#SOBBING CRYING ROLLING ON THE FLOOR IN AGONY

[cheollollipop]

Fragments of Us - Chapter 3. | c.sc

pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut (MDNI)

warning(s): kissing😏 yn is dramatic af over a packet of chocolate powder. that’s pretty much it.

summary: two years after a messy breakup, seungcheol and yn reconnect unexpectedly.

word count: 5.4k

start date: nov. 20, 2024

end date: -

a/n: THIS IS SO LONG OVERDUE AND ITS NOT EVEN THE GOOD STUFF IM SO SORRY!!! this chapter is… a filler, yes. i’m sorry i know i just gotta develop subin and yn’s relationship but. i promise good stuff happens next chapter please don’t hurt me omfg.

Friday rolls around like clockwork, but this time it drags with it the unmistakable agony that I've come to dread. I wake up to a stabbing ache in my abdomen that feels like my insides are at war. My groan echoes through the quiet morning as I force myself out of bed, clutching my stomach for some semblance of relief. Every step to the bathroom feels heavier than it should, as if my body is actively working against me. Even the faint light slipping through the blinds feels cruel, adding to the overall sense of injustice.

When I finally reach the bathroom and flip on the light, I brace myself. Sure enough, the dreaded sight confirms my suspicion: my period has started. Of course, it couldn't wait for a more convenient day—it had to strike now, when I had a to-do list and absolutely no patience to deal with this.

"Are you kidding me right now?" I mutter. It's not like I was expecting sympathy from anyone—there's no one here but me—but voicing my frustration feels like a necessary release. The frustration bubbles up as I slump onto the toilet lid, head in my hands, cursing my uterus and whoever thought this monthly torture was necessary. I sit there for a few moments, letting the wave of annoyance and discomfort wash over me, trying to summon the will to move. The stabbing ache in my abdomen sharpens as if to remind me there's no escape, and I sigh.

Resigning myself to the inevitable, I force myself into the shower, hoping the warm water will work its magic. The second the hot stream hits my skin, I feel some of the tension in my body start to ease. It's not a cure—far from it—but at least the cramps relent just enough for me to stand upright without wincing. I close my eyes, letting the water wash over me as I mentally prepare for the day ahead. It's going to be a battle: heating pads, painkillers, stretchy clothes, and sheer willpower to push through the fatigue and discomfort. My mind drifts to the only comforting thought I can muster: a steaming cup of hot cocoa, piled high with big, fluffy marshmallows. The thought alone is enough to coax a small glimmer of hope through the haze of frustration.

After what feels like an eternity, I step out of the shower and dry off, the warmth already fading from my skin. The trek back to my room feels impossibly long. I throw on the comfiest pair of sweatpants I own and an oversized tee, both practically begging me to crawl back into bed. But the promise of hot cocoa propels me to the kitchen. My stomach churns, both from hunger and from the cramps twisting through me, as I open the cabinet where I keep my stash of cocoa mix.

And then I see it. Or rather, I don't. The shelf is empty. My mind refuses to process it at first, and I blink, hoping that somehow, in the haze of pain and exhaustion, I've simply overlooked it. But no—there's nothing there. My heart sinks.

"No. No, no, no!" I slam the cabinet shut and yank it open again, as though the act of closing and reopening it will somehow summon the cocoa mix into existence. My hands grip the edge of the counter as I stare into the empty shelf, frozen in disbelief.

A choked sob escapes me, and before I know it, I'm sliding to the floor in a dramatic heap. The tears come harder now, and I don't even try to stop them. It's ridiculous, I know that. I'm crying over cocoa mix. But in this moment, with the pain, the exhaustion, and the sheer unfairness of it all, it feels like the final straw. My body shakes with sobs as I sit there on the cold kitchen floor, and for a fleeting second, I want to laugh at how absurd this all is. A sick joke—surely, it has to be.

But there's no punchline, just me, a throbbing stomach, and the realization that today, like my uterus, is completely unforgiving.

From the corner of my room, I hear my phone buzz on the nightstand, and then the sharp ring pierces the air. I try to shush it as if the noise would magically stop if I willed it hard enough. But it doesn't. The ringing continues, relentless, until I drag myself up from the kitchen floor, feeling every ounce of effort it takes. My feet shuffle against the floor as I make my way to my room, throwing myself onto my bed with the weight of defeat.

The ringing stops, but a notification pops up on my screen. A text. I groan as I reach for my phone, not ready to deal with the world yet. The name on the screen catches my eye. Subin.

"Hey," I say, my voice dry and strained as I call back.

"Oh, uh... Did I wake you?" he asks, his tone hesitant but light.

"No. I'm out of hot cocoa," I reply flatly. My words hang in the air, and I can only imagine the expression on his face, a mix of confusion and amusement.

"I'm...sorry...?" he says, clearly unsure of how to respond.

"I would say it's fine, but it's not. I started my period, I am in excruciating pain, and the only thing that could make this day better is hot cocoa. But I'm out, and now I'm about to start crying again." The words spill out of me in a rush, each sentence rising in pitch as the tears threaten to make a second appearance.

"The only thing?" he teases, his voice tinged with a playful tone.

I sigh heavily, the weight of the day pressing on me. I know he's trying to make me laugh, to lighten the mood, but my world feels like it's ending in that moment. "I can't be mean to you. Please help me," I plead, my voice breaking slightly.

"Alright, I'm sorry," he chuckles softly, his tone shifting to something warmer, more comforting.

"How about this: we cancel tonight's date. I'll stop by after work and bring you some hot cocoa. You can rest and recover. How does that sound?"

"I suck. I'm sorry," I mumble, guilt creeping in for ruining our plans.

"You do not suck. Periods happen, it's no biggie. I'll stop by after I'm off, okay? Hang in there for me, champ," he says with a reassuring tone.

"Okay," I whisper, and we end the call.

For a moment, I stare at my phone, the screen dimming as I replay the conversation in my head. The promise of hot cocoa and his presence gives me something to look forward to, a small glimmer of light at the end of this particularly dreary day.

I lay back on the bed, pulling the covers over me as the cramps continue their assault. The heating pad I'd forgotten about sits abandoned on the chair, and I lazily stretch out to grab it, plugging it in and placing it on my abdomen. The warmth spreads slowly, soothing the sharp ache into a dull throb.

My mind drifts, and I let the quietness of the room envelop me. The ticking clock on the wall fills the silence, a rhythmic reminder that time is passing. I'll survive this day. I've done it before, and I'll do it again. But for now, I let myself sink into the comfort of knowing that help and hot cocoa—is on its way.

I spend the majority of my day drifting in and out of sleep, curled up in my blanket cocoon, trying to will away the cramps. The heating pad has become my closest ally, alternating between its usual position on my abdomen and being squished against my lower back. By mid-afternoon, hunger forces me out of my room, though every movement feels like a Herculean effort. My body protests with each step, reminding me that it's firmly in charge today.

As I shuffle toward the kitchen, my phone buzzes on the nightstand. I grab it on my way out of the room, glancing at the screen. It's Sonya. I answer with a weary voice as I open the pantry to check if there's anything I can stomach.

"Sonya," I say flatly, pressing the phone to my ear.

"Oh. Someone's on their period," she quips, her tone dripping with mock sympathy.

"You are correct," I sigh, setting the phone on speaker and placing it on the counter. I reach into the cabinet, eyeing the ramen packets stacked in the corner, mentally debating between spicy or mild.

"Poor babe. Have you had your 'cup of joe' yet?" she asks, her voice tinged with teasing. My heart sinks as her words remind me of my earlier heartbreak. Hope surges for a brief second, and I open the cabinet where I keep my hot cocoa mix, praying against all odds that it was just a bad dream.

But the shelf is still empty.

"Don't remind me. I'm out," I reply flatly, closing the cabinet door with a little more force than necessary.

"Out?! How are you alive right now?" she exclaims, her dramatic tone matching mine from earlier.

"I honestly don't even know if I am right now," I reply, grabbing a pot and filling it with water. "Subin is stopping by in a bit to bring some, though."

"Subin, huh?" she drawls, dragging out the name in a way that makes me roll my eyes. "Interesting development."

"Not the time, Sonya," I say firmly, dropping the ramen block into the boiling water. The sizzle and steam fill the kitchen as I rummage around for the seasoning packet.

"Fine, fine," she says with a chuckle. "Anywho, I called to see if you wanted to come out with us later, but I guess I got my answer, grumpy pants."

"Who's 'us'?" I ask, curiosity piqued despite myself.

"Wonwoo, Jeonghan, Joshua, Dino, and me," she says casually, as if this lineup isn't a bit random.

"Evil twins, the youngest, and the fiancé... What an interesting set of people," I say, smirking as I sprinkle the seasoning into the pot. The spicy aroma wafts up, making my stomach growl in response.

She laughs. "I know, right? It's like the start of a bad sitcom. But you should totally come! It'll be fun, I promise."

I shake my head even though she can't see me. "Besides," I start, lowering the heat on the stove, "Hannie hates me now, so there's that. You guys have fun, though. Tell everyone I say hello."

Sonya sighs, her voice softening. "He doesn't hate you, Y/N. You know that."

"Whatever you want to call it," I reply, brushing her comment off. I don't have the energy to argue about this right now. "Bye. I love you. Be safe!" I say quickly, not giving her a chance to linger on the topic.

"Love you too, grumpy pants. Tell Subin to hurry so you don't burn down your building," she says with a chuckle, and the call ends.

I stir the noodles idly, letting the quiet kitchen fill the void left by our conversation. The spicy scent of the ramen is comforting, a small reprieve from the otherwise miserable day. I ladle the steaming noodles into a bowl, settling myself at the table. As I take the first bite, my mind wanders back to Sonya's words.

Jeonghan doesn't hate me. At least, not technically. I push the thought aside, focusing on the warmth of the broth and the way it soothes my empty stomach.

For now, I let the world outside my apartment keep spinning without me. Subin will be here soon with hot cocoa, and maybe—just maybe—the day will start to feel a little less like a disaster.

A loud knock jolts me awake, and I blink groggily, disoriented by the sudden noise. My eyes dart to the clock on my nightstand, and I realize I must have dozed off without even meaning to. The knock sounds again, insistent but not harsh, and I force myself to sit up. My body protests, stiff from lying in one position too long, but curiosity leads me toward the door.

I peek through the peephole and feel a rush of warmth when I see Subin on the other side, a familiar, easy grin plastered across his face. His hands are full—two bags dangling from his arms, brimming with who-knows-what. I swing the door open, and his grin widens as soon as he sees me.

"There you are," he says, lifting the bags triumphantly. "Delivery for one very grumpy period warrior."

I step aside to let him in, my heart doing an involuntary flip at the sight of him. His smile is disarmingly bright, the kind that makes it hard to look away. "Sorry I took longer than expected," he continues, nudging the door shut with his foot. "Had to make a few stops."

"No worries," I reply, trying to ignore the way my heart flutters in his presence. "I slept most of the day anyway." I gesture to the bags he's carrying, chuckling softly. "So, what's all this? Did you bring the entire convenience store?"

"Ah, yes," he says dramatically, holding up the bags like some victorious knight. "I come bearing gifts." He hands them to me with a flourish, and I carry them to the living room, plopping them onto the couch.

Curiosity gets the better of me, and I dump the contents of the bags onto the cushions. My eyes widen as I take in the haul: my favorite snacks, a few random comfort foods, and as promised, not one, but two boxes of instant hot cocoa. "How did you—" I start, staring at the array of goodies.

Subin scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "I may have overheard a conversation between you and Nayeon about your favorite snacks during this time of the month," he admits. "I promise I'm not a creep. Just blessed with the memory of an elephant." He offers a self-deprecating smile, his dark eyes watching me carefully, almost nervously.

I stand there, momentarily stunned, my brain struggling to process the thoughtfulness behind his gesture. He notices my silence, and his smile falters. "Is it too much?" he asks quickly. "I'm sorry. I just wanted you to feel—"

Before he can finish, I take two quick steps forward and press my lips against his, cutting him off mid-sentence. For a moment, he freezes, but then he melts into the kiss, his hands finding their way to my waist.

When we finally pull apart, his forehead leans against mine, and he grins. "I take it you're not creeped out?" he mumbles, his breath warm against my skin.

"Stop talking," I whisper, smiling despite myself. I tug his hand, pulling him toward the couch.

We collapse onto the cushions, surrounded by the chaotic mess of snacks, and I lean my head against Subin's shoulder. The day's pain and exhaustion feel like a distant memory, replaced by the warmth of his presence and the steady rhythm of his breathing beside me. As if on cue, he reaches for the box of hot cocoa sitting amid the pile of treats, holding it up like a trophy.

"Think you're up for some?" he asks, his voice soft and teasing.

"Always," I reply, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. In that moment, everything feels a little lighter, a little brighter, and I allow myself to sink into the comfort of it all.

"I've been told I make a mean cup of cocoa," he says with mock arrogance as he stands, offering me his hand to join him.

"Really now? Well, as an instant hot cocoa connoisseur, I guess I'll have to be the judge of that," I tease, letting him pull me off the couch and lead me to the kitchen.

"Be prepared to have your mind blown," he declares confidently, and I can't help but laugh.

He immediately gets to work, rummaging through my cabinets with a sense of purpose that's both endearing and hilarious. I settle onto a stool at the counter, chin propped in my hands, watching him in action. Subin narrates his every move, recounting his day in between steps—how his boss nearly ruined his lunch break, the traffic on the way over, and how he almost forgot the marshmallows until the last second.

I find myself smiling at the way he talks, so animated and unfiltered, like he's entirely at ease here. But then, he does something that nearly stops my heart.

"Subin..." I say slowly, eyeing the small jar in his hand. "Why are you putting cayenne pepper in my hot chocolate?"

He pauses mid-sprinkle, holding the jar up as if to admire it. "Just trust the process," he replies, completely unfazed.

"I'm not sure I want to," I say, narrowing my eyes.

He finally turns to look at me, his expression equal parts amused and serious. "Do you trust me?"

I hesitate, crossing my arms over my chest. "After seeing that? I'm not so sure," I say with a chuckle, and he laughs too, the sound warm and infectious.

"You'll love it," he insists, turning back to his concoction. "And if you don't...you're lying. It's the best, I promise."

I sigh dramatically, resting my head in my hands as I watch him skeptically. "Fine, Chef Subin. But if I don't like it, I'm making you drink the entire pot by yourself."

He grins over his shoulder. "Deal. But don't worry, that's not going to happen."

Minutes later, he sets a steaming mug in front of me with a flourish. The rich aroma of chocolate fills the air, mingling with a faint hint of something spicy that makes my nose twitch. He slides onto the stool beside me, his own mug in hand, and watches me expectantly.

"Go on," he urges. "First sip's yours."

I lift the mug cautiously, the warmth seeping into my hands. Taking a deep breath, I bring it to my lips and take a tentative sip. The flavors hit me all at once: the creamy sweetness of the chocolate, the marshmallows melting into soft clouds on top, and then, the unexpected kick of the cayenne pepper. It's bold, surprising, and oddly... perfect.

"Okay," I admit reluctantly, lowering the mug. "This is actually amazing."

"Told you!" he says triumphantly, nudging my shoulder with his own.

"Don't get cocky," I warn, though I'm already taking another sip, savoring the way the spicy warmth lingers on my tongue. "But seriously, how did you come up with this?"

He shrugs, leaning back casually. "Saw it in a movie once. Thought I'd try it out, and now it's my secret weapon. Figured you deserved the best tonight."

His words are casual, but they hit me in a way I wasn't prepared for. I glance at him, his face lit up with genuine satisfaction, and feel a flutter in my chest that has nothing to do with the cocoa.

"Thank you," I say softly, my voice almost drowned out by the hum of the fridge in the background.

He looks at me, his expression suddenly serious. "For what?"

"For this," I gesture to the mug, the snacks, and everything else he's done today. "For making me feel... better. I know I was being dramatic earlier but this really does mean a lot to me."

His smile softens, and he reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair from my face. "Anytime," he says simply, and I believe him.

We sit there for a while, sipping our cocoa in comfortable silence, the warmth of the moment wrapping around us like a cozy blanket. The rich scent of chocolate fills the air, mingling with the faint spice of cayenne lingering in my cup. For the first time all day, I feel like I can breathe. Subin shifts beside me, breaking the quiet with a question.

"So tell me," he starts as we make our way back to the living room, cups in hand.

"Hm?" I hum, settling back into the cushions.

"Why hot chocolate?" he asks, tilting his head curiously. "I mean, I'm no period expert, obviously, but that's a new one for me. Most people go for ice cream or, I don't know, heating pads or something." His lips quirk into a small grin, and I chuckle softly at his attempt to make light of the question.

I take a slow sip of my cocoa, gathering my thoughts before answering. "When I first got my period, I was terrified. I had no idea what was happening to me. My mom...she did everything she could to help me through it. One night, I remember being in the worst pain but also having these insane cravings for chocolate—like, I couldn't think about anything else. It was late, though, way too late to go to any stores. So, she did what she could and whipped up the finest cup of hot chocolate I'd ever had in my life. She even added whipped cream and marshmallows, the whole works." I pause, smiling faintly at the memory.

Subin's eyes stay locked on mine, his attention so unwavering that it almost makes me self-conscious. "That sounds...amazing," he says quietly, prompting me to continue.

"It was," I nod. "But what made it even more special was what came after. We sat there that night for hours, just the two of us. She explained to me what it meant to be a woman, how to navigate all of this—the pain, the mood swings, the unpredictability of it all. She shared stories about her first period, how she felt just as scared and confused as I did, and how she got through it."

I take another sip, letting the warmth of the cocoa soothe me before continuing. "After that, it kind of became our ritual. Whenever I was in pain or feeling down, she'd make hot chocolate, and we'd have these long talks. Sometimes it was about life, sometimes it was just silly stuff to make me laugh. It became this comfort thing for me, a little tradition that made everything feel less overwhelming." My voice softens as I add, "Even now, when she's not here, it still feels like a way to connect with her. Like she's still taking care of me, in a way."

Subin's expression shifts, a mix of admiration and something softer—empathy, maybe. "She sounds like a wonderful woman," he says, his voice low but sincere.

"She was," I whisper, the words catching slightly in my throat. I look down at my mug, tracing the rim with my finger. "Always there for me, no matter what. She just...knew how to make everything better."

The room falls silent for a moment, the weight of the memory settling between us. Subin leans back, his gaze never leaving mine. "You know," he says after a pause, "that explains a lot about you."

I frown slightly. "What do you mean?"

He shrugs, a small smile tugging at his lips. "The way you care about people. The way you notice the little things, like how someone's feeling or what they need, even when they don't say it. It's like...it's second nature for you. Now I see where you get it from."

The compliment catches me off guard, and I feel a faint warmth rise to my cheeks. "You're giving me too much credit," I mumble, looking away.

"I don't think I am," he counters, his tone firm but kind. "You probably don't even realize it, but you're the kind of person who makes people feel safe. Like, even when you're the one having a rough day, you still have this way of making everyone else feel better. That's rare, you know?"

I meet his gaze again, and the sincerity in his eyes makes my heart ache in the best way. "Thank you," I say softly, the words barely audible.

He smiles, "Anytime."

We sit there a while longer, the quiet between us feeling more like a warm embrace than a gap to fill. The chaos of snacks scattered across the coffee table remains untouched, a colorful testament to the spontaneity of the night. But neither of us seems to care. This moment—unpolished, imperfect, and entirely unplanned—feels just right.

After what feels like forever, Subin finally breaks the silence. His tone is teasing, his words laced with an exaggerated dramatic flair. "I'm going to say something," he begins, stretching out his legs and leaning back against the couch, "I just want to say that this is probably the best three-date streak I've ever had."

I tilt my head, raising an eyebrow. "You're definitely just saying that."

"No, I'm serious!" he protests, his grin widening. "Each time, I learn something new about you. Something interesting, something that makes me..." He pauses, as if searching for the right words. "I don't know. It's like you're making it very hard not to like you."

I scoff softly, shaking my head as I glance down at the mug in my hands. The rich scent of cocoa swirls around me, but the weight of his words lingers heavier. "My life is a mess, Subin," I admit quietly. "You don't even know the half of it."

"Hey." His voice softens, and when I look up, he's already leaning toward me. With a feather-light touch, he tilts my chin, guiding my gaze to meet his. His eyes are warm and steady, and for a moment, the chaos in my mind stills. "We all have our demons," he says gently. "It's how we handle them that matters. And whether or not you choose to share yours with me, what I've seen so far is someone who still finds a way to get through the day. Someone who treats people with kindness, respect, and compassion, no matter what."

His words hit me harder than I expect, and I blink, unsure how to respond. The sincerity in his gaze, the warmth in his tone—it's almost too much. So, instead of addressing it directly, I do what I do best. I deflect.

"Are you just trying to butter me up?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at him in mock suspicion.

"Yes," he admits without missing a beat, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. But then his expression softens again. "But I'm also telling the truth. I don't know what you've been through to make you see yourself this way, but that kindness you give to everyone else? Make sure you save a little for yourself too, okay?"

Before I can respond, he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of my nose. It's such a simple gesture, yet it makes my chest ache in the best way. As if sensing the emotions bubbling beneath the surface, he shifts, pulling me closer and tucking my head against his chest. His heartbeat is steady beneath my ear, grounding me in the moment.

"Now," he says after a moment, his tone brightening, "I don't know about you, but I could definitely use a good movie to lighten the mood. What do you say?"

I exhale, relieved at the shift in conversation. "You read my mind," I murmur, leaning into his warmth.

"How about Twilight?" I suggest, tilting my head up to gauge his reaction.

His eyes light up with amusement. "I can get down with that," he says with an exaggerated nod. But then he raises an eyebrow, his expression turning mock-serious. "But the real question is: Team Edward or Team Jacob?"

"Edward, duh," I answer immediately, giving him a look that says there's no other possible choice.

"Consensual king," he agrees with a dramatic nod of approval. Then, with a sly grin, he adds, "Although... he is very gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss, no?"

I whip my head toward him, staring in disbelief. "What?! Why do you even know what that means?"

"What?" he says innocently, holding up his hands in defense. "I know things. I, too, have access to the internet."

I burst out laughing, the sound filling the room. It's ridiculous—he's ridiculous—but it's exactly what I need. The heaviness that lingered earlier evaporates, replaced by the effortless lightness he always seems to bring with him.

"You're ridiculous," I say, shaking my head, though the smile tugging at my lips betrays me.

"And yet, you're still here," he points out, flashing me a smug grin.

"Well yes, this is my apartment," I retort, rolling my eyes as I reach for the remote.

"Admit it—you enjoy my company," he challenges, his grin widening.

"Let's just watch the movie," I say, pressing play before he can push me further. But as I lean back against the couch, his arm casually draping over my shoulders, I know he's right. I do.

"For a date that completely derailed, I'd still call this a win."

I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms. "Oh? And what part of tonight screams 'win' to you?"

"Well," he said, counting on his fingers, "I was crowned 'Best Hot Cocoa Maker', I managed to save the day by making said hot cocoa, and I'm ending the night watching Twilight with you, so really, I'm thriving."

I roll my eyes but couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out. "The bar is on the floor, Subin. Truly."

"Maybe," he teased, "but I think you like it there."

"Okay, fine," I shot back, leaning a little closer. "What if I told you my best friend Sonya is having an engagement party soon, and I'd like you to come with me? Think you'd still be thriving then?"

His grin falters for just a second before his eyes softened. "You want me to go with you?"

"As my date," I clarify, trying to sound casual, but my heart was practically sprinting. "You know, for moral support. Sonya and Wonwoo are...a lot. I mean you've met her, sort of. And I figured it'd be nice to have you there."

Subin leans back, a mock-serious expression on his face. "Hmm, let me think about it. Free food, free drinks, the chance to charm your best friend and annoy her fiancé... Yeah, I'm in."

I laugh, lightly shoving his shoulder. "You're impossible."

"I'm a catch," he corrects, his voice dripping with faux arrogance. "And let's be real, you just want me there because I'll make you look good."

"Right," I say dryly. "It has nothing to do with me liking your company or enjoying your terrible jokes."

"See?" he says, pointing a finger at me. "Admitting you like me is the first step."

I could feel my cheeks heating up, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Instead, I grab the remote and gesture toward the screen. "Let's just start the next movie before I regret inviting you anywhere."

"You could never regret me," he says smugly, but he settled down beside me without another word.

New Moon begins, and Subin immediately launches into commentary.

"Why does Jacob never wear a shirt? Like, I get it, he's ripped, but does he have an aversion to fabric?"

"Shh," I say, trying to stifle a giggle. "He's a werewolf; they run hot."

"Hot and allergic to decent pants, apparently."

"Subin!" I laugh, swatting his arm, but the smile didn't leave my face.

As the movie went on, our laughter gave way to comfortable silence. I lean into him without thinking, my head finding its way to his shoulder. He didn't pull away, instead adjusting slightly so I fit there better.

"I was serious by the way. Even if tonight didn't go how we wanted, I'm glad we had it."

"Me too," I say softly, my eyes feeling heavy.

Somewhere between the werewolf drama and the overly intense stares, my eyes drifted shut. I feel Subin's hand brush lightly against mine, and though neither of us moved to hold the other's, the touch lingered—like a quiet promise.

By the time the credits rolled, we were both asleep, the space between us closing as naturally as if it had always been meant to.

[ranmaru-kageyama]

Vivids solo full covers 🎤🐹

(as always: post might not stay up forever, but feel free to rb!!)

[crescentmp3]

''I have no purpose.'' what if i CRIED!

[httpdwaekki]

crampy | k.s.

summary: when your period come suddenly and you have to cancel plans, seungmin is there to help you through the pain.

wc: 1.5k

warnings: descriptions of period cramps, crying, seungmin being a mushy bean for his partner, i think this is p much gn!reader besides the period but please let me know if i missed anything!!

a/n: happy birthday mong mong!! a self indulgent fic but for my favorite puppy <33 i hope you all enjoy, remember to eat, drink water and take your meds, ily <3

my library | fundraiser

(pictures are not mine! credit to owners!)

you didn’t know what else to do.

you’ve tried every trick you could think of but nothing would stop the searing pain in your pelvis. every month without fail you were bed ridden for at least 2 days, curled up in pain, unable to move.

you’re starving with simultaneously no appetite because of the pain. however this time felt worse, this time you were supposed to go out with seungmin and the rest of his members but everytime you moved you were immediately met with pain.

cutting your losses you just curled up with your heating pad and grabbed your phone. you send seungmin a quick text telling him you couldn’t make it and to tell the boys you were sorry.

after that another cramp hit, it felt like someone had grabbed your insides and squeezed as hard as they could. you let out a yelp as the pain only worsened, sobbing out in pure agony.

you were mostly crying because of the pain but you also felt horrible for canceling on your boyfriend and his friends. the pain mixing with the guilt only made you sob harder.

unbeknownst to you, seungmin was on his way to your place, something about your text sounded off. he didn’t know what it was but something in his gut told him he needed to go to you, so he did.

once he opened the door he was met with the sounds of your cries. alarm bells immediately went off in his head as he quickly locked the door, tossing his shoes and bag to the side, running to your room.

he found you curled in a ball, facing the door, eyes closed as heartbreaking sobs leave your mouth. he quickly made his way to your bed, kneeling on the floor in front of you before placing a hand on your shoulder.

you gasp in surprise, eyes wide as they shoot open. “it’s just me, it’s just me, i’m sorry.” he quickly says, holding his hands up in surrender.

once your brain registers the familiar man in front of you, you feel the lump form in your throat once more. your hands come up to cover your face as the tears flow down your cheeks.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry” you sob, your breathing choppy as you speak. “hey, hey,” he says softly, moving your hands with one, gently wiping your tears with the other.

“it’s okay pup, what’s going on hm?” your lip wobbles once again, reminded of the pain. “i- ah!“ you start, just in time for another wave of pain. you curl into yourself, bringing your arm to press the hot pad even further onto your skin.

“okay, i understand bubs,” he moves to sit on your bed, placing one arm over the one on your stomach, the other on your head, softly stroking your forehead. he places a kiss to your temple, shushing you softly, “it’s okay, you’re okay, breathe pup, breathe.”

you take shakey deep breath, exhaling after a few seconds. you both sit there for a while, letting your breath even out before either of you spoke. “i’m sorry.” you whimper, pulling away to look at him.

your bottom lip jutting out as a fresh wave of tears rolls down your face. he places a hand on your cheek, gently brushing away the fresh tears, shushing you. “stop apologizing bub,” he leans down, placing a kiss to your hair. “you have nothing to be sorry for.” you shake your head, new tears following the old.

“i got my period, and it’s really bad and i was trying to suck it up and come i promise but it was really fucking bad seung, it just-“ you were rambling and losing your breath, starting to hyperventilate.

“sh, sh, it’s okay pup, breathe,” he leans back slightly, “scoot over a bit.” he gently requests, making sure the heating pad stayed on your abdomen.

once a little space was created, he slides into your bed, pulling you into him. “okay, my bub, just relax, everything’s okay, no one’s upset, okay?” you sniffle, catching your breath a bit. “promise?” your voice small as you ask.

“i promise, we were all just concerned, and wanted to make sure you were okay.” he reassures, rubbing soothing circles on your back. you nod, turning into his chest, melting into him, just crying for a few minutes until you felt better.

you shift, laying your face against his chest as he continues rubbing your back. “did you take medicine or eat?” you shake your head, drawing figures on his tummy.

“do you have medicine?” you nod your head, pointing to the bathroom. “in the medicine cabinet, second shelf to the left.” he nods, placing a kiss to your head before standing. “i’ll

be quick.” he whispers, quickly making his way to the attached room.

he comes back out holding the familiar bottle, placing it on your bedside table. he pulls out his phone before smoothly moving back to his previous spot. “okay i’m gonna order us some ramen so you can eat and then take some medicine, how does that sound hm?” he asks, already opening his delivery app.

if you had any more tears left you’d be sobbing again but you’re fresh out. instead you nod, placing a kiss to his peck, “thank you pup.” you whisper cuddling back into him.

he smiles looking down at you before placing a kiss to your hair once more. “anything for you bubs.” he goes back to

work, ordering his ramen and your usual before placing his phone down, snuggling into you.

“once the ramen comes and you eat a bit i’ll give you some medicine, but when we finish eating do you wanna sleep or take a bath?” you think about it for a moment before coming to a decision.

“sleep, i’m exhausted.” he nods, rubbing your arm, “okay we can do that, and then if you want a bath when you wake up we can do that too okay?” you nod before turning your head, placing a kiss to this peck.

“thank you baby, i don’t know what i’d do without you.” you wrap your arms around him, wincing as another cramp spreads pain through your body. “ah.” you cry, shoving your face back into his chest.

he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into him, “okay bubs, i ordered it so hopefully it’ll be here soon and then you can eat take medicine and go to sleep.”

you nod, pressing your face further into him, trying to calm yourself. he starts humming, hoping to put you at ease with his voice. once he feels you relaxing into him he starts singing softly, letting you focus on his voice rather than the pain.

you ended up falling asleep before the food comes, waking up to see a dim light and seungmin bringing in the food. he sets it on the table before looking over seeing you smiling sleepily at him.

“hi bubs, you ready to eat?” he asks as he sits on the bed next to you, carefully brushing your hair out of your face. you nod, sitting up carefully as he prepares your ramen on the table next to your bed.

once you were sitting up, he hands you the bowl, “careful, it’s hot.” you nod, carefully taking the bowl before he grabs a pillow, making sure the heating pad is placed properly before placing the pillow on your lap.

“thank you, bubba.” you smile to him, before he leans down to place a soft kiss to your lips. “you’re welcome, pup.” he says against your lips before sitting down, handing you your chopsticks.

he makes his ramen as well and both of you eat in silence. once finished he grabs your trash putting it in the take out bag it came in, leaving to put it in the trash.

he comes back with two bottles of water, placing them both on the table before opening the bottle of medicine, handing you 2 pills. he places them in your hand, opening one of the waters, handing that to you as you place the pills in your mouth.

you take a gulp of water, swallowing the medicine before taking a couple extra sips before handing the bottle back to him. “thank you.” you whisper, scooting over to give him more room as he places the bottle down.

“you’re welcome, bubs.” he says, leaning over to place a kiss on your head. he quickly gets up to turn off the light before climbing into bed with you. he opens his arms, allowing you to lay against him.

once in his arms, he wraps them around you, kissing your face all over. you giggle as he does this before eventually he stops, not wanting to make your cramps worse. you relax into him, melting further into his embrace.

“is you heating pad okay?” you nod against him, a yawn leaving your lips. “good, sweet dreams pup, i love you.” he whispers, placing one last kiss to your head. “good night bubba, love you too.” you mumble before both of you drift off into each other’s arms.

do not repost or edit

[datauthorress]

ok but feral!logan finding the reader crying in bed so he cuddles and nuzzles her to try make her happy 🥺

feral! Logan finding his mate crying? Oh, he doesn't like when the Reader cries.

~

it's another bad pain day for you.

you had woken up with your leg throbbing in pure agony and you managed to slip out of logan's arms without disturbing him so you could get up and take your medication, sitting down on the bathroom floor to wait for the pain to dull enough for you to go back to bed.

you wondered if you should take charles' offer of another surgery to try and repair the bones, but you know that the surgery would only lessen your pain for a short amount of time and not fully take it away. you had already had seven surgeries on your leg. you really didn't want to go through another.

when the pain dulled enough for you to stand up, you did so and made your way back to bed. you got comfortable on your side and managed to fall back asleep, only to wake up some time in the early afternoon, tears dotting the corners of your eyes as your leg ached.

you buried your face in your pillow, attempting to stifle your soft sobs into the fabric.

until you heard a rumble and you cracked open your eyes to see logan coming into the room, kneeling down beside the bed. his dark eyes filled with concern, as he watched you lay there with pain radiating through your body.

"i'm okay, logan. just....a bad pain day for me," you said with a soft sniffle.

logan frowned and he got up on the bed, making his way behind you so he could pull you against his warm chest. you sighed at the sensation, rolling over so you could press closer against him. that deep rumble reverberated through logan's chest and he pressed a tender kiss against your forehead, his nose nuzzling against your skin. you began to relax, comforted by his soft touches and his protective embrace.

"don't like seeing mate in pain," he murmured, a large hand threading through your dark locks.

"i don't like it either, but....not much i can do about it. but this...this is helping," you replied, resting your head against his chest, tucked under his chin.

"love mate," he whispered, holding you close against him.

"i love you too," you whispered back.

[helpmyinterestsareverywhere]

OH

MY

GOD

I'm all for villain (or at least corrupted) Arin and the cycle of fsm's family first student curse + the additional generational trauma

But imagine if Lloyd and Arin become the breaker of that cycle?

And only because of one reason

Open vulnerability.

What happens if in the tournament there was a moment where Arin and lloyd fight. Arin who is overwhelmed by failure after failure finally just snaps at lloyd, and lloyd is trying to diffuse his anger but that just makes Arin angry even more

And then he punched him just like in the vision and he is dwelled into a panic attack because oh god his vision is coming true, but thats not the ONLY thing he is having a panic attack over

Its the fact its happening again. Someone he cares about is hating him again hurting him betraying him and he is reminded of pythor harumi garmado-

He can still hear Arin shouting (probably about how much of a failure he is) but he can't hear it anymore, everything is buzzing out and he can only hear his racing heartbeat and be reminded of all these people who've hurt him and he can't possibly put Arin into those people. He can't. I t must be hi s fault. Hes n ot a go od teac h er. H fail ed. FAILED. FAILED

And then we look back to Arin.

And hes done shouting (especially after he got no response) and hes looking at lloyd. And stops.

He sees him having another panic attack.. but this one seems worse, this one... reminds him of.. him

When he was missing his parents.

The first week after the merge..

and then hes reminded of younger him (well younger-er) how when he was crying and struggling to breath no one seemed to care to help him, how lonely he was, how painful it was..

And before he knows it, his anger dissipated.

And felt shame and guilt pooled in

Suddenly he was at his younger– LLOYD's side.. and he doesn't know what to do, he'd seen Nya hold lloyd's hand to ground him, but...

Throwing away doubt he grabs lloyd's arm that is kinda gripping his hair a bit too tightly

And lloyd flinches. He flinches.. from HIM

He looks at lloyd and REALLY looks at him, without any lenses, without any hero worship, without anything.

He felt guilt twist in his stomach painfully

He sees the eyebags, the terror and far away gaze in his eyes. He doesn't even wanna KNOW what lloyd is thinking, he sees the tears pooling–

He doesn't wanna see anymore

He pulls lloyd's arm gently and puts his hand over his face, so lloyd will feel his breath. Hopefully following his breathing and feels the apology in his tears

Because hes reminded of how much stressful it has been; for HIM. He has been so focused on himself he never thought how stressful this whole situation is to the ninja

And hes digusted with himself because he still feels disappointed; in himself, in lloyd, in.. in everything

The hand on his face started moving, touching his tears.. and gently wiping it

He sees the broken look on lloyd's face, but there was a hint of relief

Hes relieved i didn't leave him

A door was opened for them and the embrace after they found an understanding was the greatest feeling

He didn't know what it was.. but he felt something shifted, a fate that has been changed. He was hopeful for whats to come

Unbeknownst to the both of them, a cycle has been broken and the watchful eyes of a grandfather has never been prouder

HDHHDHSNRHSNNAHADHDJSJW YEAHHH I DON'T THINK I'M OKAY ANYMORE THANKS 👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍

DHFHJDJFJSJRJAJJA DUDE THIS ACTUALLY SO GOOD I NEVER CONSIDERED THE CYCLE BEING BROKEN WAAHAHGHHFHDDHDHHD AND BY OPEN VULNERABILITY?????

ARIN PUNCHING HIM JUST LIKE IN THE VISION????? GODDAMNITNSHFHSJWJWJJEQHFHFHSHSH THE BROKEN TEXT AFTER LLOYD GOT HIT AGGHGH DUDEEE...

AND ARIN FEELING GUILT AND SHAME WHEN HE SEES LLOYD LIKE THAT AGHFDJEEJJEDJDJD THEIR HUG AT THE END.......

AND THE FSM WATCHING OVER THEM BYE I'M JUST GONNA JUMP INTO THE VOID SHSJDAKSKSAI

[v1x3n]

D A D D Y K I N K

꒰ PAIRING : kento nanami x reader.

꒰ SYNOPSIS : after bratty words he did the only thing that would fix your manners, not his fault youre such a brat to daddy, is it?

꒰ TAGS : smut - punishment, spanking, praise, daddy kink, crying, thigh slapping and teasing.

navigation ⸝⸝ kinktober masterlist ⸝⸝ taglist

“I told you t’ count, didn't i?” your husband hums with a voice one would use on a child. “Let's restart, okay?” his grin grew when your hips shifted and your head twists, shaking your head so quickly you could get dizzy.

you mewl out, “m sorry!” sniffling then a yelp falls from you as kentos hand connects to your red marked ass, a hit so harsh that your whole body jerks. tears fall down from your face, water dripping onto the floor. your legs kick, trying to run away from the bent over posture you were currently in.

you were bent over in your husband's lap, after a few mean words were targeted at him he just couldn't deal with your bratty attitude anymore!!

your pants were taken off, showing your bare arse and your sweet hole, “d-daddy!” you whine loudly as you receive another harsh smack to your plush skin. “Oh?” he scoffs, rubbing the skin on your body, he coos as he looks over the blushing marks all over your cheeks. His fingers dip through and roll down your holes, teasing both of them. You whine and your body jerks forward, “count” he demands. 

“O-one” you sniffle as he hits your skin. 

Smack! Smack! 

Two harsh slaps deliver to your arse and you jump, tears roll down your face - gagging on the wet as you sob, “t-three!”

“Good girl” Kento smirks, leaving his hand displayed on your arse cheeks, his free hand petting your head. Running a hand through your hair while he lets you settle, your sniffles slowly stopping, a hand brought up to wipe your eyes but as soon as your tears come to a stop, another whack is delivered to your sensitive body, "four!" His fingers trail down to your neglected clit and pussy, collecting the slick in between your folds, his fingers running over the nub and flicking it, your entire body twitches as you cry out, sobbing once more. 

Tears fall onto the floor, splattering down as your husband tuts, “so wet f’ me, hm?” he coos and rubs your pussy, two fingers hovering over your hole and massaging around the sweet circle. His hand that rolls through your hair tightly grabs onto the strands, pulling your head back and you wince. “Say it” Kento hisses. 

“I-im so wet f-for you” whispering the embarrassing words while his fingers rub around your wetness before roughly trailing back up to your plush thighs. Slapping the skin of your thighs and slowly seeing the flesh turn pink. His rough hands impact you so heavily, your mind goes fuzzy due to the pain and you cry out, your moans mixed with agony fill out the room, “so good” he hums. 

“Daddy loves you” Kento whispers into your ear before hitting your arse and your legs squeeze together, ankles trying to twist together to stop the fluids leaking from your weeping cunt, “f-five, daddy! You mewls, crying out. His fingers traced patterns on your flesh, writing the word ‘mine’ over the skin of your thighs before taking a reddening spank to your ass once more. “six!” you squeal. 

“So so good f’ daddy, aren't you?” your husband's boner grew, digging into your ribs. Your arse stung, the red glowing and handprints imprinting onto your surface. You nod repetitively and splatter wet hits onto the floor. “seven!” whining out once more as another whacks your body. 

Smack! Smack!

Another two hits to your body. Drool starts to droop down from your mouth, slipping past your lips, rolling down your chin and joining the wet tears on the floor. A smack hit on your right cheek this time, a red splotch covering the skin. “N-nine!” you moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

The pain mixed with pleasure fizzed your brain, a cloud covering all of your thoughts. The only thing u could think of was him and only him, the way his cock was stabbing into you, the way his calloused hands smoothed over your cheeks before he landed the last hit aggressively over the right cheek. Ten. 

“ten , daddy! Ten!” you whine out, a slight relief washes over you as you realise you were done. “You sorry, baby?” 

You nod and his rough hands roll over the red marks he had input on your thighs and ass, “say it” you sniffle, trying to focus on talking, “i-im really sorry daddy, won't be a brat againn” quiet words but luckily he still heard. 

“Such a good girl f’ daddy” 

[oops-all-concrete]

BG3 fandom! I have more headcanons- but first!!

I must issue a very loud

⚠️SPOILER WARNING⚠️

For The Dark Urge playthrough of Baldurs Gate 3! There is no further warning below the cut, so if you care not to be spoiled, do not continue to read!

For those of you interested- ahead lies: Angst, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, blood, mentions of death, no MCD or any perma-death anyway, and lots of love. Greif and pain and emotional hurt are heavy themes as well!

Last warning! ⚠️Spoilers ahead⚠️

I've just gotten to this point in the Dark Urge run (where you reject Bhaal and fucking) DIE, and DUDE- I am stunned companions say NOTHING to your LITERAL DEATH after rejecting Bhaals gift or whatever. (Not in the scenes anyway) So, I'm writing how I think they'd respond cinematically, because your lively Durges deserve to be mourned and loved.

(Of course in-game this would be limited to the dialogue, but I've describes how they would be animated anyhow)

Lae'zel -

She's running to Durge the moment they start lifting from the ground, but pauses once their eyes start rolling back and blackening. There's something beyond her control happening, and she needs it to stop- and it does. With Tav hitting the floor eyes black, soul gone. She's immediately yelling at the others to do something, hand her a scroll, something- but nothing is working. Her shoulder slump after a good few minutes. And finally her voice breaks. She holds a hand to her chest as she wails in agony, holding her Tavs body like it's the last time- because to her- it is. "My angel, my moon. My great protector. I have failed you" She hisses, eyes scrunched shut.

Shadowheart -

She's been afraid her whole life. But even in the face of Bhaal, she will not be afraid if it means Tav will be safer. She immediately casts warding bond, if they're in danger, she'll halve it. If you're going to get hurt, so shall she- and she's okay with that. "Hang on-!" And then it all goes black, she falls without a word or scream, but she's content. If she dies protecting Durge, she cannot ask for better.

(After cutscene convo) Once Durge has been revived by Withers, it's up to them to get a scroll and revive her from the bloodied mess on the floor. She's stunned and confused, but the moment she sees Tav okay she couldn't care less. Why did you do that? "It might sound silly, but I was scared that you would be alone through whatever was about to happen. I don't regret it, if you're wondering"

Wyll -

"Gods- NO!" He shouts, a hand reaching out for them as they hit the ground. He's over them in a flash, holding their head in his arms, trying desperately to wake them, find a pulse, wake up himself and have this all be some sick nightmare. But of course, no such thing happens. The Tav he knows and loves just ceased living before his eyes. There's blood soaking into his every apparel and he's crying his eye out. It crosses his mind. Mizora is powerful- even if she can't fix this, she will know someone or something that can. He'd give anything- his whole life, he'd gladly be a lemure if it gave Tav back. He almost calls for her- until Withers starts his speech. (During the 'your rejection of Bhaal has earned you a place among heroes' section of his dialogue, he'll turn to Wyll and add: 'No devil's, demons or feinds required, I assure you')

Karlach -

If she wasn't raging before, she is now. A tomb-rocking scream echoes around the chamber, eyes wide with horror, body shaking and burning all over, engine out of control but she couldn't care less. One of the others will tell her to calm down. "FUCK THAT! FUCK EVERYTHING! FUCK THE GODS ABOVE AND THE HELLS BELOW." She roars. It goes on, swearing, screaming, swinging- and then, finally- collapse. She drops to her knees and punches the hard ground next to Tavs body, sobbing and exhausted. Withers walks in the the most gut-wrenching agonised scream of why

Gale -

He's frozen as it happens. His hands crackle with weave but he can't move. He needs to do something- anything, but time moves without him. All he knows is he can't breathe, all he can smell is blood and he thinks he's going to be sick. He can hear invisible bones cracking, distant blood dripping and their last choke. The wizard stumbles forward, barely making it to their body before collapsing beside them, on his knees and positively glowing from the mark on his chest. The orb can sense his distress and buzzes within him, as though it can smell the death. He pulls and hand to his mouth, kissing it gently- unable to comprehend a kiss goodbye. "Oh- Gods. Oh my love" he sobs, brows furrowed in what looks like physical pain. "I'm so sorry... I'm so, so sorry..." He wheezes out, scarcely finding breath.

Astarion -

He doesn't let their head hit the ground. He's swift as he catches them, but frantic as he sets their head on his thighs as a pillow. He pulls open their eyelids only to find a blackened core beneath, animalistic and distinctly unfamiliar. "Wake up, damn you...not after all this! You don't get to go!" He yells sounding genuinely furious- like he was going to get violent. If any of the others approach he doesn't notice. "We still have a cult to cull, we have a brain to control- I need you!" He yells, voice raw and eyes wet, the anger melting into greif. He makes a sheild of himself over Durge when Withers walks in, dagger/shortsword in hand, teeth bared, despite his damp face.

(Withers greets Astarion: 'Cry no more Spawn of sanguine- the universe is finally in your favour')

(Only Halsin is romanced for obvious reasons, but closeness is still implied for Minsc and Jaheira)

Halsin -

He catches Durge on the way down, their head on his chest as he lays them down over himself. "My heart? Can you hear me? Please say something" He begs hands glowing with healing magic, eyes aglow as well. He tries for a little, but then his breathing changes entirely, a small hushed gasp sounds from him, his he starts shaking his head, eyes wide. "Oh- oh Gods- Silvannus, please- I cannot bear to lose- oh Gods" He gasps, breath becoming harsher- finally letting tears fall. "Oak Father- please, wherever they go- keep them safe" he prays, teeth gritted in agony.

Jaheira -

She looks away as Tavs life is sapped away, unable to watch another Bhaalspawn friend suffer. When all falls still and silent, she looks among the other companions, shocked and frozen. "They're at peace now. Take comfort in knowing they chose to keep you all safe." She says with a proud nod- but her eyes are wet and her nose scrunched a little with a sniff.

Minsc -

There's small squeaking in the berserkers ear, before he sighs, almost a sob and speaks with a tired voice. "Wise words, Boo. I only wish our friend could hear you" Before he turns away, unable to look at them on the floor. "I am proud to have called them our friend. We should make them proud in return"

Hope you enjoyed! To the lovely people who have made requests, I will get to them as soon as I can!! Thank you for the requests, and please feel free to send me more!

[theres-a-body-here]

Scumtober- Day 21 (Exsanguination)

Arthur Morgan x Reader Drabble

As you lay on the floor, blood seeping through your clothes, you couldn't help but think about how this all went to shit.

The job was supposed to go smoothly, but here you were, wounded and dying. O'Driscolls had caught you both by surprise when you entered the seemingly empty house. There was a scuffle as you and Arthur took them out; however, one of them managed to get in a shot before Arthur could blow their brains out.

You had taken a bullet straight to the lung; it was fatal. The pain was excruciating, and you could feel yourself slipping away slowly.

Arthur sat next to you, pressing his hands against the bullet hole in your chest, trying to stop the bleeding. His face was contorted to a mix of rage and agony as he begged, "Oh god, please don't die."

You struggled to speak through the pain, managing only a weak whisper, "Ar...th..."

Looking at you helplessly, Arthur cried out, "No! Don't say anything, dammit!" He grabbed your hand tightly, squeezing it hard enough to hurt even through the numbness.

As Arthur attempted to drag you to his horse, he realized the futility of the situation. With every movement, you let out a cry of pain and spat out blood. It dawned on him that he was causing more harm than good by attempting to move you like this. In despair, he released his grip and crouched back down beside you. He cradles your body in his arms as he looks defeated.

As you started to cough out blood once again, you whispered faintly, "I never expected to die in a home... or comfortably...".

"You won't die," Arthur growled through gritted teeth, his voice laced with desperation. "Just hang on...for me".

Whether you heard him or chose to ignore him, he'll never know. All he knew is that you seemed to not be in any pain at that point.

"But dying like this... isn't so bad." You finished hoarsely, leaning your head against his shoulder for comfort.

"Don't talk like that," Arthur pleaded, his voice breaking as tears streamed down his face. He pulled you closer, holding you with trembling hands. "Please, just stay alive."

You reached up to touch his face, smearing blood across his skin. He holds your hand to his face as he presses against it and closes his eyes.

After a while of silence, Arthur opens his eyes to find you with a expression of serenity.

As you gaze up at the sky, taking in each breath as if it might be your last, Arthur breaks down completely. He holds you closer, and you can feel his heart pounding wildly against yours. The warmth of his body provides some small comfort amidst the cold that settling into yours.

"I love you. Never doubt that, yeah?" Arthur said through heavy sobs, holding you close.

"love you....too," you managed to choke out, feeling your breath growing shallower by the minute.

Arthur leaned down and kissed your forehead tenderly, tears rolling off his nose onto your skin.

"Promise me something," he whispered. "If there's a heaven, wait for me there, alright? I'll find ya somehow."

With great effort, you nodded, closing your eyes as you began to feel sleepy. You closed your eyes for the last time, letting the darkness claim you.

The last thing you hear is wails of agony as Arthur clings to your cold body.

Scumtober 2023 Masterlist

[paul-matthews87]

*after Richie goes into his room, Paul decides to go to his room as well*

Imagine watching your loved ones die just to see them again, again, again..

Ooc: #Richie timeline au, but it’s not him :3

…What? I don’t…really want to think about that.

[ravenssilver]

Phantom/Aeon waking up from a nightmare while rolling with someone and craves comfort but is too scared to ask for it?

mmm aeon angst.. my favorite👹

1k words of aeon having a reoccurring nightmare and being too nervous to outright ask for comfort.

cw: nightmare of the Pit, detailed summoning process from aeon’s pov, aeon continues to be traumatized, more of my aeon lore and a bit of how i see the pit :)

under the cut if you please<3

Darkness.

Deep, deep darkness.

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

It was all he remembered before he felt it.

Cold. He felt extremely cold. His feet planted on something every time he stepped forward. The ground was almost soft, but it made him sick every time his felt his feet sink into it.

He tripped after a few minutes of wandering, looking behind him and down at the ground, only to see a bone.

A sickly feeling bubbled in his throat as he looked a few feet to the right, squinting through the darkness just to seeing bits and pieces of the skeleton that the bone was a part of.

He quickly turned around again and began running, trying to ignore the dizziness in his skull as he felt a sharp, painful tug in his soul.

He ran and ran and ran, eventually falling to his knees and sobbing when the pain in his chest was too much to bear.

Then, he was choking, like all the little oxygen in the Pit had been sucked away. He clawed at his throat, coughing and heaving in the dust of the wasteland around him into his lungs.

He felt the ice cold wind suddenly be evaporated into steam as his skin burned with the heat of a thousand suns, Aeon choking out a cry of agony as he planted a hand on the flesh-like material under him. Sweat escaped his pores, dripping off of his nose as he trembled and tried to heave in the oxygen that was absent from his surroundings.

His eyes rolled back after an excruciating minute and a half, his body going limp and collapsing onto the sickly soft ground.

His consciousness faded. Though, not before he felt a sudden grab of his ankle as he was yanked-

Aeon gasped as he jolted awake, a choked sound of surprise leaving him as he fell off the edge of his bed. He grunted as he hit the cold floor of his room, still tied up in his blankets.

His lilac eyes darted around the room for a moment before he slowly sat up, feeling the fear and adrenaline coursing through his system as he thought about the nightmare he had just woken up from.

Then the tears started.

Aeon didn’t want to go back to the Pit. He didn’t even want to think about it. He had a life with his new pack. He was happy.

So why couldn’t he shake that damn dream?

Aeon slowly rose to his feet after fighting to get free from the blankets. His legs shook as he tried to get his wits about him, holding back his whimpers and cries so only his shadow casted by the moon would hear.

He laid back down in his cold bed, curling up into himself with a shaky sigh as he closed his eyes, only to snap them open again as he was met with the vision of the Pit.

Aeon swallowed harshly and rolled onto his back, staring up at his ceiling.

He wanted someone from his pack. Dewdrop, Mountain, Aurora would’ve been just fine. But no.. he wanted Swiss.

Of course, wanting was what got him to that damn wasteland in the first place. Constantly searching, finding, and taking things that he simply wanted in his human life was what got him under Mammon’s control.

That is until Copia saved him.

With that damned summoning ritual.

Aeon shivered as he thought about the air that had been stolen from his lungs, which he learned was courtesy of Cirrus and Cumulus providing their element to Copia’s ritual.

He remembered how he got a preview of Dew’s anger and initial hatred for him when he felt heat that only fire could bring spreading over him. Heat that was prosperous on earth. Fire that Aeon once longed for in the barren wasteland. The sweat that only Rain’s element of water could provide in Limbo. The way his body went stiff like the bark of a tree, Mountain’s element tied with Rain and Dewdrop’s.

Aeon wanted Swiss. Badly.

The multi was the only one who hadn’t participated in Aeon’s trauma. He didn’t help with the ritual that quite literally killed him again before dragging him kicking and screaming Topside.

Swiss was his safety when he could finally open his half-blinded eyes again.

But he didn’t want to be seen as weak.

All the other ghouls got over their summoning. Aurora was over it to the best of Aeon’s knowledge, so why wasn’t Aeon over his own?

Aeon shook his head and got out of bed, walking on wobbly legs out of his room and to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

Though, as he walked into the kitchen, he saw Swiss standing there on his phone as the microwave hummed. Aeon froze dead in his tracks, his bloodshot eyes widening as he saw a slightly blurry outline of Swiss.

“Hey, honeybat,” Swiss smiled as he glanced at Aeon, only to do a quick double take. “Woah… are you okay?” Swiss asked, setting his phone down on the island counter and walking over to Aeon. Aeon sighed shakily, knowing he couldn’t lie to Swiss no matter how badly he wanted to.

The smaller ghoul shook his head, keeping his eyes set on Swiss’ chest as to avoid eye contact.

“Nightmare?” Swiss asked, gently cupping Aeon’s jaw and lifting his head so he could look into Aeon’s lilac eyes. Aeon sniffled and nodded. “The same one.” He muttered.

Swiss frowned and pulled Aeon into a hug.

“You floaty?” Swiss asked softly, knowing Aeon sometimes got in his own head and went back to the Pit mentally. “I was for a minute. I’m okay now.” Aeon mumbled, nuzzling his nose into the crook of Swiss’ neck.

Swiss nodded, slipping his clawed fingers into Aeon’s shaggy hair and gently massaging. Swiss began breathing deeply, silently instructing Aeon to follow his actions and breathe with him.

Aeon subconsciously followed his actions, lulling himself into an almost half-asleep state. Swiss kissed at the base of Aeon’s horn.

“You’re here with me, honeybat. You’re warm, you’re breathing just fine. You’re here.” Swiss whispered, squeezing Aeon just the slightest bit more to help ground him in the moment.

Aeon sighed in relief and relaxed even more in Swiss’ hold, finding his eyes slipping shut as Swiss held him in a way that was nothing but loving and protective.

He was there. Aeon was standing there, in the kitchen with Swiss.

He’s okay.

[glitterguts13]

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY PART1

Father's Day special delivery coming right now! Part 1 is all about the Genshin boys having their babies! Enjoy!

Albedo The candlelight is dim, casting a soft orange glow in the dark room. Hunched over next to his bed, Albedo gasps, one hand clutching onto the bed-frame, the other guiding his unborn child into the world.

“Come on, come on, just-” muffling a groan into his forearm, Albedo cries out at his child drops into his waiting hands. Pulling them up to his chest, he weeps softly upon hearing their soft cries.

“Good girl...oh sweet girl, I’ve got you.”

Bennett

“Oh- oh!” sobbing weakly, Bennett reaches under his heavy belly, fingers grazing over the legs dangling from his burning hole. “N-no, baby, no-wrong way-!” he sucks in a breath, crying out as he bares down with what was left of his waning strength. He stretches open, screaming, a suddenly rush of fluid falls onto the floor as his hands grasp around his squalling newborn.

“Oh-Archons thank you...you’re safe, you’re safe now.”

Diluc

Nails digging into the wooden counter tops of his bar, Diluc roars in agony. Legs spread apart, deep into a low squat, he bares down, cursing under his breath as his newborn slips onto the piles of towels he’d had the forethought to place down.

“Fuck-Oh fuck.” quickly lifting them from the floor, Diluc cradles them to his chest, marveling how just how loudly they cried.

“That’s it, good...cry, just keep crying for me.”

Kaeya

Groaning loudly, Kaeya rolls onto his side, lifting one leg into the air. A slow trickle of fluid running down his thighs, the head bulging against his tight rim of muscles.

“Just. Come. Out!” he groans again, burying his face into his pillow and pushing. All at once, the head pops free, the shoulders turning and slipping out with one final effort.

“Shit,” bringing them to his chest, he strokes a finger over their ruddy cheeks as they wail, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, forgive me.”

Mika “Push, Mika, you have to push.” the midwife busies herself between Mika’s trembling legs, giving the head dangling from his hole a gentle tug.

“Stop-Stop, don’t pull it!” he sobs, pushing despite the pain coursing throughout his aching stomach. All at once, the pressure ends, a screaming little boy placed to his heaving chest.

“Thank you...Archons thank you…”

Razor

The howl tears from his throat, raw and primal as another contraction rippled through his belly. A few wolves poked about, watching curiously as Razor bore down, bringing his pup into the world under the moon and stars. They plops onto the ground, bawling furiously, and Razor quickly brings them to his chest.

“Good pup...good lungs, cry...let the forest hear you.”

Venti

The scream tears through the tranquil night, shattering the peace. Naked and alone, Venti lets out another ear-splitting shriek as his child tears from his narrow hips and into his shaking hands. They flail about, crying and whimpering as Venti cuddles them close, singing a lullaby into their ear.

Baizhu

“Oh, Archons, have mercy-” skin ghostly white, hands clenched around his ankles, keeping his legs spread best he can, Baizhu struggles to push. His belly quivers with another contraction, sending him into a frenzied scream, his baby finally popping free.

“Dearest one- Oh, my little star,” he rambled, bringing the newborn to his chest, and wiping the muck of birth from their face, “Mother is here...I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

Chongyun

“Just...a little...more-!” voice muffled with the rag stuffed into his mouth, Chongyun groans loudly. His fingertips graze of the top of the head, pushing with all his strength and gasping as the head crowns fully into his palm. One last push, and it’s squalling loudly, coming to be held tightly in Chongyun’s arms.

“There...there you are, welcome home baby.”

Gaming “You’re so close darling, hang there a bit longer.” Gaming sobs, clutching his mother’s hand tightly.

“Push, push, you’ve got the head out, push Gaming.” she soothes, watching as her grandchild comes into the world with a loud wail, flailing arms and legs. She places the newborn to Gaming’s chest, and he wraps around her instantly,

“Daddy’s here, I’ve got you, Daddy’s here…”

Xiao

The storm rages just outside the cavern. Spear in hand, Xiao anchors himself to it, stabbing the blade into the dirt and holding tight as he bore down. His belly tightened, legs quivering, a strangled gasp leaving his mouth as he feels something large slide from his body. Swiftly, he lifts the child to his arms, marveling at their beauty.

“You’re safe, I’ll protect you, forever.”

Xingqui

“Don’t stop, keep pushing!” legs held back by the midwife, Xingqui wails, clutching at his belly. Each push brought him closer and closer to being done, but doubled the pain. He feels them ripping him open, forcing their way into the world, ready or not.

“Push!” she orders once more, and Xingqui does, mind going blank for a moment before he realizes there’s a squirming newborn on his chest.

“You...little brat...that hurt-”

Zhongli

Slow, heaven breaths, eyes closed in deep concentration. The feeling of his muscles contracting, inching his baby closer and closer to the world, his entrance opening wide, burning as the head starts to peak through.

A soft gasp, hands quivering ever so slightly as he reaches between his legs and lifts his offspring into view.

“What a powerful little one you are,” Zhongli chuckles, exhaustion seeping into his bones, “I’m so very proud of you.”

Arataki Itto

“Ah- fuck!” moaning deeply, Itto gives one last solid push. The tiny pointed horns of his newborn dragging along the tender skin as it emerges, ripping it open. Blood splatters onto the ground, but Itto pays no mind, bringing his precious little treasure to his chest.

“That...was one hell of an entrance kiddo..but didja have to hurt Daddy like that-”

Ayato “Breathe, brother, slow, deep breaths...in and out...yes, like that.” Ayaka presses a damp towel to her brother’s cheek, mindful not to peek under the sheets where the midwife was at work.

“Push, one last push!” closing his eyes and pressing his chin to his chest, Ayato bares down, crying out as the baby enters the world with an indignant warble.

“Give her to me.” he orders, uncaring of the mess left behind, snuggling them into the crook of his arm.

“Welcome…Mommy is so glad to meet you...”

Gorou

“Good job Gorou, just one more push!” two pups already latched to his milky breasts Gorou groans, barely giving any effort before the third of his litter drops into Kokomi’s eager hands.

“Two girls and a son! You did wonderful Gorou.” with a smile, she places the third babe between her siblings, snuffling and whining loudly at the lack of a teat to feed on. Laughing weakly, Gorou gives her back a gentle rub,

“One moment baby...Mama has plenty of milk for you too, don’t worry.”

Kazhua

“I told you, you should have stayed at the harbor!” Beidou cringes as Kazhua lets out another deep, guttural moan, and nearly drops at the sight of the head bulging between her friend’s legs.

“Oh Archons- I can see it!” a slow, even breath, and Kazuha moans loudly through the next push, sending his baby flopping out onto the bed below.

“What do I do with it-”

“Hand it to me.” Kazuha sighs, shaking his head as Beidou gingerly places the screaming infant to his chest. Brave as she is, nothing could have prepared her for witnesses her dear friend being split open.

“Hello little one, Papa is here…”

Heizou

“Oh fuck just get out, please!” pressing his hands atop his heaving belly, Heizou pushes, legs kicking out as the head bursts forth with a spray of blood and fluid. Once more, and it drops onto the sheets between his legs, squirming and furious.

“You...troublemaker.” he pants, bringing them closer, and inspecting them closely.

“You aren’t getting siblings. Ever.”

Thoma

“Oh- Archons- not on the floor-!” halfway from the bath to his bed, the urge to bare down overcomes him. Dropping to all fours, Thoma barely as the chance to reach around and catch the newborn as it plops right into his shaking grasp. Mindful of the cord connecting them, Thoma brings them to his chest, allowing them to latch right to his milk laden breast.

“Two minutes...just two more minutes and we wouldn’t have ruined the floor…”

Alhaitham

“Enough, is enough.” a full day had passed, and the scribe was far past through. The head was crowning, snugly resting between his legs, and with one final effort, fully emerges. Gasping and clawing at the blankets under him, AlHaitham bares down again with renewed determination, relief flooring them him as they enter the world with a shrill cry.

“You certainly took your sweet time, didn’t you?”

Cyno

Growling, deep and feral, Cyno braces himself against the temple wall. The floor under him damp with his waters, body soaked with sweat as he forces his unborn into the world. Sharp reflexes keeps the infant from falling to the ground, and Cyno carefully checks them.

“Ten fingers...ten toes...One whole baby.”

Kaveh

“You’re scaring the other patie-” another earth shattering scream fills the room, followed by a pitiful sob.

“Just get it out, I don’t want to do this anymore!”

“You have to push if you want it out, now, push!” the doctor was more than done with Kaveh’s noise, and was losing his composure over his unwillingness to cooperate. Kaveh does his best, struggling to sit up enough to leverage his body into baring down, screaming bloody murder the whole way.

“There! A girl!” the doctor puts her into Kaveh’s belly, drying her off as the architect babbles incoherently.

“It’s over-I did it-Oh Archons, oh-oh what do I do now-”

Sethos

The desert was his home, and it was where he felt safest. Bringing his baby into the world surrounded by the sand had never been a question of ‘if,’ but ‘when.’ A strong push, a wild scream, and the baby is resting in his hands, bloody and wailing. Chuckling weakly, and falling onto his back, Sethos lie there with them wailing against his chest for a few moments.

“Good work kiddo...good work.”

Tighnari

“Come...on-!” three little big eared kits slept peacefully in their cots, while their Tighnari struggled nearby with the surprise fourth. Coming nearly six hours after the other, and certain he was finished, Tighnari squats next to the cots, groaning as his last kit slides easily into his hands. Panting, he brings them to his chest, wrapping them with a nearby blanket for warmth.

“Don’t worry little one,” he soothes, “I won’t let them tease you for being the runt, I promise.”

Freminet

The water offers some solace as the baby begins to crown, the cool sea easing the burn. He pushes, groaning into the night air, relief flooding him as the baby slides into the water with a cloud of blood and fluid. Taking in a shaky breath, he brings them to his chest, pressing a soft kiss to the top of their head.

“Welcome to the world...Mama will keep you safe, I promise.”

Lyney

“Almost there, just a little more.” Lynnette whispers to her brother, holding his hand tightly as he bore down. He cries out, startled at the sensation of his child leaving his body.

“A boy, you have a son.” she whispers, handing the newborn to Lyney’s waiting hands. He swallows thickly, throat tight with emotion.

“Daddy’s here...you’ll always be safe with us...no one will ever hurt you.”

Neuvillette

Groaning, Neuvillette clings to the side of the tub with enough force to risk breaking the porcelain. His body felt as if it were being torn apart, and he’s grateful not a soul is around to hear the scream he releases as his child barrels into the world. With haste, he lifts them from the water, clutching their squirming form to his chest and nuzzling them gently.

“Don’t cry little one...You are safe and sound…”

Wrio

“Just...a little...more...come on…” he mumbles under his breath, eyes closed in focus as another contraction tears through him. A high scream, and he feels the weight in his pelvis drop, landing safely on the mattress. Opening his eyes, he blinks through years and spies the bloody little thing his body had kept warm and safe for the last nine months.

“Hey champ...welcome to the world.”

Tartaglia

“Shit!” being stabbed, beaten and nearly killed somehow didn’t compare to the sheer torture of having a baby push it’s way through his tight hole. Each push brings it closer to the world, and deepens the pain, but he doesn’t stop, not until he feels them slide careful into his bloodied hands.

“Gotcha...I gotcha kid, I got ya.”

Wanderer

Secluded and locked away from the rest of the world, he questions his own sanity. Why did he allow this parasite to grow off him? Why was he letting it torment him this way? Why was he pushing it out and screaming in pain and feeling all too lost and afraid.

“You...You…” he looks at the newborn's delicate face, screwed up and red as it wailed away, “What do I do with you...”

[chaotic-orphan]

Noble Consequences

“You see now?” Villain yelled across the street, a building levelled behind them. Smoke and dust partially obscuring them from moment to fleeting moment. They were panting, twin trails of blood making lines down one side of their face. They stepped forward, or more, limped forward, their usually pristine coat in tatters.

Superhero watched them move, only very distantly aware of the sirens in the distance and the chaos on the street. Unlike Villain they were frozen in place, looking at the place behind Villain, at the rubble, at— at Hero’s apartment block. Their mind couldn’t comprehend that fact. It wouldn’t let them, certain that their brain would crumble as quickly as the bricks and foundation of the apartment block did. Destroyed right in front of their eyes.

“You can’t save them,” Villain screamed, still hobbling over to Superhero’s statue-like form. “They don’t care about you, or me, or anybody or anything!”

Superhero’s mouth opened, as if to reply, but any words escaped them. Surely… surely Hero wasn’t home at the time, surely… they were alright. Somewhere else. Far from here, having coffee or dinner or something. Something normal, living people did.

Villain was in front of Superhero, grabbing their shirt in both hands and shaking them. “Supervillain is a monster,” Villain howled, voice broken and filled with heartache and fury and pain. Superhero’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, struggling to work properly. “Look at what your kindness did! Look at where your second chances got us! Hero is dead because of you.”

“No,” Superhero mumbled, the words clogging their throat as they shook their head. “No… no, no, no, no. Hero is… Hero’s not—”

“We have to kill them, Superhero.”

Superhero tore their gaze from the rubble to Villain in front of them. “W—what?”

“We have to kill Supervillain, or they won’t stop.”

Superhero bristled, putting a hand over Villain’s and pulling them off, stepping back and their legs buckled and hit the floor. “No… no, no. No, no,” Superhero repeated, like a fucking tape stuck on loop.

Villain dropped to their knees with Superhero, supporting them as they fell. Thick wet tears rolled quickly down Superhero’s face as the first firetruck pulled up onto the scene.

Villain grabbed Superhero’s face, tilting it to face Villain again. “We have to kill them, Superhero. Promise me.”

Superhero didn’t respond.

Villain shook their head again and screamed in a guttural, heartbroken voice: “promise me you won’t stand in my way. For Hero… they…”

A sob ripped from Villain’s throat cut them off and once they started, Villain couldn’t get them to stop. Their grip on Superhero loosened as they fell forwards, loud, pained cries of agony wracking their body as they wept.

Superhero wrapped their arms around Villain and let them cry on their shoulder, holding them tightly, like Hero would’ve if they—

Superhero blinked, and sniffed and said: “okay, Villain. We do it your way.”

[phoebepheebsphibs]

And the story goes on…

Spoiler warning for Until I Found You Lore.... CW: Mentions of torture, abuse, and experimentation.

@boots-with-the-fur-club @daboyau

Prev || Next || Reference image for Mikey’s scars || illustration

Mikey couldn't stop sobbing.

The other Donnie was writhing on the floor, screaming in pain as he gripped his head tightly. Something was wrong, something was very very VERY wrong...

But Michael could only watch and cry and shout at his brother to "Open the thing, open the thing up, Donnie! OPEN THE ORB!!"

"I'm trying!" his brother yelled back. "It's a different design from my tech, I'm doing the best I can considering I don't have my tools with me and I'm using my bare hands--"

The alternate Donnie started shrieking in agony, his cries ringing through the halls and echoing mercilessly in Mikey's head. He falls to his knees, the glowing marks on his arms and legs turning that evil shade of blue.

"PLEASE, DONNIE, HE'S HURTING! I CAN'T DO ANYTHING FROM IN HERE, PLEASE--"

"WELL EITHER GET APRIL TO POOF YOU OUT OR -- GOT IT, I GOT IT, I GOT THE THING TO OPEN!" UIFY Donnie yelled back, finally hacking into the sphere and causing the shields to dissipate. Immediately the three fall forwards, with Mikey regaining his footing at once and pouncing at the quivering Donatello on the floor.

Mikey wrapped his arms around Donnie, sobbing into his shoulder as he pressed his hands against his shell and the back of his head. A soft, warm amber glow began to spread over the shaking softshell, his eyes slowly refocusing as he turned and stared down at the copy of his brother. Apparently this Mikey was also in-tune with his mystic powers. Amazing, considering the age gap between him and the other Mikey, and the fact that they'd not even known about mystic abilities until they'd met Draxum and taken his magic weapons for themselves. This one must've been practicing magic for a while... Donnie's headache ceased. He watched as the tiny, trembling version of his brave baby brother kept pressing his small and delicate hands against his shell and neck, quietly mumbling to himself - praying possibly, or perhaps reciting a magic spell. Whatever he did, it helped tons. But it seemed to exhaust the poor kid as he slumped over, his head rolling into the crook of Donnie's neck and shoulder. Michael's soft, slow breaths tickled uncomfortably against his sensitive skin, and he flinched.

"Michael, get off of him!" the other Donnie said, coming forward and pulling the kid away. "If this Donnie's anything like me, he doesn't like to be touched. Especially after... whatever the heck happened to him."

"I-it's fine, he helped, he... What exactly did he do?" Donnie asked, slowly getting to his feet.

Donatello Von Draxum picked the child up and held him close to his chest. Mikey had fainted, it seemed, though his eyes fluttered open and shut several times. His head lolled from side to side, rolling around as if he was trying to force himself to stay awake but failing utterly. He mumbled softly, muttering whispers to no one specifically before finally succumbing to the exhaustion and resting his head against his brother.

"I'm... not exactly sure," Donatello Von Draxum mumbled, slowly pulling the bandages from Mikey's arms and checking for any mystic injuries. "Best guess is... he leant you some of his strength."

"His strength?" Dee questioned.

"Whatever you needed in the moment. Strength, presence of mind, life-force, that kind of stuff. It could explain why he's so sleepy now."

"Will he be alright?!" Donnie asked, hoping he didn't just cause a version of his brother to be in a vegetative state for the rest of his life.

"He's okay. He just needs a nap. It's nothing too extreme." Donatello Von Draxum looked over Donnie with concern. "YOU on the other hand..."

"Yeah. That was not fun."

"No fun in fungus, huh?"

"Roll credits," April interjected, having gone to retrieve Donnie's tech-bō for him.

"Very clever. I suppose... we should go look for Raphael now," Dee decided as he took the staff from the Mayhem-ified April.

"Are you sure you don't want to rest?" she asked, eyeing him nervously. "Those things have a way of draining you. Physically, just as much as emotionally."

"I am fine," Donnie insisted. "But you've got some... something on your arm."

"What?" April asked, looking down at said appendage, which had a black and blue smear across it. "Oh, ew, gross. It's the goo from that hand.PNG. Yuck! I didn't even notice that..."

Mutant April wiped the sludge off onto her jacket.

"No worries, I think I'm all good."

"What about Michael?" Donnie asked, pointing to the still out-of-it box turtle in DvD's arms.

"I can carry him," he insisted. "He weighs practically nothing. We'll be coming along."

"Good, the more help we can get the better. I don't think it's safe for anyone to split up anymore. Let's go find my Raph and your brothers," Donnie said, taking the lead.

The four walked on through the hallways, Mikey mumbling or muttering and even humming in his dazy sleep as they searched for the others. Donnie kept glancing over at him to make sure he really was okay. He seemed fine. It reminded him of the time his April had gotten her wisdom teeth removed, she'd sent them a video her mom had taken of her after she'd woken up from the surgery. They guys all had a big laugh over it, how loopy and looney she'd been, constantly gibbering about nothing and then falling back asleep. The memory made him smile a little. It helped to alleviate the stress, to simply pretend that was what had happened to this Mikey. And not that he'd sacrificed some part of himself for Donnie's sake. And not even for his Donnie's sake, for a complete stranger.

It was so unbelievably awkward.

The two Donnies barely said a word to each other. Donnie kept giving glances at Mikey and DvD would catch him, and Donnie's head would snap in the opposite direction. Poor April was stuck in the middle of their silence, doing her best to lighten the mood but eventually giving up and straying ahead of them.

Donatello glanced over at Mikey again. Michael had made some small squeaking sound - a yawn maybe - and curled up into his brother's hold. The bandages on his arm were loose... That's right, DvD had checked his arms earlier for cracks -- had that meant that there might actually be some danger to whatever spell he'd used to help Donnie?! He could see the cracks right there! DvD said he was fine, but Donnie could clearly see the holes and thin lines made from --

Holes?

Mikey's overuse of ninpo didn't make holes, they made cracks like broken glass that webbed across his arms! So, where had...

"Did you... want to hold him or something?" DvD asked.

Donatello was startled from his train of thought and realized he'd been staring at Mikey for too long.

"Oh! Um, no I didn't -- unless that is, you would like a break?"

"Like I said, he's not that heavy," Donatello Von Draxum repeated flatly.

"I recall. I was just worried for him, is all, and I--"

"You were staring at him."

"Oh, was I?"

"Quite obviously so."

"Ah. I apologize for the social faux pas of staring rudely at your brother."

Silence again.

"But do you want to hold him?"

"You are... offering?"

"Your brother is gone, for the moment," DvD stated. "And I saw how you looked at my Mikey. For you, there is precious little to distinguish the two. Correct?"

"Well... I suppose they are very similar," Donnie ceded.

"And he undoubtedly considers you family as well."

"That is evident, considering what he did for me."

"That's your fault, you know."

"Excuse me?" Donnie sputtered, stopping in his tracks. "How is it my fault for saving you three from getting spored?"

"Apologies, I misspoke. I merely meant that you did something that reminded him of... of something bad that happened to us."

"Then am I to assume that's why he reacted the way he did?"

"Precisely."

"I see."

Donnie looked down at the alt. Mikey, still fast asleep. He was so much smaller than his brother. So... petite. No, Miniscule. Maybe Runty. Donnie kept searching for the right word. Not weak, or tiny, he was so...

Frail. That was the word. Thin limbs connected to a slip of a body, a tiny round face with baby cheeks so slim and slender. He was just too small.

"...I think I will carry him. If only to relieve you of duty for a short while."

"Very well," DvD relented, carefully exchanging his brother into Donnie's arms. Donnie had carried his Mikey before, and even his Leo. Heck, he'd carried all three of his brothers on more than one occasion. He'd let them grab onto his legs or arms while he flew above the city with his hover-shell. It was quite a feat, all of them clinging together like the barrel of monkeys toys from their childhood. And he'd gotten his leg dislocated from its socket for the trouble, but that was nothing too bad really, and Leo had helped fix him up. He desperately missed his brothers... All this to say he knew what to expect, to carry a slightly smaller version of his baby bro.

The alt. Mikey was placed into his hold.

Ooooooh pizza supreme in the sky this kid literally weighed nothing.

Donnie's eyes widened. He'd expected some kind of difficulty, some weight, but no -- it was like carrying air. The only weight he could feel was from the clothes, it seemed. He'd estimated this Mikey to weigh somewhere in the vicinity of 70 pounds, maybe even 65. It felt like he weighed no more than 10.

"He's... he's so light..." Donnie's voice trembled.

"I did say he weighs almost nothing," DvD smirked.

"I thought you were using hyperbole!" Donnie snapped. "When was the last time this Mikey was weighed? He should have more tone in his muscles than this!"

"Well, years of near-starvation will result in major weight loss."

"Mikey -- my Mikey -- said he told him a bit about his life... but I never imagined..."

He never imagined this kind of troubled life for him. He knew the kid had a hypoglycemic condition, too. He couldn't imagine how difficult that had to have been for him. No wonder he was so skinny, his clothes baggy and nearly falling off of him, the bandages... Donnie's attention was brought back to the little boy's arms.

"...How did he get these...?" he asked softly, pulling the bandages off and showing the other Donnie the scars and marks on his arms.

Donatello Von Draxum went pale. He almost looked sick to his stomach, as he slowly re-wrapped the bandages for Mikey.

"...Those were my fault."

"Your fault?" Donnie was astonished. His voice came out as barely a whisper.

"Partly. Some of them were from me, some were from my father-- ahem. From Draxum."

"Draxum did this?" Donnie's blood began to boil. "But... why? And why did you--"

"The story is that I had left the Baron to try and start a new family with Mikey, Leonardo, and Raphael. I'd been... planning to trick our brothers into returning to Draxum so that they could join his army of mutants against the humans, but eventually I realized I couldn't go through with it. So I left without saying a word. Draxum got wind that his other experiments survived, and started searching for them. He found Mikey first, kidnapped him, and left a calling card for me so that I would know where he was. I confronted him, only to end up in a trap. He... he wanted me to return home and help him experiment on Michael."

"Did you?" Donnie asked, drawing the small child closer to him, holding him tightly to his chest.

"I had to. He threatened to torture Mikey, to intentionally sabotage his experiments on him and hurt him if I didn't assist. I had no choice. To ensure Michael's safety... I had to do whatever Draxum ordered me to. Day after day, it was nothing but surgery after surgery after blood test after--"

"I thought you said experiments," Donnie growled. Mikey whimpered in his hold; Donnie readjusted him slightly so he could rub his head to soothe him.

"That's what he told me, initially..." DvD continued. "But on the first day... he revealed his experiments were more medically-based than he'd lead me to believe. But I couldn't say no. He was going to inspect his spine, I had to stay and make sure he didn't--!"

Donatello Von Draxum covered his mouth as he gagged at the memory. His hands trembled.

"...It... It was inhumane. Unethical. Horrible. Even Huginn and Muninn - whom I don't typically get along with well but tolerated more than Draxum - agreed that his tests were unreasonable and not meant so much to inspect Michael's state but more so to punish me for having left Draxum and kept my brothers a secret from him. And Draxum kept it up for seven whole days. Most experiments and examinations were him cutting into Mikey with a scalpel and studying his skeletal structure and veins and nervous system first-hand. The rest were to see how his body reacted to certain potions and formulas and magic spells, to test his mystic endurance. He wanted to see if he could be a strong warrior... and if not, he wanted to see if he had any mystic talent."

"All that... just to know whether or not Mikey had mystic abilities?"

"I don't have any magic ability myself," DvD explained. "I know all the spells and potion recipes, I understand how to do it, and I know how it all works but... I'm disconnected from it. Draxum was always disappointed with me over that. He hoped that Mikey would show some promise."

"What happened?"

"He took it too far. On the sixth day, Draxum told me that Michelangelo possessed the greatest capacity for mystic power and ability to date."

"He what?!" Donnie yelled, forgetting the sleeping figure in his hands. "I mean, I know my Mikey became the greatest mystic warrior in the future, but... to have surpassed everything?"

"It came as a shock to me, as well. And Draxum said... He said he was going to take Mikey's powers away from him and then set him free. But it was all a lie. He was going to kill him... I fought with Draxum. I won. I took Mikey home."

Donatello could tell he was intentionally leaving out some big parts of the story. But based off of everything, he figure it was best to leave it unsaid.

"So that's why... Mikey leapt at the chance to help me," Donnie whispered. "Why he was so upset when he saw me hurting... it reminded him of you?"

"Yes. And it is also why he wears those bandages, though the wounds have long since healed."

"Why is that?"

"Because he knows that I feel responsible for that hurt. I did that to him. I helped to cut him open and chisel into his shell. I hurt him. But I'll never let anything hurt him ever again."

Donnie nodded, understanding that protective drive. He felt the same way about his brothers.

"In that case... maybe you'll want to carry him again?" Dee offered.

Donatello Von Draxum didn't even try to politely decline. He immediately reached over and took the boy away, who at this point was slowly coming out of his sleepy stupor. DvD held Mikey on his hip, letting him rest his head against his shoulder. Mikey groggily wrapped his arms around his brother's neck in a hug, yawning once more before going back to sleep. The son of Draxum felt the deep inhale and exhale from his little brother against his chest, proof that he was alive and well and trusted him above all else. DvD smiled, the first time Donnie had seen him smile -- really smile, not just an evil grin at the mention of humanity's destruction -- since he'd first met him.

"Do you think... my Mikey is okay?" Dee asked after the silence began to return.

"I am sure he is. He has you to look out for him. You'll rescue him, and all will be well again."

Donnie smiled.

"I hope so..."

"Hey, you lazy-bones!" April shouted. She'd gained a lot more ground than them during this bonding episode. "Hurry it up! I think I found one of the guys!"

…I have failed you, master. My injuries… they impede me.

They are inconsequential, my dear disciple. Rest easy, for you are still needed. You've done well thus far. But there is still much to be done if I am to take over this realm. So many tragedies to intercede, so many traumas to feed off of, so many toys to play with and BREAK.

But what of the others? Without my work—

I shall finish my collection soon enough. You did your part, and now we have a new player. Our new deliverer of destruction. They shall lead the others to their doom.

A new...? Do you mean you have infected one of the children? They serve our cause now?

Indeed, thanks to you.

How intriguing... but who...?

Rest for now, and regain your strength. Your services are yet to be utilized.

Very well... whom shall we be expecting to join us next, my master?

...I want the big one.

[cetaitlaverite]

Anything to Anywhere

Masters of the Air - John Egan x OC

masterlist is here <3

27. Reminds Me Of

No one mentioned Stella’s outburst. She was sure no one knew what to say.

Stella was mortified by it when she woke the following morning. She had been fragile all day yesterday but today, blinking into the sunlight streaming in through the window, humiliation was hot in her cheeks.

All that work to build up a front, to make sure no one knew. They all knew now, all of them, not just John and Buck. They didn’t know but they knew enough, more than they were ever supposed to know. All of that posturing for nothing.

Lucky’s bunny went everywhere with Stella that day. Which, realistically, was not very many places. Stella went to roll call with the bunny tucked into her jacket. She went to the bathroom and he sat next to the sink while she washed and refused to look in the mirror, horrified by the prospect.

Lucky’s bunny was sitting in Stella’s lap as she sat on the floor by the window, the two of them gazing up into the darkening sky, when John carefully came up behind her.

“Do you think you might let me start to clean you up, Stels?”

Stella knew what he meant. She was sure he knew she knew, too, because her entire body went stiff. Regardless, without turning back, with her eyes set on the sky, spotting birds, she replied, “I already washed today.”

“Your wounds, Stels,” John elaborated gently. “Will you let me clean and wrap your wounds?”

“What wounds?” Stella wondered airily.

“Stels.”

“I never told you I have any wounds.”

“You were tortured -”

“Says who?”

John let out a long, low sigh. “Stels, please,” he pleaded. His voice was resigned and weak.

Still, Stella refused to turn around. She couldn’t. He would see the tears stinging in her eyes if she did. So instead she took a moment to compose herself before asserting, “I’ll do it myself.”

It was not a quick or an easy argument but, in the end, John had no choice but to say yes. It was the only way she was going to end up with any bandages on her at all.

So, a short while later, he found himself sitting outside the bathroom waiting for Stella for the second time that day, holding her best friend’s toy rabbit in his lap, leaning his back against the door to make double sure no one managed to get past him while Stella was in there. There was no lock on the door, after all.

Buck stood leaning against the wall beside him, his arms crossed, his eyes on the ceiling. The two of them didn’t speak, simply remained quiet, listening for movement beyond the door.

There was no sound for a long while. John started wondering whether he was going to have to go in and do it for her after all. But then came the gasping, the sobbing, the agony. Her pain was as clear as day in her voice.

John was on his feet in an instant. “Stels!” he was calling, pounding on the door. “Stella! Let me in!” His hand was on the door handle, ready to push in the instant she gave him permission.

“Go away!” she shouted in one of her brief moments of respite, her voice ragged, her breaths loud and heaving. “I’m fine!”

“Stella!” Buck called next. “Let me in, I can help!”

“Go away!” she insisted, then let out a raw cry of pain immediately after.

“Let me help you, Stels,” John pleaded, leaning his entire body weight against the door, pounding on it weakly once more. “Please.” He shut his eyes, leaning his forehead against the door and listening with gritted teeth as she started wheezing in agony. “Stels, please.”

She didn’t reply, just kept on working.

John and Buck stared at each other, a silent conversation passing between them.

When Stella next cried out, Buck pushed John aside. “Stay out here,” he ordered without looking at him. “Don’t come in unless I tell you to.”

“Buck -” John began to protest.

Buck’s eyes were steely when he levelled them at him. “I mean it, John. You’ll break her trust if you go in there after she told you not to.” He shook his head. “She needs at least one person here she can trust and it has to be you.”

When Buck disappeared into the bathroom, John collapsed against the door. He was covered in sweat just from the anguish of listening to Stella, couldn’t imagine what she herself looked like trying to clean herself up.

“Get out!” Stella cried when she heard the door close behind Buck.

Buck stood stock still in the doorway, his eyes on all the blood on the floor, on the red-soaked rags in her hands, on her shaking form, curled in on herself in the centre of the floor like a caged animal.

He sobered up quickly, wiping all the emotion off his face. She needed someone steady and calm. He needed to make sure he could be that for her, because John certainly couldn’t.

“It’s not safe for you to be in here by yourself, Fin,” he said evenly when he felt he’d recovered his voice.

“I’m fine,” she growled, hugging her arms tightly around herself. “I told you to stay outside.”

Buck knew she was just posturing, really. Now that he could see her he could see that there was fear in her eyes, horror but not anger. She had tucked her feet away from his line of sight when he’d come in and she made sure to keep them obscured from his view now as he carefully took steps closer to her. 

There was embarrassment in the hunch of her shoulders, not wariness or resentment. She didn’t protest as he came to sit before her on the ground.

Buck tried to smile kindly at her, like she was a small child who was worried about getting into trouble. “I won’t tell John,” he whispered, because he knew now what she was worried about. “Let me help you, Stella. I promise I won’t tell John a thing.”

Stella looked back at him with that wide-eyed stare he knew John had fallen in love with when he’d met her. He always waxed lyrical about her eyes. Buck had never really seen anything special in them before but, then again, she’d never looked at him the way she looked at John.

There was beauty in there, he supposed, if you looked past all the sadness.

“Pinky swear?” Stella whispered, presenting a hand to him, all of her fingers curled in but her pinky raised in offering.

Buck breathed a laugh, leaning forward and wrapping his own pinkie around hers. “Pinky swear,” he agreed.

When their fingers uncurled, when Buck sat back on his heels, when he waited patiently for Stella to reveal the wounds she’d been working on, she paused for a moment, wary. Buck could tell she was trying to work up the courage she needed to show him. And it couldn’t have been easy, he knew, to sit here covered in torture wounds and offer herself up again to someone when all others had ever done was hurt her.

But all there was to do for her was be a friend. He could do that. He could be calm and steady, someone she could lean on, someone she could trust to do this for her. Someone who wouldn’t judge. He’d failed at hiding his shock when he’d first walked in but he wouldn’t fail now. He steeled himself, tried to imagine a worst-case scenario so he wouldn’t be shocked by whatever he saw.

Oh, she’d made a mess of herself in trying to clean her feet up in the midst of her agony. All the toenails on both of her feet had been ripped out, their bloody beds rubbed raw and weeping, bright red and protesting her rough touch.

His hands were slow and careful as they reached for one of her feet. He kept his eyes on hers, trying to watch for panic, but though she flinched when he took one of her ankles into his hands, she settled when he didn’t move to touch her toes just yet, just sat there and let her get used to his touch. And after a while of stillness she slid the bottle of alcohol she’d been trying to clean everything with across the wooden floor to him, then handed over a dirty, bloody rag.

Buck tried to be gentle as he asked, “Got any clean ones?”

Stella shook her head.

“Alright.” Nodding, Buck sat back. “I’m gonna ask John -”

“I don’t want him to come in here,” Stella asserted immediately.

Buck nodded again. “I know. He’s not gonna come in here. He’s gonna go and get some clean rags and he’s gonna leave them at the door, then I’m gonna go and get them. Is that alright?”

Stella took her time considering this but, eventually, she relented. And when Buck went to the door to retrieve the clean rags John had brought, she listened as John asked questions, her shoulders slumping with relief when she heard Buck giving him no answers.

The pain wasn’t quite so blinding now that Buck was cleaning her up. She laid back on the floor, pressing her fists into her eyes, and let him do what he liked. She was sweating and swearing and crying still, but he was gentle and thorough and quick, nothing like her brutal hands which had tried to get it over and done with without having to look.

When her feet had all been soaked and dried and wrapped up in bandages, Buck helped her tuck them back into her boots. No socks for now - they were dirty and damp and covered in blood, not removed ever since she’d been here - but the boots had always been too big for her. They would do on their own for now.

Buck was equally as thorough and equally as gentle with the gashes on her lower back and on the tops of her thighs, touching nowhere he didn’t absolutely have to, keeping his gaze trained solely on his hands as they worked. When he got to the burns on her arms and shoulders, she was relieved. They were almost done.

When Stella was dressed and all of her wounds were clean, stinging but wrapped up in bandages which would expedite the healing, she came up behind Buck and wordlessly wrapped her arms around him. She didn’t want to come around to the front and have to look at him, have to have him look at her, pathetic, weak creature as he now knew she was. She wanted to pretend she was still the old version of herself as she wrapped her feeble arms around him and pressed her cheek to the centre of his back.

“Thank you,” she breathed as his hands came up to cover hers.

Buck nodded. “Not a problem.”

“Don’t tell him,” she added after a beat.

Buck sighed quietly. “He won’t think any different of you, Fin.”

“I don’t want him to see me like this.”

“He won’t think any different of you,” Buck reasserted. “He won’t look at you any different, either.”

Stella didn’t reply. She couldn’t let herself believe him, couldn’t take the risk.

It was always Buck who cleaned her wounds for her after that. Everyday, right before dinner, John would stand outside the bathroom while Stella and Buck went in, and he’d wait there like a guard dog, tearing himself up inside over her sounds of anguish. He asked Buck countless times how bad it was, why she wouldn’t let him do it, how worried he should be, but Buck never said a word.

Eventually, John dropped it.

But, as it happened, Stella’s outburst in the face of the doctor had softened her in the eyes of the other men, had made them warm up to her. No longer was she an enigma, a woman they’d known only in passing as a firecracker liable to explode at any second, a pilot who flew spies into occupied territory and had somehow found herself here.

No, now she was just a girl. A girl who had been very badly treated, who was scared and lonely and cold and hungry, just like they were. A girl who, more than anything, needed friends.

John Brady extended the olive branch first. He’d noticed that she hummed sometimes when she sat staring out of the window and asked her tentatively whether she was interested in music.

She’d told him that she was, that when she was a child she’d wanted to play an instrument but her family hadn’t had the money, so he offered to teach her. And now everyday right after dinner, as something to look forward to after her wound cleaning, she sat down at the table in the barracks with Brady and he taught her scales on the piano, using keys he’d drawn onto the edge of the table because she didn’t like to venture too far outside of the barracks. Eventually, though, he said, he would convince her to come and play the real camp piano with him.

If she ever got good enough, Stella said she might.

Benny DeMarco tried to follow this lead and told Stella stories about his dog back at Thorpe Abbotts, Meatball, after he’d caught her looking at the pictures taped to the wall beside his bed one day. He read her some of the letters Freddie, who was looking after Meatball for him, sent, and tried to teach her to imitate his accent after she’d told him once that she liked it.

Crank Cruikshank was a softer soul than she’d expected, and he asked her to teach him how to identify birds. So now she spent her mornings sitting by the window with him, trying to help him pick out the features of the birds which flew overhead so he could work out what species they were.

And, after a while, Stella started to settle. She took her boots off, sometimes, when Buck had allowed her to wear socks, and she laughed at all of John’s jokes, whether they were funny or not, and she insisted he teach her card games. And when they lay in bed at night she started whispering to him and he started whispering back, and it was her favourite part of the day, her reward for getting through another one.

“You know what this reminds me of?” she asked him one night, her voice barely more than breath as she tried not to wake anyone else.

“Hm?” John asked, his breath warm on the top of her head as he buried his lips in her hair, his hands secure and comforting on the small of her back.

“Living here,” Stella elaborated. “With everyone. You know what it reminds me of?”

“What’s that?” John asked.

“Home,” she replied. “Home home, where I grew up. Living in a bedroom with my brothers.” He could hear her smiling. “Living with all of you is how I always wished it would have been to live with my brothers.”

John smiled. She could feel it with his mouth pressed to her scalp. “Tell me about your brothers,” he requested softly.

Stella breathed a laugh. “You know about my brothers,” she pointed out. She’d told him about them often because he asked often. In turn, she knew all about his sisters too. In fact, she knew all about everyone’s siblings - and their significant others. She knew more about Millie Harlow now through what Brady had told her than she had ever known about her while they were living next door to each other at Thorpe Abbotts.

John was grinning. “Alright,” he relented, “then tell me about your friends from the Moon Squadron. I know Lucky, but tell me about the others.”

“What do you know about Lucky?” Stella challenged.

John laughed softly into the darkness. “She’s your best friend. A pilot. She flies for 138 and you hope she didn’t get promoted to 161 after you went down. She’s Polish and she owns the bunny we always sleep with - not a sentence I ever thought I’d say -”

Here, Stella laughed.

“She likes coffee cake and insists it’s your favourite, too, but you don’t know what your favourite type of cake is. She stayed up late on your birthday to try to be the first to wish you a happy birthday, even though she got beat to the mark by some spy.” 

Stella laughed at the bitterness in his voice as he spoke of it.

“And she stayed up late so you had someone to talk to after your first flight. And I’m pretty sure her real first name is Sasha. She gets called Lucky ‘cause that’s what her last name means.”

“Very good,” Stella praised once he was finished. Her heart was pounding and she was sure he could feel it. He really did listen to her when she talked.

John laughed silently into the top of her head. “Told you I pay attention,” he teased.

“I’d forgive you if you didn’t,” Stella whispered into his chest. “I talk a lot.”

“You talk a perfect amount,” John objected. “In fact, I wish you’d talk a little more. Could listen to you talk all day.” Before Stella could reply, he added, “Tell me about your friends from the Moon Squadron.”

So she did. Stella told him about Donny and Houds and Daisy and Goose, told him about Christmas and how they’d celebrated, told him how they all knew all about him. She told him about how much she missed them, about how much she worried about all of them now that she knew what was waiting for them on the ground if they ever went down and got caught.

She trailed off when she started veering into torture territory. No one ever spoke of it anymore. When she and Buck and John would go to the bathroom right before dinner, everyone knew why but no one said a thing, and when they returned they all sat down to eat and didn’t talk about it. It was a standard part of life by now. Part of the routine.

But not tonight, not when she and John were pressed together in this tiny bed they shared, too small for a man of John’s size, really, let alone her as well, whispering to each other in the quiet, protected by the anonymity of the dark.

No, tonight John just couldn’t let it go.

“I don’t think any differently of you, you know,” he spoke quietly, angling his lips down as close to her ear as he could get. “I know you were tortured. I know you didn’t talk. Hell, even if you did talk, I wouldn’t blame you. And if you ever wanna tell me, I still won’t think any differently of you, Stels.”

“You’ll look at me differently,” Stella disagreed. It was easy to confess it when they couldn’t see each other. She never would have been able to be this honest in the light of day.

“I won’t,” John disagreed. “You think I don’t have scars, too?”

“You wear them better than I do.”

“No one wears anything better than you do.”

Stella shut her eyes tight. She didn’t want to talk about this anymore. “If you really want to know,” she said finally, quieter than she had before, “ask Buck.”

[jacksdinonuggets]

Sooo, I had like 10 W.I.Ps in my google docs and was bored so I finished this one

Vaggie SH Angst fic

Tw: Sh

Caregiver: Carmilla!

It was extermination day again. Her first one since her fall and the Carmine family adopted her.

Vaggie found herself alone in her room. Lights off, watching the bloody massacre begin to end outside from her window. It was sickening. She couldn’t believe she used to do this. That she trained for this. It disgusted her. She was ashamed for even partaking in it. Ashamed she never realized what an awful person she was. The guilt weighed heavily on her heart. It pulled and tugged on it, trying to make her cry with big emotions.

Her sisters and mom were out there, risking their lives to get the materials for their weapons. They didn’t want Vaggie go out with them. They knew how mentally unstable she could get. They didn’t want to risk any unhealthy mindsets or triggers while she was out there. Too bad she already was while inside the safety of her own bedroom.

Sighing, she let the ashamed depressive thoughts enter her brain. She didn’t even let herself disassociate. Horrible people deserve horrible things. That’s what heaven always said whenever she would question the exterminations. The voices entered and started up their nonsense.

‘You’re a horrible person’

‘They left you for a reason’

‘You should’ve died’

‘You don’t deserve Carmilla’s love’

The voices kept bellowing loudly. It was torture to her. But she knew deserved it. She deserved every single terrible thought and feeling she had. However, the voices were starting to get too painful. She needed her punishment to be physical. She needed to feel some kind of physical agony. She let herself be mentally tortured for too long. It was a dreadful feeling. 

Eyeing her spear leaning up against the wall of her bedroom, she knew what she needed to do. 

Grabbing her spear, she sat on the floor beside her bed (To not get get blood on her sheets) and rolled up her left arm sleeve and lined up the spear head blade with her wrist. Making sure it would be the most painful area, she pressed the blade deep into her skin, slicing in a smooth motion. Since it was an angelic spear, it slid in like she was cutting through softened butter. She let out a surprised yelp as the pain wracked through her arm but kept digging and slicing it. Lots of golden blood oozed out of her self-inflicted wound and dripped onto the floor. She’ll just lie and say she got her period (Normally, afab Winners wouldn’t get periods but since she fell, her body went back into torture mode every month). She made another deep, long, injury. She hadn’t even noticed she started crying before salty tears landed into her wounds, causing them to sting. She made more and more and sobbed harder till she was a hiccuping, snotty mess that would heave every now and then. Nothing expelled as she was too worried to eat that day.

The front door had opened. She let out a small gasp. How long had she been crying for? She checked the clock. It had been an hour. She had been a pathetic, weak mess for an hour. And she still was.

She tried to stop her sobs but couldn’t. She choked before a loud wail was released. She couldn’t control it. The emotions were just too big and she desperately craved comfort even though part of her wanted to keep suffering.

Immediately, footsteps started rushing up the stairs. She couldn’t help but cry more, knowing how disappointed her family will be with her when they see her. Her door swung open. She looked down in shame of being caught.

“Mija!”

“Vaggie!”

The Carmine familia ran towards the angel. The motion made Vaggie feel very unsafe and overwhelmed. She couldn’t handle that many people running at her. Wailing louder, she tried to move away from them and curled up. Luckily, her sisters got the hint and stepped back.

“Clara, Odette, get the first aid kit and Vaggie’s baby bottle. Fill it up with ice water please,” Carmilla told them. She could tell where Vaggie’s headspace would be heading. And even if she wasn’t slipping, helping her feel little would definitely make her feel a bit better. The Carmine girls nodded before walking out to grab the items.

“Shh, Mija, i’m right here, I’m not going to hurt you,” She slowly approached the scared girl. She summoned a rattle and shook it, trying to get Vaggie to regress. She looked up at the rattle and focused on the soothing sound it made. While she was distracted, Carmilla quickly grabbed the spear with her other hand and flung it across the room. There would definitely be some rules with her spear after this.

Clara and Odette returned very quickly. Clara had the bottle in her hands and Odette, the first aid kit. 

Carmilla sat on the bed with her and pulled her into her lap. She rocked back and forth, cradling and bottle feeding the crying girl while Odette wiped down her injuries with a baby wipe.

“AaAH!” Vaggie cried when she sprayed some alcohol onto her boo-boos. She choked on some of her water while she screamed.

“Shh, it’s okay, sweetie, it’ll only sting for a bit,” Carmilla rubbed her back as she coughed.

“You’re doing great, Baby sis,” assured Clara. 

Finally, Odette managed to get the gauze on the self-inflicted wound and wrapped it up with a bandage. It wasn’t perfect but it would help it heal. The two sisters left the room to let Carmilla help calm their distressed sister.

Once vaggie had managed to stop bawling, she snuggled up against Carmilla.

“Sweetheart, you need to tell me when you feel like harming yourself,” 

“Otay, M sowwy, Mama,” Vaggie mumbled.

“Don’t be sorry, Cariño, I just want to make sure you’re safe,” She hugged her child. She didn’t want to lose her to something like this. She wouldn’t be able to handle it.

They snuggled up together and Vaggie practically melted into her Mami’s arms. She really regretted harming herself now.

Carmilla cooed at her small daughter, playing with her hair and giving her lots of kisses on her head. 

Usually, she would rock Vaggie to sleep but the fallen angel didn’t want to sleep, as she was afraid her night terrors would be back. They would read a few stories before cuddling some more.

While cuddling, Carmilla had an idea. What if they made a deal? If Vaggie were to get hurt from herself or others, Carmilla would immediately be alerted, that way she would know instead of Vaggie trying to hide it.

But now wasn’t the time to bring it up. She didn’t want Vaggie to become more stressed, especially now that she was small. She would bring it up later, but for now, they would just cuddle and relax.