#WHO'S THERE

[pineapplefulfillseveryneed]

Sparks - (When I Kiss You) I Hear Charlie Parker Playing

[amiedelabc]

Combeferre you will always be famous ❤️ 🖤

[evillittlebirdie]

Salvation (Kar'niss/Tav)

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine

Kar'niss still prayed to Lolth every day. He clamped his disfigured hands together and beseeched. 

"Not to die, not to change. But please, please, I appeal to you, give me purpose."

Kar'niss was met with silence. 

His family was gone. No doubt, all remembrance of the first son was stripped from the House. His sisters had no brother now. No kith, no kin, to call his own. Alone, miserably alone.

Kar'niss still prayed. But he found other reasons to speak. After hunting his raw meat and blood, Kar'niss talked to himself to fill the void. First, it was a recollection of his life. Then he recited all learned knowledge.

Imagine his relief when he spotted a humanoid. A lone scout. He hailed Lolth for the opportunity. Either the scout would kill him, or Kar'niss could have his conversation.

The scout wasn't of aristocratic blood but was female and deserved respect. Kar'niss allowed her the first blow before he subsequently subdued her. She was resistant to his requests for information. Firstly, Kar'niss wanted to know the date to calculate how long he had been exiled. And secondly, Kar'niss wished to learn of the status of his House.

The scout was "secure and protected" in a web in his cavern. She screamed insults at him. Aberration. Freak. Mistake. 

As much as Kar'niss was tempted to silence the source of torment, Kar'niss allowed her to yell. He didn't know when he would hear another's voice again.

Kar'niss arrived at the cave after hunting one day. He was disappointed when the scout escaped from the web. But she left her backpack. Inside was a letter with a date. Kar'niss moaned after he read it. He had been crawling in the darkness for a year.

No doubt, the scout would arrive with reinforcements to kill the drider. Kar'niss debated whether to wait for his assassination or to leave. 

"There's a reason why you're alive."

Kar'niss spun his head around, searching for the voice. It sounded like the scout, but he couldn't detect her scent. "Who's there?"

"Failure. Unfortunate beast. Live so you may suffer."

The scout was long gone. The voice Kar'niss heard was in his head, echoing the scout's sentiments.

Kar'niss sobbed as the voice berated him. 

It would be the first of many. 

***

Kar'niss hid in his cavity and watched from his nest as Tav entered the cave. She called his name, and he dared not emerge. He crouched as low as he could, concealing himself. He was ashamed of his actions. He would reveal himself to Tav once he proved his worthiness. Or, at the very least, he could establish that he was worth hiding in her shadow. 

"Kar'niss," Tav called out again, stepping further into the cavern. He peaked above the rock and saw how carefully she paced between his webs. He observed her as she searched the cavern. She couldn't see the nook from where she was. A few minutes passed, and Tav finally turned to leave the cavern. He watched as she departed and sighed in relief. 

"Your Majesty, please counsel me." 

***

Kar'niss found Tav and her companions' camp not far from his cavern. His heart beat wildly in his chest. He was used to walking through the shadows with Her Majesty's lantern. But the dancing lights supplied by his necklace made him feel safe. His steps were light and quiet so as not to attract any attention. He hid behind a large tree and watched as the group retired for the night.

Tav looked ethereal in the glow of the nearby torches. She almost floated between her companions. She completed mundane tasks such as dispensing provisions and care. 

"Your Majesty, why does your Chosen flit about like a housekeeper?" Kar'niss whispered. He didn't know why Her voice was distant to him now. He did not want to presume his goddess' motives, but he could only think that Her Chosen would speak for her. But out of habit, Kar'niss still talked to her. "Those following your Chosen have her fetching items, kindling the fire, filling water canteens, and sharpening knives. Menial work for servants and slaves." He tilted his head in curiosity as Tav completed these tasks with a smile and laughter in her eyes. 

It wasn't right. 

Kar'niss would corral the followers into proper worship if he were in the camp. The drider envisioned himself by Tav's side, always a step behind so he could respect her and keep a watchful eye over her. She deserved a place of honor as a leader. She should sit upon a throne while they flitted around  her . 

The pale elf reminded Kar'niss of the well-educated and charming sycophants in Menzoberranzan. Their type strutted like peacocks eager to win a wealthy wife or at least the stipend of a matriarch. Kar'niss always looked down on the men who honored themselves before their House and Lolth. 'Astarion,' as he was named, preened about vainly, and for some reason, Tav indulged him. He must worship in ways Kar'niss cannot plainly see. 

"I honor you, Your Majesty, for attracting all to your side..." Kar'niss remarked as he took in the physical differences of Tav's companions. She promised him unity and equality. Her Chosen indeed acted as her avatar. She kept githyanki, tiefling, human, and elf by her side. 

The night quickly settled as calls of 'goodnight' and 'sleep well' filled the air. Kar'niss watched as Tav lay down on a bedroll next to the fire. Kar'niss could not stop himself from envisioning himself walking to the bedroll. He would dig his claws into the ground, standing guard as her nocturnal guardian. 

Perhaps Kar'niss was undeserving of being in such close proximity to her, but he could watch from the darkness. 

For a moment, Kar'niss could pretend. "No harm...no harm," He soothed himself. 

Kar'niss would be a vigilant warden standing by Tav as she slept. She would turn, slightly uneasy. She is struggling to rest. She has the world on her shoulders. Her Majesty asks so much of her. Kar'niss would offer his service. She would allow it as Kar'niss was the only one fit to please her. He would lower himself before her. Her eyes would close, and she would sigh, lifting her hips. His hand would reach her trousers, his tongue running along his lips...

"No, no," Kar'niss scolded himself, his clawed hands moving to his hair. He wrapped his fingers in his hair and pulled. He struck himself in the side of his head as punishment. He repeated the motion twice. "Sinful, vile," He hissed, screwing his eyes shut. 

Self-hatred morphed his vision. Justifiably, Tav kicked Kar'niss in the face. He skittered rearward like the insect he was. "Repulsive," She snarled at him, waving him away. Dismissed, Kar'niss retreated into himself, backing into the shadows. It was his rightful place to stay and watch. 

Astarion, with his cocky smile and piercing eyes, took the place Kar'niss would  kill  for. Astarion, who was whole and functional, would please Tav in ways Kar'niss could never replicate. Her Majesty's light shined upon them. Tav glowed as brightly as the lantern. Warmth and peace radiated from her. 

Kar'niss didn't realize he was clawing his scalp until blood trickled down his ear. He pulled his hand away and saw the streaks on his skin. 

"Fit punishment..." Kar'niss mumbled lightly. He stole one more glance at Tav. She was resting quietly on her bedroll. Despite himself, Kar'niss smiled. 

[set-phasers-to-whump]

darkness & light

prompt: shadows, "who's there?"

whumpee: william murdoch

fandom: murdoch mysteries

here's a new fandom from yours truly for once :) i'm on s8 and have been for lord knows how long but i truly adore this show, just haven't posted any fic for it before. hopefully my characterization isn't too bad, but this is my first proper fic for these guys so keep that in mind lol. hope you like!

He hears, quite faintly, a clattering sound from deep inside the warehouse. Curiosity piqued, he steps further into the building, shining his light into the shadows. 

Vague shapes appear before him in the dim light. Boxes, half-unpacked. Stacks of wooden planks. Shelves piled high with various wares. 

The noise does not repeat itself. All is still and silent, but William knows what he’d heard. 

Someone is here. And this building is supposed to be empty. 

He travels further and further into the dark confines of the warehouse, his light no match for the thick, dense shadows that reduce all but the closest objects to nothing more than dim smudges. 

He walks around a shelf of dusty cloth and becomes suddenly aware of a presence behind him. 

“Who’s there?” he asks, as he whirls around to face the unwelcome presence. 

He sees the outline of a man, hand raised, and before he can so much as take a breath, the man’s arm comes down and a sharp pain explodes through his skull. Everything goes brilliantly white, and then black. 

--

His head is pounding and his entire left side is sore. These are the first things he is aware of, when he wakes. 

He opens his eyes. Everything is dark, but he can see that there is someone looming over him. 

He immediately attempts to get up, aware that the body above him is likely the man who’d attacked him, but the second he lifts his head there’s a terrible noise in his ears and he feels sick. He stops trying to move quite quickly. 

He needn’t have worried, in any case. The figure above him crouches down, and says, concerned, “Are you alright, sir?”

George. 

“I’m okay, George. A little dizzy, that’s all.”

“What happened?”

“There was a man. He struck me over the head, I don’t recall with what. Something metallic and hard. You haven’t seen him?”

“No.” George sounds surprised. “Henry noticed you had gone missing, and one of the lads by the dock said he thought he’d seen you come in here. He didn’t mention anyone else.”

This gives William the determination he needs to push himself into a sitting position, despite the awful reaction it triggers in his head. “We need to examine the building. He may still be inside.”

“With all due respect, sir, I’m not sure that he is. I…was rather zealous in my efforts to find you. Shouting, and such. I imagine I would have scared him off.”

“Right. Well.” William tries to get his thoughts in order. His mind feels as though it is trapped under water. He cannot think properly, which is incredibly disconcerting. He tries not to let George know, not wanting to worry the constable. 

“Yes?”

Ah. He’d been saying something. 

“Have you concluded your interviews?” This is not the question he’d wanted to ask, but it’ll do. 

“Yes, sir. No one’s seen anything unusual, apart from a lady who thought she’d seen a ghost two nights ago.”

William nods, which proves to be a bad idea. His head spins, the pain increasing until he feels as though something within him is going to explode. 

It takes a moment for him to regain the ability to speak. When the pain dies down enough, he says, “Very well. Back to the station house.”

George takes a breath, like he is going to say something, but remains silent. “Yes, sir,” he says eventually. William hears rather than sees him stand up, and follows suit. 

This also causes him pain, the dizziness overwhelming him so much that for a moment he thinks he will collapse again. But he fights the feeling off, shuts his eyes until the worst of it passes. 

George says nothing, which is very charitable of him. William silently follows him out of the building, concentrating very hard on remaining upright and alert. 

Outside, the sunlight is nearly unbearable. It makes his eyes burn and black spots appear in his vision. 

“Are you alright?” George asks. William is pretty sure he has already asked this question, though he must confess a different answer may be in order. 

“I’m…not sure,” is the response he decides to give, sinking down to sit on a curb when a particularly strong wave of dizziness threatens to make his legs fold beneath him. 

George immediately sits as well. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my head,” William explains, wishing for a way to communicate wordlessly. “I was hit rather hard.”

George nods thoughtfully. “Do you suppose you might have a concussion? I had one of those when I was a boy, my Aunt Primrose -”

“George,” William interrupts, pressing a hand to his forehead in a futile effort to lessen the ache. “Perhaps another time?”

“Right, of course, well, in any case, I should think a visit with Dr. Grace may be in order, if you don’t mind me saying, sir.”

That sounds perfectly agreeable. He gives his assent, and George stands, offering his hand. 

William takes it and allows himself to be pulled to his feet. Everything spins, and he clings slightly to George’s arm until the worst of it passes. 

George flags down a cab - on whose dime, William neither knows nor cares - and they climb into the back. 

The ride is terribly bumpy and nausea-inducing. William spends all of his time staring at the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees George staring resolutely at the passing scenery. 

The journey seems to last forever, but at long last they arrive in front of the city morgue. George gets out first, and hesitantly stands by the door, moving his hand forward and back like he is not quite sure what to do with it. 

“Give me your hand, George,” William instructs, both to solve this problem and because standing up to leave the cab has once again made his head spin. 

George does, and William finds himself in the bright sun again, dizzy and by now quite tired. He’ll be very glad indeed to receive Dr. Grace’s evaluation, and, with all luck, a remedy. 

“I’d best leave you here,” George remarks, on the threshold of the building. “I’m afraid we may have left Henry at the docks - I may have left him, I mean - and I think I perhaps ought to go and collect him. He’s probably still trying to track down that woman’s ghost.”

Henry! He cannot believe he’d forgotten that it had not been only him and George down by the docks. The problem is solved, thankfully, but he feels horribly guilty all the same for leaving one of his men behind. 

“I’m sure he won’t mind,” George says. “You don’t suppose Henry would prefer doing busy - I mean, very important paperwork - at the station to wandering about in the fresh air, do you?”

He has a point. The anxiety lessens slightly. The headache does not. 

William opens the door and turns to George before the constable can walk away. 

“Thank you.”

George looks at him for a second, then grins. “Why, you’re welcome, sir!” he replies, genuinely pleased.

“Now go fetch Henry, and perhaps the two of you can find something more interesting than paperwork to occupy yourselves with.”

George nods his assent, still smiling, and hurries off in the direction from which they’d come. 

William turns back towards the morgue and steps inside.

thanks for reading! may give this a part 2 if i'm feeling it ;) hope it was alright!

[firstdegreefangirl]

Knock Knock!

“Knock knock.” Jack toddles over and whacks his tiny fist against Tim’s shin.

“Who’s there?” He sighs and reaches down to intercept his little hand. “Don’t hit, that’s not nice.”

“Knock knock!” He uses his free hand to pound on the couch cushion.

“Who’s there?”

“Knock knock!”

Tim pantomimes opening a door. “Who’s there?”

“Knock knock!” Jack waves his hand in the air. It takes every ounce of self-control for Tim not to roll his eyes at the 2-year-old.

“Oh look, it’s Jack!” He tries a new approach, hoping it’ll break the cycle.

“Knock knock, Unca Tim!”

“Yes, Jack, who’s there?”

Read the rest on ao3 here!

[farouche-landau]

I have just come up with this knock-knock joke based on someone mentioning an "overlapping Shakespeare club", and I am far too proud of it, so I am sharing it with the world via tumblr:

Knock knock! Who's there? Overlapping Shakespeare! Overlapping Shakes-- Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself.

[spacedustmantis]

GHOST NOTIFICATIONS

[riahlynn101]

Day Twenty-Three: "Who's There?"

Trigger warnings: Implied/referenced murder, implied child neglect, and children in distress.

Set in the FNAF movie universe.

--

“Who’s there?” Mike asks. 

It’s the middle of the night. The house is quiet, save for the rattling of the furnace in the basement and the old foundation settling. His family went to bed hours ago, but not before shutting Mike in his room. 

(“A safety precaution,” his mom said. “Just until we can get your sleepwalking under control.”)

Which would be fine, but….

…there’s a reason he leaves his room.

A Spider-Man comic book is flung off his nightstand. It hits the wall with a soft thump. Mike closes his eyes, breathing deeply.

Mike turns on his side. Maybe it’ll be less scary if he closes his eyes. (It never is). 

Something heavy falls on the floor, but he’s too afraid to see what it is. As far as Mike cares, it could be his walkman as long as whatever is doing it, leaves him alone. 

There’s a sudden clattering sound, like heavy rain on a tin roof.

“Stop,” he says, pulling his blanket over his head. “Please.”

The clattering gradually gets louder, until it's the only thing Mike can hear. He cries, putting his hands over his ears. 

His bedroom is flooded with light. Under his blanket, Mike’s eyes are protected from the sudden assault.

“Mike…?” 

His comforter is pulled off his head.

Mike slowly sits up, putting his hands down. “Garrett,” he sniffles, “what are you doing up?”

His little brother sits on his bed. He shrugs. “I heard you crying.”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“Well, I am,” Mike huffs, wiping at his eyes. 

“Was it a bad dream?”

“....Yes….” He draws his knees to his chest, staring at his lap. 

Garrett leans in, unprompted, and wraps his arms around his older brother. Out of reflex, Mike hugs him back. “What- what are you doing?”

“Hugging you?” His brother answers in a no-duh, voice. “Mommy hugs me when I have bad dreams, I thought it might help you.”

Mike swallows heavily, blinking back tears. “Uh…thank you, Gar.”

“No problem. Do you want me to get mommy?”

“No.”

“Daddy?”

“Definite no. I’ll be okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, but thanks.”

“Okay, but if you get scared, you know how to find me.” Garrett hops off the bed. He goes to turn the light off.

“Wait,” he calls out. His brother looks at him. “Can you please leave them on. I’m…” the word scared goes unsaid, but Garrett seems to understand perfectly. 

“Okay. I don’t like the dark either,” he says. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Mike flops back down to sleep. In the light, his room doesn’t feel as scary. His parents might be angry that he’s running up the electricity bill, but he has no other choice.

It didn’t always used to be like this. When he was younger, his father would leave him home alone all the time, and he never got scared once.  But ever since…. 

Mike throws the thought out of his mind. No, he doesn’t need to think about that right now. He needs to go to sleep. There’s school tomorrow, and he has to get up early to walk Garrett to school. 

The heavy rain on a tin roof starts again, louder than before. 

He sits up, feeling more secure with the light on. Whatever it is that’s screwing with him, can’t hurt him while the light’s on. At least that’s what his mom says, and she’s very rarely wrong. 

Mike climbs to the end of his bed. Cautiously, he peeks over the footboard. A bunch of marbles lay scattered across his floor. 

He sighs in relief, sliding out of bed. Mike can be a little absent-minded sometimes, so he probably just left them on the edge of his dresser and they fell off. 

He should clean them up before morning, though. The last thing he wants is his overly-excitable little brother running and falling on hundreds of marbles, or his mom for that matter. She’s constantly complaining about her back, and Mike is ninety-nine percent sure that the way to fix it is not by having her break it. 

Grabbing the baggie they came in, Mike starts scooping them into his hand, and putting them into the bag. The wood floor beneath his feet is cold, and he misses the warmth of the blanket. He yawns, exhaustion finally setting in.

The lights flicker.

On.

Off.

On.

Off. 

“Michael….” 

On. 

He tenses, the marbles slip through his fingers, clattering to the floor. 

Off.

A cold hand touches the back of his neck. 

On.

His breathing becomes shallow. 

Off. 

“I’ve missed you.”

On.

He shudders. All the alarm bells are going off in his head, but Mike can’t bring himself to move.

Off. 

The hand is removed from his neck. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for soooo long, Mikey. Why are you ignoring me? Are you mad at me?”

On. 

Mike moves forward, crawling over the marbles he hasn’t gotten a chance to clean up yet. His heart beats fast. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears. 

Off. 

“Don’t run away, please, I really, really miss you.”

On.

Whoever, or whatever is speaking to him is blocking the way out, so Mike makes the split-second decision to hide under the bed. He army crawls as fast as he can, before the lights turn off again. 

Off. 

He whimpers, nails digging into the floor. Mike squeezes his eyes shut, trying to imagine that he’s safe in bed. 

Next to him, someone sighs heavily. “Are you done?”

Shaking, Mike forces himself to turn his head. There, laying in the same position as him, is the subject of all his nightmares. Charlie Emily, Henry’s daughter, and the girl his father killed. He hasn’t thought about his father in years. Not since Mike was put into the foster system. 

Everytime Mike closes his eyes, he can see his best friend covered in gashes, a large pool of blood beneath her. 

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers, cringing away. “I didn’t know. I-I thought-”

“Shhh….stop being silly. I know you didn’t mean it. He tricked you.”

Mike looks at her, wide-eyed.

Charlie smiles. She looks just like the day she died, before he trusted his father when he said to lock the door. Whole and alive.  “It’ll be okay, Michael. Trust me.” Her expression turns serious. “But I need you to do something for me.”

Wordlessly, Mike nods. 

“Okay, so….” She leans in to whisper in his ear. 

The next morning, Mike’s mom finds him under the bed, fast asleep. There are marbles on the floor, and the comic book he begged his parents for is laying haphazardly against the wall. She lightly shakes him. 

He blinks blearily. “Morning?” 

“Yep, and I see you had a busy night.”

Mike looks at her, confused.

But his mom has seen that look a million times. “Don’t play dumb, Mike. You know you shouldn’t be playing after bedtime.”

“I…didn’t?” 

His mom sighs. “Don’t argue with me, okay? Just don’t do it again.”

Despite having no idea what she’s talking about, Mike mumbles an agreement under his breath. 

“Good.” She kisses his head. “Now, get ready. Garrett is eating breakfast, and I saved a poptart for you. Remember to look both ways before-”

“Crossing the street,” Mike finishes. “I know, I know.”

“Okay, and-”

“Don’t talk to strangers, even if they promise you candy.”

His mom sighs. “Good. You’re all set then. Your dad and I won’t be home until late tonight. Our boss is making us work overtime today.”

“That’s fine.”

“Take care of your brother. Don’t tease him too much.”

Mike makes a face. “No, promises.”

She pinches his cheek, getting to her feet. “Be good,” his mom says in a warning voice. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

His mom pauses in the doorway. “I know we’ve had to work a lot these past few weeks, so as long as you two behave, we can go to the park this weekend.”

Mike smiles. “Really?”

“Yes, but you have to behave.”

“Deal.”

His mom returns his smile. 

The door closes. Mike frowns. He can’t remember his dream from last night. It feels just out of his reach, but he knows it was important - whatever it was. 

Maybe it will come back to him later.

[iriel3000]

Shadows

Whumptober Day 23: Shadows | Stalking | Who's there?

stalking?

Summary: 'five' sentence fic written in five minutes.

"Who's there?" She whipped out her gun and aimed it at the dark corner.

"You kept me waiting." His sultry voice weakened what little resolve she had left.

The Hawk stood and sauntered towards her, moonlight silhouetting his large frame. She flung her weapon aside, grabbed his tack vest and kissed him hard.

"How can I make it up to you?"

[ohsharethekmusic]

Song : Knock Knock (Who's There?)

Artist : Red Velvet

Album : Chill Kill - The 3rd Album

[talesofedo]

Day 23 - Shadows / Who's there?

If you enjoy my art this Whumptober, you might also like to check out my past Whumptober and Comfortember art. 🥰

[magiturge-posting]

Knock knock.

Blo.ws up d.oor

[stormxpadme]

Whumptober 2023 No. 23 - "Who's there?"

Scogan Bingo challenge Bounty Hunters AU

"Who's there?"

Logan winced, less from the cruel sight awaiting him in the darkest corner of the holding cell but from the anxious tone in Scott's voice. It had only been an hour, what had these assholes done?

Physically, his partner was somewhat alright; that, thanks to their soul bond, Logan was able to tell from a lack of serious discomfort or pain in his own body. Of course, there was that annoying stinging in his watering eyes that didn’t make it that much of a shock, spotting how exactly the enemies had made sure that their prisoner wouldn’t wreck their ship and anyone in it to pieces. But what they'd possibly used to mentally get to Scott that rattled him so deeply that he was instinctively trying to creep back into that damn moldy corner, against both better knowledge and the tug of the chains pulling his arms up high behind his back was anyone's guess.

Not only that stupid move drew a warning growl from Logan's lips as an invisible jerk went through his own shoulders. Every time he left that reckless idiot alone on some damn space station. He already opened his mouth to hiss an admonishment at his partner because he couldn’t tell for how long their ship computer from afar would manage to take out the cameras of this damn warbird, and chances were, some of the guards outside could notice the intruder any moment …

But Scott already visibly relaxed in his chains, apparently having recognized the sound of Logan's voice just from that brief noise. "Took you long enough, Claws." Though the relief about the imminent rescue was clear to hear in his choppy breathing that the predicament bondage was causing, he, too, made a better effort now, keeping his volume low and his gaze away from the shadows into which Logan had instinctively crouched, just in case.

"If you didn’t get your dumb ass captured every place we go, I wouldn’t have to come after you," Logan grumbled, torn between irritation and happiness to find his lover not only in one piece but, after a brief hint of fear, apparently stable again. Deciding that they could be discussing Scott's dubious mission record later, Logan got busy with a tiny bottle from his uniform belt of which he could only pray, it would do its job. Before they'd left Earth for this journey, Hank had equipped their ship with pretty much every alien tech and supply that Mutant High had had stored in the course of the decades thanks to Charles' intimate connections with the Shi’ar, but neither of them was a damn medic. Textbooks and artificial intelligence could only get you so far when you were dealing with alien weapons and chemicals millions of light years away from the Milky Way. That universal cleaning and healing potion had saved especially Scott's thin behind more than once in the course of this last half a year but Logan was extremely reluctant to use anything on the highly sensitive and at the same damn deadly weapon that was his lover's eyes. Sadly, they hardly had a choice. "Gonna give you a couple of drops for that glue, Slim. I know your eyelids are on fire but you need to try and keep them closed if you don't want to blast us into space. Holding cells are located right at the bottom rear. I got your VISOR right here, okay?"

"Just hurry." Scott squeezed the inflamed-looking thin skin covering and around his eyes even tighter shut than the enemy's despicable torture already did to him. "They said they'll be back soon. We're short on time."

"Always are." As of yet though, there still was no sound of an alert anywhere in the hostile ship, so Logan dared to leave his spot, kneeling down in front of his partner. Keeping Scott's bent head up and straight with a firm grip to his sweat-matted hair, he took only a split second for a soothing kiss to Scott's forehead both as a reassurance and a warning. Then he squeezed some of that miracle solution right onto where that thick, yellow substance was forcing his lover's eyelids shut. He tensed instinctively when the smallest noise of distress broke from Scott's lips, another stab of that burning that was all but scorching Logan's own eyeballs for another moment of horror … Then the sensation subsided, the foreign substance dripping down Scott's cheeks in thick rivulets like tears that Logan carefully wiped off with a sterile cloth while his partner's shoulders slumped as much as the restraints would allow.

"It's gone. Thanks, Claws. VISOR?"

"On it." Logan slipped the life-saving device onto Scott's face in a cautious, trained movement, the angst slipping off his own shoulders with every second more when the usual confidence and determination filled Scott's body even in that humiliating hunched position once he got his stolen sense of vision back. "You got your ring still? We're about to have company." Much as he would have loved to free Scott from these damn cuffs immediately, if there was one thing they knew about today's enemies, it was that they were not only fast but also heavily armed with endogenous, razor-sharp weapons that Logan didn’t want to see anywhere near his lover just because they had rushed things.

When Scott nodded choppily and curled his fist around said thumb ring – another parting gift from Hank, ever since serving them both well whenever Scott wasn’t able to control his VISOR by the wheels on its sides –, Logan quickly retreated back into the darkness between his lover and a menacing looking chair with even more cuffs, straps and tools attached that he did not want to know what it was even for.

Just in time before the cell door was ripped open and one of these ugly motherfuckers stomped inside on his sinewy chicken legs, a disapproving caw coming from his beak-shaped mouth. He slowly approached his prisoner, one arm raised in warning, with some of the long feathers that these bastards could shoot at will from their skin, like blades, already raised. Drool was dripping from that misshapen black beak as the stranger's yellow, large pupils slowly eyed his prisoner upside down.

Logan instinctively felt the wish to turn the universal translator in his earpiece right off. There were certain intergalactic gestures that meant pretty much the same in every system.

"Look at that. We got a security system failure, and the ugly little mammal breeder got his toy back. Whom of the guards did you suck off to get such benefits, huh? Knew we should have cut you right up and cooked you when you showed your ugly face at that station bar. Fuck that. Bounty on your head isn’t even that pretty, mammal. And the best part? Everyone's asleep, so I get to devour you all by myself."

"You see, there's a problem with that", Scott answered with a vicious grin on his lips, never once flinching back when one of these silvery feathers slipped another few inches from the creature's thick flesh, stopping just inches from his face.

"Yeah, I bet." The alien let out a snort and grabbed Scott's head unsettling similar to how Logan just had, unaware that he was already particle dust. "Now what would that be, I wonder, breeder scum?"

"That my buddy over there and I can really use the bounty on your head."

When the stranger let go of Scott with a curse and spun around to raise his weapons towards Logan's corner, he didn’t even have time left for a last prayer before Scott made his shot, blasting the guy straight into the closed cell door. The sickening crunch of dozens of bones breaking indicated, at least that man wouldn’t secure them their next few weeks of fuel and supplies, seeing as their current employer wanted as many of the criminals on this ship alive as possible for interrogation.

Nothing Logan could be worrying about right now, not when he had to prioritize his lover's and his lives over a good buck. As so often, in the lethal labyrinth that was this job that they'd been forced to take after realizing, that damn journey to the Shi’ar, to find a possible solution to Scott's increasing health problems, would take a lot longer than expected thanks to the ship they had originally been supposed to meet no longer being anywhere near Earth. No, this was not exactly where either of them had seen themselves a year ago, but if there was one thing they'd really gotten good at ever since Jean's death had bonded them in the shape of their shared physical condition, it was adapting, improvising, and overcoming. In today's case, that meant cutting Scott loose from his bondage with a quick swipe of claws, with little regard to the agonized moan from his lover's lips at the returning mobility of his shoulders which almost brought Logan to his knees himself for a moment. This was something he was pretty sure he would never get used to. With an impatient snarl, he straightened up again and unceremoniously threw Scott over his shoulder to carry him out of the cell. Judging from the shrill sounds and red lights flashing through all of the warbird's corridors, the noise from Scott's attack hadn’t gone unnoticed, therefore, Logan couldn’t even wait the few seconds it might take before his partner would be back on his feet.

Not to mention, the enemies' camera system was probably back up by now too, given how many of those motherfuckers came running at them on their way to the shuttle bay.

Logan had sliced through the first group of hostiles as quickly as possible, shielding his lover from the threat of those damn feathers best as he could while grunting away a few stabs into his own body.

But more of those assholes were already approaching from around the next corner … and from behind them as well.

Scott was noticeably getting tired both of being dragged around and of taking phantom hits on his part now. Wriggling out of Logan's hold unnerved, he landed behind him and the next best wall, still in the cover of Logan's broader shape. "Down."

It was one of these uncompromising, a hundred percent confident orders that Logan had learned to listen to ever since joining Scott's team back at Liberty Island, no matter how much as his natural dominant instincts wanted to make him rebel, or his desire to take out even more of these assholes on his own who had ten thousands of civilian deaths from their raids on unsuspecting planets on their conscience already. Sheathing his claws with a reluctant growl, he let himself drop to the ground instead, making himself as small as possible, the way he'd quickly learned in such moments for the sake of his own health, and squeezed his eyes shut to the blinding sensation of Scott unleashing his blasts onto the dozens of enemies they were facing.

Seconds later, it became very quiet on the foreign vessel.

****

After taking out big parts of the hostile crew, they'd no longer been bothered on the way to the short-distance capsule Logan had used to enter the enemy ship. Scott was quick-witted enough to plug one of their IT disruptors in the hangar bay computer before they left, which effectively rendered the warbird's system useless for at least an hour or so, the most necessary life support systems aside. With that, the job was basically done.

Logan immediately went to sit at the weapon helm upon their return to their shuttle anyway, never leaving the foreign ship out of sight. Especially with such an aggressive, bloodthirsty race with far too many powerful technological toys at their hands, you never knew.

With a grateful nod his way, Scott took the spot next to him and went to contact their employers.

Unfounded worry, as it turned out. Apparently, they'd really done a thorough job. The warbird drifted through the nebula-filled galaxy uncoordinated, no sign of any navigation or weapon system being operable again by the time, the system's authority confirmed to Scott that they were only a minute's flight in a warp tunnel away, and that they were welcome to take their leave.

Which they were only too happy to do. Scott and Logan hadn’t gotten that many pointers from their Shi’ar contacts from afar before they'd embarked on this journey into the unknown. But one of the most basic pieces of advice, to not show their faces, their ship, their allegiance, to too many people in person, especially not to those in control of various parts of the systems they were passing, they'd been pretty well off with in these last few months.

A healthy distance usually gladly returned by whoever hired them to do their dirty work. The less these people knew about those weird two strangers from some faraway planet who had quickly earned their reputation for taking care of problems that many others shied away from or were helplessly struggling with, the better.

As long as they got their pay and could carry one towards the nearest Shi’ar outpost – which was still at least three months without unforeseen complications from their current location –, neither of them cared a lot either way. "What's the number?" The second, they'd entered their own warp tunnel and the protective blue whirls of faster-than-light speed had built outside the front window, Logan deactivated the phaser banks with a relieved sigh and turned to his partner, absently patting down his uniform jacket for a cigar.

"Just coming in." Scott turned the pilot console to him, the activated screen part that showed their balance on their intergalactic coin counter which had neared an alarming new low last week. A condition that didn’t exactly improve when the announced salary from their latest employer was added to the sum just a few seconds later.

"Well, that was worth you almost being kebabed for," Logan remarked dryly, lighting his cigar in frustration. "Finally we can give up this horrible life of crime and can become honorable, innocent space travelers."

"We killed half their targets," Scott returned wearily, deactivating the bank program as it was just too depressing to look at. "It's enough for another two weeks and there's three more space stations within days' flight. We'll be fine." Only the way he slipped his fingertips under his VISOR with a suppressed hiss, his arms still hurting as Logan could tell by the dull throb in his own, revealed he wasn’t half as chill about these circumstances as he pretended. About if and when they'd finally make it to their destination. Or back to the people they'd left behind on Earth. About if this whole thing would even have been worth it in the end. The crushing headaches that his mutation growing stronger caused, they were somewhat under control ever since they'd left their home, actually. Perks of space was that it offered all that sweet dead matter not existing on Earth for Scott to rip apart, to take the constant pressure from his blasts off his brain as often as he needed to. But entirely gone, these tortures were never, especially not with growing emotional strain.

Indeed, an albeit soft stinging behind his eyes let Logan know, the emotional stress from that damn captivity was far from being dealt with after all. "Your eyes alright? Need another treatment? Or wanna stop for a round of asteroid shootout?" He softly rested his hand on the back of his lover's neck, glad that Scott didn’t flinch, leaning back into the touch immediately instead which soothed the latent worry that these feathered assholes back there might have dared to put their dirty claws on him in the wrong way without Logan noticing. Something like that had almost happened far too often for his taste anyway, ever since they'd left their home and were stumbling from one potentially lethal situation into another, because Scott's flawless beauty was a magnet for every damn primitive drooling bastard out there, apparently.

Scott's headshake was unambiguous though. "The glue's all gone. And pain's not that bad right now. Tomorrow, when I can lift my arms to the triggers again without that feeling like they're about to fall off."

"Come on." Logan didn’t offer Scott even a quick routine scan in the med-bay because while neither of them had any love for all that metal and needles and rays poking them in lieu of a real damn doctor, Scott had long learned to take care of his physical condition thoroughly, since it affected no longer only his own well-being. He would have immediately told Logan if he needed any care of that kind. Providing the other kind was Logan's job. Therefore ignoring any nagging about research regarding their next job that sounded pretty weak anyway, he pulled Scott up with one arm around his waist to lead him to the shuttle's living quarters. After rerouting both emergency control and the view on the warp tunnel ahead via large monitors on the bedroom wall, he peeled Scott out of his uniform as carefully as possible. Occasionally, he startled at the prickling and twinge under his own skin, when pulling off the skin-tight black leather meant a tug on already overstrained muscles, but soon enough, that last little torture was over. Stripping out of his own suit far more quickly and efficiently, Logan dropped down on the tolerably large bed they'd been sharing for so long now, to pull his lover in his arms who had fortunately ceased his complaints by now. Scott was notoriously sensitive when it came to space temperature in spite of having grown up in Alaska of all places, so Logan put up with not one but three damn blankets though he already knew he'd be sweating his ass off in an hour which at least would, in turn, help his lover not feel like a damn ice block anymore thanks to their bond. Minor inconveniences in the light of the far bigger threats that this damn trip kept on bringing for almost a year now, and Logan supposed he wasn’t the only one becoming increasingly sick of that, especially on nights like this. But once he had his partner in his arms like this, feeling the purchase and security of a firm hug not only from Scott's long, strong arms around him but the doubled, ghost-like sensation that their connection brought onto Logan's own flesh and skin, reinforcing that unshakable knowledge that they were truly meant to be as one in every sense of the word … That was when those exhausting doubts always slipped away at least for a few hours.

For Scott, it didn’t come as easy, relaxing into their embrace this night, as Logan quickly realized, and that had nothing to do with a couple of too-tightly stretched muscles. His breath breezing over Logan's bare chest came too irregular still, his back under Logan's slowly caressing fingertips a too-harsh line. And he just couldn’t take his eyes off that blue emptiness of their travel tunnel on the monitor, as if he could read the answers to all the open questions making their life so hard right now in there. "You know it was close today, right?" he finally whispered after Logan had given him enough space to contemplate, to get himself together, to cling to that control over his emotions that his lover so badly needed to keep his fragile soul in balance. "Sometimes I wonder if we made the right choice, leaving together. You'd be safer on Earth, and your healing factor could deal with whatever trouble I might be running into up here. There's no need for you to run into one weapon after another for me."

"Right." Logan snorted, tempted to give his lover a loving slap to the back of his head, to rearrange the obviously short-circuiting modules in there a little, if only Scott hadn’t been fighting another migraine already. "You mean except for the seven times that I saved your stupid behind this month already? What exactly do you think happens to me when you bite it, Slim?"

"Whatever it is, you could come back from it. We know that. It's happened before." Scott was obviously dead set on pissing him off, wriggling from his embrace to sit up, burying his face against his knees as whatever had already shaken him on that damn warbird ripped through his soul another time. "We have no idea if the Shi’ar can even help me, Logan. All of this might be useless. Don't you ever think a quick ending to this whole shit would be easier? I'll always only be a burden for you, as long as I live …"

"Bub, you risk it that I get out the paddles and leashes from our toybox, and I won't give a fuck if you got a headache or not." Logan only waited until Scott raised his head again for a tired smile at the not-exactly-serious threat back over his shoulder, an expression quickly faltering when he saw the raw, honest anger distorting Logan's features. Logan quickly raised his hands to cover his lover's lips as they opened again, raising a brow in warning. "You don't wanna do that unless you want me to put on some space suit and go slicing up a couple of rocks myself. If I ever hear you yapping about something so dumb again, you'll be sleeping in the damn cargo bay for a month, Scooter. You seriously think I would be here with you, playing bounty hunter, wading through guts every weekend for half an intergalactic dollar, on another gravity serum shot that makes me puke my guts out every damn morning if I didn’t want you in my life with all of my heart?"

"And what kind of life is that? Those people today, Logan … They didn’t just want to kill us, you know that." Scott held on to Logan's hand on his shoulder like a drowning man, to the sensation of mutual purchase, of a lifeline that their shared sensation around each other's grip brought, his voice alarmingly close to breaking. "They were very verbal about all those things they wanted to get up to with me before slicing me up and roasting me over some fire. Just thinking, one of these bastards could actually succeed one day and you're gonna have to go through that as well just because we're connected …"

"If I ever fail so badly at being your shield, Slim, then that would be well-deserved." Logan put his finger right back on Scott's beautiful lips when his lover wanted to object in offense, tenderly caressing away the hint of salt from under Scott's glasses with two fingertips. "Don't. You know I'm right. We've been brought together to look out for each other. That was what Jeannie wanted when she died because she loved us both and she knew, we loved each other before we did. I'm not going anywhere, Slim, you might as well suck that up. And as long as I'm around to prevent that, none of this scum that we run into up here will lay their goddamn hands on you. I can't promise you that because there are forces out there bigger than us. But …" He trailed off, shuddering at the mere possibility that this worst scenario exactly might happen one day, no matter how hard he would try to not let it. Gladly nestling into the warm, gentle touch of his lover's hand on his cheek he realized, he didn’t need to continue anyway.

Scott now remembered again that Logan would always be trying his very fucking best, to the last breath, and he'd hopefully not question such a simple natural law again anytime soon. "I hate to see you get hurt, Logan, that's all."

Logan let out a huff, still irritated after all about the last avoidable adventure. "Then stop accepting some crook's drink in the next best bar whenever we're on the job. You gonna get down on your back now and let me suck you off so we can get some sleep?"

Scott contemplated that for a moment, a lewd grin spreading on his lips and then wordlessly pulled away from Logan's arms around his hips, only to turn around on the bed and kneel over him, hands already busy tugging down Logan's briefs over his hips.

His brains checking out before he could even feel the slow, tantalizing touch of his lover's heavenly lips on his quickly hardening cock, Logan actually had to actively remember to get his own hands on that perfect piece of ass now right in his view. One claw tip taking care of that annoying layer of fabric still covering it all the faster, he grabbed his lover's narrow hips with both hands and pulled Scott down against his mouth, his widely opened lips wrapping around the velvety head of that beautiful cock now within reach. The secondary sensation of his own sucking motions quickly taking in every inch of that beauty added to what Scott's clever, long tongue was doing to his own raging hardness. Breathless, throaty moans from both their mouths chased away whatever dread was still haunting their souls for the moment, nothing but the heat and emptiness of lust quickly filling both their bodies and minds as they lost themselves to yet another night of this surely most intense side of their soul bond.

It wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but for the moment, it would do.

*******************************************************************************

@whumptober | @whumptober-archive

@scoganbingo

[msboutofcontext]

[mystery-star]

Whumptober 2023  - Day 23 | “Who’s there?”

Pairing: Ben Wade x reader (gender neutral)

Warnings: burglary, violence and injuries

Words: 1129

A/N: Day 23 for Whumptober, today’s prompts: Shadows | “Who’s there?”

-

You weren’t sure if it had been the sound that woke you or if it happened after you were awake. But you instantly knew that you didn’t like it and first considered to just stay in bed and try to hide. Once you saw shadows outside that seemed to be sneaking around your house, however, you simply had to get up, hating the fact that exactly that night Ben and his gang had to leave for a robbery. Or maybe whoever was out there knew they were gone and this was why they were here. You grabbed the gun on the nightstand and put on a dressing gown, rubbing your eyes a little as you cocked the weapon and slowly tiptoed out of the bedroom, trying not to make a sound. There was a creak you knew all too well; it was when someone stepped onto one of the floorboards of the kitchen. And that also made it obvious that someone was in the house. A part of you hoped it was just Ben who had returned and didn’t want to wake you up.

“Who’s there?” you called, hating that you were shaking a little. The fact that you got no reply made it even worse because that meant it wasn’t Ben. It made you freeze because you didn’t know what to do. Perhaps you could deal with the person but what if there were more than just one? Maybe it was better if you just left and got help from the sheriff even though Ben would not really like it. Then again, he could just stay away a couple hours longer until the coast was clear. You didn’t even really need to consider it much, you had made up your mind already and instead tried to get to the door. Just when you reached it and tried to open it, you heard steps right behind you and when you turned around all you saw was how your attacker swung a long item at you – what it was you didn’t see – and it collided with your head. With a groan you stumbled back against the door, trying to find the handle again despite the piercing pain in your head but then he hit you again and you fell down, your hand coming to the spot that hurt most on your head. You could already feel the blood and let out a moan of pain. Panic rose in you because you had dropped your gun too and that took basically everything you had for your defense and were completely at his mercy. But at least he seemed to notice that and instead of hitting you again, he roughly grabbed your arm, yanking you with him to the kitchen where he used the waist tie of your dressing gown to tie your hands to the metal bar next to the stove before continuing his work. Trying to calm yourself and the pain with some deep breaths you leant your head against the stove and hoped he would simply leave after he was done and not harm you further. Once he had emptied the kitchen of its valuables, not much of course, he approached you.

“Where are the valuables?”

“Bedroom” you muttered. “in the dresser. There should also be money” in a way you didn’t care if he just took it all; you wouldn’t miss the money and you could just replace what he took. At least he left and you glanced after him before you tried to free yourself and get out of here that he could not come back to kill you. Using your teeth to undo the knot hurt a lot due to the wounds on your head but slowly, you managed to undo them and your hands were free. Since the guy had taken your weapon, you grabbed a knife from the counter that you could defend yourself if the guy noticed you were leaving and tried to stop you. But just when you reached the door, you saw the handle moving and your heart skipped a beat. Without thinking you jumped behind it and slowly the door opened before you heard someone sneak inside. Oh great, the robber had brought backup. You held your breath in fear he would discover you but it was of no use because before you could even consider to lunge at him he turned to check behind the door and at this you just leaped forward with the knife raised high. To your surprise you even seemed to catch him somewhere near the shoulder but at the same time you were hurled away and you stumbled over your feet, knocking your head against the still open door so you let out another sound of pain.

“(Y/N), fuck” only when you felt a soft hand on your arm did you realize that the alleged intruder was actually Ben.

“Oh shit” you too groaned and dug your hand into his jacket, feeling glad that he was back “Guy’s in the bedroom” you just muttered. He gave a nod and handed you the knife you had attacked (and probably also hurt) him with.

“Stay here, I’ll take care of it” you only nodded and grabbed the knife tightly. Your husband quickly walked in the direction of the bedroom and it wasn’t before long that you heard a shot and then the sounds of a fight and after about half a minute a second shot. After that it was quiet and you too held your breath, not sure what had happened or who was dead. When you saw Ben coming towards you, a little more bruised than before but still very much alive, you let out a sigh and wanted to shoot up to hug him but felt too weak “It’s over, he’s dead”

“I figured as much” you muttered with a slight smile as he knelt down and carefully picked you up to move you to the kitchen. “Sorry for hurting you”

“Don’t. I’m glad you did and proved capable to do something. I might have just killed you if I didn’t know who you were, lingering behind that door.” A shiver ran down your back and you nodded.

“So you knew someone was inside?”

“Found a guy looking like he was standing guard. Silently got rid of him and then tried to sneak in”

“Well, you did sneak in” he chuckled and sat you down on a chair, starting to examine your head

“Didn’t calculate with being attacked right there”

“You turned around to me”

“Just for precaution to see if someone was there”

“So you did calculate with it”

“Well maybe I did. But better to be safe than sorry”

I do think we’re both sorry now”

“And yet we’re both safe now”

-

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