#and i was that uncomfortable and on the verge of tears so i started biting my nails and oh now hes got a problem with that too? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

charliedawn · 9 months ago

Note

Hey, so I have been thinking about this for some time now. How would the slashers react if they were finally deemed safe enough to be reintegrated into society?

Would they be hesitant to leave and try to make themselves seem unsafe just so they can stay or would they accept and come visit occasionally?

(Warning. I cried my eyes out writing this !) Jason Voorhees

Jason had been hesitant from the start. The idea of reintegrating into society felt strange for someone like him, a distant concept he couldn’t fully grasp. Crowds, normal life—they were things he never understood, never wanted to. The only peace he’d ever known was here, with you, and the thought of leaving that behind stirred a deep unease inside him.

The day came when the gate to the facility stood open, the path to the outside world clear. Jason stood at the edge of the property, staring out, his hulking frame tense. Behind him, the other slashers watched in silence. You stood among them, Brahms beside you, your eyes quietly tracking Jason’s every movement.

For a long moment, Jason stood still, his mask angled toward the distant horizon. But something inside him clenched—a tight, uncomfortable feeling that pulled at his chest. It was as if an invisible thread was tugging him back, away from the freedom society promised and back towards the family he had found in St. Louis.

He turned, his eyes scanning the faces of the slashers, the staff, and finally landing on you and Brahms. Brahms who was on the verge of tears. That’s all it took. His body moved before he even made a conscious decision, and without hesitation, Jason walked back towards you. Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around both you and Brahms and squeezed, reaffirming that this—this place, this family—was where he truly belonged, where he wanted to be.

There was no questioning his decision. No one asked why he had turned back, because everyone understood. Jason didn’t need words to explain that society held nothing for him. You, the other slashers, the strange bond you’d all formed—that was his home. And if it meant leaving any of that behind ? Then it wasn’t worth it.

You rested your head against his chest, a small smile forming as you felt the weight of his decision settle over you. Jason wasn’t going anywhere. His presence would serve as a reminder, a symbol to the others that redemption was possible—that even though they lived in the shadows, there was still a path forward. And maybe, one day, they could all walk out of St Louis together. Or that was your hope.

For now, though, Jason was staying. And that was fine with you.

Michael Myers

The news of Michael finally leaving St. Louis was a shock that no one could quite prepare for. As the one who always kept the slashers grounded, the thought of him leaving was bittersweet. He had been their rock, the one who somehow kept them out of trouble, and for many, like Freddy and Five, he was more than just a fellow patient—he was family. A party was thrown the night before his official release, and while everyone seemed to be in a celebratory mood, Freddy and Five sat together at a corner table, drinks in hand, watching Michael from afar.

Five glanced at Freddy, his voice soft. "I can’t believe he’s really leaving."

Freddy let out a scoff, but there was no real bite in it. "Yeah. What a lucky bastard, am I right ?"

Five nodded, though his expression was conflicted. "Yeah...lucky."

Five nodded, though the word “lucky” didn’t sit right with him or Freddy. The silence between them was heavy. Tomorrow, Michael would be gone, and the realization of that made their drinks taste bitter—the day Michael Myers would walk out of their lives. It wasn’t just about him leaving St. Louis; it was about losing someone who had been there for them in ways no one else had. Freddy, in his darkest moments, had found some semblance of solace knowing Michael was around. And Five, well, Michael had become the father figure he never had. The party wound down, and the night seemed to pass in a blur.

The next morning, the air was tense. All the slashers gathered in the entrance hall, watching as Michael quietly prepared to leave. You stood at the back, heart heavy but knowing that it was time. He had more than earned his freedom. As Michael neared the threshold, the others stood frozen, unsure of what to do or say.

Then, out of nowhere, Five ran toward him. Without hesitation, he threw his arms around Michael, hugging him tightly. "Please...don’t leave," Five whispered, his voice shaky as he tried to hold back tears. The usually stoic Michael hesitated, unsure of how to respond. But then, slowly, he wrapped his arms around Five, pulling him closer and closing his eyes as he enjoyed the hug.

That moment seemed to break the dam. One by one, the others joined in. Freddy was the first to rise from his seat, muttering curses under his breath as he made his way over. One by one, the rest followed, each of them joining in the group hug, letting go of their pride and showing just how much Michael meant to them. They weren’t just losing a friend—they were losing the glue that held them all together. Freddy, Vincent, Jason, Bo—all of them came forward, letting their masks fall for a moment. They weren’t just saying goodbye to a friend; they were saying goodbye to the person who had held them all together, who had been their steady presence in St Louis. The first one to come was the first one to leave.

You watched from the sidelines, your heart heavy but understanding. But then, as you caught his eye, you saw something flicker in his gaze. That’s when you realised. You sighed in defeat, knowing what that look meant. With a weak smile, you walked over and joined the group hug, wrapping your arms around Michael too. You couldn’t ask him to stay, but deep down, you knew he had already made his choice.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

Michael wasn’t leaving his family behind.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms was devastated at the thought of leaving. At first, he had genuinely tried, to entertain the idea of reintegration. He had even convinced himself, in fleeting moments, that maybe he could fit into society, that maybe he could live like everyone else. But as the day of his release approached, something inside him shifted. The closer he got to the exit of the facility, the heavier the weight on his chest grew. His thoughts spiraled—what would life be like without you ? Without Jason, Michael, the Horde or Penny ? Without the strange, chaotic family he had found here ?

The idea of being out there, in the world, where no one cared about him, where he couldn’t watch over you, where he couldn’t find solace in Jason’s quiet presence or Penny’s unpredictable antics—it all seemed unbearable. The loneliness he had once known in his old home, the isolation that had eaten away at him for years, loomed over him.

As he reached the threshold, panic took over. Brahms’ breath quickened, his vision blurred, and before he could even think, he was running back. His heart pounded in his chest, his footsteps frantic, until finally, he saw you. His eyes were wide, almost crazed, as he reached out, grabbing you and held you in a desperate grip—his arms almost crushing you.

"I can’t leave," he whispered, his voice breaking with fear. "Please...don’t make me go."

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he clung to you. The mere thought of being separated from you and the others, of being cast back into a world where he was alone again, was too much for him to bear. His voice trembled as he begged.

"I need to stay with you," he whimpered, his grip tightening. "I can’t—please, don’t make me go..."

He started to cry, his sobs uncontrollable as he clung to your side, begging and pleading with every word that left his lips. His body trembled, and you could feel the intensity of his fear, the overwhelming need for you to be there, to not let him face the unknown alone.

You sighed softly, feeling your heart break for him. Brahms had always been fragile and dependant, and this was no different. You knew he wouldn’t survive out there—not without you, not without his family. And as much as you wanted to see him thrive, you couldn’t bring yourself to send him away. His tears, his pleas, were too much.

"Alright," you whispered, softly brushing his hair back. "You can stay."

Brahms collapsed into your arms, his body shaking with relief. He wasn’t going anywhere. He was safe…

Freddy Krueger

Freddy had mocked the whole idea of reintegration from the start, spitting on the process with his usual bravado. "Like I’d need any of that crap," he’d laugh, brushing it off like it didn’t matter. He was cocky, confident in the fact that he was better off in his dream world where he ruled supreme. But then, something unexpected happened. You—you, of all people—approved his discharge from the hospital. He hadn’t seen it coming, and the reality of it hit him harder than he expected.

You had seen him change. You’d watched as he started to show empathy, a bit of compassion, and even a strange respect toward the other slashers. He’d stopped seeing them as targets or obstacles and more like, well...people. Freddy had found pleasure in things besides his usual games of murder and torture. Gardening had become a surprising hobby of his, and he’d formed bonds with some of the others, like Pennywise, Bo, and even Michael. He had laughed, made sarcastic remarks, but there was something more—he had learnt to tolerate, even appreciate, the company around him.

When he first got the news, he was ecstatic, practically gloating as he waved the discharge papers in front of the others, his smug grin plastered across his face. "So long, suckers ! I’m gettin’ outta here, and I wish y’all one happy rotting day !" he’d bragged, basking in the moment. But as the time to leave approached, something unexpected stirred inside him—a flicker of doubt.

He packed his things, but the act felt hollow. He thought about the fun he’d had tormenting you, but also the strange bond that had grown between you two during those games. It wasn’t just about his sadistic fun anymore—there was something else there. And then there were the others, the idiots he’d reluctantly come to call...family.

Freddy paused at the doorway, paper in hand, staring at the exit. For once, the grin slipped off his face as the thought of life without you, without them, hit him. He didn’t want to leave. With a long sigh, he crumpled the paper in his hand and turned back, shaking his head as he strutted toward you with his signature smirk.

"You didn’t think I’d actually leave my favorite plaything behind, did ya ?" Freddy teased, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on your cheek before flipping off the other slashers.

The group let out a chorus of groans, half-hearted and annoyed, but Freddy just cackled, loving every second of it.

"And I ain’t letting ya have all the fun in my absence, you bunch of losers ! You’d miss me too much anyway..."

His words were met with more grumbling, but Freddy, as always, ate it up. "Yeah yeah. Love y’all too, ya cunts !" he laughed, throwing his arms out wide before making himself comfortable again, knowing full well he was right where he belonged.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent, the quieter of the Sinclairs, had made it clear long ago that he wasn’t that particularly eager to leave and besides, he knew he was never going to leave his twin behind. The thought of returning to society was almost alien and completely unappealing to him. When you brought the discharge papers—he was genuinely stunned—and he found himself looking back at you, heart aching. He shook his head. No. He couldn’t leave you or Bo behind.

Bo caught wind about his brother’s decision to stay and barged into Vincent’s bedroom—knocking the door down before yelling.

"Are ya outta yer goddamn mind ?!"

Vince shivered at Bo’s sudden loud voice and was about to reply when Bo grabbed his arm and dragged him down the corridor toward the exit.

"They actually think yer good enough for the outside world, ya dumb bird. And yer gonna stay in here ?! Spoil it all fer what ?! Fer me ?! Fer Nurse Y/N ?! The reason they’re here is to give us—poor bastards—a second chance ?! And yer gonna mess up yers cause ya want to stay ?! Grow a damn pair, Vince !"

Vince felt tears run down his cheeks at his brother’s harsh words and he shook his head frenetically to tell him that he didn’t want to leave, but then…Bo decided to grab his brother once more and drag him towards the exit himself—restraining his own tears. Bo didn’t want to be alone either…but that didn’t mean he was gonna let Vince spoil that chance for him. He wasn’t gonna let his twin make that mistake…

"Come on, Vince. Ya gotta take that chance and get back to Lester. He must be worried sick and think we both really kicked the bucket…" They arrived at the door and Vince started wheezing painfully and tried to voice out his protest, but Bo forced himself not to listen as he suddenly shoved Vince outside the facility. And when he was about to close the door, Bo finally allowed himself to show his true emotions as he grinned and his eyes softened—red-rimmed.

"…You are and have always been the best twin, Vince. Now, make me proud and have a good life for me, ‘kay ?"

Vincent screamed as the door closed and he started hammering at the door—calling out for Bo who slid to the floor and forced himself to remain deaf to his brother’s voice. He started sobbing as it was the first time they would be separated, but he still didn’t want his brother to stay…

You heard his sobs and walked towards the door to find Bo—his back facing the door and his knees up to his chin. He looked like a child and was covering his eyes. You didn’t need to ask, you knew what he had done. You wordlessly sat next to him and tried to reassure him.

"That was…very brave of you, Bo. And don’t worry. You will soon join your brother. I promise."

You put a hand on his shoulder and was surprised when out of the blue, Bo grabbed your waist and settled you on his lap so he may cry against your chest. You were momentarily stunned before you allowed him to hold you and started stroking his hair…

"Sssh…You did good, Bo. You did good."

Bo Sinclair

Bo stood at the edge of the facility, torn between conflicting emotions. The thought of being controlled or confined filled him with resentment, yet the idea of reintegration felt wrong in a different way. He had fought hard to build something with you, to let you and the other slashers into his guarded heart. The prospect of losing that connection gnawed at him, like a slow, insistent ache.

He cursed under his breath, pacing back and forth, his pride wrestling with the feelings churning inside him. The memories of laughter shared and quiet moments spent together played in his mind, reminding him just how much he had come to rely on your presence. He took a deep breath, glancing back towards the exit where freedom awaited, yet it felt so far removed from the life he had begun to cherish.

As he stood there, uncertainty washed over him, and he felt his heart clench. The idea of leaving you behind, leaving everything he had built, felt unbearable. He liked fixing cars and being with people who could…actually understand him. With an exasperated sigh, he turned on his heel, striding back toward you, his decision made.

"I ain’t goin’ nowhere, darlin’. Can’t leave you here by yourself, now can I ?" His voice was firm, yet he smiled.

You met him with a sad smile. It was a moment of relief for Bo, but you also understood the weight of the situation. As much as you wanted him to stay, you knew he had to embrace the opportunities that lay ahead. Gently, you reached for his hand, squeezing it lightly. "Bo, you deserve this chance. Your brothers will be waiting for you. You can’t throw it away."

His expression shifted, torn between the desire to stay and the reality of what you were saying. He opened his mouth to protest, but the look in your eyes silenced him. You were right; he had fought for this moment, and it was unfair to squander it just because of his fears.

With a heavy heart, you turned him back towards the exit, giving him a gentle nudge. "Go on, Bo. Just think of all the possibilities out there. You won’t be alone. You have your brothers. And you have your whole life ahead of you. Just…take that chance and you’ll see."

He hesitated, looking back at you with an expression of longing. "But I don’t wanna leave you…"

Your smile faltered slightly.

"I’ll be right here, waiting for you. You can come back anytime." Your smile remained still, a mixture of sadness and encouragement in your gaze.

Finally, Bo took a step forward, then another, each movement feeling like a weight lifting off his shoulders. But as he reached the threshold, he paused one last time, turning back to face you. "You promise I’ll get to see you again ?"

"I promise," you replied, sincerity in your voice. But when he was far enough, your eyes filled with tears. You were really gonna miss the Sinclairs…

Pennywise

Pennywise stood at the threshold, staring out into the world beyond the facility’s gates. The idea of reintegration was laughable to him at first—a joke he didn’t even bother taking seriously. After all, he was the Eater of Worlds, the one who brought fear and destruction wherever he went. What place did he have among people ? Yet here he was, papers in hand, offering him the chance to leave St. Louis and begin again. A twisted smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he thought about it.

But as he prepared to step forward, something gnawed at him. Penny.

He glanced back, and there he was—his annoying and stupidly tall brother. Penny stood there, fidgeting, watching him with those wide, innocent eyes that belied the horrors they had both committed. The thought of leaving Penny behind tugged at something deep within him. Pennywise had always been the older brother, the protector, and no matter what fate had handed them, they had always been together. He couldn’t just walk away from that. The world beyond these gates might offer him freedom, but without Penny, it would be hollow, meaningless.

His smirk faded, and a bitter laugh escaped his throat. "Who do they think I am, huh ?" He muttered to himself, turning on his heel to face Penny. His brother was still standing there, looking confused, like a child waiting for guidance. Pennywise shook his head, feeling something in his chest twist painfully.

"There ain’t no world out there for me without you, little brother," he growled, striding back towards Penny, his steps heavy with determination.

Penny’s face lit up with confusion, his usual wide grin faltering. "But...you’re supposed to go," Penny said, his voice trembling slightly. "You can leave, they said—"

"I don’t give a damn what they said," Pennywise cut him off sharply, standing in front of Penny now, his hands resting on his brother’s shoulders. "I’m not going anywhere without you, you hear me ?"

Penny blinked, then let out a quiet, breathy laugh, though there was uncertainty in his eyes. "Really ?"

"Really," Pennywise confirmed, pulling him into a rough, awkward hug. "What kinda brother would I be if I left you here by yourself ?"

Penny clung to him, nodding, his giggles returning, though they were softer this time, almost relieved. "We stick together, right ?"

"That’s right. Always," Pennywise muttered.

As the two clowns stood there, you watched from the side, a bittersweet feeling settling over you. You knew Pennywise had the chance to go, to reintegrate into society, but the bond between the two brothers was too strong. They had survived so much together—there was no world in which they would willingly part.

You approached quietly, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "Pennywise, you could have had your freedom."

He glanced at you, eyes sharp but lacking the usual malice. "This is my freedom," he said, motioning to Penny, who was still clinging to him like a lifeline and then gestured to St Louis. "All this."

You nodded, understanding the weight of his choice. "Well, then...we’re glad to have you both stay."

Pennywise snorted, but there was a flicker of gratitude in his eyes as he tightened his grip on Penny. "You ain’t getting rid of me that easily," he said, his usual bravado returning. "Besides, who’d look after this idiot without me ?"

Penny giggled again, this time fully, as if reassured by his brother’s presence. You smiled softly, knowing that despite the chaos they brought, the bond between them was unbreakable. They weren’t just brothers—they were each other’s worlds, and that was something neither of them would ever leave behind.

Penny

Penny had never really understood what the word "freedom" meant—not truly. The idea of being "free" seemed strange to him, especially when it meant being away from Pennywise. His brother had always been the one constant in his life, the one who found him when he was lost and showed him a new way to live, even if that way was covered in blood. So, when the papers came, telling him he was free to go, Penny wasn’t sure how to react.

Pennywise, though, grinned from ear to ear, that same wicked, sharp-toothed smile he wore when he thought he was playing some grand trick. He patted Penny on the shoulder and laughed.

"Well, well, little brother," Pennywise said, circling him like a predator eyeing prey. "Looks like you’ve hit the jackpot, huh ? They’re letting you out. You can finally leave this dump behind and see what’s out there." His tone was light, mocking almost, but there was something in his eyes that made Penny pause.

"Leave ?" Penny repeated, tilting his head, his wide smile faltering for a moment. "But...what about you ?"

Pennywise waved him off, his grin widening. "Ah, don’t worry about me. I’ll be just fine. Go on, Penny. This is your big chance. You don’t want to waste it, do you ?"

Penny hesitated, his smile now completely gone. He looked at Pennywise, trying to make sense of his brother’s words. The idea of leaving Pennywise behind—it didn’t sit right with him. Not at all. "But...you said we would stick together," Penny mumbled, his hands fidgeting at his sides. "You said you’d always look after me."

Pennywise’s grin wavered, just for a second, but then it was back, sharper than ever. "And I have, haven’t I ? But you don’t need me anymore, Penny. You’re free now. Go on, go have your fun without me. It’s your big chance. You’ve been waiting for this…Go on, get out there."

Penny looked back at the open world beyond the facility, but it didn’t feel like freedom. It felt cold, vast, and terrifying. His hands shook as he took a hesitant step toward the door, but something was pulling him back—something stronger than the lure of freedom. He looked over his shoulder again, hoping to find some reassurance in his brother’s eyes.

Pennywise kept his cool, giving a lazy wave of his hand. "You’ll be fine without me. I mean, you’ve been wantin’ to get outta here for a while now, haven’t ya ? Just…go."

But even as he said it, his heart clenched painfully in his chest. He hated this—hated lying to Penny. Penny will be fine. However, he wasn’t sure if he—himself—was gonna be. But he needed his brother to have a real chance at a normal life, to be free of the monster Pennywise had made him into.

Penny took another step forward, but his legs felt heavy. His entire body resisted the idea of leaving Pennywise behind.

Penny stared at him, eyes wide and confused. The words didn’t feel right, didn’t feel like Pennywise. He took a step closer, reaching out as if to touch his brother’s arm, but then stopped, uncertainty freezing him in place. He knew how much his brother hated hugs. "I don’t want to go," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I don’t want to be out there without you, brother."

Pennywise’s grin faltered. It was…the first time Penny had ever called him brother since his transformation. He looked at Penny for a long moment, his sharp gaze softening, though he tried to hide it behind a sneer. "Don’t be stupid," he muttered, but there was no bite in his words. "I ain’t gonna be much help out there, kid. You’ll do better without me draggin’ you down. You’ll be fine, Penny."

But Penny shook his head, panic rising in his chest. "No ! I won’t !" His voice was growing louder, more desperate. "I can’t do it without you ! I won’t leave !" He stumbled forward, clutching Pennywise’s arm with both hands now, his grip tight, desperate. "Please don’t make me go."

Pennywise froze, staring up at his little brother, the one he had spent centuries protecting, guiding, shaping. And now, here he was, terrified at the idea of leaving. Penny’s wide, innocent eyes searched his face, and Pennywise felt something twist painfully in his chest.

Pennywise clenched his jaw, every instinct screaming at him to stop this charade. But he had to let Penny go, for his own good. He forced a laugh, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "Look, it ain’t a big deal. You’ll get used to it. Hell, you might even like it out there without me. No more rules, no more walls...No more old farts to tell you what to do. You’re free, Penny. Free."

But Penny didn’t move. He shook his head, his wide eyes brimming with confusion and hurt. "You don’t want me with you anymore, is that it ?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Did I…do something wrong, Pennywise ? Haven’t I been a good brother to you ?"

The words hit Pennywise like a punch to the gut. His fists clenched, and for a moment, his façade cracked. "That’s not what I—" He cut himself off, looking away as his throat tightened.

But Penny had already seen enough. "You’re lying," he whispered, tears welling in his eyes. "You don’t want me to go. You’re scared. Like me."

Pennywise finally let out a long, frustrated breath, his tough-guy act crumbling. "Dammit, Penny...Of course I don’t want you to go. And of course I am scared."

Penny’s lip trembled, and he quickly threw himself into Pennywise’s arms, clutching his brother tightly. He didn’t care anymore if Pennywise was to push him away. "I don’t wanna leave you, ever. Please don’t make me, brother."

Pennywise wrapped his arms around Penny, holding him close, his face softening. "I wasn’t tryin’ to make you, idiot," he muttered, his voice thick. "I just...I thought you’d be better off. I didn’t want you to miss your second chance because of me."

Penny shook his head. "No chance is worth leaving you behind, Pennywise. We stick together, remember ?"

Pennywise sighed, a sad smile pulling at his lips. "Yeah...alright, kiddo. We stick together."

For a long time, they stood there, Penny clinging to his brother as though he were his lifeline, and Pennywise holding him just as tightly. He had tried to give his brother a chance at freedom, at a life beyond their shared horrors, but in the end, neither of them could let go.

When you approached, watching the scene unfold, Pennywise met your gaze over Penny’s shoulder. His usual sharp grin was gone, replaced with something sadder, more resigned. "Guess we’re both staying, huh ?" he said quietly, though it wasn’t really a question.

You smiled softly, nodding. "I figured as much."

As you stood off to the side, watching the two of them, you felt a pang of emotion. It wasn’t just about them refusing to leave the facility—it was about them refusing to leave each other. Pennywise had tried to give Penny a future, but in the end, they both realized their future was together.

But what they were both unaware of was that you had made sure to get both their discharge papers signed…And that they would be both leaving soon enough.

Jack Torrance

Jack stood at the exit, gripping the discharge papers in his hand like a lifeline. He stared at the open door, the pathway to freedom, but something about it felt wrong—like it was too easy. After everything he’d been through, after all the dark, twisting corridors of his mind, reintegration into society felt like a trick, like a bad joke that someone was playing on him.

"Look at this, Jackie-boy," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "They think you’re cured. They think you’re all better now." He chuckled, the sound low and bitter, his eyes flicking between the door and the facility behind him.

You watched him from a distance, sensing his inner turmoil. Jack had changed, no doubt about it. The rage, the uncontrollable thirst for violence—it had dulled, simmered down into something more manageable. But you knew, just as he did, that it hadn’t disappeared entirely. Reintegration wasn’t going to be simple for him.

His knuckles whitened around the papers, crumpling them slightly as he clenched his fists. "It’s a load of crap," he spat, though his voice trembled ever so slightly. "What am I supposed to do out there, huh ? Go back to pretending I’m normal ? Like I didn’t lose it, like I didn’t almost—"

He cut himself off, jaw tightening. His mind flashed to images of the Overlook, the whispers in the walls, the looming presence of things he couldn’t control. But then he thought about you, about the other slashers. The twisted family he had somehow found himself a part of in this place. It wasn’t perfect, and it sure as hell wasn’t normal, but it was something. And it was real.

Jack glanced over his shoulder at you, standing quietly by the door, waiting. His heart twisted at the thought of leaving this behind. The idea of stepping out into the world alone, without that connection—it gnawed at him, filled him with a creeping dread.

"Hell…" he sighed, running a hand down his face. His thoughts wrestled with each other, pride and fear duking it out in his mind. Jack had always been a man with too much pride, too much ego. But there was something more than that now—something that made him hesitate, something that kept him from walking out that door.

Eventually, with a deep, frustrated groan, Jack turned on his heel, crumpling the papers in his fist. He marched back toward you, his steps heavy and determined, but his face twisted in a mix of emotions. "Forget it. I ain’t going anywhere. Nope. Ain’t happening," he declared. "I ain’t about to leave you here to deal with this circus by yourself."

You smiled sadly. "Jack, you should take this chance. You’ve worked so hard to get here."

Jack shook his head, his lips curling into a bitter smile. "Yeah, well...maybe hard work ain’t enough this time." He looked at you, his expression softening just a fraction. "You’re the only thing keeping me from losing it, sweetheart. I ain’t gonna handle it on my own out there, not without you."

Your heart ached for him, but you knew what you had to do. With a gentle hand, you reached for his arm, slowly guiding him toward the exit. Jack’s eyes widened, panic flickering in them as he realized what you were doing.

"Hey, hey, wait—what the hell are you—" He tried to pull away, but you held firm, your smile sad but resolute.

"Jack, you deserve a life outside these walls. You’ve earned it. And your son deserves his father back." The mention of Danny made Jack freeze, his breath hitching. "You can have another chance with him. Don’t waste that."

Jack’s determination deflated in an instant, replaced by a deep, gut-wrenching sorrow. He lowered his gaze, the fight draining out of him. "I...I don’t know if I can."

"You can," you whispered softly, squeezing his arm. "And I’ll be here when you’re ready to come back. But you have to try, Jack."

For a long moment, Jack stood there, staring at the open door like it was the edge of a cliff. Then, finally, with a defeated sigh, he nodded in agreement. "Alright, alright...whatever."

You smiled, gently pushing him toward the exit one last time. "Go on, Jack. I am rooting for you."

As he stepped through the door, Jack paused, looking back at you one last time. "Don’t you forget about me, alright ?"

"I won’t," you promised, watching as he disappeared into the world beyond.

……

Bonus

The facility was quiet. Too quiet. You stood in the empty corridor, staring at the space that once buzzed with life, chaos, and more than a few death threats—yet now, all of it was gone. The slashers were gone.

One by one, they had walked out, some more willingly than others. You had seen them off, each with their own strange mix of emotions, but now…the finality of it all was hitting you. The air felt heavy, like a weight pressing down on your chest as you wandered aimlessly through the halls, past the rooms that had once been filled with their presence.

Jason’s room—cold and methodical, but with a small corner where he’d kept all of his little wood figurines, a reminder of the quiet peace he found here. You picked up a little frog figurine and smiled at it before walking away. Freddy’s space, always filled with his arrogant cackling and sarcastic jabs, was eerily silent. The air no longer held that faint scent of burnt metal. Brahms’ toys were gone too, the little things he’d cling to, now absent from the shelf he’d always obsessively arranged.

You paused outside Bo and Vincent’s shared room. The door was ajar, just as they had left it. Bo’s worn cap hung haphazardly over a chair’s back corner, and Vincent’s sketches still covered the walls, half-finished masterpieces of a mind far more brilliant than most would ever understand. But even in their messy intimacy, there was a void, a stark reminder that they weren’t coming back.

You stepped inside and sank into Bo’s chair, resting your head in your hands as the emptiness finally got to you. You had fought so hard for them, had seen them in ways the world never would, had given everything to help them find a new beginning. And now, they were free. You should feel proud. Relieved, even.

But all you felt was lonely.

The facility had been your home too, your sanctuary in a world that could never quite understand you or them. Now, without them here, it felt cold. Hollow. So damn empty. The echoes of their voices, the weight of their presence still lingered like ghosts haunting the spaces they had left behind.

You closed your eyes, trying to suppress the tightening in your chest. You had known this day would come. You had helped them prepare for it, pushed them when they needed it. But nothing could have prepared you for the silence that followed.

For a long time, you sat there, alone in the stillness. It felt like mourning—not just for the slashers, but for the connection you had built with each of them. You had been their confidante, their friend, their guide. And now, in their absence, you didn’t know who you were anymore.

Your mind drifted to each of them—Jason, Freddy, Brahms, Bo, Vincent, Pennywise, Penny, Michael and all the others. You wondered if they would make it out there. If they would find happiness, if they would remember you. And then there was a pang in your heart—a fear that maybe, just maybe, you had been forgotten already.

You stood up, moving through the empty halls with one final look, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. You had done your job. They were free. But somewhere in the quiet, you wished you hadn’t been left behind.

For now, though, you would keep that promise to them. You would wait. Even if it meant sitting in the stillness, holding onto the hope that one day, they might come back.

You closed the door behind you.

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #pennywise 1990 #pennywise 2017 #slashers #pennywise x reader #michael myers x reader #freddy krueger x reader #jason voorhees x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #jack torrance x reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader

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what-th3fucc · 22 days ago

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@badgestxr I was inspired by one of ur fics to make my own of Cassidy and Potato Head interacting lolllkwhgwgshdhshvsskwy C:

angst mostly, also cringe 😌

UNDER THE CUT

Cassidy, the small fox plush, decided it would be nice to plop down on the table next to Mr. Potato Head, who she noticed was alone all day. She sat there for a bit before getting bored. How could he sit there all day? She turned to look at him, and from what she could tell he wasn’t in the mood to talk. Perfect.

“What’s with you?” She asked, her tone purposefully condescending to pry an answer from him. When he didn’t respond, she nudged him. Twice.

“Hey,” she said, nudging him a third time. “What’s got your pegs in the wrong holes?”

“What?” Mr. Potato Head finally asked, turning to look at her. He looked as though he couldn’t believe what she just said and she didn’t understand why.

“You know,” she inquired, tilting her head. “What’s got your parts loose?”

“Just stop,” Mr. Potato Head groaned, rubbing his temples. Cassidy rolled her eyes. Why was he so bothered by her metaphors? Well, he was bothered by everything, but this time he just looked uncomfortable.

After a few moments of silence, which were unbearable for Cassidy, she looked at him again. He stared ahead again, but was more tense than before she came to sit by him.

“So, what’s wrong?”

“NOTHING.” Potato Head let out quickly, almost frustrated.

“Okay, geez.” Cassidy said, putting up two defensive paws. She felt kinda pissed that he was being such a jerk for no reason. “Y’know, Woody’s better than you.” She let slip, looking back at him again.

“So I’ve heard,” Potato Head grumbled, looking away and trying to hide how much the remark hurt.

Cassidy let out a sigh of annoyance, tired of how the spud acted. She leaned forward to get a look at his face after he turned. Was he angry or upset by what she said? He deserved it anyway. Why should she care?

“Why do you always act like this?” Cassidy asked, a feeling of irritation bubbling inside. “Woody’s just better than you. At least he actually cares about me. You can’t even take care of your own kids. You just neglect them..” she trailed off, noticing how the spud tensed up. Maybe she went too far? What did she know anyway? She just kind of let it spill.

“Why?” She finally asked, her tone slightly softer now. She remembered how Woody taught her that there’s always more than what meets the eye. Maybe that’s what was going on. Maybe she went too far.

Potato Head slowly turned to look at her, unsure of whether or not he should tell a kid this. Having it brought back up to his face killed him inside, but he knew she was right, even if she’s just a kid. He turned his face ahead again, not looking at her. He looked down at the ground below and took in a small breath, afraid that anything larger would trigger panic mode.

Cassidy stared at him for a few moments, her hope of him actually responding slowly dying. This wasn’t what she expected from simply sitting by him. She stared ahead too, biting her lip. She felt horrible, not knowing that her words could hurt a hardass so much.

“Because I’m a coward,” Potato Head whispered, still not looking at her. Subconsciously, he started fidgeting with his hands, something seemingly everyone but him tended to notice whenever it happened. She looked down at his fidgeting, trembling hands, then slowly up at his face. She leaned forward again, slowly to get a better look at his face. He looked deep in thought, except his thoughts were a train wreck.

“Cass!” A voice called. Woody. “Whatcha doing up here? Trying to cheer up this grumpy old spud?”

Cassidy turned back around, taken aback at how quickly Potato Head’s mood shifted. He went from on the verge of tears to his usual— well, just usual— self.

“Shut up, Woody.” He said, standing up and rolling his eyes, putting his hands on his hips. Cassidy could tell he was trying to mask whatever he was feeling. And he was really good at it too. But she could still hear that strain in his voice to keep it together. She stared at him, her brows furrowed. How fast did he do that? A second? Usually it took her a couple minutes to finally go back to being normal after getting upset.

“C’mon, I was looking for you,” The sheriff said, taking her hand and leading her away. She looked back for a few moments to witness Potato Head’s facade fade back into how he’s actually feeling. He broke eye contact with her turning away once again. Cassidy tried pulling back slightly to check on him again, but Woody just kept walking. Eventually she silently complied and turned, walking close next to him and off the table.

part 1/2

#THIS KIGHT BE CRINGE AND ITS NULTIPLE PARTD 😭#hello my spelling????#it’s so ass I’m just keeping it there 😌#ANYWAY #HOPE YOU RNJOY MOOTIE SHDHUSVDHSHSVAJSYEGWG #toy story #mr potato head #toy story oc #cassidy the fox #ALSO DON’T MIND THE BEGINING LOOLLL

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dyketorccio · 2 months ago

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── pain days ; lottienat anon request : hiiiiii welcome!!!!!! would you like to write ummmm… checks notes… phys disabled lottie with nat comforting her please! tysm

summary : a fic about nat taking care of/comforting lottie on a bad pain day after practice.

tags/cws : lottie has fibro (as does author), he/him nat, fluff, hurt/comfort, pre-crash, soccer practice but author has limited sports knowledge, gentleman ! nat, bathing together, word count: 3.76k

an : i probably won't do tons of author's notes but i just wanted to apologize if this one isn't the greatest : (. i'm dealing with a particularly bad fibro/chronic illness flare-up and it's somewhat reflected in my writing.

۶ৎ ︶ ꒱ frustrated tears prick lottie’s brown eyes as she trudges stiffly toward the bench. “matthews,” coach martinez barks, “a little hustle please.” lottie can hardly bite back a sob, as she attempts to push her aching body further, her gait stilted and clumsy. “what’s the matter out there today, matthews?” he claps a firm hand on lottie’s shoulder. she grimaces, and the steely glint in the coach’s eye softens. lottie can’t bring herself to look at him. a fresh wave of tears threatens to spill down lottie’s flushed cheeks as his hand on her shoulder burns through her sweaty t-shirt. “‘s nothing,” she mutters, ashamed and humiliated, voice coming out hardly above a whisper. she’s not sure how much longer she can be on her feet, the pain is nearly blinding in her legs, joints and fingers which have curled and stiffened uncomfortably into claws. aside from the pain, the fatigue makes speaking even harder; the typically energetic and vocal lottie during practices has been replaced by a spacy, awkward, and clumsy one who can hardly keep her head up let alone her eyes on the ball moving rapidly from foot to foot, player to player.

“hmm?,” martinez grunts in frustration. “didn’t quite catch that.” lottie whines gently, brain clouded with pain, agony, and frustration with both her body and her performance on the field today. she wants to stamp her foot like a five year old having a tantrum might, but on top of being too painful, that would be disastrous for her reputation and her coach’s respect for her. she feels defeated, humiliated. With a shuddering breath, she opens her mouth to confess. “fibromyalgia,” she blurts, making an effort to ensure her voice is loud enough. it comes out brittle but her volume level is better this time. her cheeks flush with shame, and she manages to flick her eyes upward to see the look in coach martinez’s eye shift from frustration to sympathy. “flare-up,” she adds. it’s the worst one she’s had in awhile and the first one to affect her this deeply. usually she’s able to handle herself on the field, though even lesser flare-ups take some of the aggression out of her. she’ll oftentimes be on the verge of collapsing by the time she gets home, with only a maid to fill the large living room and to offer an empathetic look, a handful of pills to ease the agony.

“ah,” the man says simply, grip easing up on lottie’s shoulder. “i was going to bench you,” he starts and lottie’s cheeks flush a deeper red, her shame growing deeper. “but if you’re not feeling well, maybe it would be best that you head home. do you need an ice pack? or,” he shrugs, mouth thinning into a line as he appears to think, “anything else?” he finishes lamely. a worn smile tugs at the corner of lottie’s lips.

“ice would be good, thanks.” her voice is groggy, and she sways ever so slightly on her aching legs. “i need to sit,” she huffs tiredly, and he gestures toward the bench, now a beacon of light instead of the humilitation ritual she typically views it as. “be my guest.” lottie all but collapses onto it, the cool metal feeling good against her sweaty skin. her head drops onto her chest; she feels too fatigued to lift it anymore, taking in the green turf with her exhausted brown eyes. coach gestures misty over. the poodle haired blonde looks behind her, as if expecting to see him gesturing towards somebody behind her. coach martinez hardly ever acknowledges her, aside from the occasional shout when the ball gets too far out of bounds and she gets to throw it back into the fray. misty excitedly scampers over, always eager to help the team in any way she can. though she longs to be on the field, her parents have reassured her time and time again that the equipment manager is an integral role on the team as well. “run and get me an ice pack, okay?” he orders her, and she nods quickly, running in the direction of the nurse’s office.

though lottie is far too tired to notice, nat continually glances worriedly towards the girl whose wilted hair is slowly falling out of its two respective ponytails on either side of her face. his brow furrows with concern at the way her head is flopped onto her chest, her hands clawed in the way they sometimes do on a particularly bad pain day. misty is back a few minutes later with a cold pack in her hand, glasses slipping down her nose. She breathes heavily for a moment before pushing them up her nose with one finger, smiling at coach martinez as she hands him the ice pack. “thank you, misty,” he says, dismissing her and passing the pack to Lottie. Turning toward the māori girl, he presses it into her hand with a slight smile. “hang in there, matthews,” he reassures her. “make sure you’re drinking water, yeah?” lottie hums an affirmative and the coach pats her on the shoulder before returning to the sidelines of the field.

“take a water break, girls! five minutes then we’ll scrimmage,” he barks at the players, turning to the assistant coach ben to discuss what he missed while he was tending to lottie. when mari gets in off the field she scoffs upon seeing Lottie warming the bench. “the great lottie matthews on the bench? damn,” she says with a smirk, taking a large gulp from her plastic water bottle. lottie doesn’t even glance up, while nat shoves mari a little.

“lay off, mar, she’s not feeling well,” he retorts, concerned eyes moving to take in the state of his girlfriend. mari mutters something, but her cheeks are flushed an ashamed red. usually when mari gives lottie shit she’ll bite back right away. lottie really must be unwell if she won’t even give the latina the time of day.

nat takes a swig from his water bottle, trotting over to the bench where lottie is sat. “you okay, lot?” his husky voice is soft, full of concern. “bad pain day?” with great effort, lottie hauls her head up to look into nat’s grey-green eyes and nods. concern is etched across his features, and lottie gives an almost imperceptible nod, pain etched across hers. she looks as if she wants to say something, mouth opening as if to try then drops it closed in defeat, head thumping back against her chest, exhaustion clouding her senses. her hands remain clawed in her lap, and nat coos with sympathy for his girl. he gingerly sits down next to her, careful not to touch her and potentially cause more discomfort or pain.

"d'you need me to take you home?" his jersey accent comes out with his concern, something lottie typically finds extremely endearing. she often can't keep herself from smiling when nat allows himself to be vulnerable enough to let his accent slip through, softly kissing his furrowed brow or trembling lips. right now, though she does neither, though she leans into his sweaty body, trembling from both exhaustion and pain. lottie's tough. she's not one to cry in front of others and even nat has only seen the girl break down entirely a few times. yet he can tell she's on the verge of a break right now. "lottie?" he pushes gently. it comes out sounding more like "lawtie."

"the scrimmages are your favorite," she manages with a grimace. "plus, martinez'll kill you." she tries to smile but it's not much different from her previous grimace. nat gently elbows her.

"c'mon, lot. your health is more important than a fuckin' soccer practice. and he can't can me, where'd he find another winger before playoffs?" she manages a real smile this time. "my knight in shining armor," she jokes, nuzzling into his neck for a moment.

"scatorccio!" coach martinez barks from the sidelines. "water breaks over, let's go!" lottie puts a hand on nat's back as if to push him towards the field.

"'s fine, scatorccio," lottie husks with a smirk. her face is pale and nat's brow furrows, still not entirely convinced she doesn't need to go home. "scatorccio!" comes another irate shout. lottie attempts to prop her head up on one clawed hand. she tilts her head forward as if to say "i'm watching," and although her pain and exhaustion are evident on her face, nat can't afford to argue further. still, there's one more thing he has to do.

"what about your hands, lot. if you're gonna stay, can i help you with those? they look painful all clawed up like that." lottie flushes, not wanting to get nat in trouble for delaying his return any further. she moves her head in a forward motion as if urging him to go, but the blond doesn't budge. lottie sighs but she nods gratefully, allowing nat to gently uncurl the fingers of both hands, wincing as he does so. he tuts apologetically, kissing the palm of each hand once he's finished. when he turns around, coach martinez is watching him disapprovingly, tapping his foot in clear annoyance at nat's tardiness. nat blows lottie a kiss, giving her a wink as he sprints off towards the field, apologizing to the coach before getting into position.

the team scrimmages for the rest of practice. lottie slips into a dreamless doze more than once, but with her head resting on the palm of her hand she has a better view of the field despite the overwhelming heavy feeling of her head. a few times nat catches her eye, pointing at her with a wink before scoring a particularly good goal. the slight smile on coach's face confirms that nat's been forgiven for his failure to be in position on time. nat's team wins by one, which causes shauna to kick a cone in frustration though she begrudgingly shakes hands with the opposing side of her team. "scatorccio," coach martinez barks, and nat finishes retrieving a few stray cones before running over to him, wiping his sweaty brow with the top of his t-shirt. for a minute he thinks he's going to get chewed out, but surprisingly the coach gives him a good natured slap on the shoulder. "good work out there today. make sure lottie's taking care of herself, hm?" he raises an eyebrow at the blond. "see you tomorrow, on time, yes?" he stresses the words on time and nat gives him a sheepish smile. "you got it. thanks, coach."

a flushed nat makes his way over to lottie who seems to have dozed off once again, a look of misery etched across her soft features. she whimpers as she stirs, tilting backwards and waking herself up as her body jerks with the bench having no back to support her weight. in a flash nat has caught her but her breathing hitches as she finally breaks, the tears she's suppressed for so long finally beginning to fall. a mix of exhaustion, fear, pain, and frustration have the girl choked up, hardly able to breathe as sobs wrack her trembling body.

righting the girl, nat cradles her top half gently soothing her with whispered sweet nothings and rhythmic shushing. the two are the only remaining yellowjackets on the field. the others have quickly dispersed, back to their homes and whatever duties await them there. lottie's body trembles as salty tears intermingle with snot on her exhausted face. "oh, baby," nat soothes, stroking lottie's matted hair. "we should get you home, huh. my poor girl."

lottie's body shudders with exhaustion and she hiccups a few times before she can nod ever so slightly, whimpering as she burrows her face into nat's neck once more. "kevyn should be in the parking lot. d'you think you can make it, lot?" nat's tone is serious but gentle. the question brings a fresh wave of tears to lottie's eyes, and a loud sob bursts from her throat. nat frowns sadly at the look of sheer agony on lottie's face. despite her best attempts to undermine her pain, it's clearly taking an immense toll on her.

"here, let's try." nat lifts one of lottie's limp arms and gently places it around his shoulder, grasping its aching fingers gently but firmly to secure the girl. his other hand loops around her slender waist. she moans at the contact, though with pain rather than pleasure. lottie's body is especially sensitive during flare-ups, and her skin oftentimes burning to the touch. nat hisses sympathetically. "c'mon, lottie, you can do it. i've got you." lottie nods, sweating with effort as she half hobbles and is half carried by nat towards the parking lot. sure enough kevyn's shitty beat up sedan is waiting for them. he honks, rolling down the window to shout at nat.

"hey burn-ou...." he trails off when he sees lottie, jaw dropping when he sees the state that she's in. he curses under his breath, sighing as he opens the driver's side door, rushing to the side of his friend and his girlfriend. he's never driven lottie before, hell he's hardly even met the girl but he doesn't protest the last minute addition, assisting nat in getting her to the car. he opens the door of the car, having the decency to look ashamed by the series of bottles littering the floor, and overflow old trash spilling onto the pavement.

"i uh, didn't know you were coming," he says with a sheepish look, hand running through his long greasy hair in embarrassment. lottie manages a smile but shakes her head to show that she doesn't mind. there's an apologetic look on her face. his driving is over the speed limit, causing her stomach to lurch a few times but with directions from nat they finally reach the elaborate matthews home. kevyn lets out a breath. "shit," he says, dragging out the word with a note of impression in his voice. "you live here?"

"yes, dickwad," nat says playfully. "i'm gonna stay with her. thanks for the ride," he adds politely with a grin. he climbs out the right side of the car, before easing lottie out the other, practically holding her up as he stops by the driver's side window. "seriously, thank you man. i'll ring you tonight, alright?" there's a sober look in nat's eye and kevyn looks mildly uncomfortable. "later, burnout," he says with a chuckle, beginning to pull away. nat and lottie are almost to the door when he shouts from the window, "should've told me your girlfriend's rich!" the smile is evident in his voice and nat rolls his eyes good naturedly.

"got your key?" nat asks and lottie nods toward her bag. nat makes quick work of finding it as lottie leans against the door, biting back a grimace. he lets the pair into the cavernous parlor where the maid is dusting. upon seeing lottie's pale face and shaky legs she pauses. "miss matthews, are you alright?"

"bad pain day," nat mouths, and the maid looks sympathetic, nodding.

"oh yes. i'm familiar. let me get your pain medication, miss." lottie flushes, embarrassed at the usage of the title. no matter how many times she asks for the staff to simply call her lottie, old habits seem to die hard. she mumbles a flustered "thank you," sinking onto a beige futon by the entrance letting out a long pained sigh.

"i'd like to draw her a bath, ma'am. mind if we use the guest bathroom?" the maid looks almost surprised to be spoken to with respect from a stranger. even after years serving the family, malcolm has hardly taken it upon himself to learn hear name, let alone address her as a "ma'am" or even with a direct look in her direction. "yes that's perfectly alright. shall i bring the medication there?" nat takes a glance at lottie's graying face and shakes his head. "if you wouldn't mind, i think she needs them now." he frowns at the pitiful state of his girlfriend, before forcing himself to replace this concern with a smile at the maid who nods curtly, scurrying off to retrieve the pills.

"how are you doing, lot?" nat asks, gently tucking a stray, sweaty strand of lottie's hair behind her ear with his thumb. she looks at him with half-lidded eyes and manages a half smile. "like shit." nat coos.

"i know." he takes her hand and squeezes softly three times. i love you. she clumsily squeezes back once then winces. "you're gonnna make me say it aloud, aren't you, scatorccio," lottie jokes playfully. her features soften as she gazes into his eyes. "i love you too."

nat bends down to kiss lottie's sweaty forehead, wrinkling his nose playfully at her after practice musk. lottie rolls her eyes, smile more prominent now. "you really do need a bath," nat teases, and lottie blows a raspberry.

"you don't smell like roses yourself, natalie." nat scoffs, pretending to be offended.

"is that right, charlotte?" lottie snickers and nat slaps her good naturedly. lottie's eyes widen in mock offense.

"did you just hit your disabled girlfriend?" nat playfully gets down on his knee, hands together in repentance.

"forgive me, princess." lottie giggles. before nat can get up the maid's footsteps can be heard, signaling the arrival of lottie's medication. the sound of her sensible shoes stops in the doorway.

"am i... interrupting something, miss?" nat yelps, flushing a deep red as he quickly scrambles to his feet.

"no ma'am," he stammers, unable to meet her sharp gaze.

"your medication, miss matthews. feeling better, are we?" lottie flushes, thanking the maid and swallowing the pills dry. "would you like assistance with drawing the bath?" nat thinks it over. considering the matthews' wealth, it's not unlikely they have some kind of bullshit fancy clawfoot thing he'll have no clue how to work. "yes, thank you. if you wouldn't mind, ma'am." the maid smiles at him, finding his chronic politeness an endearing feature. "it's no trouble, i assure you. i'll come get you when it's ready."

fifteen minutes later, nat is helping lottie undress. though the way he caresses her warm tan skin, removing articles of clothing with the utmost of care is in no way sexual, the intimacy brings a tinge of heat to nat's cheeks. he kisses her soft, aching body, offering a firm arm as a support once all of her clothes have been removed so that she can shakily climb into the tub (clawfooted just as nat had suspected). she moans with pleasure as the warm water soothes her aching frame.

a smile spreads across her pallid cheeks. "feels so good," she hums contentedly. "you should join me," she adds shyly. "i want you to wash my hair," she adds softly, a faint blush on her cheeks.

"whatever you need," nat agrees, eyeing the warm water. "i'll pamper you," he adds with a grin. "my princess." he adds an exaggerated flourish of a pale hand. lottie giggles, splashing a bit of water at him. nat quickly sheds his clothes, gently climbing into the tub with lottie so as not to hurt her, a jolt of electricity running through him when his slender fingers brush one of her tantalizingly long legs. lottie shivers at this and nat grins a little to himself.

lottie turns around so that her taut back is facing nat, long brown waves flowing down her back. nat gently runs his fingers through the wet, nearly black strands, every so slightly scratching lottie's scalp, making her arch her back with pleasure. nat lathers the tresses with expensive smelling shampoo, leaning forward to breathe in the scent deeply. he shampoos and conditions lottie's hair with the utmost care, like a parent might a young child. lottie hums contentedly, hardened muscles slowly beginning to loosen up.

once he's done washing lottie's thick locks, he quickly washes his own shaggy blonde hair, shaking his head like a dog might after getting a bath when he nearly blinds himself with the perfumed shampoo. lottie turns to look at him with love in her eyes though she doesn't comment on this action. he clumsily works his fingers through lottie's long hair, twisting it into a loose, albeit clumsy plait.

"can i wash your body too, lot?" nat asks, ever the gentleman. lottie nods a bit easier this time.

"please," she breathes. uncapping the lavender scented body wash, nat carefully and gently works the soap into lottie's skin, working at the knotted muscles with his fingers. two fingers push the braid over one shoulder to make room for nat to plant a kiss between lottie's shoulder blades.

"you're beautiful, baby," nat hums softly, his voice husky. "are you feeling any better?" he questions. lottie nods easier still. "much," she confirms in a low but content voice.

"what else is there that can i do for you?" lottie appears to mull the question over, the brain fog inflicted by her condition making it hard to form coherent thoughts.

"hold me, nattie," she softly croaks. "i just want to be close to you." nat smiles as he kisses the spot between his girl's shoulder blades once more. her body shudders at the fluttery sensation of his lips against her skin, and she turns to face him, not bothering to cover her exposed chest. she leans into him once more, body tingling at the sensation of her skin melding with his. he wraps his gently toned arms around the girl in an embrace, unable to keep from giggling slightly when her head comes to rest on his small chest, her lashes fluttering closed creating a tickling sensation.

nat can feel the lottie's smile against his chest at his giggle. she plants a sloppy kiss on his jawline and he rhythmically strokes her back with his thumb, the water sloshing slowly with the circular movement. soon lottie is dozing in the warm water, tensed muscles having softened with the remedy. their bodies are one; lottie's body rises and falls along with nat's deep breaths. a gentle smile tugs at his lips. he's enthralled by lottie's body, her strength and resilience despite the imprisoning pain her condition so often causes her. he knows that soon enough he'll have to wake her, and they'll have to dry off, shriveled and wrinkled bodies wrapped in the fluffy white towels hanging on the crystalline rack. but for now he figures a few minutes more of the gentle intimacy of their bodies entwined in a gentle embrace won't hurt.

#⠀ 𐂯 ⠀ ꒱ ⠀ dyketorccio #⠀ 𐂯 ⠀ ꒱ ⠀ notebook #⠀ 𐂯 ⠀ ꒱ ⠀ requested #yellowjackets #lottienat #lottie matthews #nat scatorccio #yellowjackets writing #yellowjackets headcanons #nat yellowjackets #lottie yellowjackets #natalie scatorccio #lottie x natalie #nat x lottie #yj

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jerzwriter · 5 months ago

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It was a friendship that felt more like family - one that carried them through the rigors and the lighter side of their medical school years. But with tensions ramping up and graduation on the horizon, it seemed like it was all slipping away. Could the friendship they had both valued so much be saved?

Book: Open Heart (Pre-Series) Featuring: Ethan Ramsey and Tobias Carrick Rating: Teen Words: 1,200

A/N: Based on this very old prompt from @liaromancewriter. Down to just 2 inbox requests left! 😊 I hope it's decent. I have not been "feeling it" much lately, so writing has been difficult, but I had to try this for my two favorite guys (and for Mal, too! lol)

Tobias leaned against the railing of his family’s luxury box at Camden Yards, his eyes fixed on the Orioles, warming up on the field below. He took a long drink of the ice-cold beer he’d been holding idly for the past ten minutes, doing his best to ignore the tension that filled the air.

Behind him, Ethan shifted uncomfortably in his luxurious leather seat, eventually standing to grab a drink of his own. Not long ago, an afternoon like this would have been delightful, filled with the laughter and camaraderie that defined the two men over the past four years, but now, those memories felt as if they were lost in time.

Their bond began to solidify the instant they met. Two of the brightest students to enroll in Johns Hopkins in years, the administration thought pairing them - in classes, in housing, and on projects - would lead them to accomplish things they could only dream of. While they hailed from different worlds, the two young men quickly became best friends – brothers – and they believed that was how it would always be. But with graduation only months away, their friendship felt more like a forced partnership teetering on the verge of collapse.

“You didn’t have to do all this, you know,” Ethan said, gesturing at the plush suite. Tobias’s family had connections everywhere, and this box was just another perk that came along with his name.

“It’s not a big deal,” Tobias shrugged. “Besides, I thought we could use a break. Recharge a little bit.” He turned to Ethan, his smile faltering when he caught the tension in his friend’s jaw.

“Recharge?” Ethan scoffed. “Right. Because after a week where I managed a total of eight hours sleep, this is what I need... a baseball game in a gilded box.”

Tobias’s smile tightened. “You could just say thank you and drink the free beer, Ramsey.”

Ethan heaved out a sigh. “You don’t get it, do you? You never have. This…” he gestured around him... “This is all normal to you. You step into spaces like this without a second thought. Meanwhile, the rest of us have to kill ourselves just to get by. No safety nets. No family name to fall back on. If we fail, we're done for.”

Tobias’s stomach twisted at Ethan’s words, but he refused to let it show. “And yet here we are,” he shrugged, an uncharacteristic bite in his tone. “Same med school. Same rotations. Same sleepless nights... and as of today, you're ranked top in our class, with me trailing behind you. I’d say you’re doing alright.”

“Am I?” Ethan’s snapped. “If I am, that's because I earned it through my blood, sweat, and tears. You’ve been coasting on your charm and connections from the start. I didn’t have your fancy prep school or private tutors; I didn’t have the Carrick name. My father didn't get letters of recommendation for me from his golf buddies - who just so happened to be on the board at Hopkins. You can’t even see it, can you? How easy you have it compared to the rest of us.”

Tobias turned to him with a scowl. “That’s funny, coming from you. You’re at the top of our class. Hopkins's own boy wonder. You’ve got attendings singing your praises left and right. You never needed anyone to hold the door open for you. You kicked it down yourself, and you have every right to be proud of that."

Ethan let out a gruff breath. “Yet it’s always your name being whispered in the halls. Carrick, the golden boy, the legacy. Carrick, who’ll get his pick of residencies no matter what he does... or doesn't do. Carrick, who’s never had to fight for a damn thing in his life.”

Tobas’s face flushed, his grip tightening around the neck of his bottle of beer. “You’re right,” he said evenly. “I’ve been handed a lot in life. But don’t act like you know me, Ramsey. You’ve seen the way I kill myself to make sure I'm the best. Not because it's expected of me but because I want people to know I'm here because of what I've done - not who I am. But no matter what I do, I get a pat on the head while you get idol status. Come on, man! You, of all people, know how hard I’ve worked! Do you really think we’re neck and neck right now because of my name?”

Ethan opened his mouth to reply but stopped. Tobias could see Ethan's armor beginning to crack, but that was fleeting, and when his anger returned, it was with a vengeance.

“You know,” Ethan finally spoke. “I actually hate you sometimes.”

The words hit Tobias like a knife, but he forced himself to chuckle softly. “It happens to the best of us, I guess,” he said, pretending to shrug it off.

Ethan turned away, a hint of regret crossing his face, but he didn’t say anything further. The game continued below, a meaningless blur of innings and cheers that neither paid attention to. The heavy silence stretched until Tobias finally spoke.

“Look, I’m trying here,” he said quietly. “I know things have been… off... between us. But I thought maybe this could be a way to fix it. I thought maybe if we had a nice day together, we could get back to where we were. But, clearly, I was wrong.”

Ethan didn’t respond right away; staring at the field, his expression was unreadable. “Maybe this isn’t something you can fix,” he said finally. “We're going to be doctors, it's our nature to believe everything has a solution, but maybe this doesn't. Maybe we’ve just outgrown this.”

“Outgrown what?” Tobias asked, his voice sharper than intended. “Our friendship? All the good times? The years we’ve spent having each other’s backs? We just... outgrew it?”

"Outgrew it... or maybe it wasn't as much as we thought to begin with."

They left the game just before the seventh-inning stretch, the tension between them as thick as the humidity hovering over Baltimore that night. The ride back to their apartment was silent, each second feeling longer than the last. When Tobias unlocked the door to their apartment and stepped inside, the familiar space felt foreign to him.

This is where they had created so many special memories: late-night study sessions, arguing over who was the better cook, the half-drunk debates where both were just talking jibberish and Tobias’s never-ending trail of new conquests – all except the one he really wanted – the one who had occupied the spot next to Ethan just a room away. Now, their sanctuary felt like a battlefield littered with memories they didn't know how to hold onto.

“I’m heading to bed,” Ethan muttered, heading directly to his room.

“Goodnight,” Tobias replied, though he didn’t know if it was heard.

He stood in the living room for a long time, staring at Ethan's bedroom door. On the other side, Ethan had collapsed into his bed; the distance between them felt miles apart, even as they reflected on the same things.

They wanted to salvage a friendship that had meant so much to both, but with graduation looming, time was slipping away. The competing, the disparities, the woman they both loved... they seemed larger than life... larger than any battles they could overcome.

Defeated, Tobias finally headed to his room, closing the door gently behind him. The beautiful tapestry they had created was coming undone, and both felt they could only watch it unravel, thread by thread.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

#choices #choices fanfic #open heart #open heart choices #choices open heart #open heart fanfic #ethan ramsey #tobias carrick #hopkins years #playchoices #playchoices fanfic #choices stories you play

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weirdkpopgirl · 1 year ago

Text

Pain | Jaemin Imagine #11

Title: Pain

Genre: Angst, slight fluff

Warnings: description/mention of period cramps -- i'm sorry

Word Count: 791

Author's Note: I mean the title and warning makes it pretty obvious, but I wrote this while I was on that time of month. Although I do have a group post for NCT Dream about periods, I wanted to write a little more about it for awhile now. Especially when my experience has been kinda excruciating lately lol. Anyway, please don't read if this topic makes you uncomfortable.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

It was 10 a.m. on a Saturday, and you regretted not sleeping in (you didn’t even know how you got out of bed, honestly). Instead, you were hunched over your laptop, typing up the third body paragraph of a research paper that was due next week. However, you found it nearly impossible to concentrate due to the stabbing pain shooting through your abdomen. Lucky for you, your lovely period came knocking at your door the day before. Now you were trying to endure the second day, where the amount of pain only seemed to increase.

A soft groan escaped your lips as you clenched your fists on the desk, willing yourself to push through the agony. But the dull ache in your stomach only seemed to worsen with each passing moment. It was driving you insane, seriously.

Then just when you were on the verge of breaking, Jaemin entered the room carrying a mug of hot chocolate because he knew you preferred it over coffee. His brows furrowed with concern when he noticed your tense figure, and he immediately caught the pained expression on your face.

Crossing the room to carefully place the steaming ceramic mug on a coaster near you. “Hey, you don’t look so good,” he said softly, locking eyes with you. “Are you okay, baby?”

Typically, you liked to keep your emotions guarded. The thought of your boyfriend seeing you in such a vulnerable state was the last thing you wanted, especially at a time like this. Despite your efforts to offer him a reassuring smile, it faltered as a new wave of cramps surged through you.

“It just hurts,” you muttered, firmly pressing your knuckles against your forehead.

Jaemin frowned, realizing this was serious if you weren’t even trying to hide your discomfort from him. He calmly scanned the room in search of anything that might help you.

“Why don’t you take some medicine? I can grab you some painkillers.”

But you quickly shook your head in rejection. “I’ll be fine. I don’t like taking those unless I have to.”

You heard Jaemin sigh before he moved to stand behind you. Then you felt his hands start to gently knead your shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension. On any normal day, your body would’ve stiffened immediately and you might have withdrawn. But right now, you were grateful for his touch and it did help a little.

“Maybe you should put your essay on pause for now,” he suggested, stealing a glance at your screen. “You’ve already done more than enough today. Come lay down with me and rest for a bit?”

Though you hesitated for a moment, your fatigue overridden any inclination to protest. After giving him a weak nod, you allowed Jaemin to lift you from the chair and guide you to the couch. With a deep breath, you sank into the cushion and curled up against your boyfriend’s body. He happily wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer.

Yet, the pain persisted, even in Jaemin’s comforting embrace. You had to bite your lip to stifle a whimper, as you felt tears prick your eyes. He picked up on your distress fairly quickly, his heart breaking at the sight of your pain. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead in hopes of bringing you some sort of comfort.

However, the sweetness of his gesture prompted the first tear to stream down your cheek. Perhaps it was a mix of embarrassment, gratitude, and frustration swirling within you. Regardless, Jaemin kept you in his arms and peppered a few more kisses atop your head.

“Shh, it’s okay baby,” he murmured, his deep voice barely above a whisper. “Just let it out, you don’t have to keep it in.”

As if on cue, you closed your eyes and buried your face in Jaemin’s chest. Tears soaked helplessly into the fabric of his white t-shirt, as you clung to him tightly. You weren’t the type to cry in front of others, but the relentless cramps from your stupid period had pushed you to your limit.

Though it stung to hear your sobs and feel your body tremble against his, Jaemin was mostly grateful that you weren’t bottling up your emotions. Holding you close, whispering soothing words of comfort, and his fingers lightly stroking your hair were all things that were second nature to him.

If he could take all your pain away from you, he swore he would in a heartbeat.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

previous masterlist -> current masterlist

#nct dream #nctzen #kpop #czennie #nct dream imagines #nct #jaemin #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenarios #na jaemin #jaemin imagines #jaemin scenarios #jaemin x reader

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kissmeizuku · 1 month ago

Text

"Love is scary." Denki x Reader (Angst)

Summer break was over, and everyone had returned to their dorms.

You excitedly spoke to everyone,

But there's an unexplainable knot in your stomach,

causing an uncomfortable pain.

And even your chest feels tight.

You take deep breaths and decide to look around the dorms to see if maybe, just maybe, you can find what's causing this feeling.

Eventually you walk past dorm 127, Denki's dorm. You press your ear to the door and hear frantic coughs and gags.

"Denki?" You knock on the door, and after no reply, you let yourself in. You come to the terrifying scene of Denki hunched over, hugging his stomach as bloody petals fall from his mouth.

"I can't breathe..." He whimpers with tears in his eyes.

"Oh god, Denki...!" You rushed forward, kneeling down to his height. "Who... Who caused you Hanahaki...?"

His hands tremble as he tries to wipe blood from his lips, his face pale and sweaty.

"I-I don't know... It just... started happening outta nowhere..." He coughs again, more petals spilling from his mouth, and he clutches his chest.

"It hurts, Y/N... Like something's tearing me apart from the inside..." He looks up at them with wide, scared eyes, his usual goofy grin completely gone.

"I tried calling my dad... But the line was dead. I tried texting... No response..."

A tear slips down his cheek as he reaches for their hand.

"I'm scared, Y/N... I think I'm gonna die..."

"No. You won't. I refuse to let you. You can't leave me. Please... Denki... Try and fight through it!" You wrapped your arms around him, and when he couldn't stand up himself, you just threw him over your shoulder.

He was weightless.

Uneasily light.

His body goes limp against you, coughing weakly as he clings to your shoulders. "Y-Y/N..."

His voice is barely above a whisper, trembling with each breath. "I... I didn't think anyone would care enough to carry me..." He lets out a wet laugh, though it's laced with pain. "Guess I was wrong..."

As you carry him down the hallway, he rests his head against your neck, his breathing shallow and uneven. "I'm sorry... For being such a burden..."

His words trail off as another wave of coughs wracks his body, sending more blood petals spiraling into the air.

"I just... I wanted to be brave... For you..."

"You need to tell me when you're hurt. It's only going to worry me more if you don't tell me what's going on. Especially if it's something as serious as Hanahaki..." You blinked back tears.

The thought of losing Denki was scarier than anything.

Finally, you arrived to Recovery Girl's office, holding Denki tightly. "Damn it, where is she...?" You muttered anxiously to yourself, biting your lip.

His fingers dig slightly into your shoulders as he struggles to stay conscious, his vision blurring at the edges. Poor boy.

"I know... I know I should've told you sooner..." He manages a shaky smile, trying to reassure you even when he's literally on the verge of death. "But I didn't want to bother you... Or make you sad..."

His breath catches as another violent cough shakes his body, and he buries his face in your neck, whimpering softly.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, Y/N..." His voice cracks, and for the first time since you two met?

He sounds truly broken.

"I don't wanna die... Not like this..."

"You won't die. You can't." You whispered, your voice cracking slightly.

"I need you, Denki Kaminari." You finally sat him down on Recovery Girl's hospital bed, hugging him tightly but gently, careful not to hurt him further.

"I love you, Denki. I don't know if you're going to die or not, but I can't risk it. I have to tell you. I love you."

You kissed his cheek.

And doing that...

It seemed to be healing Denki's Hanahaki.

It was because Denki was being insecure and thinking that you would never love him back, which caused him the Hanahaki.

But you confessing to him was the cure for his Hanahaki.

His eyes widen in shock as the burning pain in his chest suddenly eases, the bloody petals stopping mid-air before dissolving into nothingness.

He stares at you, his heart pounding not from fear, but from something entirely different.

"...What...?" He blinked.

He reaches up to touch his chest, still expecting the sharp agony, but instead finds only warmth. His gaze locks onto yours, and for once, his usual playful smirk is replaced with genuine emotion.

"You... you really mean that?" His voice is hoarse, filled with disbelief and something dangerously close to hope. "You love me...?"

He swallows hard, his cheeks flushing bright red as he leans in closer, his breath ghosting across your skin. "I... I love you too, Y/N..." The words feel foreign on his tongue, but they're true.

So very true.

You gasped softly, seeing his Hanahaki heal up.

"Denki... Was... I the reason for your Hanahaki...?" You pulled back slightly to gaze at him, but still hugging him.

Refusing to let go of him.

He hesitates, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his shirt as he avoids your gaze.

"Yeah... I guess you were." He chuckles weakly, but there's no humor in it—just raw vulnerability. "I kept telling myself you'd never love me back... That I wasn't worth it. That I was just some dumb, loud guy who got lucky."

He finally meets your eyes, his expression earnest and sincere.

"But then you... you carried me. You held me. You loved me... Even when I was hurting. Even when I was being a mess."

His voice wavers.

"And I... I was so scared I'd lose you. Scared you'd realize I wasn't good enough." He reaches out, cupping your face in his hands, his touch gentle.

"I've always loved you. I'm sorry I never said it sooner... I'm sorry I caused you this..." You blinked back your tears, cupping his face gently.

His thumb brushes away a tear that slips down your cheek, his heart aching at the sight of you crying.

"Hey... none of that." He pulls you closer, resting his forehead against yours.

"You didn't cause this. I did. I was being stupid. Thinking I wasn't worthy of your love." He takes a shaky breath, his usual energy returning in small doses as he smiles faintly.

"But now I know... You do love me. And I love you. More than anything." His voice softens, almost like he's whispering to himself. "More than my own life." He leans in slowly, his lips hovering just above yours, eyes locked on yours like you were the most precious thing in the world.

"So don't cry anymore, okay? Because I'm not going anywhere. Not ever."

You hugged him tightly, burying your face in his neck. You let out a shaky, watery laugh, somewhere in between of crying and laughing. "You better not."

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close as if afraid you might vanish.

"Wouldn't dream of it." His voice is steady now, the weight of his fear lifting, replaced by something warm and solid. For only you.

"You're stuck with me, honey. Forever." He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes full with affection.

"Besides... Who else is gonna put up with my crazy? Who else is gonna drag me to the hospital when I'm being a stubborn idiot?" He smirks.

But it's softer now.

Full of love rather than his usual flirtatious energy.

He leans in, brushing his lips against yours in a gentle, lingering kiss. "I love you. Always have. Always will."

"I love you too." You kissed him back.

"And you'll never leave again. Because I'm going to marry you, and we'll grow old together, and we'll die together. No getting out of it." You said, your voice playful, but full with genuine love.

His eyes go wide, then he bursts into laughter, the sound full of joy for the first time in days.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa—marry me?!"

He grips your shoulders, shaking his head in disbelief, but his grin is brighter than the sun. "You're gonna make me the happiest guy in the world, aren't you?"

He cups your face again, his tone turning tender as he whispers. "Yeah... Yeah, I'd love that. Growing old with you... Watching our kids run around... Being your husband..." His voice cracks slightly, and he swallows hard.

"I don't deserve you, but I'm gonna try my hardest to be the best partner you could ever ask for." He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours.

You smiled and wiped your tears with the back of your hand, then you kissed him softly. "I love you." You whispered against his lips.

His hands slide into your hair, holding you close as he returns the kiss with all the love and devotion he's ever felt.

"I love you too..." He pulls back just enough to look into her eyes, his usual spark now glowing with something deeper.

Something real.

"More than the stars, more than the sky, more than anything." He grins, but this time it's not just for show—it's honest, open, and full of hope.

"So, uh... What's the plan for the rest of the day, Mrs/Mr. Kaminari?" He winks, teasing but loving.

"Because I kinda wanna start planning our future, Y/N."

#mha #mha angst #mha fluff #angst to fluff #angst with a happy ending #denki x reader #denki x y/n #denki x you #denki kaminari #denki mha #mha denki #denki fluff #hanahaki

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sunnyswide · 1 year ago

Text

Simon & Konig x Female Mafia reader

The room was almost pitch black with flickering ceiling lights that seemed to always have that cliche fly swarm. You sat uncomfortably in a metal chair, wrist tied behind the seat.

“Where.. am I”

You could barely hear yourself, with your whole body throbbing in pain. The room looked as if it was spinning slowly, endlessly in dreadful misery.

Your breaths were labored as you tried to hold your head up, in front of you, a pair of slick black military boots cross your blurred vision.

The sound of metal scrapping the ground to your right.

“Someone awake”

You look up to see a man in a skull mask, leaning against the wall of neatly hanging tools and weapons. He was large. 6 foot and a little more. Simon Ghost Riley they called him. Ghost. A monster in human flesh when it came to torture.

The metal screeching stops as a much larger man fills your vision.

He flips the metal chair around, folding his arms on the top rail, propping himself lower just to meet eye to eye with you. Konig. 6’10 giant. Took out 30 so men just by himself. At least that’s what you heard

Your heart races at the sight.. at some point you realize why you’re in this situation…

Fuck..

You look at Ghost.. watching him stare emotionlessly at your state. Which you couldn’t blame him for being so rude..

“Don’t look at him. He’s not going to help. Look at me.”

…

“I know”

You glare at him intently, there was no way you’d let him intimidate you.

“Don’t get to cocky. Look where you are nobody’s gonna find you. Not your damn soldiers.. nor those shadows”

You gulp, feigning fear but you couldn’t help but feel like breaking. Telling the truth wouldn’t be so bad?

“Where are the chemicals.”

You stare at him blankly, mouth sealed.

“Not talking?”

He looked back at Ghost, standing up from his seat.

“Last chance. Or he’s taking over”

You already knew his ways. Fuck. Stuck between a rock and a hard place.

He began unhooking the knvies.. saws.. drills, anything that would make you regret staying silent.

“Alright luv, ready for the show?”

Ghost flipped the knives in his hands, placing the sharp edge dangerously close to your skin.

“Start screamin-”

He stopped, looking at your face. Your eyes squeezed shut. You were already tearing up, holding back little squeaks of pain even though he barely moved the knife. Your cheeks plush and slightly puffed with air as you “prepare” for the pain.

“What are you..”

Konig walks over to you, pushing your hair out of your face to get a better view. Fucking hell. You were on the verge of sobbing.

You opened your eyes slightly, sniffling at what’s to come. The small whimpers that comes from your rosy lips fill the rooms silentness, making the two men stop in their tracks.

You looked.. in their heads

“Fucking adorable”

“Is it in yet” you mutter inconsolably. Little diamond tears slowly dripping down your cheeks

You asked them as if they were administrating a flu shot. Jeez. Look at you.

"I.."

His knife retreats from your throat. Well fuck you just mess everything up don't you Luv?

Konig holds your face, rubbing the tears away with his gloved hands, making a bloody mess all over your face.

"stop! you're just making my face sticky" you whine, needing two hands just to hold his.

"Liebling.." Konig mutters as he marvels at how cute look look.

SImon sighs, using his rough fingers to clean your wet puffy cheeks. Its hard to hurt someone so adorable. weren't you suppose to be okay with pain?

He bites his lip, looking at your flustered face, filled with fear but also inexperience. Maybe they'll just take you back home, far away from the crime life which you clearly don't belong in.

#konig x reader #konig call of duty #konig cod #konig fluff #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost #ghost and konig #cod #ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction #konig fanfiction

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ducky-dawn47 · 3 months ago

Text

Alright Ducklings, gather 'round! Its time for another big ol' Breakdown!

Lemme start with saying that while the Story itself is MOSTLY the same-

The fic's playlist is entirely different than the last post lmao, and the story has also grown and developed into something I'm really proud of, and can't wait to show you all :>

Let's start with the Season (what I'm calling the Arcs now) 1(Technically 2 in the Canon of the show)

"Rise of the Monkey Kid"

Themes: Greif, Worry, Self discovery, "Don't meet your heros", Revitalized Self Worth, "Legends in the Making"

OoC Quotes;

W: "HEEYYYY bud! How ya doin- OH MY GODS!?!?"

Mk: "MONKEY KIIIINNGGG... WHATS HAPPENING TO ME..!?!?

Mk; "I hate myself." M:mayhaps.. dont.. do that????" Mk: "wow, that is such a convincing argument! I don't now! :D"

Red: "my entire world has been shattered. My dissapointment is immeasurable and my day has been ruined. I should have killed you when I had the chance."

Mk: ".....butchaDIDINT-" *gets cut off by Red going for his throat*

UP NEXT! SEASON 2!(3 canonically to the show)

The first picture is focusing on the season itself (and how i have to write ENTIERLY out the ass for it bc wukong is NOT in fact missing and there the whole time and that changes- oh it changes so so much.)

And the second is the 'Season Special' with Lady Bone Bitch and her rabid dog of a Mayor.

Themes; learning to cope in a new environment, struggling with self worth (red son editon) Gay Panic, The closet is glass, NEZHA! :D, Mei is #1SpicyNoodlesFan, Oh- OH this monkey man is SO traumatized-OH.. OH THIS BULL CALF IS SO SO TRAUMATIZED-

OoC Quotes;

R: I am disgusting, no one could love this. *wake me up inside plays in the background*

Mk; MEEEEEE... CHOOSE MEEEEE PICK MEEEEEE-

Random Suitor; LOL fine if Sun Wukong is so hellbent on staying single for the rest of eternity.. How about you little champio-

*Is suddenly and inexplicably a pile of ash*

Mk: .....?

Red:......

Mk: "You wanna talk about tha-" Red: "NO."

Sandy; "Im so proud of you, Red Son! :D"

Red Son: *on the verge of ugly tears, SUpearl style* "th-thankyou..."

Up next! Season 3! (4)

The BIGGEST sonovabitch- Pictures in order are "Mk's Sweet 16! :D" "OH wow- Heaven fucking SUCKS-" And " MatPat styled; LOOOOOOREEEEE"

Themes; Growing up, the closet is the friends we made along the way, how WOULD a superpowered make-out session go..?, Learning to cope with who you are, learning to cope with who your PARENTS are, Heaven fucking sucks, Wukong you poor poor old man, FUCK 'EM UP, XIAOXIAO!! And lastly,

Death! :D

OoC Quotes;

Red; "....." Mk; "..? :3" Red: *squints* Mk: "You wanna talk about it now or-" Red: "YESIWANNAFUCKIGNTALKABOUTIT-"

Erlang: "Ah! Sun Wukong~! How lovley to see you this evening-" W: *very uncomfortable* Mk: *Looms behind baba, death for Erlang spelt CLEARLY in his eyes*

Erlang: "Ah, I see this Champion likes to bite, Let's hope he doesn't dissapoint tonight,Hm?"

Mk: "My entire life has been shattered. My depression is immeasurable and my day has been ruined. I should have killed more of you when I had the chance."

Celestial Court: "...Butcha-" Mk*LEAPS over the judge stand to throttle them*

And once again, to avoid spoilers, take it away, Mathew!

MP: "LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORREEEEE"

And Lastly!

Season 4(5)!!!

Themes; Macaque's ready to FUCK SHIT UP, The Courting Tournament! Reunion, The Things we do for Love, Mk please get a therapist after this good gods-

OoC Quotes;

Mac: "snakes... why did it have to be snakes..?"

Wukong: "Was i born to suffer?" Ducky: For me? Yes!

Mk: "Mama..?" Mac: "Son..."

Suitors: *planning diabolical spoilers for Red*

Mk: *Raging, but held back by Mamacaque.*

Suitors: *Plans also involve Wukong*

Mk: *turns to the side to find Macaque's GONE*

AND LASTLY...

The finale!

Themes; Just exactly HOW FAR can I push this little sunshine and stone monkey till it breaks..? Ugh, fine- FINE! You can have your husband back- Jesus. So whiny.(/hj)

OoC Quotes:

Dbk; "You have ruined my life, turned my son against me, and destroyed my marriage". W: "Uno reverse BITCH-"

W: "Ah, so this is what it feels like to give up? Hm. "

W: "I miss my husband, Mk. I miss him alot. I- I'll be back-"

W: "I've lost my dear husband, Mihou.." M: *behind him* "QUIT TELLIN' EVERYONE IM DEAD!" W: *Choking up* "SometImeS- I cAn stILL HEAR HIS VOICE-... W A I T-" *whips around*

*gay monkies kissing or whatever idk*

AND THATS IT! THATS THE PLAYLIST! NO- NO NEED TO LOOK BEHIJD THE CURTAIN CALL AHAHA....

WAIT-

Wait I CAN EXPLAIN-

ITS UH...

Uhhh....

*nervous sweating in Tumblr's TOS agreements*

F-FRIENDLY.. CUDDLING.. YES-

BUT ONLY IF YALL BEHAVE!

It will be a treat >:3

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #lmk mk #shadowpeach #legendary au #epic musical #lmk fanfiction #writers on tumblr #playlist #fic playlist #fic planning #out of context #quotes #lore dump

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purpleinksplotch · 1 year ago

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Little Golden Showers - volume I (Warning: Piss kink, 18+ only)

WARNING: As the title suggests, this is a piss kink fic. Piss kink/omorashi in general will be a common occurrence on this page so if that's not your thing don't follow me. Any hate or kink shaming will be deleted and/or ignored.

Buuuttt if it is your thing feel free to send me hard thoughts on SKZ piss kink -- or any SKZ hard thoughts (I usually write sub SKZ but I can be flexible). I'll do a pinned post shortly with the kinks I'm uncomfortable writing (there's not many I am a heathen lol). In the meantime, enjoy this first instalment!

Peeing on their chest/stomach

Chan

Asked you to do it as a joke, didn't expect you actually would

But once you say yes he's surprised by how much the thought turns him on

Loves how filthy it is, but is also someone who really values emotional connection and trust and the fact you're willing to be this vulnerable with him makes him so hard

"Come on babygirl, I can see you need it so bad."

Pulls you into his lap and probably gets too excited and starts prodding your bladder trying to make you let go

Once you do the man is in heaven, moaning and biting his lips never taking his eyes off you as you soak his abs in deliciously warm piss

The second you're finished he's flipping you onto your back and fucking you until the bedpost breaks

Lee Know

This is alllll about the control for him

Enjoys the omorashi side of it more than the actual pissing (although he likes that too)

Would make you drink so much water you're about to burst, then tell you you're not allowed to let go until he says

"Be patient kitten, I know you can be good and hold it for me."

Wants you whimpering and squeezing yourself so you don't leak... and then he pushes your hands aside and teases you with his fingers

If you let out an accidental spurt of pee he spanks you

Only when you're on the verge of tears with desperation does he allow you to let go, laying back and offering up his perfect body for you to make a mess on

Gently grips your chin so you have to maintain eye contact the entire time

Changbin

He's usually a big softie for you, but he can be a hard dom when he wants to be

This isn't something he'd necessarily want to do all the time, but he likes experimenting

Wants to feel needed, and what better way than when you're desperate for release?

"Does my bunny need to go? Do it on me baby, I'll catch it all."

Has his strong arms around you the entire time, as if he's trying to squeeze every last drop out of you

Unlike the others he closes his eyes when you actually start peeing on him, so he can enjoy the warmth and the feeling of wetness

But he holds you close to him and presses kisses to your neck while you let go

Hyunjin

Was 100% his idea

Wants you to ruin him in every way possible, but what he loves about pissing is that you're marking him as yours in the most primal sense

Strips naked and spreads himself out before you, his beautiful cock flushed red and straining before you even approach him

Definitely wants you to take a more dominant role and talk to him, might even taunt you

"Yes... Want to feel dirty, please make me yours."

Lets out the most sinful moans when you finally splash his stomach with pee

Throws his head back and bites his lips

Will definitely be stroking his cock using your piss as lube unless you order him not to

Han

The most enthusiastic of them all (with Hyunjin a close second)

Is already hard the second pee is mentioned

Can never decide whether he prefers peeing on you or being peed on, but anything involving piss makes this man see stars

Cannot keep him quiet for love nor money. A moaning, whiny mess

"Baby, baby please I need it! Want you to piss on me, please please please."

Literally screams the second you pee all over his tiny waist. Toes curling, babbling, shaking, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise

Your bladder has more stamina than he does and he's painting your ass and back with come before you've finishing pissing

Felix

Sweet angel is a kinky bastard underneath

Loves absolutely anything that allows him to feel close to and intimate with you, and the fact that this is something so private and just between the two of you really gets him going

When he's the one peeing, he likes being edged to the point where he can't hold it anymore, but when it's you he wants it to be relaxing and sensual

"Let go baby, it's okay. Love you so much."

Deep moans the second you start peeing

Can't resist kissing you and holding you close to his body during

If he's feeling brave, he might even slip his hand between your legs so your stream soaks his fingers

Would 100% eat you out afterwards if you wanted him to, just worships you

Seungmin

Similar to Lee Know, he likes the omorashi aspect

Wasn't sold on the pissing at first, but you worked up to it - straddling his thigh in the shower and letting your pee dribble down his legs. Then him doing the same to you

Enjoyed it more than he thought he would

The part of him that hates mess is his biggest barrier here, but when you're so needy and desperate and in his control he can't help getting turned on

"You need it that bad? It's only a few glasses of water, is your bladder that weak?"

Brings out his dom side, will tease you so much before finally letting you go and is a bit mean (adores you really though)

Will deny it to his dying breath, but has very sensitive nipples and loves being in a cold room then having your warm pee splash over them. Makes him moan so loud (until he claps a hand over his mouth)

Jeongin

We've all seen the baby alpha Innie fics

The idea of being pissed on, or pissing on someone else, initially freaks him out - but more because he's worried that liking it would make him dirty-minded and you'd judge him for it (even though you were the one to suggest it, silly boy)

Eventually he says he wants to try it, and it brings out something feral in him

If you beg him to allow you to let go, he's going to lose it

Prepare to be choked and have his famously long fingers digging into your bladder until you explode all over him

"Oh yeah, just couldn't hold it could you? Gonna punish you for this."

Like Chan, will be pounding into you immediately afterwards while you're still dripping

#stray kids smut #skz smut #skz ot8 #skz hard thoughts #stray kids hard thoughts #skz piss #skz omorashi

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griffongrey · 2 months ago

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happy thedasweekend :> you're in a loghain mood i see, this is excellent news!! perhaps solona amell & loghain with ❝ What will be left after all this is done? ❞ from the its a war [crime?] dialogue starter list?

@jazzmckay @thedasweekend Hell yeah! War crime starter for my favorite war criminal! It turned into more of a character study for Solona, but eh, she's got a lot on her mind here.

In which Loghain dissociates and Solona feels her feelings for the first time ever in the wake of learning about the Grey Wardens’ ultimate sacrifice.

Solona Amell does not want to die.

She barely notices Riordan leaving the room. She feels cold and flush at the same time. Her vision swims. Her head pounds in time with her heartbeat. A ringing sound fills her ears, echoing with the words of Loghain’s realization:

The Grey Warden that kills the archdemon perishes.

She does not want to die.

“No,” she whispers. Her own voice sounds like an intrusion to her ears.

“I suppose it’s decided. If Riordan fails,” says Loghain’s voice, at once uncomfortably close and impossibly far away. “This is to be a death sentence after all.”

Solona is shaking her head, and she can’t seem to stop.

“That’s it?” she says, low and deadly and on the verge of unsteadiness. “That’s it?”

“Most people would consider the destruction of one’s soul in death a rather extreme method of execution. But, then, most people imagine they’ll spend eternity ascended to the Maker’s side, as well.”

How can Loghain be so damnably detached after what they’ve learned? How can anything be so —

Her lungs are heaving with sharp, gulping breaths. Her hands are clenched in fists she can’t remember forming. She is glaring at the closed door Riordan just exited through with a fury that could set it ablaze.

A distant part of her wonders if this is how an abomination feels just before a demon bursts through their skin.

“After everything I’ve done,” she snarls like something wild, “this is how it ends? This is what I get!?”

With a vicious howl tearing from her throat, she slams the base of her palm against the door so hard the solid hardwood shudders in its frame. Pain shoots through her wrist and up her arm, anchoring her back to reality. It does nothing to quell the burning.

“Amell…” Loghain starts to say.

If he finishes his thought, she doesn’t hear it. She pounds her fist into the door again and again and again, drowning out all other sound in her rage.

She does not want to die.

Solona has never been a volatile person. She is constrained and disciplined by a lifetime of Circle teachings. She has always prided herself on her self-restraint, always been an exemplar of a proper mage. Her anger, when it appears at all, is the cold disdain of winter frost or the dispassionate bite of steel. It does not explode uncontrollably from her, like it is doing now. A mage who behaves that way does not live long enough to be Harrowed.

And yet…

She does not want to die.

A proper mage may become the First Enchanter’s favorite pupil. They may be well-enough respected by both templars and mages to rub shoulders with Libertarians and Loyalists in the same breath or to tease a templar for his poor luck in guard assignments.

But a proper mage does not help a failing apprentice escape their fate within the Circle. A proper mage does not consort with maleficarum or assist in sacrificing a woman for the sake of her abomination son. They do not negotiate with creatures cursed to live as monstrous wolf-men. They certainly do not look the Knight-Commander in the eye and all but order him to stand down from his Maker-given duty. They do not wield a sword in battle like a soldier. They do not do battle at all.

A proper mage would take every injustice and every hardship she faces with dignity, and she would never complain.

But Solona Amell has been conscripted into a war she never had any chance of surviving. A girl of only nineteen who hadn't ever set foot outside of her gilded tower, forced to fight and kill and die for a country that would sooner see her caged again and branded than fight for her in turn. She has clawed her way through horrors that have sent far braver, far more experienced men and women screaming for a mother she has never known. She has lied and cheated and manipulated even the people who have trusted her the most. She has sacrificed everything she has ever held dear. And she has survived against impossible odds.

And this is her reward. A death so final that the Chantry mothers wouldn’t wish it on Maferath himself. There will be nothing left of her but memory.

She isn’t even sure she believes in an eternal soul, or the Maker, or the Second Sin. It hardly matters. There is no doubt in her mind that this sacrifice — like every other horrible thing she has been made to endure and overcome — will fall to her, and not to Riordan. Not to Loghain. She won’t let that happen.

She does not want to die.

She wants to rage and wail and throw things. She wants to scream it’s not fair at the top of her lungs like a child. And she is no longer a proper mage. So she whirls around and grabs the first throwable goblet she sees off the side table, and she does all that and more.

Part of her is aware of Loghain’s eyes on her. She thinks she should feel more shame for this outburst than she can muster right now. But, then again, he’s already caught her crying about Alistair in the dead of night. What is one more ignominy between them?

What use does a dead woman have for humiliation, anyway?

“Life is rarely fair,” Loghain says, still so impassive it makes Solona want to fling the next cup at his head.

“You think I don’t know that? This fucking Blight has already taken every—aaugh!” She spits at him instead, her chest heaving as she cuts herself off with a snarl. “Duncan should consider himself lucky you left him to die. Because I swear, if he were here now, I’d run him through, myself.”

Loghain doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t even look away.

Solona can already feel the fire fueling her anger beginning to sputter and fail. As her breathing slows and the desperate pounding of her heartbeat subsides, it leaves a familiar, aching emptiness behind in her chest.

She is so tired. She wants to go to bed and never wake up, never have to worry again about armies and archdemons and kings. She does not want to die.

She looks down, realizing only now that she’s cut her hand open on one of the rivets on the door. Blood drips down her fingers and onto the floor, the droplets dark against the stone tiles. They join the trail of wine spilling in an arc from the goblet she threw across the room.

The image reminds her all too suddenly of the Joining Chalice when it fell from her hands, seared sideways into her memory as she collapsed to the ground.

She cannot escape the taint in her blood. She never could.

With the kind of monumental effort that should not needed for such a simple act, she turns around again and places her hand on the doorknob.

“What are you going to do?” Loghain’s voice cuts through the silence in her head. He sounds almost wary now. Cautious, how one would approach a cornered animal. She suspects he isn’t asking about this moment.

“I’m going to send word to Alistair to warn him,” she says. Monotone. Detached. Both uncomfortably close and impossibly far away. “He’ll be on the battlefield tomorrow, too, and he still carries the same taint we do. Being a Grey Warden isn’t something he can just walk away from, no matter what he wants to believe. He should know what he’s risking.” The bitterness in her voice fades and softens slightly. “He may not listen to me. But he deserves to know.”

She pushes the door open.

“And then, I’m going to do what Riordan suggested and try to get some rest. For what little good it may do me,” she adds as she steps out into the corridor.

Rest won’t matter, anyway. She won’t have to deal with the consequences of a sleepless night for long. It won’t matter what Riordan will think of her plan to tell Alistair how an archdemon is killed. It won’t even matter what Alistair thinks of it.

Whatever will be left after tomorrow is done, it won’t be her problem to fix. She won't be around to fix it.

Morrigan is waiting for her when she reaches her guest suite, and she throws all of Solona's plans into disarray.

Solona Amell does not want to die.

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ragd0lly · 11 months ago

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Monsters of Mount Rageous: Chapter 1

Fateful Encounter, Faithless Night

Run.

Run and don’t stop for anything.

Those were the words that played over and over in Savina’s head as she fled through the cobblestone streets of Mount Rageous.

Run.

How did this happen?

Don’t stop.

How could this happen?

Don’t look back.

Why me?

Her footsteps fell, fast and frantic, echoing along the deserted pathways. It was too late for anyone else to be out. She never should have been out.

Savina’s heart pounded in her ears, tears threatening to spill from eyes if she allowed her mind to linger on what had just happened for too long. Her hand flew up to cover her neck. Were those marks she felt? No… surely not. She was just scared and paranoid and imagining things.

The monster really did come out of nowhere. One moment she was calmly returning home from a peaceful moonlit stroll, as insomnia often drove her to take, and the next a vampire had her pinned against the brick wall of an abandoned shop, gleaming fangs claws digging into her neck. She had screamed, but as suddenly as he had appeared, he had vanished, disappearing back into the night and leaving her a catatonic mess on the filthy ground.

And so ran. As fast as she could. As soon as she could. She had to get away.

Her heel came down hard on a shallow puddle, and she flinched as the resounding splash reached her ears. She was running out of breath, her legs and lungs burned with every step, she couldn’t go on forever.

Another ten, fifteen, twenty, the adrenaline made it hard for her to be sure, minutes flew by as Savina gasped for air, feeling her body on the verge of collapse. She stumbled, gracelessly, into the closest alley she could find, slamming into the rough wall, the sharp bricks ripping into her land and leaving another part of her body bloody and bruised.

She stepped forward once, twice, three times before bracing herself on the wall behind her and collapsing to the stony ground below.

There she sat, shaking, taking in desperate gulps of air her lungs ached for. Savina tried to catch her breath, curling her knees to her chest, keeping her hand planted firmly over the wound on her neck. She could feel the blood starting to seep through the gaps of her fingers.

She had to know for certain.

With her heart lodged in her throat, she removed her trembling hand from her neck, the night air freezing and uncomfortable on the now exposed skin. Holding her hand out before her, sickly blue blood staining her porcelain skin, she looked down…

She couldn’t stop the choked sob that was torn from her throat.

Two small, distinct stains, sitting innocently on her shaking hand. The tell tale markings of a bite.

Savina’s sobs pierced through the once quiet night, tears and blood dripping to coat the stones she curled into herself upon.

What do I now?

She thought feverishly, mind racing with unanswered questions and heart heavy with crushing despair. She felt like she was going to be sick.

Where do I go? How am I supposed to hide this? How am I supposed to have any semblance of a normal life? Can I still go back home…? Do I even have a home to go back to anymore…?

Despite the torrent of thoughts that flooded her head, there was one that played on loop, circling the current over, and over, and over.

Am I… a monster now?

Hours seemed to pass, yet it felt like no time at all, as Savina sobbed into her knees, tears staining her skirt. That skirt… it was a gift from her mother, from her last birthday. She wondered if she would ever see her again. She wondered if she would ever have another birthday, or if that vile bite cursed her to be 19 forever.

The night bore on, the merciless moon shining its hateful rays down on the city, its watery light barely illuminating the girl in the alley, the girl whose violent cries downed out the sound of footsteps that drew ever nearer.

At long last, Savina’s eyes ran dry, her body no longer having enough water to continue to cry. She sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her clean hand, clearing them of the lingering tears that blurred her vision.

It was at that moment that she saw the strangers boots, stopped directly in front of her.

A terrified scream was ripped from her mouth as she tried to scramble back, only to hit her head against the unforgiving brick. Her vision swam with stars, and she stared up, expecting the worst.

However, when her world came back into focus, she didn’t find herself staring face to face with a cruel, blue haired man, but instead into the calm eyes of a girl. Looking not much older than herself.

”W-who are you…”

She whispered, her voice weak and raw from her sobs, edged with fear.

”what do you want from me?”

She tried her best to sound brave, assertive, but her words came out like those of a terrified child. She curled further into herself. She wanted to run again.

But the girl before her didn’t growl and snarl, didn’t push her down and bare glistening fangs. No, she did nothing of the sort. Instead, she smiled down at Savina, something… almost kind, shining in the depths of her crimson eyes.

Slowly, gently, the stranger held her arm out to her, her palm upright, as if she was… offering her help.

Savina stared at her relaxed expression, then down at her outstretched hand, and once again back up into her eyes, her own eyes wide and confused.

It was then that the strange woman spoke, her voice smooth and clear, echoing back to her in the silent alley, an accent that Savina didn’t recognize lacing her every word.

“Come on kid.”

Savina’s breath hitched, her hand moving to grasp the strangers, slowly, hesitantly.

“Everything is going to be okay.”

#fanfiction #monster au #oc #original character #original story #trolls #trolls band together

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shadowofwar-goober · 2 years ago

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The Shaman and the Bard Ch. 18- A Small Distraction

None of them enjoyed the lessons the Mystics forced them through. They weren't taught how to explore their given nature or abilities but they managed to find their own ways of doing so, even if it were uncomfortable at times.

xxx

The Mystics were obsessed with necromancy and raising the dead. Hûra couldn’t stand their chants, the feeling of something being forcibly torn away from… something or somewhere, the ultimate end where a cold and blue body begins to twitch and shake off its death stiffness… Hûra could never look at the gasping or convulsing bodies for long.

Disturbed

Trapped

Agony

Hûra didn’t care to be reprimanded. How could they do this…? Couldn’t they feel this sadness, this pain, this… He didn’t even know how to articulate all the feelings that threatened to overwhelm him. Why was he forced to learn… this? Hûra has no interest in necromancy! He doesn’t know if he even has a talent for raising the dead! He hoped not… Why can’t he just have his bones? This feels like torture, both on his part and the part of the unfortunate dead that are bound to this mortal plane once more, against their will…

His brothers seemed to share a similar sentiment. Skoth was more vocal about this than Hûra was, to his surprise. Hûra didn’t know that the Feral boy had a connection to the otherside like that… Then again, he never really had the opportunity to ask. Skoth was visibly upset as he joined the three of them, eyes inflamed and tears threatening to fall down his cold cheeks as he angrily threw himself in between the lot of them.

“-can’t do it no more, lads… I fuckin’ CAN’T-!” Skoth covered his face with the palms of his hands and sucked in a harsh breath.

Hûra was still taken aback by how easily his brothers bridge the gap between their persons but it was by no means a bad thing. Mogg patted Skoth on the arm and Fûbar pulled his sleeve out from underneath his shortest brother’s body. Hûra awkwardly reached for him but hesitated several times. What if it’s not okay to-? Mogg noticed his struggle and grabbed his wrist with his other hand and placed his hand on Skoth’s leg. Hûra awkwardly patted his leg as his brother struggled to calm his raging emotions.

“‘s the lesson again, right? Or was it the water?” They all cringed a little, even Fûbar. The water- Hûra found himself shivering uncontrollably in spite of finding the cold winds on their own not nearly as biting as they were months ago. Was it months ago…? Skoth’s voice was muffled under his hands as he spoke.

“-sson…” Ah.

It was no surprise. The day they started their lessons Skoth hated it. But when they realized that he had a gift for communing with the dead in spite of his best efforts to hide it? He’s been miserable daily ever since.

They know he has the gift but his refusal to work with them has all his instructors on the verge of either killing him, themselves, for ‘wasting the gift their Lord bestowed upon him’ or ‘reeducating him’, which was something the four of them had never heard of but scared them all (Skoth especially) enough that he now puts in the bare minimum effort to his studies so that their tudors and elders won’t grow weary of him.

“I don’t wanna talk about it…” Skoth removed his hands from his face and hugged himself. No one pointed out that he was crying and only Mogg nodded in agreement.

“‘s all good, brother. We understand.”

They did. Training with the Mystics was miserable for them all but Skoth had it the worst. The four of them sat in melancholy for a while, uncertain of how to break the silence. Hûra’s crows sat on a nearby tree and looked down at the four pups, some croaking softly while most sat in silence. Skoth looked up at them, glad to see beasts in this forsaken place but also feeling nostalgic and homesick.

He missed the warmth of Nurnen…

The silence shifted from strained and awkward to something more comfortable. Skoth was on the verge of tears but no longer having any expectations on his shoulders allowed him to finally calm the disgust and pain that seized his entire being whenever he was forced into what he would call ‘blasphemous lesson’. If any Mystic heard him say such a thing, none of the boys would doubt that he would be executed or worse... But there was truth in it. They all knew it- could feel it, even if they all didn’t possess such a gift as Skoth’s.

“Mmm… Maybe Hûra or Mogg could teach us something interesting?” This was Fûbar’s go to attempt to distract them all from whatever was upsetting them. Let’s learn something we actually want to learn. Hûra and Mogg both nodded, with Mogg gesturing to Hûra and giving him the go ahead to start.

“O-Oh! Yes.. Let’s see…”

He has shown them a few things, told them when he first realized he was different from his other littermates, and how his gifts began to manifest… Hûra removed the patchwork sack that contained his favourite set of hell hawk bones from his side and carefully opened them. Skoth sat up and leaned over to look in the little pouch. He’s seen the bones before, but he struggled to recognize the worth that Hûra saw in them.

“Why them?” It took Hûra a moment to tear his eyes away from the little greyish-black bones that resided within. He blinked, then furrowed his brows.

“Why not them?” He was as surprised as Skoth by his answer. It felt so natural, yet hearing it sounded so odd. Hûra didn’t know how else to answer that question. Why not them? He didn’t know if it could have been anything else… Skoth pondered on this for a moment before he shrugged.

“Fair ‘nough, I suppose.” He wasn’t displeased with this answer. Skoth understood as well as the rest of them that sometimes there is no satisfying answer. He didn’t always know why he thought the things he thought or did the things that he did and he wouldn’t expect his brothers to know this about himself or themselves, either.

“It was like a pull… “ Hûra shrugged too, but he continued on anyway.

“Like my body moved on its own…” He felt the bones move in the back, bumping and moving against one another, his fingers itching to cast them out and onto the rocky ground.

“...but it wasn’t bad. It felt… right. Like it was going to happen no matter what, but it wasn’t scary.” Hûra didn’t know if it made any sense to them, but it did to him. Mogg nodded, as did Skoth. Fûbar hummed thoughtfully as Hûra’s grip on the sack tightened.

“Yeah, I think I get it… Sort of…” Skoth murmured under his breath. He was focused on Hûra’s hands. Skoth didn’t know why but there was something about the way Hûra moved his fingers that was eye-catching… He was delicate but purposeful in his movements. He was like the elders but Skoth didn’t feel sick whenever he watched him…

“C’mon! Don’t leave us waiting! Give us a reading!” Mogg encouraged him, shifting in place excitedly as he started at his hands. Mogg raised an eyebrow in surprise as Hûra handed him the sack.

“Cast them.” He took it with a funny look on his face. This was a first. Hûra hasn’t asked any of them to do this before! Mogg wasn’t bothered by it but he was curious.

“Yeah? How do I-?” He lost track of what he was going to say as he looked back up at Hûra.

He can be so intense at times… It was almost creepy how Hûra could go from his usual, attentive self to nearly unaware of his surroundings, much like how Fûbar typically is. Almost creepy… but not quite. Hûra was focused to a degree that Mogg was intimately familiar with. He once thought he was a freak for it, but upon learning that others experienced it too, Mogg was relieved to find out that he wasn’t alone.

“There is no wrong way… You simply…” Hûra gestured for him to dump the bones out.

O-kay…

Mogg did what he’s seen Hûra do so many times before. He jostled them in the pouch a few times before tipping over its contents. Mogg didn’t pour it all out at once, a little nervous that he would damage the thin bones in some way, but Hûra didn’t reprimand him so he figured he was doing okay.

They clattered to the ground and landed every which way. How does he see anything in this…? Mogg was torn between looking at the bones and Hûra’s face.

They’re so small… He didn’t realize how tiny and delicate those hawks were, given how nasty their attitudes usually are. They almost appeared to be hollow, like a bird’s, with how they clattered so lightly against the ground. Which way is the right way to look at them? Mogg couldn’t help but to wonder.

Hûra’s pupils dilated from their usual constricted slits the moment that Mogg had casted them onto the ground. Time slowed for him in the brief moment it took them to find their final resting place. He couldn’t hear their clattering, only the quiet sound of his breath, of his heart, calm and at peace…

His brothers looked at him, then between themselves. Should they speak? They could break his concentration… Though-

“Uh-” Skoth was about to ask him what he saw, but Hûra drawing in a slow, deep breath caught his tongue between his teeth.

“Fluttering, a flock

Spooked and scattered

Some leading, others not

Following, blinded by blinding

Rivers of heat, never cooling

In the depths where

A dreamless slumber lies

Waiting for a call

Lulling it from

Slumber under the Earth…”

Hûra pulled away as if offended by something. His eyes came back into focus and his hands immediately went to his face. The crude markings on his face- ones that his brothers always knew him to have- were smeared and smudged by his palms as they went to his temples. Skoth and Mogg were at a loss for words, simply sitting back as they looked at the bones then back at their brother’s distressed expression. Hûra blinked once, then twice then-

“I… feel ill…” He quickly stood and stumbled away, hand over his mouth and his stomach clutched. Before either could get up, Fûbar was already standing and at Hûra’’s side. Mogg and Skoth quickly followed.

“What is it, Hûra?” It was unusual for Fûbar to sound so concerned… Hûra didn’t like it. He simply shook his head and swallowed his sick.

“N-Noth- Nothing. I… suppose I was simply unprepared…” He tried to laugh but it came out more as a cough than a chuckle. None of his brother’s believed him. Mogg frowned as Skoth anxiously picked at his broken nails.

“Was… that all, brother?” Hûra’s eyes nearly went wide, but he managed to keep his face neutral.

“Yes… it was. I apologize, sometimes things aren’t clear.” There was no need to apologize for such a thing. Hûra knew this and he knew that they were not judging him, rather, they were concerned for his sake.

“No need, brother… No need…”

Again, tension settled between the four of them. It wasn’t Hûra’s intention to cause discomfort between them, but he couldn’t fight the unease that had settled within him. The guilt…

“Is it only me that occasionally becomes ill from this? How embarrassing…” Hûra finally managed a laugh. Mogg shrugged a little and chuckled too.

“Nah, I do too… But only some of the time.” Fûbar nodded.

“I don’t get sick but I do become disquieted when I am disturbed.” Skoth scoffed.

“And you know I get pissed when I’m forced to do what I don’t wanna do.” Hûra smiled a little.

The burden was shifted from his shoulders. Again the air was cleared and they returned to where they were seated. Hûra didn’t wait before he quickly disrupted the bones’ positions as he scooped them back into the patchwork sack he had sewn for them. He didn’t like what he saw and instead of questioning him again, his brothers let it go. Hûra tried to push it from his mind but it wouldn’t leave him in peace.

Even long after they had rejoined the clan during the evening’s dinner and they had settled in for the night, what he saw left him in a state so severe that even the draught that he was given nightly did nothing to soothe the churning of his stomach or the twisting of his thoughts.

Hûra didn’t understand what he saw. The black soot of Orodruin was unmistakable, even to he that has never been to the region of Gorgoroth. The heat of the mountain’s fire was intense, as was the dread that blanketed the scene. Hûra didn’t understand what was there but it wasn’t the source of his uncertainty and his discomfort.

No, it was two uruks that caught his attention. One with black hair and unusual eyes, the other a red head that didn’t belong… The thought alone of those two in peril had Hûra’s heart seizing and his stomach dropping to his feet, though he didn’t even recognize who they even were…

This vision continued to haunt him long after the casting had taken place. It didn’t occupy the entirety of his mind nor did it consume him, but Hûra’s mind would occasionally wander back to that scene and fear would seize him all over again. He never dared to share this with anyone, even his own brothers. There was no fear of rejection or judgement, but to Hûra, it felt wrong to share, even if he couldn’t place why…

The days continued on as did their lessons. Interest in his abilities grew but he was never tutored for them, specifically. He was given a name, not a title but nonetheless a word for what he was. Osteomancer… It was the only thing his elders have given him that gave him a sense of pride and belonging, like he was finally being seen for what he was and not for what they wanted him to be.

If they wouldn’t tutor him then he would teach himself. But Hûra knew that he wasn’t alone. In spite of that reading, he continued to explore his capabilities with his brothers, just as they did the same with him. It gave them all something to look forward to throughout their long days of dreadful chants and ice cold waters that chilled them to the bone.

Together they made life not only bearable but something to look forward to. It might not be much to others but for the four of them it was more than they ever had…

@space-arsonist, @boozy-dwarf, @sinick, @elvenmoans, @dirtymeanuruk

#middle earth shadow of war #middle earth shadow of mordor #shadow of war #lotr #my ocs #uruk ocs #spacearsonist’s ocs #bone readings #visions of the future #Hûra is trying his best

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