Fight or flight. He should be prepared to do either or both. A terrible ache settled into him and he couldn’t tell if it was psychosomatic, a physical condition, or the horrible, horrible feeling of violation and disgust that roved all over him. Kendra hadn’t even done anything, so he couldn’t figure out why he felt as catastrophically awful as he did.

Why the world had ended.

Why he felt wrong.

Why. Why, why, why.

He needed answers. They were lost in the jumble of feelings pinballing in his head, jolting against the inside of his skull with radiating blasts of noise. He needed to be ready. Why had Kendra done that? His brothers could be here any minute. Why did her touch make his skin crawl? He was better than this. Why were his hands shaking?

When the shock settled, he was just pissed, though the anger was ambiguous and churning and he couldn’t tell who he was angrier at: Kendra or himself.

Kendra, Jase, and Jeremy came back in sometime later, strutting in with all the swagger of a one-hit wonder boy band. Kendra flicked off the Gatling gun with a remote and Jeremy wrestled Donnie into a pair of metal cuffs behind his back.

“Oh, don’t look so sour,” said Kendra. “I’m letting you attend the main event.”

There was a lump of unadulterated rage in his throat that manifested in the ugliest scowl Donnie could produce. He ran his fingers over the rims of the cuffs, probing for weakness.

“What, I get the silent treatment now? Be grateful I touched you. It’s not like anyone else ever will.”

Donnie envisioned all the ways he wanted her to suffer: fingernails pulled off one-by-one, gouging out her eyeballs, exposing her search history on social media. Kendra flashed a I-know-what-you’re-thinking smile, pulled out a taser, and wagged it at him mockingly.

“Pretty sure possession of a taser is a misdemeanour in this state,” said Donnie.

“Pretty sure I don’t care,” Kendra quipped with a mocking head tilt. “Cooperate or I’ll ram 1200 volts into your body, on top of ripping your brothers apart right in front of you.”

She tossed Jeremy the taser and his free arm wrapped tight around Donnie’s. Altogether, they penguin-marched out of the dark room.

Donnie did his best to map out his surroundings, something hard to do when Jeremy jammed a taser so hard at his throat that it forced his head up to the ceiling. He kept repeating the mantra to himself: the Purple Dragons were smart, but careless. There was an opening somewhere. A sliver of a chance of a possibility of a long shot. He needed to take it, but one eye was half-swollen shut and Jeremy jostled him and Donnie just couldn’t stop himself from wrenching and fighting a little, making things just oh-so-slightly difficult to keep the edge on.

They headed down a long corridor and into a room consumed by monitors and tech on the walls. The monitors displayed scenes that made Donnie’s stomach curl: cameras showing destroyed equipment, mechs, and various tech. The presumed leftovers of his brothers’ rampage. Another displayed a storefront reading ‘Tech-No-Logic’ and parked on the curb was the Turtle Tank, shadowing all the other vehicles driving past. Donnie scanned the area, searching for the most-definitely-there flaw in the Purple Dragon’s security, and he saw it—his tech-bō propped up in a corner.

Jeremy dragged Donnie off to the opposite side of the room.

“Don’t get any ideas,” said Kendra. “Now, pick which brother you want to die first.”

He gave her no answer.

“Fine, I’ll make them decide. I’m sure that won’t weight on their minds for the rest of their pathetically brief lives.”

She hit a button on her remote and put it into her jacket pocket with an exaggerated flourish.

The monitor in front of her switched scenes. They were looking at a downward angle into the shop interior, and in it were his brothers. Never before had Donnie wrestled with such an intense mixture of relief and horror to see them, their weapons ready, their eyes heavy and clearly running on very little sleep. All three of them were in a defensive formation with their weapons drawn, while the repair shop was empty save for the various computer parts strewn about.

Kendra’s face appeared on all the inert monitors surrounding them, one-by-one, grinning. At once, the shop went from sleepy to alive and awash in a neon pink glow.

“You didn’t think I’d actually lead you right to your brother, did you?” Kendra laughed.

Of course. Of course she’d done this. The confirmation stung even though Donnie had suspected it.

Metal sheets slammed shut over the shop’s doors and windows, the computer equipment around his brothers whirred into life. Donnie’s exhausted eyes struggled to keep track of the tech the Purple Dragons had assembled for the last attempt to slaughter his brothers: mechs with long limbs not too dissimilar from his spider arms, old computers repurposed with guns and lasers, tools, dials, buttons, missile launchers. An old stereo system outright transformed into a cackling miniature mech with a mini grenade launcher.

“Hey, Dragons, why was the computer cold?” Leo asked. “It forgot to close its Windows!”

“I should obliterate you for that,” said Kendra.

“Sure, but you’re gonna gloat first, right?”

“Of course I am. I’ve been practicing this speech for days, and not even your terrible jokes are gonna stop me now.”

“Give Donnie back!” Raph yelled.

“Oh, you’re making demands? I don’t know how you idiots destroyed basically every piece of tech we have, but it’s payback time, and you’re not getting anything.”

“Hey, we’re used to destroying Donnie’s stuff,” said Mikey. “We can demolish anything you throw at us.”

“I think that’s a scientific theory we can test.”

“Let Donnie go first,” Raph demanded.

“No way. I already put a listing for him on the dark web and the biddings are insane. I’m sure he’ll look nice in some billionaire’s zoo.”

The anguished fury in Raph’s face gave a new definition to anger. Even though a screen separated them, Donnie felt the heat as though his brother had gone supernova and the fast-moving, exploded remnants of a star’s outer core were hurdling towards them in the grim stillness of space. He punched his fist through the nearest monitor, through Kendra’s smug face. The robot attacked to it dropped dead. A few lasers shot off with a warning, scorching Raph’s arms, but when he swung around, there was no pain recognition. Even Mikey and Leo knew better than to make any sudden movements.

“Give him BACK!” Raph screamed.

“You want to see him so bad?” Kendra asked.

Kendra reached off screen and seized Donnie’s waist, yanking him close into the view of the camera.

“Here he is. He’s not even hurt too badly. It wouldn’t look good on the dark web if the merchandise was beaten up.”

“Oh, yes, being deprived of the necessities of life definitely doesn’t hurt,” said Donnie.

“Shut up, Donnie! I like you better when you don’t talk.”

“Feeling’s mutual. See? We can agree on something.”

“Let him go, Kendra,” Raph pressed. “I get you hate him, heck, sometimes I can barely stand him myself, but you’ve gone too far this time.”

“Excuse me,” said Donnie. “You’re going down a tier just for that, Raph.”

“You have a tier list?”

“Um, scoff! You know I like organization, Raph.”

“Oh, oh, what am I?!” Mikey asked.

“S tier, clearly.”

“Mikey is everyone’s S tier,” said Leo.

“Exactly, there are nearly no downsides to Mikey, but the rest of you have these flaws—”

“SHUT UP!” Kendra shouted. “I never want to hear your grating voice again, Donnie!”

Her eyes roved over Donnie in a way that made panic crackle through his bones.

“At least I know a foolproof way to shut you up, huh?”

She yanked Donnie close. His back was flush against the side of her body, a position far too intimate for his liking, one that made an involuntary shudder convulse through his nervous system. Kendra smirked when she felt it.

Kendra’s hand snaked around his inner thigh, the other arm coiling tight around his chest. Vicious, seizing terror made Donnie tremble hard in the confines of his body. He thought he was going to be sick. His fingernails dug deep grooves into his palm. Donnie thrashed blind, arching his shoulders back into Kendra to force her away. But his knees were shaking it was hard to keep standing, hard to resist. He didn’t want to look at the screen so he squeezed his eyes shut, didn’t want to look at Raph, Leo, and Mikey’s faces as she groped him in front of his fucking brothers.

Donnie hated the noise that came out of his throat—a sharp, quiet, broken little noise between a gasp and an aborted sob. Fight, he wanted to fight. He couldn’t. His mind was screaming while his body revolted and froze.

The smashing noise that erupted from the monitors wasn’t surprising. Kendra looked up sharp and, against his will, Donnie looked too. Mikey had smashed his kusari-fundo through another robot.

“YOU BITCH!” Mikey screamed.

Donnie had never heard him so angry. The camera captured his expression. The rage propelling out from Mikey was larger than could be captured by the four sides of the monitors: sizzling and seething and authentic and awful and any hotter and Mikey would turn into ash. But first, Mikey metamorphosed into a dragon.

His brothers started smashing before Kendra could hit the switch, and when she did, the screen erupted with infuriated yells, flashing lights, and chaotic movement Donnie couldn’t track. Kendra’s hand snaked further and further up his chest, cradling his cheek, and she laughed horribly.

Donnie found her hand and bit down.

Kendra shrieked. Donnie locked his jaw. Coppery blood flooded his mouth and he wrenched his head, pulling hard. Kendra’s voice pitched high and everything in his ears went static. Fight. Fight. Fight, fight, fight, fight, fight, fight, fight. He ripped hard with his head and suddenly Kendra was gone. There was something in his mouth that he spat onto the ground—maybe a tooth, maybe something else he didn’t want to think about.

Jeremy barrelled towards him out of the corner of his eye. Donnie wasn’t as flexible as Mikey. But this? This he could do. The shaking in his legs halted for a moment with the one-two punch of adrenaline-fuelled focus and he kicked up one-eighty degrees, nailing Jeremy in the chin.

“MY FINGER!” Kendra screamed. “You bit off my fucking finger, you whore!”

Donnie jumped over his cuffed hands. The kick had only staggered Jeremy and he was coming back fast. Donnie twisted under Jeremy’s strike and swung the cuffs into his chin. Face. Neck. Then stomach. A sweep of the legs. Jeremy was on the ground. Kendra was writhing, crimson soaking her sleeve. His panic was such that he had to turn twice before he locked onto his tech-bō in the corner and launched towards it.

”JASE!” Kendra yelled.

Jase stepped into the way, looking sallow and shaken.

Donnie didn’t even have to fight him. He just glowered with all the venom and hatred he had left. They circled each other. A showdown. Jase threw down his metaphorical weapon first, arms arching up in surrender and backing into the wall.

“Jase, you fucking coward!”

Donnie threw himself at his tech-bō, his brothers yelling, the chaotic clash of the fight, the mechanical whir of machines—

Something seized his ankle.

Donnie roared in frustration. The ground swarmed up and his face slammed into it, dragging him back from his tech-bō. A mechanical arm had shot out from the wall to latch onto his ankle. It pulled him to Kendra. She loomed over him, her hair askew, mascara running in dark lines down her cheeks from pained tears.

Kendra click the remote on the screen. The screen was alight with mindless chaos as his brothers, focused and unstoppable, destroyed machine after machine.

“I was thinking of catching and selling them for extra profit,” said Kendra. “But now I’m gonna kill them, and I want you to watch—”

Kendra’s expression stilled. Went slack. Pinched a little. Donnie thought she might be on the verge of fainting, but no—not that. It was more like a realization had hit her, parting her rage, She rounded on the screen.

“Wait,” she said. She grabbed one monitor. “Where’s April O’Fail and the rat man?”

Jeremy pulled himself off the ground, nursing his bruised jaw. “What?”

“April O’Fail and the rat man! They were chasing around these three all night! Where did they go? Are they waiting outside the shop?!”

Kendra filtered through security cameras, eyes searching.

“About that!” Leo grunted out between strikes.

Raph continued, “We figured you wouldn’t lead us right to Donnie—”

“So we’re the distraction!” Mikey finished.

The door blew off its hinges, flattening Jase against the opposite wall. Kendra whirled around, eyes ballooning wide with the first flicker of fear he’d seen on her since his kidnapping. He liked the look. It suited her.

April and Splinter stepped over the threshold. April twirled her bat, glowing green to chase away the darkness. Splinter was in a fighting stance and at the ready.

“And THIS is the rescue!” April said dangerously.

It happened in a matter of seconds, but the seconds stretched out before Donnie, an elaborate and slow-moving storm setting his senses alight. Adrenaline thrummed hard through his body, still riding the high of his attempted lunch for his tech-bō. He was sure he would die of a heart attack before April or Splinter could reach him.

Jeremy got an immediate chin-full of bat travelling sixty-five miles per hour. Kendra snatched the taser off of the ground, and in an ultimate act of unstoppable rage, she rounded on Donnie.

He could see in her eyes that she knew she had lost. It wasn’t about victory anymore. It was about inflicting a final modicum of pain on Donnie, a last way to make him hurt.

Splinter was faster. He plowed into Kendra’s side in full Lou Jitsu mode. He dribbled her limp body on the tile floor with a few solid strikes, then round-house kicked her full-force into the monitors. Kendra was lost in a torrent of exploding sparks and equipment.

In the confusion, Donnie crawled to Kendra’s discarded remote and fumbled with it with fat, clumsy fingers, hitting the power switch. The sounds of fighting on the monitors died, and when he looked up, his breathless brothers stood among the corpse of the Purple Dragon’s tech.

Jeremy backed up fast against a wall, hands raised and April pointing her bat at his throat.

“Okay!” Jeremy said. “Okay! You got us!”

“Yeah, we do, Jeremy,” April sneered. Her words grated against each other, made her voice sound heavy and gravelly. “You guys are actually disgusting! I should smash your heads in for this!”

April instead took her anger out on the nearest monitor, shattering it in a single strike while Jeremy slid down the wall and quivered like a coward.

“Dad, April—everything alright on your end?” Leo called into the monitor.

“Yes, we have him,” said Splinter. “We will meet you at the sewer entrance. Do not stay where you are—these Purple Dragons may have more traps.”

“Okay, we’ll see you there. Stay safe.”

The silence felt menacing. All noise recoiled from the room, a sudden moment of tension before an expected fight, and yet the fight was over. Jase was unconscious. Jeremy snivelled against the wall. Kendra cradled her bleeding hand, face twisted in agony. Donnie’s whole body heaved with adrenaline that was leaden like heavy chains in his stomach.

Splinter hurried to Donnie’s side and snapped the cuffs off of him.

“Donatello!” Splinter held Donnie’s face. “Donatello, my son, are you hurt?”

For a moment, it was like swimming through thickened water—his nerves were frayed, his hearing just on the edge of static. He thought about how much he wanted for Splinter to hug him and then he couldn’t stand the thought of being touched at all. Donnie pulled away from his dad, stood on rickety legs, and grabbed his tech-bō, leaning far more weight on it than he liked.

Both Splinter and April looked terrible. Neither looked like they’d slept in days. One of April’s lens was shattered, though he was sure she hadn’t taken a hit while struggling with Jeremy. He didn’t like the way their eyes looked at him.

On the floor, Kendra propped up onto her side, sneering hard at Donnie with more hatred than she ever had before.

“April, take Purple to the car,” said Splinter. “I need to have a word with these Purple Dragons.”

“What are you gonna do?” April asked.

Splinter looked at her evenly and said, “The only reason I am leaving them alive is because they are children. Now go.”

April extended her arms towards Donnie, both arms extended. An invitation for a hug. Donnie pulled away the moment she was too close, settling his weight on his tech-bō. Get out. He just wanted to get out.

Kendra seized two gravelly, audible breaths, and yelled after him, “Don’t forget, Donnie! I touched you first! It was me! You’ll never get that back!”

Donnie debated the merits of murder. She’d never face justice in the human world for what she’d done. Crimes against mutants didn’t count. She’d humiliated him. Tried to sell him. An object—that’s all he was to her. Something she could barter with and hurt and embarrass and abuse and it didn’t count because he was just a thing. He hated her. He hated her. He hated her.

He whirled around, but he was weak and April just had to hook both her arms under his, lifting him clean off his feet.

“I got him!” April said. “Don’t take too long, Splints!”

April had to manhandle Donnie out of the building, and he was too weakened, too distraught to scramble away from her and commit murder. Blurs of colour rushed past him as she dragged him further, further away, and the last he saw of Kendra was an image of Splinter standing over her, his back to him, his shoulders drawn tight.

Donnie didn��t realize he was screaming until April put her hand over his mouth.

“Donnie, stop fighting me!” April begged. “Someone’s gonna call the cops on us if you yell like that. And please don’t bite me.”

Donnie sucked in a breath. The air felt fresh—he wasn’t inside anymore. The sky was above them. He couldn’t escape the feeling of plummeting, and the breath was like one he had to take before staring off over the edge of a tall building. A type of fear that built to a peak before tearing itself apart altogether, self-destructing, making him immune to it. He thrashed for a moment against April until the uncontrolled twitch jerking him around eased off into a mostly-controlled shake. April’s arms coiled around his chest, holding tight.

“It’s okay, it’s just me,” she said. “It’s April. You’re safe now…Oh, you gonna be sick? Okay, that’s alright. Bend over and don’t fight it—um, lemme help—”

April gently set a hand on his forehead and guided it down. Donnie hadn’t even been aware of the nauseous twist in his stomach until acid gurgled out of his throat and he threw up three days of nothing onto the sidewalk. It was fast. However, it left him unsteady and hazy. Meanwhile, April just held him and whispered again and again, “It’s over. It’s all over.”

As gentle as possible, April guided him to a waiting car, where she set him the back seat. Then it was still and finally quiet, the sound of traffic outside muffled, and nothing around him except his rapid painting.

Donnie caught a first glimpse of his reflection in the rearview mirror. He didn’t know who was looking at him. The skin was a sallow green-grey colour, the purple markings looked far too vivid. One eye was large and bloodshot, the other squinted shut. Blood ran down the chin and smeared around the mouth. White sparks erupted in his vision and he blinked to clear them, the reflection blinking out of existence with it. It was still there when he opened his eyes, a half-dead zombie.

April slid into the driver’s seat and seemed to take a moment to collect herself. Finally, she pulled out a pizza box and a water bottle.

“Mikey made a pizza, but I think we should start you on water,” said April. “It’s your favourite, though! Extra cheese, no toppings.”

It worked out. Donnie had never felt less hungry in his life. His body felt uncomfortable to be inhabiting. At least the water he could guzzle down and have it ease some of the discomfort.

“How did you know we were here?” Donnie asked after an extended quiet.

April folded her arms on the back of her seat. “Third grade. Kendra stole my Barbie doll, made ransom videos, and sent them to me over the course of a few weeks. She told me to go to some…tech place, don’t remember what it was…and we’d do an exchange: my lunch money for my doll. Except she’d turned my Barbie into an eleven-inch attack robot, while she controlled the thing from her apartment. That thing shot lasers at me! I knew when she sent that video that she was trying to pull the same trick.

“Shelldon could triangulate where the Purple Dragons were broadcasting from, so the boys agreed to distract them while Splinter and I followed the signal location. We’re lucky you guys weren’t too far away. I guess the Purple Dragons wanted to be in a place where they could quickly swoop in after they, uh…murdered everybody.”

It was so logical, so intelligent. But also careless. The Purple Dragons took so much time accounting for his brothers that they’d failed to account for Splinter and April—the wild cards. It played out exactly as Donnie thought it might, yet the predictability didn’t make the emotions seem less extreme. He busied his hands by drinking from the bottle and, when it was empty, clutched the edge of the seat.

Splinter finally came out sometime later, unblemished. His stare was directed somewhere in the thousand-yards.

“Everything okay, Splinter?” April asked out the window.

“Yes,” Splinter said. “Let us go."

He slid into the backseat with Donnie, studying him carefully. April kicked the car into gear and pulled away from the curb.

Splinter reached for Donnie’s hand. He pulled away much faster than he intended, pinning his hands between his knees.

“Purple?” said Splinter. “Would you like to—”

“No,” he said. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“May I hug you?”

“No.”

Splinter’s lip did an odd quiver he’d never seen before. Then his expression popped back into place, like cartoon animals did when they were flattened against a solid surface and just had to blow into their thumb for their limbs and organs to pop back into place. Unfortunately, for Splinter it was only a cosmetic fix. His eyes betrayed the mountain of rejection Donnie had just crushed him with.

“I understand,” said Splinter. He knew he didn’t. “I am here if you need me.”

Donnie stared out the window and watched the building pass by in blotches of indistinct light.

-

When they drove up to the sewer entrance, Raph, Leo, and Mikey were waiting, pacing restlessly outside the Tank. Mikey let out a shattered cry when he saw Donnie step out of the car and they met halfway. Even the slightest touch made Donnie’s nerves shrivel up in his body, and he knew Splinter was watching in envy from the sidelines, but he knew Mikey needed it. He let him slide his hands around him and squeeze tight, while Donnie’s arms hung flat at his side.

Leo and Raph got to him not a heartbeat after Mikey, swallowing him in their arms, warm bodies compressing him from all sides. Just bare it. He didn’t reciprocate the hugs—they weren’t for him, the hugs were for them, and he couldn’t bring himself to return them. They needed to know that he was here and okay and alive and whole. It was the last torture to endure, so he let it come, just stared at a point over Mikey’s shoulder into the distance. He measured precisely how much emotion he let himself show. It wasn’t a lot, almost none at all.

He endured several rounds of hugging before it was over. Actually over.

“You hurt?” Leo asked.

“My physical functions are in order,” said Donnie.

“Did you like the pizza?” Mikey asked. “I made it myself! Homemade is always the best kind of pizza.”

“What? Oh. It was…” Mikey was looking for a certain response. Donnie searched for it under every dusty corner like he was looking for the remote. “Good. It was good.”

“Want me to carry you home?” Raph offered.

“I’m not a kid, I can walk.”

“You look like you can barely stand.”

“And you look like you can barely think on a good day.” He looked critically at the Turtle Tank. “You better not have put any dents in my baby while I was gone.”

An anxious hush howled behind him. Donnie didn’t turn to look at what his family was doing, the looks on their faces.

He did, however, sense a hand reach for his shoulder far before it could touch him. Donnie ducked away from it, turning back to the Tank and heading inside.

-

The moment they returned home, Donnie cleansed himself in the shower for over half-an-hour. The water ran smooth over him and pulled off the aches like they were a layer of dirt, letting it swirl down the drain and disappear into the sewers. It was over.

It got rid of the build-up of the grime, blood, and sweat, and he only got out because Leo pounded on the door threatening to break it down. He let Leo check for injuries, and when he was satisfied that Donnie wasn’t hurt aside from needing food, drink, and rest, Donnie collapsed on a beanbag chair in the living room and was out almost at once.

He woke up to a movie playing in the background and a blanket draped over his body that hadn’t been there before. Splinter was in his usual chair, which Donnie could swear was several feet away from its usual spot, much closer to the beanbag than it should. Donnie dozed in a partial-sleep haze, not eager to endure the attention he’d receive when he woke all the way back up. His body had other ideas though, and when he shifted his legs, Splinter’s ear twitched and he looked at him at once.

“What time’s it?” Donnie slurred out.

“Six at night,” said Splinter. “You have been asleep all day.”

Well, he better eat something. He wasn’t hungry but he knew it wouldn’t be long before someone forced something down his throat, and he preferred the choice than to be sat down and spoon-fed. Donnie pushed off the blanket and stretched his arms far overhead to get out the cracks.

“Purple, I was wondering if I could ask you something—” Splinter started.

“No, you can’t,” said Donnie.

“Purple?”

“You can’t ask me ‘something.’”

Splinter reached for Donnie’s hand and he sharply pulled away, speed-walking out of the living room.

“I am here if you need anything, Purple,” Splinter said after him. Donnie waved him off.

Donnie paced around the lair twice before he found the courage to head to the kitchen. It was so quiet all around him and his thoughts came in heated, overwhelming waves like the tide coming in far too quick. He was supposed to be feeling something. He knew he should. The proper protocol to feel and feel too much in the aftermath of…everything. However in the end, his emotions were too wild to be assigned names, only coming in numbing hot-cold prickles permeating his skin.

The only sensation he felt was an invisible hand-shaped burn on his thigh where Kendra had laid his hand. His skin blistered, yet when he looked down, there were no marks. No scars. Nothing. Just nothing. He felt nothing. Donnie found a quiet corner of the lair and sucked in deep breaths. He needed to get a grip.

He found his way to the kitchen and heard Leo and Mikey’s voices from outside. Donnie slowed a little, walking at an unnaturally slow pace to delay his entry, and to overhear.

“—should’ve gotten there sooner,” Leo was saying. “We wasted so much time.”

“We didn’t know where to look,” said Mikey. “We did the best we could.”

“I don’t know if—oh, hey, Dee!”

Leo and Mikey’s heads both jerked up when Donnie entered, like alert meerkats peering over the brushland for danger. He gave them careful, measured looks, and headed to the fridge.

“Yes, yes, hello, good morning—evening, whatever time it is,” Donnie said with forced normalcy.

“Are you hungry?” Mikey asked. “Lemme get you something to eat.”

“I’m getting coffee and I don’t need help.”

“…Coffee isn’t in the fridge.”

Donnie stared at the open fridge, packed full of leftovers. He surveyed what was present—of what had and hadn’t been eaten since his kidnapping. His brothers normally had voracious appetites, yet the contents were untouched.

Moving slow, Donnie closed the fridge and slid over to the coffeemaker. Someone had brewed fresh coffee, and his preferred mug was waiting. It shouldn’t have annoyed him as much as it did, not having his mug in the cupboard with the rest, but to his surprise it made something simmer under his skin. It was the most emotion he’d been able to feel since his rescue though, so he took a moment to revel in it.

His brothers were watching. Donnie poured and sat at the table with the both of them, wrestling the instinct to run.

Most silences between him and his brothers was comfortable, the kind of silences that existed when there was nothing needed to be said, when they were enjoying each other’s company. The one that swarmed into the room was all kinds of awkward.

“So,” Leo drummed his fingers on the table. ”Donnie, how you doing?”

“Adequately,” said Donnie.

“Do you wanna—”

“No, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to order out for dinner. I know pizza is, like, our thing, but Mikey says there’s this Chinese place with chow mien that’s so good, it killed a man.”

“Pretty sure he just choked to death on it,” said Mikey.

“So, you interested?”

Donnie looked at Leo evenly from over his phone. He knew he wouldn’t eat whatever they got. “Sure, whatever.”

“A little enthusiasm, please.”

“This is enthusiasm. I am being enthused.”

“If you don’t like the idea of Chinese food, we can order whatever you want. You get kidnapping dibs!”

“I have no preference.”

He didn’t know what he said that was so wrong, but the looks Mikey and Leo exchanged were not encouraging. Tense, worried. Scared. It made him want to crawl into the earth and never come out.

“Maybe you want to skip dinner and…go straight to dessert?” Mikey suggested.

“Stop trying to nurse me with food,” Donnie snapped. “Your concern is noted but unneeded.”

Mikey reached over the table, coming within brushing distance of his hand. He pulled back.

“Don’t touch me,” said Donnie.

Mikey’s eyes wetted. He kept coming, slow but firm, his hand touching Donnie’s. “Donnie…”

Donnie faded. His vision cut to black, the static swarmed his ears. The fragility in the air burst outwards, scattering glass fragments across the floor. His silent, boiling anger reached critical heat, overflowing, lashing out in uncontrolled terror. The invisible handprint on his thigh raged hot. Seared into his skin. Left a burn. Kendra touched him first. She did it first. He wasn’t going to get it back, he was broken, she’d taken him apart, he’d let her take him apart, he was broken. He was a window cracked from an overwhelming inferno. All that filled him was the urgency to fight.

Shit. His vision cracked and blended together like a broken monitor, ripping apart. The last vestiges of his carefully catered self-control turned fully into senselessness. Shit, shit, shit. He was losing his mind, going crazy, right in front of Leo and Mikey. Donnie’s sense of touch amplified, wrenched to maximum volume with a casual jolt. Sensations he could previously ignore became burrowing, crawling roaches. The air was too cold. His heartbeat was too loud. Mikey’s casual, too-light touch felt like his hand was being crushed. Make it stop. He needed it to stop, he just needed it to stop so he could think—so he could—he needed to—shit. Why couldn’t he stop?

Fight. Fight. He needed to fight.

Donnie’s fist flew out and punched a bullseye right on Mikey’s face.

“I SAID DON’T TOUCH ME!” Donnie screamed.

“FUCK!” Leo yelled.

Mikey clattered to the floor, stunned, and Donnie was back in the kitchen. He was off the chair, his tech-bō was clutched tight in his hands, his coffee mug was broken on the ground. Leo dove for Mikey and grabbed him by the shoulders to steady him as he sank to the ground.

“Easy, Donnie!” Leo said, hands raised, like Donnie was a feral animal and Leo was the keeper.

“No, I won’t take it easy!” Donnie shouted. “I said not to touch me!”

The kitchen door swung open and April barrelled inside, looking sleep-deprived and frazzled.

“What’s happening?!” she asked, eyes darting from face to face.

“I don’t want to be touched!” Donnie screamed. He hated the way his voice sounded, deafening and wet and desperate and afraid. “I don’t want to be touched!”

“No one’s touching you, Dee,” said April. She held up her hands. “See? My hands are here, and Leo and Mikey are over there. No one going to touch you.”

Donnie panted, gulping down air. He couldn’t breathe. Oxygen struggled into his lungs, trying to fill the empty spaces where he could absorb it, and it came in with thick rasps. The world constricted. It was ending, it was ending and he was the epicentre, the event horizon, the end of all things. Maybe, intellectually and distantly, he knew that the world was going to continue without him. However, as a conscious, sentient being with too many feelings to handle, he was about to be snuffed out, a candle blown out by an icy wind.

It was a showdown and Donnie was the cornered outlaw at noon, and everyone had loaded guns, and they were all just waiting for someone to make the first draw. April shifted, and in his madness, he saw Kendra. The gun went off. His tech-bō whistled through the air and collided with her side. Two jabs—one, two—and Kendra hit the ground with a shocked cry.

Kendra—no, it was April. It was April on the ground, gripping her ribs.

“Donnie, stop!” Leo’s voice yelled. Donnie swung towards it. It took him two tries to get Leo focused in his vision.

Mikey was on the ground. So was April. Leo looked beside himself with stress.

“It’s just us,” said Leo. “It’s only us.”

Donnie was slapped with horrible, heated shame. Idiot. The Purple Dragons were in the past, he was at home. He should know better. Mikey pulled himself up with the table, blood gushing out of his nostrils.

Fuck.

He had to be more together than this; he was supposed to be, that was his job. The one thing he was useful for was holding it together.

Donnie threw his tech-bō down and bolted. Leo calling his name chased him out of the room.

The sewers were a vast and confusing labyrinth that had been their playground when they were kids. They knew it better than anyone, all the hiding spots, the most disgusting drainage pipes, the corners where strange, unidentifiable bits of trash floated down from the surface. Donnie ran blind through them, frantic for a shadow he could hide in, his feet making the charge while he left his mind back at the lair.

He didn’t know how long it was—minutes, maybe, or there could’ve been hours he wasn’t aware of. When they were kids, there was that one pipe…that one disused pipe where no water came through and it didn’t smell too horrible, that was small enough to crawl inside. They used to go to it when feelings were hurt or when one of them needed some quiet time alone.

Donnie slowed to a walk, and he realized he was in the tunnel leading up to the pipe. It was halfway between the walkway and the ceiling, still there like always. As if no time had passed. One of Mikey’s old graffiti drawings was next to it. It read ‘Turtle Pipe,’ pointed to the pipe, and was complete with a stylized image of a turtle wearing a mask. Donnie locked onto it and the static cleared a little, and he stopped to listen to the water running around them, a constant underground companion.

He bent by the pipe and peered inside. It was much smaller than he remembered, and he wouldn’t fit with the Battle Shell on. Donnie shed it like a second skin and it clattered loudly to the ground. That did the trick, and when he squeezed in, it was snug and borderline uncomfortable fit. Still, he could sit sideways in it, feet propped up against the opposite side, knees bent, arms folded tight over his chest.

There, in the dark, he breathed. Just breathed. Just let his body try to take in oxygen and settle his racing heart.

He’d attacked Mikey and April. Fuck. He’d attacked his siblings. Donnie hadn’t thought there could be any worse feeling than Kendra mocking him, but here he was, discovering one on the same day. Pioneering new fields in typical Donnie fashion.

He remembered the look on Leo’s face, worried and startled, and a tightness strangled him. Donnie dug his palms into his eye to push the tears back into his body. No, he was better than this. He’d put that look on Leo’s face. Hell, if he’d hit in the right places, he might’ve broken some bones. Donnie pictured the trickle of blood down Mikey’s face and wondered if he’d shattered his nose. Fuck. He should’ve stayed and done something about it, not run away like a child.

The strangulation dragged a funny noise out of him, a shudder and a muted cry. Donnie squeezed his eyes shut and set his hands over his ears as he pulled back into a memory.

He remembered a few years ago, he’d overheard Splinter talking to April in the kitchen. They were talking about something, a childhood memory about the boys, something whimsical.

Then Splinter opened his mouth and said, “Donatello has always been the difficult one.”

Donnie could count the number of times his dad had called him by his name. Five times exactly. That moment was number three.

Donatello was the difficult one. Donatello was the difficult one.

Why was he making things harder? He couldn’t just order out food. He couldn’t just let Mikey nurse him with dessert. He couldn’t let Mikey touch his hand. When she moved, he hit April. She had done nothing. She’d just moved. He made things harder and then he ran, made Leo worry. Let blood run down Mikey’s face. Let April lie on the floor, holding her ribs.

He could’ve fixed things, could’ve smiled and told his brothers that everything was fine, but he just had to make things difficult. Difficult Donnie.

“Dee?”

Donnie swallowed down the gasp and grabbed at air. He twisted his body, and saw an enormous, creeping shadow framed in the pipe’s entrance.

Raph was so tall now that he had to kneel to look inside, a far cry from the broad-shouldered young turtle who used to lift them all up to the entrance.

“Hey, buddy,” said Raph. He fondly touched the pipe’s circumference. “Wow, lot smaller than it used to be, huh?”

Donnie settled his nerves, watched Raph carefully.

“We, uh, we need to talk.”

Donnie glared him down.

“I know you don’t want to, but we gotta if you’re gonna be swinging punches at people.”

Donnie tried his best to hold on to his anger—the only thing protecting him, the one thing that felt tangible. Yet it slipped through his fingers and pooled on the ground he sat on, useless and too heavy to carry.

With a grunt, Raph tried to shove himself into the pipe, but he was much too big for it these days, and Donnie watched him struggle before he gave up and settled down just outside the entrance with a sheepish smile. They stayed in silence for a while. Raph was letting him prepare. Bending forward, Donnie pressed his forehead against the curve of the opposite side of the pipe and exhaled. An indistinct pain caught in his ribcage and he fought against the incomprehensible, unidentifiable emotion petering through his nervous system.

“Mikey and April aren’t mad,” said Raph. “They know you didn’t mean to hit them.”

“They don’t know anything,” Donnie snapped.

“They’re trying to help.”

“Well, you all need to try less, as I don’t require sympathy.”

“Dee, we want to help—”

“I said I don’t need help! I can handle this on my own.”

“No one’s gonna force you to accept our help, you just gotta know we want to. Listen, I’m gonna give you all the space you need, but there’s some things I gotta ask.”

“Don’t bother.”

“This ain’t a negotiation, Dee, I gotta ask so I know you’re safe. It’s not—” Raph sucked in a breath like he was sucking in emotion, eyes squeezing closed. “I don’t want to ask. I just gotta.”

Donnie folded his arms over his knees and looked away, not wanting to take in his brother’s expression.

“Donnie…Did she hurt you? Y’know. In that way?”

“No.”

“Okay. Okay. Are you sure? I mean, I know that…” Raph cleared his throat. “Well, you see, Dee, when a man and a woman love each other very much—no, I mean, it doesn’t have to be a man and a woman, it can be literally anyone of any gender identity, but you see—”

“I know what sexual reproduction is, Raph, I figured it out when I was six. I only watched your damn PowerPoint presentation later on because Leo said that if he had to suffer, I had to suffer too.”

“Sorry, wasn’t sure if you, uh, actually paid attention during that.”

“I didn’t, thanks. Let’s just say that some of your ‘facts’ on copulation left something to be desired.”

“…Never call it copulation again.”

Raph let the silence hang for a while longer, letting Donnie process. He took a steadying breath and Donnie wondered which of them was more uncomfortable with this conversation.

“Okay, moving on. So, Dee, you know that…well, you know it doesn’t have to be…well, you see there’s, like, other…ways that things can…”

“Raph, if you don’t get to the point, so help me God—”

“I’m sorry! I don’t know how to say it, I never thought…” Raph’s voice went wet. “I never thought I’d have to have to talk to one of you guys about this. It just never seemed like a risk.”

“Because we gross people out.”

Raph looked at him. “Did Kendra tell you that?”

It didn’t feel real until Raph said it out loud. Donnie didn’t even realize that it was one of the many things nagging at him until the words out of his head. Donnie listened to the steady drip-drip-drip of distant water further down the abandoned pipe.

“What were you trying to say?” Donnie asked, eager to change the subject. Awkward sex talk was much preferable to trying to psycho-analyze himself.

Raph wrung his hands. “Right. Well, um…it’s like this. Sometimes in these situations there are…Well, you don’t have to have traditional, uh, ‘sexual reproduction’ for it to…for it to hurt. Like, if she did something, and you didn’t want her to do it, even if it wasn’t in the ‘usual’ way…it was still wrong. Did she do anything like that? Or—Or did those other two losers do anything? Does that make any sense?”

Donnie took a long time to answer. “She just touched. She just…” He set his hand on his thigh. Raph observed his movement. “It was just physical contact, that’s all.”

“It wasn’t ‘just’ touching, Donnie. It was wrong.”

Donnie laid his hand over the spot on his thigh, trying to overwhelm the sensation of her lingering phantom hand. He’d never felt so torn between wanting his brother close and wanting to scream at him to leave him alone. Neither felt like the right choice.

Deep breath. “I should’ve been more proactive in my own escape,” said Donnie. “It won’t happen again.”

“Are you…apologizing?”

“Looking back, I could have circumvented the Gatling gun since I don’t think she had any intent to actually use it. I could have continued to refuse to cooperate for the video—”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“I’m not apologizing, I’m reflecting on the actions I could have taken to prevent the circumstances that led to this.”

“I know you, and I know this is your roundabout ‘I’m apologizing without actually apologizing’ way of apologizing.”

“I’m just analyzing how I could have stopped this from happening for future reference. I should have fought her harder, for example—”

“Hey, we saw you fighting her, and, I mean, you bit off her finger. That was super metal! Hearing her scream her head off was the best noise I’ve heard in a while.”

“Regardless, I hate to admit that my shortcomings came through in this incident. I will work on ways to rectify them in the future.”

“Donnie, do I look like the HR department to you? You don’t get in trouble for getting kidnapped.”

“I mistakenly attacked April and Mikey in a moment of heightened emotions. I should get in trouble for that—I insist on it!”

Despite his best efforts to appear immeasurably calm, Donnie heard it in his voice—and judging by the look on Raph’s face, he heard it too. He couldn’t keep his tone steady. It fluctuated in volume and intensity as he spoke. Uncontrolled.

Donnie dragged his gaze away from the spot on the wall he was staring at, to look at his brother. He felt his willpower slip away when he saw Raph kneeling there, large frame reassuring rather than overwhelming. The tears came, fat blobs of moisture that streaked down his face, silent but overpowering.

“Aw, Donnie…” Raph said.

“Don’t go?” Donnie asked, afraid of the vulnerability in his voice.

“I won’t leave. I’m right here.”

“Are you sure Mikey and April aren’t mad?” Donnie asked. It was all he could think about. It came to his mind with an obsessive edge, grating at him.

“I swear that no one’s mad at you. Not Mikey, not Leo, not April, not me.”

“I don’t know why I did it. It was completely irrational.”

“We don’t gotta focus on the ‘why’ since you didn’t mean to do it.”

Donnie stared at his feet pressed up against the opposite side of the pipe. Well, if he was going to cry in front of someone, at least it was just Raph. Leo and Mikey would make a big fuss out of such an event, but Raph he could trust to keep quiet, to just be there and linger.

“I don’t…understand why she did it!” Donnie exclaimed, slamming a fist against the pipe. “It doesn’t make any sense! It’s not logical!”

“Okay, Commander Spock.”

“I’m serious, Raph! It doesn’t make sense! She hates me! So why…why…” He mimed touching his thigh. “Why did she do this? Where’s the reason?!”

“She did it cuz she knew you didn’t like it. Someone like Kendra doesn’t find any more reason than that, and sometimes…sometimes there’s just not a good reason at all.”

Donnie rubbed his watery eyes. With a loud sniff he said, “I don’t understand.”

“Yeah, same here.” Raph sounded wistful. Then, his voice firm, “But it was wrong, Donnie, and it wasn’t your fault. Do you hear me? What happened to you was wrong.”

Donnie’s eyes were so wet that felt as though he was submerged in ice cold water. His whole body spasmed with the effort of keeping the pathetic little noises he produced stifled, and he failed, his body failed him and they came out in the quiet, and Raph gripped the edge of the pipe like he was holding back the temptation to rip it out of the wall to get close to Donnie. Donnie held the tension there for a while, not sure what to do with it.

“…I think I want a hug,” he finally said.

Raph let out a jittery, relieved breath of air, his smile shaky. “That works out cuz I really, really want to give you one right now.”

Donnie shuffled quick out of the pipe, seizing Raph’s hand when it reached for him. To his surprise, the sensation of a hand clutched in his—one that belonged to a family member rather than someone outside, a stranger, and enemy, one that he sought rather than being forced on him—didn’t elicit the crawling sensation he’d expected. Instead, with it came a comforting weight, a steady, grounding warmth that smoothed out the prickling sensation roving over his skin.

Raph held tight onto him. Crouched on the ground, Donnie focused on Raph’s weight settling down around him. Raph rested his chin on Donnie’s head, and he could tell that he was holding him together like Donnie was a fragile but precious toy held together with duct tape and glue.

“It’s over,” Raph told him.

Donnie hummed noncommittally. Maybe Raph really was just saying it, but for a heartbeat, he let himself believe it.

He heard the footsteps long before Leo’s worried voice broke down through the tunnel. Donnie pulled away from Raph and scrubbed his face clean.

“Yo!” Leo called. He cast a long shadow framed by light, and Mikey and April were with him. Mikey had cleaned the blood off of his face. “Raph, did you find him?”

“Pretty sure I did, unless Donnie finally cloned himself for real this time,” said Raph.

“Is he okay?”

“‘He’ is, thank you very much,” Donnie asserted steadily.

Leo hesitated. “Hey, um, Mikey has something he wants to say. Is that okay?”

Donnie’s gaze locked with Mikey’s. His youngest brother looked overwhelmed with stress.

“I’m sorry,” Mikey said upon seeing the implicit permission in Donnie’s eyes. “I shouldn’t have tried to push it.”

“It’s perfectly alright, Michelangelo,” said Donnie. “Everything is fine now.”

Raph tilted his head at him.

“Everything is going to be fine,” he amended.

“I’m sorry too,” said April. “I should’ve told you what I was doing before I did it.”

“I said it’s fine.”

His tone left no room for argument. Donnie just didn’t want to linger on the subject, not when he was balking under the attention being thrown his way. Even if he knew it came from a place of concern, he didn’t think he could handle all of them at once. One at a time he might work with. A single hug was manageable. All at once—all the attention, the hugs, the concern—and it became too much. Raph gingerly set his hand on his shoulder, and when Donnie didn’t pull away, he gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Everything is a little…abnormal now,” Donnie said. “It will be normal soon, and then I’ll get payback on the Purple Dragons.”

“You’re plotting revenge already?” Leo asked. “That has to be some kind of record.”

“Don’t underestimate me, Leo. Although I already got a payback in a way—I imagine a lecture from Dad wasn’t the most pleasant experience for them—I would like to take it up a notch.”

“I mean, you bit off her finger,” said Leo. “Don’t think she’s gonna forget that.”

“They could still reattach it if they got her to the ER on time,” April pointed out.

Donnie grinned. “Oh, there’s no chance of reattaching it.”

“…What did you do, Donnie?”

“Please tell me you kept it,” said Leo.

Donnie’s grin grew wide. This was the type of attention he could handle. He reached into his belt and pulled out a small glass jar with one Kendra-branded pinky finger inside. It got the expected reaction. Raph and Mikey looked sick, April’s eyebrows twitch up in a mixture of bemusement and concern, and Leo tilted his head back and roared with laughter.

“Holy shit, you did!”

“Donnie!” Raph exclaimed. “Who keeps body parts in their belt? What exactly were you planning to do with that?”

“I was thinking of mounting it, dear brother,” said Donnie. “Alternatively, I was thinking of growing a Kendra-clone in a growth vat.”

“Please don’t do that,” said April. “One Kendra is enough.”

“Can you imagine the look on her face if I did? April, what are the odds that you can get samples from Jeremy and Jase? I bet I could make even more evil counterparts and set them upon the originals!”

“Donnie, I love and support your dreams of being a mad scientist, but if you try to clone the Purple Dragons, they won’t live long enough to do anything evil.”

“Yet again, my brilliant plans are thwarted. You guys never let me have any fun.”

“Couldn’t you just clone sheep like normal scientists?”

“Scoff! Someone’s already done that. I’d at least start with something that possesses advanced linguistic skills.”

The kidnapping shadowed them during the walk to the lair. Donnie felt it settle on his shell like a sleep paralysis demon, while Kendra’s finger licked up the back of his neck and the handprint on his thigh burnt, and the shame and horror and fear of being at the utter mercy of the Purple Dragons slammed into him at random moments that made him lightheaded. While her cronies looked on and did nothing.

It didn’t feel over. He knew Raph and April had only said that just to reassure him. But Raph’s hand on his shoulder was a tangible weight, and at least he could count on his siblings not to hurt him.

[m-jelly]

Happy Easter to everyone!

Can I request #5 but with Wolf!Levi (an actually Wolf!Levi) and HumanReader who dressed in a sexy bunny outfit? They're married for awhile and Reader also wanted some pups so no condom this time

Happy Easter ya thirsty lot! Wolf Levi? You got it!

Mate

Pairing: Wolf!Levi x Reader

Genre and tags: Wolf!Levi, human reader, mating, possessive Levi, knot.

Concept: You decide to wear a sexy bunny outfit for Levi due to Hange's recommendation. You are excited to show off your outfit to him so you can have fun sex, but it sparks something deep inside Levi. Levi goes into a rut straight away and hunts his bunny wife. Levi is driven by a desire to mate with you. Levi ravages you in bed and holds you after as he stays locked to you for a few minutes.

18+ material below. Minors do not interact.

You fixed your underwear a little and blushed at yourself. You had this underwear with a slit between the legs for easy access. You bought it because Hange told you Levi would love it. It was all bunny themed. You fixed your big ears and smiled.

You walked out of the bedroom and wandered towards Levi sitting on the sofa in your shared apartment. "Levi?"

He sighed. "Mm?"

You cleared your throat. "Leviii."

He lifted his head from his book. "Yeah?"

"Look."

He looked over at you. "Yeah?"

You smiled at him and turned a little to show your tail. "I'm a cute little bunny." You nibbled your lip. "All alone and need a nice wolf to help me."

Levi's black fluffy wolf ears went back as he gazed at you. He growled as something hot burned inside him. He crawled over the back of the sofa as his black fluffy tail swished side to side. "Mate."

You flushed bright red. "Y-Yes, that's me."

He stalked closer to you. "Mate."

You backed up. "Your little bunny mate."

He moaned as he eyed your body. "Need to mate with you."

You gulped hard. "Th-Then come get me, Alpha."

Levi snarled and launched at you making you scream with excitement. He picked you up and carried you to the bedroom. He threw you on the bed and looked you over. "Delicious bunny mate."

You moaned a little. "Yes."

He crawled up the bed making you gasp. He eyed your body. "I need you. I need to mate with you."

You nodded shyly. "I want to mate with you."

Levi knelt up and ripped his shirt apart. He yanked his trousers and boxers off to reveal his hard cock twitching and dripping with precum. He moaned at you as he moved your legs and saw the gap in your underwear. "My mate, mine."

You smiled. “I need…” You gulped. “I need you…please mate. Alpha, please.”

He growled and dove for your neck, then bit down hard. “Mate.”

You moaned. “Please alpha.”

Levi growled more as his eyes became that of a wolf’s. He lined himself up, then slammed his cock into your pussy making you arch your back and cry out in pure pleasure. Levi growled more and rocked hard and fast into you. The pleasure was intense, your mind was mush and your body was jelly.

You lay there on the bed as it banged against the wall. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, then you cried out as your coil snapped within you and pure bliss ran through every corner of your body. Your legs shook as spots came into your vision. You heard Levi grunt above you as you clenched around him so desperately.

Levi didn’t stop moving though, he was fuelled by your words, his eyes were just like a wolf and he was consumed by the need to mate and be with you physically for as long as possible. You dragged your nails across his back and moaned for him, each thrust caused a moan to escape you.

You gripped his hair and tugged a little. "Levi."

He pulled from your neck and panted. "Mate. My mate. Mine."

"I love you."

He whimpered at you. "I love you."

You smiled and massaged Levi’s wolf ears. He leaned into your touch and whined, his body on fire from being with you. He loved you, adored you and he couldn’t stop his wolf from howling in his head the word mate over and over. Levi gripped your hips, his nails digging into your soft skin.

He snarled as he looked down at where you two were connected. Just the image of his cock ramming in and out of your pussy was intoxicating. You'd both talked about pups before and wanted them. This was the first time his rut had taken over and you'd both mated for pups. He was overwhelmed by being with you like two animals.

He moved his hand, then played with your clit making you shiver. He growled as you clenched around him, you felt so good to him, so perfect. He felt a little naughty screwing you senselessly into the mattress of your shared bed to make a pup while you were dressed as a bunny of all things. He saw you wiggle and whine, you were on cloud nine.

Levi slowed down and said your name as he panted. “Look at me.”

You looked at him and gulped. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

He shook his head. “I'm in a rut and I want to mate for pups. Do you really want this? We can stop now.”

You looked down at your pussy with Levi's cock in, then blushed at the sight. “I umm…”

“I can stop? It's okay.”

You shook your head and cupped his face. “Don’t stop.”

“What?”

You sat up onto his lap. You held his shoulders, then moved up and down. “Don’t.”

He grunted and growled. “Tch, you really want to mate?”

You kissed him and hummed. “I want to keep going. I wanted this.” You smiled at him and grinded against him. “I thought you were my mate?”

He growled and grabbed you. “I am.”

“Then prove it. Mate with me, mate. Don't stop now.”

He grabbed your thighs, then grinded against you hard and fast. You leaned your head back and moaned loudly as you felt Levi press against all the perfect spots within you. You tangled your fingers in Levi’s hair, then yanked you close to your chest. You hummed and moaned as he nipped and sucked at your chest. He formed as many little love bites as possible so people knew you were all his.

He looked up at you and enjoyed all your words of praise. "Tell me more how I'm a good boy?"

You looked down at him and smiled. "Good boy. You're my good boy."

Levi grunted. "I am."

You gasped. "Such a good boy. Good mate. That's it."

"Your mate."

You moaned at his cock ramming into you and his tight grip possessive hold on your body. "You're a good boy, Levi."

He hummed and moaned as he licked and sucked at your skin. You bit your lip, then leaned closer and bit his wolf ear, then flicked your tongue over it making Levi buck up against you. He growled, then bucked again at the flick of your tongue. He bit a little too hard on your breast and drew blood making you yelp. He licked up the blood in a soothing manner as if he was a wolf licking a bad wound. He was soothing you, which made your whole body tingle in delight.

You ran your hands down Levi’s neck, then held his shoulders. You panted then moved up and down, then closed your eyes and hummed at the shoot of pleasure. Levi reached and pressed places within you that you didn’t know where possible.

You slammed yourself down onto Levi over and over, as soon as he hit your g-spot, you clenched around him making him moan. You tapped your forehead against Levi and worked your hips with him. Levi locked eyes with you, then squeezed your thighs hard.

He moaned at you. "Good girl. My good brat. You feel so good. You're my good little mate."

He moved you up and down on him hard and fast. He growled and snarled at you as the pleasure fired through you both. Levi dug his nails into your skin again, you were just so soft in his hands.

You whimpered at Levi, then kissed him lightly. He smiled at you, then kissed you with passion. He nipped your lip and then pushed his tongue into your warm mouth. Both of you hummed in happiness at the kiss. He was so naturally hot it just made kissing him intoxicating to you. You were just dizzy with pleasure and desire.

Your coil tightened more and threatened to snap. Levi felt you clenching him so perfectly, that he knew he had to push you more. He grabbed your hips, then yanked you closer and angled your hips perfectly. You pulled from his lips, then cried out as your mind became blank. You clenched up and closed your eyes and pulled from Levi’s kiss. You cried out and whimpered as you chanted praises and Levi’s name.

He moved faster and harder, his eyes searching your face as he watched the pleasure get more and more for you. He smiled when he saw the snap happen, then the euphoric smile on your face. He lowered you down onto the bed, then pulled from you.

You whimpered and moaned, then you rolled onto your tummy and panted into the bed. You were enjoying the last bits of pleasure run through you, as well as the coolness of the sheets on your burning hot skin. You gulped and lifted your bum up to Levi. You turned your head and smiled at him, so he knew he wanted you to keep going.

You wiggled your bum so your fake bunny tail moved. "Mate with me. This bunny needs you. Please."

Levi purred at you as his rut made his body ache for you. "Yes."

Levi ran his hands up your legs, then pulled them apart and lifted your hips up. He shuffled in place, then ran his hand up and down your pussy. He smirked as you whimpered and whined at him, he was teasing you and he knew you were going to tell him off. Just as you were about to, he pressed his cock into your pussy a little. You moaned at him, then you growled in frustration as he stopped again. You tried to move, but Levi had a firm grip on your hips. He moved back and forth a little, then he’d press in and pull back.

You pouted and whined. “Mate, please.” You reached back and grabbed his thigh and pushed him forwards more. “Mate.”

Levi growled, then slammed into you. He grabbed your hands and pinned them to the bed either side of your head, then relied on you to keep your hips up. He moved against you roughly fuelled by your words. He needed to mate with you, had to mate with you so you could feel you were his. He was claiming you over and over as his own. He loved you, adored you and was obsessed with you.

He squeezed your hands tightly and growled. He looked your body over. He wasn’t too much of a fan of making love to you from behind, mainly because he loved seeing your face. However, the wolf inside him loved this position because it was going back to his animalistic desires and needs. His wolf saw this as the ultimate mating position.

He fought the urge to bite you hard, it was a wolf thing to bite their mate during something like this in this kind of position. He pressed down against you a little pushing you down and closer to the bed. You clenched around him and cried out, then you grabbed the quilt tightly as your legs shook.

Levi couldn’t hold back anymore when he saw you clench the quilt, as well as turn your head and whimper. He snarled, then bit the back of your shoulder hard. You cried out in pleasure and pain.

Your body tingled in delight at the pure blissful pleasure Levi was giving you. You whimpered and moaned when you felt Levi was having trouble moving a little like he was getting ready to finally mate with you.

You made Levi let go of one of your hands, then you moved it to your breast. He massaged and played with the soft mound, then roughly grabbed and massaged so perfectly making you shiver in delight. You panted and moaned, then reminded Levi that you loved him.

"Levi." You panted and whimpered. "I love you, Levi. I love you so much. You're my perfect mate."

Levi’s wolf eyes disappeared and he was back to being his normal self again. He purred at you, then moved as passionately as possible. He knew the two of you were close to the end, so he wanted your first-time mating to be a loving and perfect one.

He moaned your name. "I love you too. My sweet mate."

Levi pulled from you, then rolled you onto your back. He panted and locked eyes with you. He pressed his cock into your pussy and winced as he fought himself. He hummed and gulped, then slid his arms on the bed so his body was pressed against yours. He wrapped his arms around you and held you so delicately. He tapped his forehead against yours, then grinded so deeply into you. He rubbed against your clit and g-spot.

You smiled at Levi as he moved so perfectly against you. You loved the rough stuff, but when he made love to you like this, it was just so wonderful. You mewled at him, which made him smile back at you.

He captured your lips and sighed through his nose as you both kissed over and over again. He moved a little harder against you as your coil tightened again and Levi’s did too. He nipped your lip, then deepened the kiss. He moaned as you took a little control over the kiss. You massaged your fingers into the skin on his back making him moan.

Your coil tightened so much, you felt you were going to burst. You hummed and whined at Levi, your moans increasing in pitch. You could barely breathe, then you felt the snap. Your body shook, your mind went blank and you dragged your nails across Levi’s back.

Levi kept moving, his nails digging into your skin as he couldn’t hold back anymore. He pulled from your lips, then bit your bonding mark hard. He slammed his cock into your pussy and pushed the swelled up part at the base. He locked against you and pumped his hot seed into you.

He panted into the bite, then released the bite and licked up the blood. He kissed your face all over and smiled as you just hummed back at him. You lightly played with Levi’s wolf ears, then you opened your eyes and smiled at him as you glowed from the bliss and euphoria you both shared.

Levi gulped and blushed. "I'm umm...I can't move."

You squeezed his cock and felt why. "Darling, this happens every time we have sex."

He hummed. "I know, but this time it's bad."

You frowned a little. "Why?"

He sighed. "I'm in a rut and I came inside you, so it'll last longer."

You smiled. "Kinky. Well, it just means we can cuddly for longer."

Levi snuggled against you. "That's right. My cute sweet mate."

You hugged him and played with his hair. "So, my bunny outfit cause a rut."

"Yes." He kissed you and moaned. "I want to mate with you."

You giggled. "Let me rest a bit."

He hummed. "Okay." He pulled from you and sighed. "Clean up and then more cuddles."

You laughed as Levi ran off to the bathroom, then he came back and cleaned you up. You let him patch up your bite marks before snuggling in bed with you. "You're so wonderful." You petted his head and heard his tail patting against the bed in happiness. "Good boy."

Levi snuggled. "I am a good boy."

"The best."

[getou2001]

a tiny getou x you x toji 3some + ft. gojo drabble for @vmpirx <33

the blade was so, so cold. the steel dragged across your body. it was even colder than the fall leaves underneath you. every time you or the other two moved the crunched and fell into little pieces. you shifted, whimpering when the knife dipped lower on your body. your eyes had shut at the first sight of it and never dared to open all the way. only sneaking peeks and glances at one of the men while the other was still circling you. always behind when you were able to force your eyes open.

you opened your eyes again and the face was closer. he was smirking. with a scarred up lip and dark, lazy eyes. his smirk looked tattooed on or it was just your cut clothes still hanging on.

"some dignity left, angel?" his voice snapped you out of a haze you didn't even realize you were in. you gulped back a response which made him scowl and slide the knife under your bra strap, cutting that off too before moving to the other and looking down to your revealed tits. another set of hands came from behind to hold them and rubbed your already hard nipple between his fingers. your back started to arch, whimpers becoming louder. the hairs on the back of your neck standing as the man’s warmth consumed you. you didn’t dare look back, just softly shift your legs and struggle to not look like a common whore.

“aww, getou. let’s throw her a bone! she’s clearly begging for it!” the built man laughed with each word and began to untie his white baggy pants.

you shut your eyes again when you felt a hand leave one of your tits and travel south to rub your clothed clit. pinching and rubbing once before going beneath your panties. a voice came from beside your ear, hot breath against skin while the low voice finally spoke up.

“why should we, toji? prey should be eaten not played with.” you could hear the man’s smirk through his words.

“she’s being so cute.” toji got closer to you, stealing a kiss and crawling over you as getou laid back, hands kept on your hips. toji pushed off his boxers and used the knife to cut off your panties. he ripped off what was left. getou pulled his fingers out but before you could clench around air it was replaced by toji. getou’s fingers, though thick, could never prepare you for toji. your back arched and a scream ripped your throat. toji hissed, smacking you before grabbing your hair and yanking your face up. “be fucking quiet, doll!” he snarled, using the leverage to begin thrusting in you.

getou grabbed your thighs from behind and lifted them, spreading you apart. he pushed in right alongside toji and didn’t pause before bouncing you up and down. their paces were out of sync completely. when getou would lift you toji would be just pulling away from the deepest part of you. while toji was bullying against your walls getou would be prodding inside of you. it didn’t take long for you to get dumb on them and babble about what it felt like. whimpering how good it felt and how satoru would be so angry with you. all the whines fell on deaf ears as they kept pushing into you.

“oh lookie here.” toji sang, picking up your dropped phone and seeing satoru calling. without asking he answered and held the phone between his shoulder and ear to listen in. “yeah? you want the bitch back? i dunno.. not really..” he let out an exaggerated grunt as he shifted. “done with her pussy, satoru. hold up, will you? uh huh. whatever. i don’t give a damn, really.” pausing sometimes to hear gojo’s irate responses. “getou’s here too, wanna say hi?” toji handed the phone over to getou and slipped two fingers into your mouth to keep it open. all for gojo to hear.

“mm.. the forest behind her house. no, no. she just ran so we had to get her. you understand, yes? i don’t know she’s getting stuffed now.” he gave an extra hard push into you to hear you scream. “why? dunno. you can make up some reason, right honey?” he spread your legs further apart.

toji was the first to paint your walls white but he didn’t stop. neither did until gojo was staring slack jawed at the display. the tent in his pants only rising when he saw how limp you were against the two. getou beckoned him closer and you sadly couldn’t tell the difference between two and three.

[thatredheadwriter]

Moonlight

frank castle x reader

So, I am a slut for Frank Castle. The things that man does to me on a daily basis. In honor of that slutiness, here is a smutty fic for one of my favorite vigilantes.

Frank comes in from a successful mission ready to celebrate with his favorite girl. But you’re already asleep, curled up in your shared bed wearing nothing but one of his shirts. Sleepy nightime sex and cockwarming ensues.

This is an NSFW oneshot for female!reader with Frank Castle (aka the Punisher). This work contains smut and mature language and should not be read by those under 18 (or the age of majority in your locale). As a writer, I will attempt to make accurate warnings for each of my fics, however I cannot guarantee that I will identify each and every sensitive topic. My works regularly contain swearing, allusions to/mentions of sex, and canon level violence.

Warnings Include (but are not limited to):

mentions of violence

mentions of blood

Frank Castle has trauma

sweet pet names

dirty talk

teasing

fingering

unprotected P in V sex

creampie

dom!Frank

Frank has a pain kink

cockwarming

Please read at your own discretion and consume your fanfiction responsibly.

Frank slid in the window of the hall outside your apartment, hoping your neighbors were all sound asleep inside their apartments or otherwise occupied. He slipped quietly into your apartment, letting himself in with the key he kept on his belt.

Once inside, he locked the deadbolt and slid the security chain into the latch before setting the alarm he insisted you get, because tonight he didn’t want anything to disturb the two of you. For the first time, like ever, he remembered to kick off his boots by the door. 

He was a little surprised that he didn’t find you on the couch, bathed in the glow of the TV as you waited for him to slip in. You weren’t in the kitchen either, or the bathroom. The plants had all been watered and the lights were out.

Instead, he found you curled up in bed. Legs tossed haphazardly, one in and one out of the covers. Your hair fanned about you on the pillow, looking like some sort of a halo. In an instant, all his dirty thoughts were gone. All he wanted to do was hold you close and listen to your breathing until he fell asleep with his face buried in your neck.

He stripped out of his kevlar first, setting it to the side carefully so it wouldn’t wake you. Next came his shirt, this time the only blood on it belonged to his enemies, something you’d be proud of in the morning. He practically ripped off his pants, but when he went to crawl into your clean, white sheets, he noticed the blood and grime still coating his skin.

Frank hated bringing it all home to you. He hated watching you stitch him up everytime he came home bloody and bruised, stabbed and shot. He hated the fact that the worry lines in your face had deepened since he met you, not that it made you any less beautiful. He hated being the dark thing in your life.

So ignoring his fatigue, he went and climbed into your shower. He’d bitched to you about it for months, telling you that if you wanted him to stay there you really needed to raise the height of the showerhead and clear off some of the bottles you had lining the tub so he would quit knocking them over every goddamn time he tried to clean up.

You had, at least, replaced the showerhead with one that could be removed from its holder. And you’d made a point of buying soap and deodorant for him. Hell, you’d even picked up razors and shaving cream for him too. Anything that would mean he could stay just a little bit longer.

By the time he was suitably clean, he was so ready to climb into bed with you that he almost missed the fact that you’d woken up, now waiting for him to come to bed.

“Frank,” you whispered when he stepped into the bedroom.

“Hey, baby. I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispered as he crawled into bed, trying his best not to disturb you as he got comfortable.

But you had other ideas. You rolled over to face him, grabbing hold of his shoulders to pull yourself close to him.

“Mmmm,” you hummed, “I missed you.” 

“Sorry I got tied up,” he grinned in the dark even though you couldn’t see him, “Just go back to sleep. I’ll tell you all about it in the morning.”

“No,” you challenged. You maneuvered so you were straddling Frank’s hips, your bare cunt rubbing against the fabric of his boxers, the only thing separating you from what you really craved. You knew he could feel your wetness by the way he sucked in a sharp breath. Your hands ran up and down his exposed chest, feeling all the scars he’d accumulated over the years.

“No?” he questioned, gripping your wrists lightly.

“Frank,” you whined, leaning down to kiss him, but he used his grip on your wrists to push you just out of reach.

“What do you want? Hmm?” he hummed lowly, rolling over so that you were on your back and he was the one on top of you. He shifted his grasp so your wrists were pinned above your head by one of his massive hands. The other came down to trace your bottom lip. Frank was careful not to crush you with his weight, keeping most of it on his knees that had landed on either side of you, but you could still feel him, feel his arousal growing.

“I want you to fuck me, Frank,” you pleaded. “I heard you in the shower, cleanin’ up f’me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agreed sleepily, “Thought about joining you, but I knew you’d come to me eventually.”

“So what? You want me to fuck this greedy pussy back to sleep? Is that it?”

“Please,” you moaned, rolling your hips up against him.

That’s all it took.

Frank’s hands moved from your wrists and face to lift your shirt and discard it off the side of the bed. He made quick work of his boxers, rolling to the side to strip off the last barrier between the two of you.

Usually when you fucked with Frank it was rough and fast. Not to say he didn’t fulfill your needs, or take his time with you. But it wasn’t like this. Not sloppy, needy sex. The kind where you just needed him close, closer than physically possible. Like if you weren’t touching him, you couldn’t breathe.

His scruff rubbed against your skin as he placed hot, open mouthed kisses along your bare chest, making his way up to your mouth. His hands were working in the opposite direction, making their way down to your soaking cunt. He wasted no time slipping one finger inside, then another.

Frank couldn’t help but smile as your face twisted in pleasure, frozen in a silent cry as he worked you open.

“That’s it baby. You’re already so wet for me.”

“God, Frank, just fuck me already,” you cried.

“Shh, shh, shh, shh, shh,” he hushed, pulling his fingers out and into view. You watched as he sucked them clean, groaning for effect. “Mmm, I think I know what I’m having for breakfast in the morning.”

You started to roll your eyes but you were cut off when Frank dragged his head against your clit. He repeated the action twice more before finally sliding into you, filling you slowly.

Slowly. That was the name of the game, at least that night. His skin dragged against yours and his lips rejoined yours.

“Fuck, faster,” you begged.

“No, no, babygirl,” he tutted, his massive hand gripping your jaw and forcing you to look at him. His face was beautiful, bathed in moonlight from the open window above you. “You take what I give you.”

You could only whine in response as his thrusts got deeper and harder, but not faster. Your nails ran down his back, leaving angry red streaks in their wake, marks Frank would wear like a badge of honor.

The knot in your stomach was starting to build and your head was getting fuzzy. Everything was Frank, all around you. His smell, his touch, his taste in your mouth.

“M’close,” you panted out. Frank grinned and slipped his hand back down to where your bodies were joined. He made quick work of locating your clit, and rubbed it hard and fast. You didn’t have time to warn him as your high hit you like a freight train. Eyes fluttered shut and cunt clenching around every last inch of Frank, you were in total heaven. Your hands found purchase on his biceps, leaving tiny crescents where your nails dug into his flesh.

As you came down from the high, Frank pulled his hand away from your clit and used it to grip the headboard tightly. The other was keeping him up, keeping his massive weight from crushing you.

He was close and you knew it. You could tell from the way he grunted and swore, mumbling dirty things about how well your cock was squeezing him. Your hand trailed up from his arm, up his neck and the shaved side of his head to tangle in the short hair on top.

“Come for me, baby,” you whispered, tugging lightly at his dark roots.

It was as if you’d flipped a switch. His hips stuttered as he finished inside you, painting your walls with his cum.

When he was finished, he wrapped an arm around your waist and rolled you both over so that he wouldn’t crush you. You started to move, to get a little more comfortable, but Frank stilled you with an iron grip.

“Just stay right here. Right here with me, doll,” he said between labored breaths. “Just let me stay in you a little longer, yeah?”

You were too tired to protest, and too fucked out to care. So you simply adjusted yourself as much as he’d let you and laid your head on his chest. 

“Goodnight,” you sighed, allowing your eyes to close for the evening. The last thing you saw was Frank’s relaxed face–eyes closed and the smallest of grins plastered on it. You waited for him to say it too, to kiss the top of your head or your knuckles like he usually did as you fell asleep together. But as you waited you listened to his breathing, and you realized that for the first time ever, Frank had fallen asleep before you.

You couldn’t help but sneak another look at his sleeping face, and you felt a pang in your heart. If he was beautiful before, he was breathtaking when he was at peace.

thatredheadwriter’s Masterlist

[crossbowking]

More Than Anything (Part 2)

(Click HERE to read More Than Anything Part 1)

Summary: (Set mid-season 6) The reader’s feelings towards the archer evolve, but a supply run that goes south threatens to destroy it all.

Request: “I’d love to see something w protective Daryl and some angst, maybe set at the start of their time in Alexandria w an established relationship?” - @pulplorrd

A/N: See, you'd think I would've learned after making you guys wait a year and a half for No Way Out Part 2, that I should probably FINISH my stories before actually posting the first part...yet, here we are, one month later lol I'm sorry for the wait but hopefully it's worth it!

Happy reading and let me know what you think :)

xx Jess

Masterlist

Tip Jar

Previously...

But as its grasp slipped away from around Tara’s arm, the walker’s deadweight, in turn, collapsed against you.

You lost your footing and fell backward.

Except the solidity of concrete never rushed up to meet you.

Instead, you were embraced by water, the tarp that’d laid across the motel pool coiling around your body as you sunk deeper and deeper into nothingness.

Now...

When the world ended, you’d accepted the idea of death — your death, specifically.

You knew that one day, your life would undoubtedly end — most likely at the hands of the dead, ripped to pieces, torn to shreds, the way so many others before you had been taken. But you’d always hoped your death would at least mean something — maybe laying your life on the line, sacrificing yourself so the people you loved could survive.

Something noble, something brave.

Not like this.

Before the fall, you’d managed to inhale a sharp breath — though once you’d submerged into the grimy pool water, the coldness, the darkness, the shock of it all, had zapped the air right out of your body. You were becoming increasingly aware of the tightness in your chest, the burning in your lungs as you struggled against the walker pressed against you, its weight sinking you further into the depths of the pool.

Then, the panic set in — your heart pounded against your ribcage, right alongside the immense pressure crushing your lungs. Glimpses of sunlight hung just above you, peeking through parts of the drifting tarp you frantically attempted to push aside. You were completely disoriented, your vision obscured by the murkiness surrounding you, floating specks only visible beneath the shattered light above.

When your back connected against the bottom of the deep end, you managed to wriggle out from under the dead’s listless body — though the tarp remained twisted around your limbs. No matter how hard you fought, how hard you struggled, you couldn’t free yourself from the suffocating material. You could’ve sworn you were caught in a dream, your movements lagging and sluggish as you thrashed beneath the surface.

It felt as though someone had reached their hand directly through the center of your chest, squeezing your insides in a vice-like grip. A tingling sensation crawled down your spine, settling atop your churning stomach as the throbbing behind your ears began to slow.

You were listening to your last heartbeats.

It became unbearable, the water threatening to force its way past your clamped lips, the simple need to breathe. A sharp stab of pain shot through you as the blackness in your vision intensified, pulsing reddish-white around the edges as the fire in your chest consumed you at last.

Then, with nothing else left to do, you inhaled.

You weren’t sure what happened next — everything felt faint and fuzzy and quiet. The darkness that lingered no longer struck fear in you — instead, it was warm, enveloping you in its arms like a long-lost lover. The silence was soothing as you drifted in the emptiness, like careless whispers and forgotten melodies. You were weightless, you were freed, you were everything and nothing all at once.

You were dying.

That you were sure of.

Yet much to your surprise, you weren’t afraid — no, instead…you felt at peace.

But the brevity of calm didn’t last as you were suddenly aware of a vague pressure, though it wasn’t all-consuming nor constant. It was distant at first, a feeling you could’ve easily brushed aside had it not begun to gradually grow in force, in vigor — a steady pounding, coming from the center of your chest, over and over again.

The warmth around you began to splinter, shattering like shards of glass, the fallout piercing your skin as it collapsed around you. The pain was deep and burning and you longed for just a moment ago when all you felt was the sweetness of oblivion. The pressure pounding against your chest increased, becoming the sole thing you could feel, the only thing you could focus on, the unwavering thuds drawing you back from whatever place you’d drifted off to.

In the next moment, you were awake.

Your body flailed, jolting upright, but you’d only managed to get an inch or two off the ground before water began to suddenly spurt from your mouth. Your eyes squeezed shut as you choked on the liquid, every nerve ending in your body red-hot. You were vaguely aware of hands, rough and calloused and familiar, gripping onto your arms and forcing you onto your side, the motion allowing the water leaving your lungs to flow easier.

You gasped a constricted breath, coughing harshly on the exhale, completely and entirely disoriented as to what in the fuck just happened. Your chest tightened as you spit up more water, your throat closing around the sensation as you fought for control of your breathing, the feeling of concrete against the side of your body grounding you.

When your coughs finally died down, the same hands from before grabbed onto your arms, pulling your deadweight upright, maneuvering your limp body as if you were a rag doll. You blinked your bleary eyes open, wincing from the sunlight directly above as you drew in shaky breaths.

And then you saw him.

Daryl knelt in front of you, his ragged breathing mirroring your own, soaking wet from head to toe. Strands of hair stuck against his forehead, droplets of water still dripping from the ends as he stared at you, wide-eyed, his expression a mixture of horror and shock — something you rarely witnessed when it came to the archer.

He was mouthing something — no, he was shouting something — but you couldn’t hear him. You couldn’t hear a damn word he was saying as you sat there, dazed and confused, wondering if what just happened actually happened.

His hold around your arms slipped away, his hands cradling either side of your face instead, tilting your head up and brushing your drenched hair back. He leaned forward a fraction, frantically studying your features, his haunted eyes bouncing back and forth between your own as though making sure you were there — really there.

The silence was becoming a little less resounding, the world around you gradually seeping back, though muffled and dull — but the way Daryl was looking at you, the apprehension in his gaze, shook something loose inside you. Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. You wanted to tell him it was okay — that you were okay — but damn it, why couldn’t you speak?

So instead, you slowly lifted your hands, weakly grasping onto Daryl’s wrists, the small motion all you could muster — you had to let him know you were here. He glanced down at your hands, a small huff of relief escaping him.

But when he looked back up, you noticed the moisture that’d built in the corners of his eyes.

Daryl’s hands slipped behind your head, holding you still as he leaned forward and pressed his forehead gently against yours.

You, on the other hand, silently thanked whatever God or higher power was out there for giving you one more moment like this.

When the archer pulled back, you spotted a red streak smeared across his forehead that hadn’t been there before. Your brow knitted together as he sat back on his haunches. You tried clearing your throat, the sensation burning the rawness that’d spread. “You’re —” you croaked, your voice sounding foreign. “— you’re bleeding, D.”

Daryl’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he lowered his gaze and unsheathed his hunting knife. “It ain’t mine,” he rasped, suddenly slicing a long strip of fabric off from the bottom of his dampened shirt and balling it in his fist, ringing out some of the water.

Before you knew what was happening, he was reaching forward, pressing the material gingerly against your forehead and wrapping it behind your head, tying the strip into a knot to keep it in place. You were surprised at the sting of pain you felt, unsure when you managed to cut your head open in the midst of what had happened — everything was still sort of…fuzzy.

The sound of a car door slamming drew your attention. You peeked out of the corner of your eye, spotting Tara jogging towards you, the car you’d driven to the motel running idle in the parking lot.

“They’re coming!” she called out, motioning towards something just behind Daryl.

You craned your neck, attempting to get a look, but before you could, the archer was looping his arms beneath your armpits and hefting you up to your feet. The world tilted unsteadily around you, and had it not been for Daryl’s hold, the ground would’ve surely rushed up to meet you.

“I got ya,” he rasped, slinging one of your arms across his shoulders, his grip snaking around your waist.

Tara appeared at your opposite side, slightly out of breath. “Welcome back, chicka,” she shot you a slightly strained smile before following Daryl’s lead and winding your other arm across her shoulders, keeping you propped upright between them.

You wanted to tell them you were fine, that you were more than capable of walking on your own — but your strength had depleted, your legs shook beneath you, and the shock was beginning to wear off, making all the little aches and pains in your body alarmingly obvious.

Then, you were moving.

They half-dragged, half-carried you across the stretch of concrete, hurrying towards the parking lot where Tara had left the car. You peeked over your shoulder, managing to get a glimpse of what you were leaving behind — the small herd from earlier had been taken down, their bodies splayed out sporadically on the other side of the pool. Some sporting knife wounds, others bullet holes. The pool itself was rippling, the water sloshing back and forth, air bubbles visible at the surface.

Some of the dead had followed you into the water.

Just beyond the pool, you spotted exactly what you were running from — another herd, three times the size of the first one, ambling in from the woods behind the motel, most likely drawn in by gunfire.

When you reached the car, Tara slipped away and jumped into the driver’s seat. Daryl flung open the back door and maneuvered you carefully inside. You grimaced as you inched further into the car, only stopping once your back was pressed up against the opposite door. The archer quickly slid in after you and slammed the door shut, grabbing onto the back of the driver’s seat as Tara peeled out of the parking lot.

The silence that followed rang heavy.

Your heart hammered against your chest, your breaths coming out slightly wheezy, almost like there was still some water left in your lungs. You met Tara’s eyes in the rearview mirror before she focused back on the road — you noticed then that the sleeves of her shirt, up to her elbows, were wet.

She’d helped drag your body out of the pool.

You glanced over at Daryl, the archer’s grip on the driver’s seat white-knuckled as he stared at the back of the headrest. Waves of tension rolled off him, the feeling nearly palpable. But his eyes flickered towards you a moment later, as though he felt you watching him, and some of the rigidity faded.

He wordlessly shuffled closer, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the door you leaned against. You were too tired and too sore to object, your body slumping against his side as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders — you thought for a brief moment that he was hugging you.

But instead, he wound your seatbelt around your body and locked it in place.

Daryl fell back against the seat beside you with a huff, keeping his gaze focused ahead, staring straight through the windshield. He didn’t look at you again — he remained still, like he was carved from stone. You weren’t even sure he was breathing. His arm just barely grazed the side of yours, but despite whatever hidden turmoil was surely happening inside of him, he made no effort to move away.

He needed time to process what happened — what almost happened.

But so did you.

You shifted, closing the small gap between you and resting your head against his shoulder, ignoring the way he stiffened. The material of his shirt was still damp and smelt like a mixture of chlorine and mildew from the murky pool water, but you couldn’t find it in you to pull away either.

You hadn't realized you’d dozed off until the archer gently shook you awake, the car now parked outside Alexandria’s makeshift infirmary.

You still felt weak and lethargic, but you managed to make your way inside without any help — although Daryl, silent and stoic as ever, remained at your side, his hand hovering over the small of your back.

The infirmary was quiet as Denise checked you over — Tara had gone to update Rick and the others on what happened, as well as distribute the supplies you’d managed to bring home. Daryl, on the other hand, paced — back and forth, like a caged animal, on the opposite side of the room. Almost like part of him desperately wanted to run, but a bigger part of himself needed to be there.

“Are you feeling any nausea? Confusion? Loss of basic motor skills?” Denise suddenly asked, breaking the silence that’d stretched on, looking up from the textbook she was reading from. She’d never dealt with an ‘almost drowning’, but had been able to scrounge up some old medical textbooks for help.

“Uh,” you cleared your throat, shaking your head once. “No. No, nothing like that.”

“Okay, good. Yeah, that’s good…” she murmured, mostly to herself, before flipping to the next page and skimming the stretch of words. “Besides your forehead, any other lacerations?” she looked up at you once more, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“I don’t —” you shot Daryl a look, but he was too busy pacing to notice. “I don’t think so,” you shook your head again, your fingertips ghosting over the bandage Denise had patched your head up with.

“Good, good. We’ll want to keep an eye on that in case of infection,” she informed before flipping to the next page, mouthing the text to herself. “Okay, and any soreness?”

You grimaced as you sat up a little straighter. “Just — just right here mostly,” you admitted, motioning towards your center, below your chest.

Denise shut the textbook and placed it on the metal table you sat on top of. “Can you show me?”

Your brow knitted together but you obliged, sliding off the table and grabbing the hem of your shirt. You fought back a wince as you rolled the material up, stopping just below your chest, exposing your skin.

The first thing you noticed was the way the room suddenly stilled — you glanced up, spotting Daryl standing frozen across the way, pacing no longer. But he wasn’t staring at you — he was staring at your midsection, a look in his eyes you’d never seen before.

When you lowered your head, getting a good look at yourself for the first time, you realized exactly what he was seeing.

Bruises. Dark and discolored. Scattered down your sternum and along the center of your ribcage.

Your head snapped up at the sound of the front door slamming shut.

And Daryl was gone.

You tried to ignore the pinprick of tears that grew, the hurt that settled across your chest as you lowered your shirt back in place — but when Denise suddenly reached out and placed her hand on top of yours, patting it softly, your features crumpled.

Everything that happened seemed to catch up to you in that moment — the fear, the shock, what Daryl must’ve felt pulling your unmoving body out of the water. You’d nearly died. What would’ve happened if he hadn’t been able to bring you back? Would he have been the one to put you down when you undoubtedly turned? Or would Tara have done it — the act far too painful for the man you loved to follow through with.

The man you loved.

Denise wrapped her hand around yours, squeezing gently and drawing you back. “Hey, it’s okay,” she soothed.

You quickly swiped at the tears that slipped down your cheeks, huffing a hitched breath. “I know, I’m just —” you glanced up at the front door, hanging onto the foolish hope that it’d swing open once more. “I don’t know,” you finally mumbled, albeit defeatedly.

Denise followed your gaze, scoffing slightly. “Men suck,” she finally shrugged.

You sniffled softly before shaking your head. “Not that one,” you murmured fondly.

Denise squeezed your hand once more, shooting you a sympathetic smile before she pulled away. “It could’ve been worse — most people who have CPR done on them end up with broken ribs or punctured lungs. You, my friend, are one of the lucky ones.”

You inhaled a deep breath, fighting back a wince, the motion stretching your bruised body. “Thank you. For everything.”

Denise nodded before taking off her glasses, using the hem of her shirt to clean the lenses. “Y/N, I don’t mean to overstep my boundaries, but,” she paused, sliding her glasses back on as she regarded you seriously. “You smell like a sewer rat.”

You faltered, completely caught off guard by her statement before remembering that you were still wearing damp, swampy, pool water clothes. Then, despite everything, a laugh slipped past your lips, breaking the tension. You let out a hiss as the movement sent a wave of pain through you. “Ow, fuck, don’t make me laugh,” you bit back another chuckle, lightly swatting her arm.

Denise smiled before motioning towards the door. “Go home, shower, get some rest — Doctor’s orders,” she grinned, turning away and beginning to clean up her workstation.

You thanked her again before hobbling out of the infirmary.

As night drew near, most residents of Alexandria were already in their respective homes — you were grateful for that. You didn’t want to see anyone right now, their worry and endless questions something you were more than happy to put off until tomorrow.

When you made it back to the apartment you and Daryl shared, you were, yet again, fighting back feelings of disappointment — he wasn’t home. You felt a pinprick of worry, but knew he needed time and space to process whatever it was he was feeling.

And when he was ready, you would be too.

You walked through the kitchen, the morning you’d shared earlier feeling like a lifetime ago — the pan he’d used to make eggs, now dry, remained sitting on the counter. The bedroom was untouched, looking exactly how it had this morning, just the way you’d left it. You grabbed a fresh set of clothes before making your way into the master bathroom attached, ignoring the bone-deep tiredness settling over you.

Showering was a good call — the warm water rained down as you scrubbed your body of the muck that clung to you, being extra careful not to get the bandage on your head wet or make any sudden movements. When you were finished cleaning up, you stood beneath the shower head for a few minutes, eyes closed, inhaling the steam around you with deep, calming breaths.

You were okay. You were alive. You were here.

You shut off the water, stepped out of the shower, and dried yourself off, gingerly patting down your chest and around your ribs, before slipping into clean clothes. You wiped away some of the steam that’d collected on the bathroom mirror before hanging up your towel, combing out your knotted hair, and brushing your teeth — the same routine you did every night.

The normalcy was soothing — you were already beginning to feel better, more like yourself. You were ready to put what happened behind you and move forward, sure to never take another day for granted.

But when you opened the bathroom door, ready to curl up in bed and doze off, all of your feelings from earlier came rushing back at the sight of Daryl.

Once again, he’d been pacing the length of the bedroom, only stopping after you’d entered the room, his gaze snapping towards you. He shifted his weight back and forth, opening his mouth before clamping it shut. You could feel his energy, rolling off his body in waves — tense, rigid, wild. He was struggling to say whatever was on his mind, only furthering his evident frustration. He flicked his hair away from his eyes, turning to face you head-on, clearly gathering up the gall to speak.

You took a small step forward. “Daryl —”

“Ya were blue,” he suddenly rasped, a fire in his gaze that wasn’t there before. “Tara was shoutin’ for ya an’ I — when I went in an’ pulled ya out, there wasn’t — I didn’t —” he huffed a breath in frustration, his face tinged red. “God, damn it, Y/N, ya were fuckin’ blue,” he finally growled, chest heaving, hands balled into fists at his side.

His anger wasn’t directed at you, but the situation itself, you knew that. But still, his words — or more so the emotion, the truth hidden behind them — had you recoiling from him, your heart breaking at the thought of what he’d seen, of what had run through his mind when he realized you weren’t breathing.

You couldn’t imagine how scared he must have been.

And that was what was beneath his outburst — not rage, but fear.

But he wasn’t finished with what he needed to say — if anything, he was just getting more and more worked up as he began to frantically pace once more. “This is why — I fuckin’ told ya — I didn’t need ya comin’ out there. I didn’t need ya on that run but ya — ya didn’t listen ta’ me an’ then —”

“I love you.”

Daryl stilled, mid-stride, his gaze widening as if all of the air had been sucked from his lungs.

You felt your face flush, the air between you so thick it could be cut with a knife. You hadn’t meant to say that aloud, but the words just sort of…tumbled out? And now, there they were, hanging between you. Part of you wondered if the archer could hear your heart pounding from where he stood — or maybe it was his heartbeat, synched up to yours.

You sputtered a soft breath, shaking your head in disbelief, trying not to panic because the last thing you wanted was for Daryl to look at you the way he was looking at you after telling him you loved him. “I’m —“ you took a breath, regarding him earnestly. “I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. And I promise — I promise — you do not have to say it back. Hell, you don’t even have to feel the same way,” you huffed an awkward laugh, but the noise hitched somewhere in your throat, betraying your words. You grew serious once more. “I just — I couldn’t have another night going by without you knowing. Not after what happened today,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, shrugging a shoulder up meekly. “So, I love you — I love you more than anything.”

You weren’t sure what sort of reaction you were expecting from him. But you absolutely refused to acknowledge the tiny part of you that secretly wished he’d swoop you into his arms, pull you close, tell you he loved you too — because that wasn’t Daryl. That wasn’t the type of man he was — and you were okay with that.

Because you hadn’t fallen in love with that type of man.

You’d fallen in love with the man standing shell-shocked in front of you.

You cleared your throat and stepped forward, moving away from the bathroom doorway. “The shower’s all yours,” you murmured, needing to break the uncomfortable silence that carried on.

You sidestepped around his frozen form, ignoring the way your legs shook like jelly beneath you as you made your way towards the bed. You took a seat on the edge of the mattress, keeping your back towards him, staring ahead at the blank wall in front of you instead.

After what felt like forever, the floorboard squeaked beneath the shifting of his weight, his footsteps growing faint as he slowly walked away and entered the bathroom, closing the door shut after him.

You strained your ears, listening for any movement beyond the door he’d disappeared behind — but you heard nothing. It was like you could feel him through the panel of wood between you — you could almost picture him, just standing there, trying to process whatever the hell was going on inside that mind of his.

A moment later, the shower turned on.

And you released the breath you’d been holding.

Exhaustion swept through you, the day’s events wearing you down. You carefully maneuvered yourself into bed, pulling a thin sheet over your body and settling onto your side. Your eyelids grew heavy, the sound of the shower lulling you to sleep despite the strange, sort of freedom your admittance had brought you, the feeling buzzing through your veins.

You didn’t regret your vulnerability — he needed to know he was loved, damn it.

When you heard the shower turn off, you snapped your eyes shut. You listened to the archer move about the bathroom until the door finally creaked open. He seemed to be just standing there, and you could’ve sworn you felt him staring at the back of your head as if he was gauging whether or not you were actually asleep. But a moment later, you heard his footsteps padding across the bedroom before the mattress dipped beneath him.

You held your breath, covers drawn to your chin as Daryl shifted in bed, eventually lying down beside you. Another beat of quiet passed, neither of you moving, nor breathing it seemed.

But then suddenly, you heard him speak, so softly you almost missed it. “I know ya ain’t sleepin’,” he rumbled.

The corner of your mouth quirked up — because of course he knew.

You sighed, shifting gingerly onto your back, the sheet pooling at your waist as you looked over at him. He laid on his side, facing you, propped up on his elbow. He was dressed in clean clothes, his hair still wet from the shower, pushed back out of his face.

He really was rather beautiful.

“Busted,” you smiled, though the archer’s expression remained solemn.

Ever so gently, he reached towards you, his fingertip grazing the material of your shirt, over your ribcage, below your chest, hovering the bruises that lingered. “Does it hurt?” he rasped, the mouth turned downward into a small frown.

You shook your head. “Not really.”

Daryl’s eyes met yours, his expression skeptical and knowing.

You never were a good liar.

“At least you didn’t break a rib?” you offered sheepishly, your lame attempt at a joke falling flat given the current audience.

But when Daryl’s features fell, a flash of what looked like guilt settling over his face, you placed your hand on top of his, resting them against your stomach. “Don’t do that,” you murmured, reading him like a damn book as you rubbed circles with your thumb over the back of his hand.

The archer grumbled something indistinct, staring down at your intertwined hands.

Your grip tightened around his. “I mean it,” you spoke, an edge to your voice, only softening when he looked at you instead. “You saved my life, D — that’s it. You can let go of anything else you’re holding onto.”

Daryl’s lip twitched as he chewed on the inside of his cheek, seemingly mulling over your words.

You were sure he’d hang onto whatever unnecessary guilt he carried — because that was just who he was — but eventually, he nodded once and settled down on his back, staring up at the ceiling. You were too tired to press the subject further so you curled into his side and rested your head against his chest, winding your arm across his midsection. His arm automatically wrapped around you, his fingertips trailing absently up and down your spine, sending shivers through your body.

You weren’t sure how long you laid like that, melting into the warmth he exuded, the steady pounding of his heartbeat easing you to sleep.

You’d nearly faded away when Daryl suddenly spoke.

“Did ya mean it?” he rumbled, the noise vibrating from deep within his chest. “What ya said before?” he grunted, his hand pausing at the small of your back.

You could’ve imagined it, but you almost felt the slight tremble of his fingertips against your skin.

You slowly pushed up onto your elbow, your faces mere inches apart. You searched his uncertain gaze, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Of course I meant it,” you whispered. “Every damn word.”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed, as though not entirely believing what you said could be true.

So you leaned forward, closing the remainder of space between you, and pressed your lips gently against his. He returned the kiss, a quiet desperation growing as one hand came up to cradle the side of your face, his thumb sweeping back and forth across your cheek. You broke away from the kiss, brushing his hair back before meeting his lips once more, settling your hand on his chest, feeling his heart racing beneath your touch.

When you pulled back, you noticed his skin flush, surely mirroring your own. He looked up at you, slightly breathless, a fondness in his gaze that sent your stomach somersaulting. He cleared his throat, the ghost of a smile flickering across his face. “Well, alright,” he finally resigned, accepting your answer to his question.

You snorted a breathy laugh, leaning forward and kissing his cheek before burrowing against him. A soft sigh slipped past your lips as Daryl’s hold tightened around you, as though afraid you’d disappear if he didn’t.

You closed your eyes, reveling in the feeling of contentment, unsure how many more moments like this you, or anyone else for that matter, had left in this kind of cruel and harrowing world.

But for at least tonight, you could be at peace.

“I love you,” you murmured groggily, beginning to sink deeper into unconsciousness.

Right before sleep came, long after Daryl thought you’d drifted away, you heard him whisper three, simple words.

“More than anythin’.”

Then he pulled you closer and the world dimmed.

A/N: Aw...a happy ending! (I figured I owed ya after putting y'all through Honey & Whiskey lol)

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