#besides the nightmare of drift dying

[mcdynamite]

Steve Harrington learns a lot of things about Eddie Munson in the months following Vecnapocalypse.

He learns who Eddie's favorite bands are and what toppings Eddie likes on his pizza. He learns that Eddie likes to talk, but is also frighteningly observant. He learns what Eddie is like when he's high, when he's drunk, when he's exhausted after weeks of shitty sleep plagued with nightmares. He learns all of these things and more, and he’s surprised to find that he really, really likes what he learns. Because Eddie is weird and loud and quirky, but he's also kind and attentive and the sort of person who just wants to bring a smile to your face when you're hurting, and it's good. 

Eddie is good.

The thing Steve learns that he can't seem to stop thinking about, though, is that Eddie is undoubtedly the most physically affectionate person he's ever met.

It starts in the hospital, less than forty-eight hours after Vecna's defeat, when Eddie wakes up. Steve is on Eddie Duty at the time, keeping watch over a man who hasn't woken up since nearly dying in the Upside Down, when suddenly... Eddie's hand twitches. And Steve does what anyone would do - he scrambles to grab hold of it. He takes Eddie's hand and squeezes, and sure enough, Eddie squeezes back and then he just... won't let go. Eddie’s fingers stay curled around Steve’s even when his eyes flutter open, and the nurses come in to check on him. So Steve holds his hand until the drugs pull Eddie back into slumber, and he doesn't think much of it.

Only, after that, it's like the floodgates have opened. Eddie is touching Steve constantly. He's linking their arms while they walk out of the hospital for the first time. He's sitting so close during movie nights that their legs press against each other. He's resting his head on Steve's shoulder - sometimes even dozing there. Or when Steve is tired, he's pulling Steve towards him so Steve can have a few minutes to close his eyes, secure beneath Eddie’s arm.

It's weird, at first, but it's not uncomfortable. Just... different. So Steve just goes with it.

By the time a few months have passed, he's so used to touching Eddie that it hardly feels like anything more than the natural next step when they eventually start sharing a bed.

They're at Steve's house the first time it happens - loose-limbed and sleepy from the joint they shared earlier with Nancy and Robin. The girls have taken the guest room for themselves, and Eddie doesn't even bother to ask where he's going to be sleeping. He just follows Steve to his room and climbs under the covers beside him - both of them stripped down to just a t-shirt and boxers. Steve doesn't question it, not even when Eddie scoots a little bit closer, eyes wide and searching, and brushes Steve's arm with the backs of his fingers.

"Night, Stevie," Eddie says softly, fingers drifting leisurely back and forth on the skin of Steve's bicep. It feels nice. Soothing. It makes him feel strangely warm inside.

So Steve just smiles, wishes him goodnight in return, and lets himself drift off to sleep.

The second time, they're at Eddie's. Steve has rushed over to the trailer in the middle of the night after receiving a frantic, post-nightmare phone call from Eddie. Steve takes one look at the metalhead’s red-rimmed eyes and trembling bottom lip and pulls him into a crushing hug.

Eddie clings to Steve like he's afraid to let go, and Steve lets him. Eventually, they end up in Eddie's bed, but they still haven't let go of each other. Steve lays on his back and wraps his arms around a trembling Eddie, who pillows his head on Steve's chest. Eddie is wrapped around him like a koala, and Steve thinks it should be weird, being so close to another guy, but it's not. It just feels safe, and he gets the best night's sleep he's had in years when they finally find sleep again.

Then, it just sort of keeps happening.

Sometimes, Steve calls Eddie after a nightmare, and Eddie makes the drive to Loch Nora to cuddle Steve back to sleep. Other times, it's the other way around. Sometimes it's neither, and it's just them making excuses to stay over at each other's houses ("I had a beer, so maybe I shouldn't drive"; "I don't wanna drive home in the rain"; "your place is closer to work anyways").

Eventually, they stop making excuses altogether after the night Eddie looks at Steve in the dim light of the trailer and simply murmurs, "I don't want you to go."

After that, most nights look something like this:

Eddie, wrapped around Steve with his chest to Steve's back, pressed together from head to toe, sharing warmth to fend off the broken limbs and cursed bats that haunt their nightmares.

Steve, running his fingers through Eddie's hair while they wait for sleep to take them - Steve on his back, and Eddie with his head resting on Steve's chest and an arm thrown across Steve's stomach, draped across him protectively.

Eddie, curling towards a trembling Steve after a nightmare, foreheads pressed together while Eddie uses gentle hands to wipe away the tears and murmurs soft comforts until the vice around Steve's lungs loosens its grip.

Steve, spooning Eddie from behind, his own knees tucked into the backs of Eddie's, his face buried in the warm juncture of Eddie's neck, and Eddie's soft curls brushing against Steve's cheeks.

It's just them - Eddie and Steve and Steve and Eddie - in the darkest hours, night after night. Sharing breaths and trading secrets and granting trust until one day, Steve wakes up to the feeling of Eddie's warm body against his own, and Eddie's soft breath on his skin, and he realizes that somewhere along the line, something changed.

Somewhere along the line, between nightmares and secrets and achingly gentle touches, Steve fell in love.

And, God, he's still falling.

Eddie wakes only moments later, rolling over beneath Steve's arm so they're no longer spooning, but facing each other, his big, brown eyes landing on Steve's to fix him with a sleepy smile. It's beautiful. Eddie is beautiful, and Steve can't believe he didn't see it before.

He grants Eddie a smile in return, along with a soft, raspy, "Hi."

Eddie's smile widens. "Hi."

Steve stares at him for a long moment, gaze lingering on Eddie's long lashes, on the freckles that dot Eddie's nose and cheeks, so close now that Steve could count them, if he wanted to. He thinks he probably will, one day. The look in Eddie's eyes is soft and open, and the unabashed love shining through them nearly knocks the air from Steve's lungs.

"Did you know?" Steve asks softly, brushing their noses together. "Did you know that I'm in love with you?"

Steve hears Eddie's breath catch. He watches Eddie's eyes widen. "No," Eddie breathes. "But I hoped. God, I fucking hoped."

Steve swallows as his entire body tingles with emotion. He's so happy he sort of wants to cry. He thinks he might, if Eddie keeps looking at him like that - like Steve is a goddamn miracle. "Yeah?" Steve whispers.

Eddie nods, a wobbly smile forming on his lips. "Yeah, Stevie. Don't know if I would've survived, if it was just me."

Steve can't help himself. He kisses Eddie's forehead, lets his lips linger there for a moment before pulling away. "It's not just you, Eds. Promise."

And that morning, Steve Harrington learns yet another thing about Eddie Munson. He learns how Eddie kisses - like Steve is something beautiful. Precious. Worth taking care of. Like Eddie loves him, and Steve loves Eddie.

Steve learns how Eddie kisses, and he thinks it's probably his favorite thing he's learned yet.

[ponderingmoonlight]

How JJK men act when you have insomnia (can't sleep)

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader; Toge x fem!reader; Megumi x fem!reader (special thanks to @belovedvamp for that jaw-dropping gorgeous Megumi requests, like wow)

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: nightmares, angst to comfort in everyone, I would like to point out that Megumi is my favorite part and that I'm thinking about doing a Part 2, so if you're invested definetely let me know 😭not 100% proofread yet

Gojo Satoru

„Huh, why are you still awake babe? Aren’t you tired?”

Satoru takes in your gorgeous sight, how you lay curled up in your shared bed with your sleepy eyes darted towards him. God, why do you have to be so stunning, why does the selfish urge to keep you awake a little longer become almost unbearable for him when he knows exactly why you’re unable to sleep?

The mattress gives in under your boyfriend’s weight next to you, his hand gently caressing your head. You feel drunk, as if your body doesn’t function properly anymore. No wonder, after all you were awake for more than 30 hours by now, fighting and fighting to finally exorcise a bunch of special grade curses while Satoru was busy somewhere else.

But you’re scared to close your eyes again, to get confronted with the horrible things you’ve saw today. After each and every mission, your brain haunts you with awful nightmares, reminds you of all the death, all the injured, all the things you’ve lost.

No, you just can’t take it. You’d rather stay up a little longer in desperate hopes to be spared than risking to have another bad dream.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about it”, you mumble into your heavy blanket, eyes drifting to the window.

It began to rain, heavy droplets pounding against the glass violently, thunder erupting in the dark sky. Carefully, Satoru lays down beside you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist.

“I know you’re lying”, he mutters against your sensitive neck.

“Is it because of your nightmares?”

You turn around to face him in utter surprise. When did you ever told him about those nightmares? You always kept them to yourself, suffered through them on your own. After all, Satoru is a very busy man who shouldn’t have to worry about something like a bad dream. Yes, it seems pretty ridiculous to whine about your nightmares when the strongest of them all is the one you’re talking to.

“Don’t worry about that, I’m fine”, you lie into his face, gifting him a small smile to convince him.

But your eyes don’t lie. They show nothing but terror and dread, nothing but fatigue and alertness at the same time. Suddenly Satoru’s heart feels heavy. He should have realized it sooner, the way you always go to sleep after him when you were out on a mission. Why did it never cross his mind that all of this might be too much for you? Maybe because you’re so damn strong, maybe because you make it look so damn easy every time, carrying the weight of all those missions so that his students don’t suffer.

“It makes no sense to lie to me. Why didn’t you tell me about it, babe? I’m sure Shoko might be able to help you-“

“There’s nothing anyone could do about this”, you interrupt him immediately.

“Trust me, I tried everything out there. I guess this is just how my brain tries to cope with all those things, the people dying and stuff…”

“But you don’t have to go through this alone. We’re a team, remember? Why don’t you wake me up whenever you feel upset? Why do you go to sleep after I’m already passed out? (y/n), don’t do this to yourself.”

Gently, he cups your cheek with his hand, forcing you to look up at him. Oh, how much you hate that familiar feeling. That feeling of being useless, of being weak. Are you really too frail to even sleep after a mission? Why aren’t you able to handle the things you see like the others, like Kento and Satoru? All that training, all that power just to cry in your sleep over the things that happened hours ago.

Truly pathetic.

“Do you really think you’re alone? Especially in the beginning, Kento was plagued by nightmares each and every night so much that he couldn’t even fall asleep. Suguru and I…it is always rough, remembering the faces of those you weren’t able to save. But don’t let them keep you awake, don’t think you have to simply endure this. I’m here each and every night to hold you, okay? I’m here, you’re not alone (y/n).”

Oh Satoru.

Without thinking twice, you turn around and intertwine your body with his, desperately trying to keep your composure. How do you even deserve a man like him? A man who seems goofy most of the time but hast the softest side, a man who cares more about everyone around him than himself.

Your boyfriend, the strongest with a heart of pure gold.

“I hate when they haunt me in my sleep”, you finally give in, hiding your face against his warm chest.

“I know, babe. Trust me, we all do.”

Ever so gently, he strokes your hair and back, embraces you in his very own warmth. Satoru feels like home, like the perfection you are chasing each and every day. What would you even do without his loving arms as your home? Where would you be without his constant support? All those nights he stood by your side, watched a awful romantic movie so you’d feel good again. The countless times he cooked your favourite meal for you, only to throw it away and order food afterwards. All those times he rushed to your side when you got injured, how he always manages to be right by your side when you wake up. And oh, how tender is touch feels against your skin, how his warmth embraces you with every inch of his body. He feels so good, so comforting…

Satoru watches with a small smile as your lids grow heavy and finally close, your breath leaving your mouth evenly.

“As long as I’m the one holding you, no nightmare in the world will dare to wake you up, babe”, he breathes against your ear, holding you tightly in his arms throughout the whole night.

Inumaki Toge

You stare at the full moon blankly, mind racing. How are you supposed to get out of this alive? Are you even strong enough to lead your very own mission without someone by your side? This will be the first time you’ll be completely on your own. Without Maki, without Panda, without Toge…You trained hard these last months, you know what you’re capable of. But still…

Is it enough?

“Kelp.”

His tender voice rips you out of your poisonous thoughts immediately, glossy eyes shooting up to take in his sight. Why does he have to look so delicate with the moonlight highlighting his features? Why does his mouth have to be so damn captivating?

Why is it so easy to fall hopelessly in love with Toge Inumaki?

“Sorry, I thought y’all were asleep”, you explain visibly uncomfortably.

How embarrassing, getting caught by your crush while silently crying into the night about a damn mission. A silent yawning escapes your lips before you can stop it, tired eyes covered by a curtain of tears. God, you are so tired.

“Salmon roe.”

Before you even comprehend what’s happening, the white-haired boy takes his hand into yours gently, staring at you so intensely that you forget how to breathe for a moment. It’s like he wants to tell you that everything will be alright, that you have nothing to worry about.

“I don’t think I can do this alone, Toge. I don’t think I’m strong enough to do this…”, you finally give in.

“Bonito flakes”, he immediately replies.

Without thinking twice, he takes out a small notepad and begins to write frantically. You know he always carries a writing block with him for time that require more than a few words, more than gestures are able to say.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, you worked hard these last weeks. And you’re great! Just do as good as you always do, I’m counting on you, (y/n)! Please try to get some sleep now :)”

With every word you read your heart beats a little faster, with every word your grin grows a little wider. If he only knew how much his words truly mean to you…

“So you really think I can do it on my own?”, you question.

“Salmon!”

“Thank you, Toge”, you mutter touched.

You don’t know why, but suddenly your eyes start to burn in tears. Toge holds nothing but affection in his gaze, hand still resting on yours while squeezing it ever so slightly. He truly believes in you and your abilities, shows no doubt in your save return. Maybe…maybe you’re actually able to do this. Maybe you are indeed ready for your first solo mission.

Toge stands up again, signalling you with a gentle squeeze to stand up as well. You follow him through the dark hallways of Jujutsu High, right into the dorm you know so well.

“Tuna”, he whispers into the night before pressing you against his warm chest.

You feel as light as a feather, too stunned to speak by the way his arms feel wrapped around your body. He smells intoxicating, so good that you can’t help but sniff in and out. Is this really the first time Toge Inumaki hugged you for more than 10 seconds? It definitely is hard to let him go again.

“I believe in you, (y/n).”

Did he…Did he just speak?

“Toge…”, you breathe out, watching as his smile grows even wider.

With a last wave, he is gone in the darkness of the night, leaving you standing in the middle of your room on your own with your feelings scattered all over the place. Toge Inumaki just hugged you. No, Toge INumaki just spoke. He told you that he believes in you.

“How am I supposed to sleep now?”, you mumble to yourself.

Fushiguro Megumi

Your eyes snap open in an instant, ice cold sweat running down your face. Where are you? Is it over? You…

You breathe out. It was a nightmare. Again.

“Fuck”, you hiss to yourself while rubbing your aching head.

Why do you have to get haunted by these horrible nightmares, when will it finally stop? Even Gojo-sensei seems to be clueless about your condition, about what keeps you up each and every night.

But you know something that will help you to get through this night. Or rather someone.

Your bare feet stick to the wooden floor ever so slightly while you wander through the dark hallways on your way to his doorstep. Is he even awake? Maybe he won’t open the door at all.

Little do you know that Megumi sits in his bed with his eyes wide open, staring at the door knob in sheer excitement for your return into his arms. He knows it doesn’t mean much to you and at the beginning, it didn’t mean anything to him either. You just came into his room from time to time, searching for comfort in his hug to chase your nightmares away. And since you were friends, Megumi had nothing against stroking your head gently and wrapping his arms around you.

But something seems different now. Something about the sensation of you visiting him late at night sends shivers down his spine, your moonlit features let his heart hammer against his ribcage. It’s like he wants to hold you even closer, wants your breath to brush against his face. Why does it dawn to him how delicate your curves look and how soft your hair feels? There is no use in denying it, no sense in fighting against the obvious.

Megumi Fushiguro has fallen hopelessly in love with you.

The knocks against his wooden floor send him to his door straight away, opening it before you’re able to think twice.

“Oh, I didn’t knew you were still awake, Fushiguro”, you mutter into the darkness.

God, how much he hates the fact that you always call him by his last name. What would he give to hear his name out of your mouth once?

“What do you want here, (y/n)?”

His voice sounds harsher than anticipated while it takes all his strength to not swallow you in his arms immediately.

“I had a bad dream again…”

The vulnerable tone of your voice kills him from the inside. Without saying another word, he steps aside, allows you to enter his dorm without hesitation. You position yourself on the left side of his bed like you always do, hiding yourself in his already warm sheets. Without hesitation, he crawls back into his bed, inviting you into his arms with a long breath.

You smell as good as you always do. Why did it take him so long to realize that you smell absolutely intoxicating, that the mixture of your shampoo, body scent and perfume is addictive? Maybe he should tell you about the way he feels, finally confess how you make his heart beat out of his chest. But how would you react?

Would you…reject him? For all these years of knowing each other, you were never more than friends. Good buddies, pals, but not more than that. None of you ever crossed the line of plain cuddling each other to sleep. Not once did your lips brush over his, not once did your hands move further than his chest. Would you even love him back?

“Come on, you have to have a crush (y/n)! Is it Chris Pine, Tom Holland? Are you more into Korean guys?”, Nobara inquired over and over.

You just rolled your eyes with a playful grin, almost making Megumi fall out of his chair next to Yuji.

“I don’t have a crush on anyone. I’m perfectly fine by myself”, you insisted.

“I like tall woman with a big ass”, Yuji interrupted out of nowhere, gaining a punch in his face by Nobara.

That was it, the first time he noticed something strange. The way his heart suddenly grew heavier than metal, sunk into his chest, took his breath away. He was hurt by your words. Megumi Fushiguro was hurt by the stinging fact that you didn’t say his name like he secretly hoped for, that your eyes didn’t even flinch towards him for the split of a second.

“Hey, are you alright? Why did you tense up like that?”, you mutter against his chest while drawing circles onto his t-shirt with your delicate fingertip.

“Oh, it’s nothing for you to worry about”, he lies into this tender night.

He presses you against his own body a little tighter, watches how your eyes grow heavy with every passing minute that you listen to his steady heartbeat. This shouldn’t mean more to him than comforting an old friend, it shouldn’t make his heart flutter and palms sweaty. But the soft snores leaving your mouth sound oh so lovely, the way your eyes move behind closed lids makes his heart skip a beat. You have to be the most precious creature on this earth, so valuable that he never wants to let you go again.

Until he has in the morning. Until you return back into his arms when nightmares keep you up another night.

Thank you so much for reading! Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul@chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly   @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @aeliusbbg

[mimimarvelingmarvel]

time bound part seven

pairing: worst wolverine!logan howlett x f!mutant!reader

Part Seven - Masterlist

summary: Y/n’s life takes a dramatic turn when the Time Variance Authority intervenes, pulling her from a critical moment in her timeline. The TVA sends her to the void where she eventually meets with Deadpool and a very familiar face. With Deadpool's universe in the balance, alongside his reluctant would-be pal, Wolverine, and the enigmatic time-bending mutant known as the Veil, the trio must complete the mission and save Deadpool’s world from an existential threat.

overall warnings: 18+, Fem!Reader, AFAB Reader, Use of Y/N, Her X-Men name is Veil, She/her pronouns, Swearing, Angst, Heavy Violence, Character Death, Deadpool (he’s his own warning), Hurt, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, TVA

word count: 2k

The road stretches out before us, a seemingly endless ribbon of asphalt cutting through the desolate landscape. The car, a beat-up old muscle car with a purring engine that speaks of too many miles and too many battles, rumbles beneath us. The seats are worn, their once-plush leather now cracked and faded, much like the people riding in them. The air inside is stale, carrying the faint scent of gasoline and sweat, mingled with the metallic tang of blood that seems to cling to everything we touch.

I lean back, my body sinking into the seat as I close my eyes, trying to find a moment of respite. The gentle vibration of the road beneath the tires lulls me into a light, uneasy doze. But it’s not enough—never enough—to ward off the nightmares that wait just beyond the veil of sleep. Images of my world, my friends, everything I’ve ever known, shattered and dying, claw at the edges of my consciousness. The sounds of their screams, the scent of burning flesh, it all lingers, just out of reach, waiting to pounce the moment I let my guard down.

When I open my eyes again, the car is still moving, the road still stretching endlessly ahead. The world outside is a blur, the trees we’ve been driving in continue on for ages, but I can tell we’re close. Inside, the only sound is the soft strains of music playing from the car’s ancient radio, a static-laced tune that feels like a ghost from a time long past. It’s quiet—too quiet—yet I cling to this moment of calm like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered to reality.

“You enjoy your power nap, pumpkin?” Wade’s voice slices through the quiet, shattering the fragile peace I’d managed to find. The nickname, as ridiculous as it is, grates on my nerves. I groan, my eyes fluttering shut again, hoping to block him out.

“It was so peaceful before you opened your mouth,” I mumble, my voice thick with irritation. There’s a part of me that just wants to hold onto the silence, to bask in it a little longer before reality comes crashing back in.

Wade’s gaze meets mine in the rearview mirror, his expression playful, as if he’s completely oblivious to the tension simmering beneath the surface. “I don’t hear Logan complaining.” 

Logan, sitting stoically beside Wade, rolls his eyes. The subtle gesture, the way his knuckles whiten as he grips the steering wheel, tells me more than words ever could. I chuckle softly, a hollow sound that barely covers the unease gnawing at my insides. 

Then, as if he’s compelled to break the fragile truce, Wade blurts out, “Okay, I’m just gonna ask it. What’s with the suit?”

My gaze drifts to Logan, to the yellow X-Men suit he’s wearing. It’s a jarring sight, one that doesn’t fit the image I have of him—rugged, battle-worn, but never in something so bright, so out of place in this bleak world. The realization hits me hard: I’ve never seen him wear it before.

“The first thing I did when I flamed out, I took mine off,” Wade continues, his tone light, almost mocking, but there’s a sharpness beneath it that makes my skin prickle.

Logan’s response is immediate, his voice low and edged with warning. “Drop it.”

But Wade, relentless as ever, presses on. “It’s not that ugly.”

“Stop talking about the suit,” Logan snaps, his irritation growing palpable in the confined space of the car.

Wade, ever oblivious to danger or perhaps simply indifferent to it, persists. “Did you make it yourself? Been there.”

Logan’s tone darkens, a growl rumbling in his chest. “Quit now.”

But Wade doesn’t quit. He never does. “The X-Men make you wear it? Those sons of fucking bitches. They are not your friends, I’ll tell you that. Friends don’t let friends leave the house looking like they fight crime for the Los Angeles Rams.”

The words hang in the air, and I feel the tension coiling tighter, a noose around my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the mention of friends—our friends—who are no longer here, no longer anything but ghosts in a broken world.

“Shut the fuck up about the suit,” Logan’s voice is a razor, slicing through the air. It’s ice-cold, and for a moment, I flinch at the intensity of it.

Wade raises his hands in mock surrender, but there’s a seriousness to his tone that wasn’t there before. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Watch your frown lines, angel baby. I’m just trying to bond a little bit.”

“Yeah, well then talk about something else,” Logan’s patience is fraying, each word a thread pulled taut, ready to snap.

“Fine.” Wade’s voice shifts, losing its edge. “If they can fix your world, what’s the first thing you’re gonna do when you get out of here? Rubbing alcohol shots? Maybe a wiper fluid chaser?”

The word “If” lodges itself in my mind like a splinter, unraveling the fragile grip I have on my emotions. My ears start ringing, and suddenly, I’m not in the car anymore. The world blurs, and I see it—Wade, punching Logan in the face. The vision is jarring, disorienting, and then, just as quickly, I’m yanked back to the present.

“What did you say?” Logan’s voice is sharp, pulling me out of the haze, grounding me in the here and now.

Wade, his confusion plain, repeats himself. “So when you get back, what’s the first thing you’re gonna do?”

“No, no, no, before that,” Logan insists, his eyes narrowing, his suspicion flaring.

Wade hesitates, and I can see the moment he realizes his mistake. “If… they can fix your world?”

Logan’s expression hardens, anger and betrayal flashing in his eyes. Without warning, he slams on the brakes, the car screeching to a halt. The sudden stop jolts me forward, but it’s the look on Logan’s face that makes my heart skip a beat. “What do you mean if?”

“I mean…” Wade falters, his bravado crumbling as he struggles to find the right words.

Logan’s voice is a dangerous growl, the kind that makes your blood run cold. “You lied to me. You don’t have a fucking clue if they can help me fix things, do you?”

“No, I mean… No, fuck! Fuck!” Wade stammers, but it’s too late. The truth is out, and Logan’s claws are already extending, a deadly promise in his eyes. Before Wade can react, Logan stabs him in the leg.

Wade yelps, the pain clear in his voice. “I didn’t lie!”

“You lied,” Logan hisses, his voice as cold as the steel in his hands.

I sit in the back, overwhelmed by a tidal wave of guilt and the crushing realization that there’s no undoing what’s already been done. I could have stopped this. I should have stopped this. But it’s too late now—too late to change anything.

Wade, his tone desperate, tries to explain. “No, I made an educated wish. Because I need you.” He pulls out a photo, his hands shaking slightly as he holds it out for Logan to see. “This, this is why. Right here. Because if we don’t do something, they die. I don’t know anything about saving worlds. Why would I even care? Because my entire world is right here in this picture. It’s only nine people, and I have no idea how to save it alone. I know how to fuck people up for money, but you, you know how to save them. At least the other Wolverine did.”

Wade’s voice cracks, a rare moment of vulnerability slipping through his usual bravado. “Oh, fuck!” Logan twists his wrist. “I guess I’m stuck with the worst one.”

Logan’s eyes narrow, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. “Did you say you made an educated fucking wish?”

“They call me the Merc with the Mouth,” Wade tries to regain his usual humor, but it falls flat. “They don’t call me Truthful Timmy, the blowjob queen of Saskatoon.”

Logan’s hand twitches, his control slipping. “One more,” he demands, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “Please, give me one.”

Wade, ever the joker, tries to lighten the mood. “Gubernatorial.”

But Logan is beyond reason now. He goes to stab Wade again, but Wade screams, the sound tearing through the car, reverberating off the walls of my mind. I’m sitting in the back, too shocked to move, too numb to process what’s happening. There’s no saving what I’ve done. No changing the hurt I could have stopped.

Logan turns to Wade, his voice dripping with contempt, his words a knife twisting in the wound. “You know what, you’re a fucking joke. No wonder the Avengers didn’t take you. Or the X-Men—they’ll take fucking anyone. I mean, you are a ridiculous, immature, half-wit moron. I have never met a sadder, more attention-starved, jabbering little prick in my entire life. And that says a lot because I’ve been alive for more than 200 fucking years. I’ll tell ya, that bald chick was right. You will never save the world. You couldn’t even save a relationship with a goddamn stripper. Motherfucker, I wish I could say you’d die alone, but it’s one of God’s best jokes that you can’t die, except that’s on all of us!” He slams his fist on the top of the car, the metal groaning under the force, and I flinch, my heart skipping a beat. The tension in the air is so thick it feels like it’s suffocating me, wrapping around my throat and squeezing until I can hardly breathe.

Logan stares at him, his eyes filled with a mix of pity and disgust. “You got nothing to say, Mouth?”

Wade flinches, the words cutting deeper than any blade ever could. His usual bravado crumbles, and for a moment, he looks like a lost child, the weight of everything finally breaking through the armor he’s built around himself. He looks away, his eyes dull, and when he speaks, his voice is barely a whisper. “I’m gonna fight you now.”

Logan chuckles darkly, the sound devoid of humor, and I feel my stomach churn, the dread pooling in the pit of my gut. The vision hits me again—flashes of blood, violence, and something far worse waiting just beyond the edges of my mind. My hands start to tremble, and I know I can’t stay in the car. I push the door open and step out, the cool air hitting my face like a slap. My legs feel like jelly, but I force myself to move, taking a few shaky steps away from the car.

Behind me, the fight erupts with a sudden, violent force. The car jolts as their bodies slam against it, and I hear the sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh, the wet splatter of blood as it sprays across the ground. The smell of iron fills the air, sharp and acrid, mixing with the earthy scent of the forest. My stomach turns, and I barely manage to keep myself upright as I stagger over to a tree and collapse against it, sliding down until I’m sitting on the ground.

I curl up, hugging my knees to my chest, trying to block out the sounds of their fight, the horrible, animalistic grunts and growls that seem to echo in my head. But it’s no use. The vision is getting stronger, more vivid. Bright, flashing lights sear across my mind, and I hear a scream ripping through the vision—a scream that’s mine, raw and terrified.

And then, as if the world itself is breaking apart, there’s a loud crash. Logan is shot through the front window of the car, his body flying through the air before crashing to the ground with a bone-jarring thud. He rolls past me, his body leaving a trail of blood in the dirt. I tuck my legs closer, curling into a tighter ball, trying to protect myself from the onslaught of sensations that are threatening to tear me apart.

The vision crescendos, a blinding storm of light and sound, and then, just as suddenly as it began, everything goes dark. There’s nothing left—no sound, no pain, no fear. Just an endless, consuming void.

Next Part

A/N: I’m so tired, I need sleep updates will probs be slow.

taglist: @oscarissac2099 @somiaw @100percentlazybonez @obsessedwthdilfs @sun7lowxr @corvid007

[levi-ackermvn]

happy friday !! i hope y’all are crying with me ( and sloane ) ‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚ anyways, i will NEVER, EVER get over this beautiful, yet heart wrenching commission by the incredible koldangreyart on twitter (*^Д^*)ゞ thank you so much for constantly exceeding my expectations with every comm. it’s always a pleasure working with you <3

[ DO NOT REPOST, EDIT, OR TRACE!!! this artwork was commissioned for my fic so please do not steal it ]

[ this is an oc x canon post. if you do not like it, please kindly leave. any negative, hateful, or weird comments that has nothing to do with my post or fic will be deleted ]

unpublished excerpt below <3

Her gaze drifted aimlessly over the wreckage, each fragment a shapeless blur as she struggled to grasp the remnants of reality. A relentless throb pulsed in her head. A dense fog muddled her thoughts, pierced only by the persistent ringing in her right ear. Rain battered her face, mingling with the soaked grass beneath her. The cold droplets seeped into her skin.

The acrid scent of smoke invaded her lungs. Every inhale was a jagged knife, searing through her chest. Then, a more familiar odor pierced through the haze—something unmistakable and metallic, something she couldn’t escape all those years as a scout.

Blood.

Too much blood. 

Dread curled around her heart, its terrible grip tightening with each passing moment. Was this sickening stench coming from her? Was she the source of all the blood that tainted the air? Am I... dying? No. 

She had felt Death’s shadow before, beneath the Reiss family’s church. These current wounds she had, whatever they were, couldn’t produce such an overpowering smell.

If it wasn’t from her… where did it come from?

Her eyes searched the wreckage anew. A sense of urgency driving her as the throbbing in her head grew louder, desperate to uncover the source of the ghastly smell. Gradually, the shapes around her grew clearer, revealing a figure sprawled face down beside the riverbank, disturbingly still. Sloane blinked hard, willing her vision to sharpen. A green cloak, emblazoned with the Wings of Freedom insignia, crystallized into agonizing clarity. 

No.

A raw, anguished sound tore from her throat, shattering the very air—a wail she hadn't known she was capable of. Tears began to cascade down her cheeks, lost in the unrelenting rain as if the heavens themselves wept with her. Instinctively, she dragged herself toward him, each movement a searing torment as she sought to bridge the vast distance between them. The ache in her body faded into insignificance, now overwhelmed by an unspeakable fear. 

Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead. 

The thought surged within her like a fervent incantation, imploring to whichever unseen force might grant her this one mercy.

Please.

Please don’t take him from me too.

Sloane had weathered the storm of loss time and time again, each one carving a deep, invisible scar. With each passage of sorrow, she was able to piece herself back together, little by little, until the raw pain softened into a distant memory. But… if he were to die, if he were to slip away from this cruel world they vowed to save together, leaving her to endure this unbearable fate alone, it would shatter her beyond repair.

She clawed her way through the mud. Her fingers dug into the sodden ground, feeling the soil beneath her nails. Once, this same earth had been a source of innocent delight, evoking the carefree days of her youth, where every inch of her had been joyfully smeared in the spirit of adventure.

Now, the sensation only made her skin crawl. 

Her cries grew frantic as she summoned all the strength she could possibly muster to bridge the distance between them. Each excruciating inch she covered felt like a thousand lifetimes, her limbs trembling with the effort.

Some part of her clung to the fragile hope that this was but a horrific nightmare. A cruel illusion from which she would awaken in the sanctuary of his arms, discovering him whole and well, just as he had always been.

Please let this be a dream. Please let me wake up.

But that hope dwindled away when she at last reached his side. With trembling hands, she carefully turned him over. The sight that met her eyes unraveled her completely.

Levi’s face, his beautiful face—a canvas she adored with every fiber of her being—was now barely recognizable. She could not see the arch of his brow, the creases of his forehead, or the slant of his mouth beneath the sea of red. The blood, a relentless tide, coated his pale skin, defying even the rain’s mournful efforts to cleanse him free of the stain.

She peered into his eyes, yearning to glimpse even a whisper of life within the familiar steel blue. One eye was ravaged and awash in crimson, yet both stared back with a haunting emptiness. 

The knife inside her heart twisted further.

Her sobs clamored in her ears, loud enough to deafen the rain’s ceaseless patter and the faintest of breaths that may still rattle in his chest.

[hadeslegacyhephgirl]

It was 6 in the morning when Nico received the phone call from Lou Ellen.  

"Whaaaat" 

"It's Will, Nico. He's in a coma" 

The words crashed into him like a tsunami. Fear and worry made a home in his chest 

"Where are you?"  "Hospital"  "… what?"  "Ambulance go there before I could call anyone. And our chariot crashed bad, it's basically disintegrated" 

"I'm going to wake Jason and Kayla and meet you there"  "Can you get Annabeth and Cecil, too?"  "Why?"  "Annabeth 'cause I'm gonna need brains here. Cecil because- just- because"  "Fine. Where?"  "Carra Hospital, Room 304, I'll send you a picture"  "I'll be there in 10"  He hung up  

Waking everyone up was… mixed.  

All Jason and Kayla had to hear was 'Will' and they got up immediately. 

Cecil only came when he heard Lou was there. 

Annabeth insisted they take along Piper and Percy. 

So it was a party of seven that turned up in room 304. 

Cecil wrapped Lou in a hug from behind as Lou talked to Annabeth, who was holding Percy's hand. Kayla and Piper went to see if they could charmspeak a nurse to bring another IV for the nectar Kayla had brought, and Jason went along just in case there were monsters. 

Leaving Nico standing by Wills bed, staring at his wounds. 

He counted each and every nick and scratch on Will's face and arms (37) and took in the propped up, bandaged leg. 

Suddenly he couldn’t bear to be so far away from Will.   He climbed into the bed and tucked himself between Will's side and arm, nesting his head on Wills chest, closed his eyes and let the tears come 

~*~ (Will) 

It was dark 

He felt around 

There was a fuzzy silence  

He couldn't remember anything 

Except that he was a boy 

Chink 

He looked up. Something, a piece of light hung in the air. He touched it. 

"Boy"  "7 boys, two girls"  "Hey, boy-o" 

Oh. 

These were memories. 

So he had to piece himself back together. 

He could do that. 

He will do that. 

Chink 

Another shard of light, right next to the first. 

"Will"  "Hi, Will"  "Will?"  "William!" 

His name was Will 

There was solace in knowing his own name 

Chink 

This time, only one voice rang out 

"Solace"  The voice sounded annoyed, slightly raspy with a slight Italian accent.  

This time it was accompanied by a picture. 

Two dark brown eyes, so big and beautiful, yet so dark and knowing they looked like they were staring into your soul. 

The image hung in the air, away from the other chinks of light. Like the beginning of a picture. One he would figure out. 

~*~ (Nico)     

"Should we wake him up?"  "Nah, leave him. You know he can't live without his Will"  "What if he never wakes up, though?"  "He will. He has to. Besides, Nico wouldn't let him die"  "But-"  "No buts. We'll contact Hades, Hypnos, Apollo, anyone that can help. We're not losing him" 

Nico drifted in and out of sleep, not wanting to confront the waking world, but scared of the nightmares that threatened to take him. 

Finally he opened his eyes to find Jason sitting in the visitor chair. 

"Hey, Neeks."  "What time is it?"  "A little past-"  He checked his watch 

"- one in the afternoon. Listen, we're gonna get Will outta here."  "how?"  "Piper'll be here in a few minutes with the van, Kayla and Annabeth. She's gonna charmspeak him out." 

Nico looked down at Will and grabbed his hand.  "We're getting you out of here, Will. So don’t you dare go dying on me."    ~*~ 

My name is Will Solace  I am 17 years old  I am one of Apollo's children  My home is Camp Half-Blood  I'm a doctor, medic, head councilor 

I have siblings, family, friends.  And I will get out of here. 

~*~ 

"Careful!"  "We are being careful!"  "… sorry" 

They loaded Will into the back of the van 

Piper had, quite literally, worked like a charm. Within ten minutes they had Will on a transportable gurney and out the hospital. 

It was a silent drive back to camp 

~*~    He'd done it. 

The door was nearly complete. A door of light, of memory. The chinks of light had formed the rectangular shape as he'd gathered more and more information. 

All that was missing was a doornob. 

The picture was done too. 

A picture of a boy with raven black hair framing milky white skin and big brown, almost black eyes. Dressed in a leather jacket with ripped black jeans and a black shirt that read Camp Half-Blood 

But it felt wrong. 

Like there was something missing. 

The boy's name. 

He began looking though the memories of the door, each piece a word with memories attached to it. 

Then he remembered. 

There was one that only had one memory attached 

Maybe it was longer? 

Hesitantly he touched it. 

"Solace" 

Silence. He waited  "Fine." The Italians voice again. 

"There we go. See, it wasn't so hard, was it?" His own voice now.  "But just three days, you hear me?"  "Sure, unless I need to keep you longer"  "Solace, I swear-"  "C'mon, Neeks."  "Do not call me that"  "Alright Death Breath-"  "Or that"  "Zombie Lord?"  "Absolutely not. It's Nico, full stop"  "Alright, Sunshine"  "… that's okay too, I guess" 

Ding 

The picture of the boy - Nico - suddenly seemed vibrant, alive. 

And the door had a doornob. 

Hesitantly he reached for it. 

Back home. 

Back to Nico 

If there was any chance the son of Hades could love him back. 

~*~ 

It had been a week since Will had gone under the coma. 

Five days since he'd been moved to the infirmary 

Jason had given up on trying to get Nico to leave Wills bedside, except to shower every so often. 

So it was just Will and Nico and silence. 

Silence that was broken with a raspy voice coming from the bed 

"Nico?" 

Nico looked up into Wills brilliant blue eyes that were open and he was awake. 

A sob wrenched from his throat and he flung himself into Wills arms. 

"Hey, Sunshine. How long has it been?" 

Nico sniffed and buried his head into Wills shoulder. 

"A week"  "oh."  Nico sniffed again and looked up into very much open celeste blue eyes  "But your back now, right?"  "Yeah, Sunshine. I'm right here. And I always will be." 

~*~ 

[circinuus]

I was wondering if I could request Dazai (possibly Chuuya too, seperate) taking care of a sick s/o? gn please! Take ur time and take care of urself! <33

taking care of a sick s/o

ft dazai, chuuya. 0.7k words

gn!reader

❥ hi nonnie! tysm for the request and the sweet message ♡ if you're not feeling well, i hope you'll get well soon! sorry this one isn't too good, i need to practice writing more

"Dazai, get awayy-"

Your protest was cut by your miserable sneeze, before further drowned in your lover's long whine.

Hell hath no fury like flu during fall, you concluded. And seeing your currently pouting beloved, it seems that it's not that less of a nightmare for him too. Food and medicines are down. Yet, the body pains and subtle headaches still linger.

Dazai had noticed the way you slump at your desk. Hidden among the piles of abysmal paperwork was you sighing and kneading your temple to quell a grating pain that wasn't supposed to be there. Dazai had noticed this; the lack of enthusiasm and vigor in your ever-refreshing smile. And that was all it takes for him to take you by the hand and throw some well-crafted excuse to Kunikida, dragging you back to your shared abode.

That was a few hours ago. 

"Shouldn't you be back at the agency?"

"And leave you alone?" he gasps, partly offended at how you inch away from his kiss. "My flower, what if you're dying from your cold?"

'Oh! we can finally have a double suicide!' he said. 'But death by sickness is nasty,' he then deflates. Despite his vocal laments, they soon fade to nothing but a white noise as your mind drifts to the pile of unfinished works and reports, eyes blank from the haze of your worry and malady.

"A frown doesn't suit you, belladonna," soft fingers rest on your head, and suddenly you are conscious of the creases forming on your brow and the taut arch on your lips.

"Shh, it's okay," his whispers flows to your ears like a lilting tune. Your eyes find their way to his, and swirling in his eyes is a sentiment so foreign. So latched with raw, genuine concern, ripped off all the playful and mischievous glint you wished you weren't the reason for such disconsolate eyes.

"Dazai-"

"Rest." he presses a kiss on your eyelid. Your words soon die in a blissful sigh, too tired and too content to propose another protest.

With his gentle strokes, the angry storm of uneasiness and sickly discomfort dull, and sweet lull of sleep finally embraces you.

You much rather not let your lovable waste of bandage catch your cold. But alas, you are only human. And what can a mere human do when they feel their lover's warmth engulfing their being? So loving and solicitous; you are helpless under his touch.

Besides, you owe him as much for making him this worried.

Chuuya frowns as he observes the thermometer.

"I should call the doctor back."

"Love, please," the thick blanket he draped over you slightly shifts. "He was just here."

'It's just a silly cold, anyway,' a huff escapes your sore throat. But Chuuya isn't all convinced. A deep furrow nestled itself on his brow, and for a second you think he's mad. Maybe it has something to do with you passing out in his office just now; something about fatigue and seasonal flu, the doctor just said.

The mafioso heaves a long sigh before moving closer to sit at the edge of your bed.

"(Name), y'know how much you made me worry?"

"I had the medicines already. I should be fine." you sniff, red-nosed and voice strained. 

"But.. sorry."

"Hey, hey, sweetheart, it's not your fault" he is quick to shush you, fingers moving to rub circles on your hand. "I should've taken care of you better."

"You know it's not your fault," you interlace your hands together. They fit so well, you smile. And from Chuuya's chuckle, he seems to notice your sentiment.

"You're such a sweet thing, aren't you, doll?" he presses a loving kiss on your knuckles. Now you weren't sure it was him or the flu that was burning your cheeks.

"Rest up and don't worry your pretty head." He gives your hand a final reassuring squeeze. "I'll take care of everything,"

Chuuya moves to smooth your blanket, tucking you in for the night. And yes, he resists the urge to press a goodnight kiss on your lips, as much as he doesn't want to wait until your flu goes away. But you can feel the comfort of his hands never leaving yours throughout the night.

♡ @ashthemadwriter

[gumnut-logic]

Reassurance

Had a crappy day, have no brain, so wrote soppy goop.

Many thanks to @onereyofstarlight for reading through said soppy goop. I may have to offer her a long term dental plan for her sacrifice.

I hope you don't drown in the goop.

-o-o-o-

He startled awake with a gasp.

Oh, god. Oh, god, no.

The nightmare drifted away leaving terror in its wake.

Please, god, no.

Virgil rolled over and untangled himself from the bed covers. The clock on his nightstand cheerfully claimed it was 4am.

He had only slept an hour.

Oh, hell.

He pushed his protesting body to sit up on the side of the bed, his bare feet catching in the carpet. His head fell into his hands as phantom images from his brain bounced back and forth and sweat dripped down his spine.

They were all okay.

It was just a stupid dream.

They weren’t…

He shoved off the bed and stumbled into his bathroom, hitting the light and almost blinding himself. Cold water on his face brought back reality.

His family was safe in bed.

Not dead.

Not dying.

Not screaming his name.

He groaned, closed his eyes and ran wet fingers through his hair.

Goddamnit.

He shoved a towel into his face and through his hair. Killing the bathroom light, he strode back into his bedroom, letting his eyes adjust enough to find an old t-shirt and shove it on. He pushed open the door to his rooms and stepped out into the silent hallway.

The transparent roof let in the waning moon and starlight just enough to see and Virgil made his way quietly down the hall to Alan’s bedroom.

He’d done this so many times before. Snuck into bedrooms to check on family simply because he needed a little reassurance that they were still there, still safe. To abate the terror that gnawed on his mind.

Alan was there. His littlest brother was curled up on his rug on the floor, soft breaths teasing the fibre strands in front of his face.

Virgil couldn’t see much.

But he could see enough.

He approached cautiously, not wanting to disturb and crouched down beside the kid genius with a big heart.

Allie’s face was slack in sleep, a mere shaping of shadows in the pale light from the hallway. The bandaid on his head wasn’t an injury, just a scratched pimple to prove he was still a teenager with teenager problems.

Beyond the rocket and the death-defying feats.

Virgil rested a hand ever so softly on his little brother’s arm and whispered, “Love you, Allie.”

Alan shifted and Virgil lifted his hand away. He pushed himself to his feet, ever so embarrassed should he be caught, and slipped from the room on silent feet.

He closed Alan’s door quietly and leant against the corridor wall.

Was it wrong to need the reassurance? Was he being stupid?

He swallowed, took a couple of steps and stood in front of Gordon’s door.

His military brothers were lighter sleepers and he had to be extra careful.

Gordon was tangled in his bed sheets as usual and Virgil had to fight the urge to untangle him. Messy golden hair lit up in the pale light and Virgil crouched down beside his fish brother, eyes skipping over the scars set in relief by that same light across Gordy’s back.

His brother was breathing, breath drawn in and out with the occasional snore.

Virgil dared not touch Gordon, no matter how much he wanted to. But he did watch him for a moment, etching proof of life into his brain.

“Love you, Gordy.”

Gordon grunted, grabbed a chunk of bed sheet and hugged it to his chest.

Virgil bit his lip and stepped back, slipping out the door.

He let a breath go once the door was closed.

He had to leave the residential rooms to track down his space brother. He had a pact with Eos, bribed with processors so she wouldn’t tell John.

Entering the empty comms room revealed just a hint of the coming day as the faintest of lines on the horizon to the east. Traditionally, his military brothers would be up within the hour, but considering how late they all made it to bed, John had probably cancelled all the alarms and put IR into passive mode.

Virgil couldn’t remember if Scott had given the order. He had been too strung out, too exhausted, too terrified of what almost happened and how lucky he had been.

“Eos, report on John please.”

“Good morning, Virgil.” Her voice was soft, under strict instruction due to mistakes past. “John is currently sleeping quietly. All vitals stable. He drank water before bed and has been undisturbed.”

“Thank you, Eos. Visual, please.”

“Are you sure? John has been teaching me about privacy and-“

“Eos, please. I need this.”

There was silence a moment before the holoprojector lit up, bathing the room, and Virgil, in blue.

John slept curled on his side, hands bunched up under his chin, hair in his eyes.

Virgil smiled despite himself. John had been fighting that cowlick since he was little. During the day he had it under control with all the product deployed, but at night it ruled and John surrendered.

It made him look so young.

And so atypical of his usual neat appearance.

“Love you, Johnny.”

This time he could reach out and run his fingers through photons. It wasn’t enough but it was something.

Staring a moment longer, he reached down and turned the projector off.

Night returned to the room and his eyes dazed with after images.

He took the opportunity and jogged down the stairs to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass, he filled it with tap water and sculled it down.

The cool liquid sucked the heat from his belly.

He left the cup on the sink and made his way up all the stairs and back into the residential hallways. Part of him always wanted to visit his grandmother and Kayo, but there were limits to the breaches in privacy he was willing to commit.

Standing in the hallway outside their doors, he whispered words into the woodwork and left them undisturbed.

At the end of the hallway, lay Scott’s rooms. He knew he was always welcome there. In his big brother’s own words late at night over one too many drinks, desperate to wash away memories that hurt, Scott had said in no uncertain words - anytime, anywhere, always.

Virgil had no doubt it was the same for all his brothers, for all of them. Each of them were there for each other. They were family.

But as Virgil stood outside that door, he was still of two minds. He needed to erase that image from his dream. That last gasp of breath, that terror, and his failure to be what he needed to be.

Because the biggest fear was that one day Virgil wasn’t going to be there for his big brother and that would be it. The end. Scott would be gone and Virgil’s world would crumble.

But at the same time. All this? Was stupid. Why risk Scott’s sleep, something he sorely needed, just because Virgil couldn’t keep it together?

His back fell against the corridor wall, and Virgil let himself slide down until his butt hit the floor.

His head dropped into his hands.

His eyes clenched shut.

And he wished the world away.

-o-o-o-

He didn’t realise the door had opened until a pair of long, pyjama-clad legs folded down beside him and an arm wrapped around his shoulders.

Scott’s other arm drew him in him until his brother’s face was buried in Virgil’s hair.

Virgil groaned. “Sorry.”

Scott’s breath teased his hair. “Dreams?”

“Yeah.”

His brother squeezed just a little tighter. “Same.”

“Damn…”

“Yeah.”

Virgil didn’t ask if his brother was okay, because the answer was obvious. Instead, he rested against Scott drawing in the strength for what he needed to be for his brother.

“Love you, Virg. You know that, don’t you?”

His heart missed a beat. “Yeah.” He swallowed. “Love you, too.”

“Anytime, anywhere, always.” Scott’s hand moved to the back of Virgil’s neck, warm and so there.

Virgil’s eyes closed against the cotton of his big brother’s pyjamas. “Always.”

-o-o-o-

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 92

Panicked voices swirled around me—talking to me, at me, about me. Anger, fear, worry, and the faintest hint of relief laced their words as I sat there, the rough blanket they threw over me scratching at my skin. "She's cold," they muttered, as if warmth could somehow fix me. But nothing in this world will ever make me feel better again, not with the gaping hole where my child was supposed to be.

I should be cradling my baby, not tending to the wounds they left on me. I sob and scream, hands holding me down, voices spilling hollow words that mean nothing. The engines hum in the background, each second taking me further from the only place where I still had my baby. I want to go back—back to that cage, back to sleep, to find dreams where I can still be a mother.

"Call me if you need anything." She leaves after a gentle touch on my shoulder and a tight hug, the sound of the door closing behind her.

"Sweetheart," he calls, his voice broken, yet somehow still steady. He can speak, but I can’t. I try to move my lips, to find words, but nothing comes—only silent sobs as I curl into myself, hugging my knees.

Eventually, I drift into sleep, into dreams of being a mother. But even there, there is no solace. Grief twists my dreams into nightmares—ugly claws snatching my baby away, and I wake, empty, in a bed that feels far too cold.

I glance around the room—it feels unfamiliar, small, and run-down. "Steve?" I call out, my voice raspy, like I haven’t spoken or had water in days.

"You’re awake!" He rises quickly from the chair at the foot of the bed. Sitting beside me, he looks me over before handing me a glass of water, which I gulp down in an instant.

"Where are we?" I frown, feeling an overwhelming exhaustion despite just waking up.

"In a motel... somewhere in Alaska," he says, his voice heavy. His eyes are puffy and red, worn down by something deeper than just lack of sleep.

I stared out the window into the darkness, letting the silence settle around me.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. I scoffed. It felt absurd, asking that amid everything.

He reached for my hand, gently caressing it, but I pulled away. I didn’t want to be touched, didn’t want to be seen. I just wanted to disappear, to rot away.

"I know you’ve been through horrible things, but..." he began. I turned sharply to face him. "But what? At least I’m alive? Is that what you were going to say?" My voice rose, fueled by anger. Good, I thought. Anger was better than the numbness.

He flinched at my words. "I know you’re hurting," he said, his voice trembling. "And if you need to lash out, I’ll take it. But... I lost my child too..." His voice cracked, tears welling in his eyes.

I didn’t want to consider his feelings—how dare he compare his pain to mine, I thought bitterly. The urge to scream, to unleash something we might never recover from, boiled inside me. But I held back because deep down, I knew I couldn’t survive this without him.

"Where’s Nat?" I asked instead, steering away from the anger threatening to spill over. I hadn’t seen her in so long, and the ache of missing her gnawed at me.

He wiped his tears and cleared his throat, trying to steady himself. "She had to leave again. She said she’s trying to find them, but it’s complicated. We’re still on the run... She’s reaching out to her sources, but it might take time."

"So what are we going to do? Hide from the government and let that madman get away with this?" I snapped, the heat rising in my voice again.

"The minute we show ourselves, they’ll arrest us," he said, his eyebrows raised in frustration. "We have to be careful." His tone was firm, but I could see it—he hated this as much as I did.

My heart raced at the thought of my child in that man’s hands. What was he doing to my baby? I couldn’t breathe—grief wrapped around my throat, choking me as I clutched the sheets, trying to hold on to something, anything.

"So I’m just supposed to wait it out? I feel like I’m dying!" I yelled, my voice cracking under the weight of it all. "Do you understand?"

"I do!" he shouted back, his voice rising with mine. But his words only fueled my anger. Without thinking, I grabbed the empty glass from the nightstand and hurled it at the wall, the sound of shattering glass punctuating my scream. "No, you don’t!"

Despite the anger I hurled at him, he looked at me with nothing but love in his eyes. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace, even as I struggled against him, tears burning in my eyes.

"I do," he whispered softly into my ear. And with those words, I crumbled. The fight left my body, and I slumped into his arms, letting the overwhelming grief wash over me.

I spent days, maybe even weeks, lying in bed, only getting up when we had to switch motels. We kept moving, never staying in one place too long. It made little difference to me; the beds were equally uncomfortable, and I barely slept. Steve and Sam brought me food, enough to keep me from starving, but little more.

In my dreams, I was haunted by the cries of a baby. I would run endlessly, only to wake up screaming, drenched in sweat. Steve, too, was restless. He tossed and turned beside me, his own sleep disrupted. Over time, the anger I initially felt toward him slowly faded. He was the only anchor keeping me from losing myself entirely. There was no hope left, but the thought of the Doctor paying for his crimes was the one thing that kept me going.

Natasha joined us at some point, though I had lost all sense of time. According to Steve, we had been on the run for nearly two years. Natasha brought no news on his whereabouts—only a file labeled "Asset 3.0," detailing their twisted version of a super soldier.

The file contained information about me and Steve, but it was the final sheet that made my heart stop. It read: "Subject was extracted from the female on the 12th of March. The boy is healthy and strong, just as expected."

A boy. I had a son. They were going to use him for their sick and twisted plans, and I had no way of finding him. The realization hit me with crushing force, leaving me paralyzed by a sense of helplessness. My son was out there, caught in their perverse scheme, and I was powerless to reach him.

I sat there, gripping the edge of my seat, when Steve’s phone rang, jolting me out of my daze. He stepped away to take the call, returning with an even grimmer expression.

Natasha raised her eyebrows, her gaze sharp. "What’s going on?"

Steve crossed his arms, his face a mask of concern. "That was Bruce. Something’s happening in New York. They need us."

My heart skipped a beat. Bruce had vanished years ago, disappearing with the Quinjet after Sokovia.

"Bruce? They need us for what?" Natasha’s voice trembled slightly, her nervousness barely hidden.

Steve glanced between us, his tone firm yet laced with worry. "They need our help against Thanos."

Next Chapter

[littlerat2]

Premonitions

Chapter 1: Blood and Ash

WARNINGS: Blood, death, nightmares. I think that's it? But! As always, please lemme know if I should add any others :)

Summary: The start of something horrible.

AO3

Words: 507

Author's Note: Thank you so much to @logan-the-artist for beta reading this fic for me! This is quite short. For that I apologize, however the chapters to come should be longer! I will probably be quite slow updating this, but i promise I will update it eventually. If that ever changes, I will be sure to let y'all know! <3

“I warned you,” Virgil started, shaking his head and blinking back tears. He kneeled beside the bloodsoaked prince, taking his head in his lap. “I said loving me would get you killed.” He tried to bark out a bitter laugh, but it came out more like a sob.

Roman just offered a bloody, but genuine smile. “Wasn’t it worth it, though?” Though his eyelids drooped, and his chest heaved out ragged breaths, he looked like there was nowhere he’d rather be.

“Nothing is worth losing you,” Virgil whispered shakily. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t look at Roman’s perfect, bloody lips curled in such a sweet smile. He couldn’t watch his cloudy, green eyes drift over his figure. He couldn’t watch Roman die.

He broke down sobbing into Roman’s shoulder as he clutched him close to his chest.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I-I’m so sorry.” He pulled back to look at Roman’s face, and Roman took this as an opportunity to wipe his tears away with a shaky hand. His blood colored Virgil’s pale cheek crimson.

“Don’t cry,” he said softly. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not! You-you’re gonna die!” He pressed his forehead to Roman’s. “I told you this was dangerous. I-I knew it was. But I let you get close anyway. God, I-... Roman, I-I’m so sorry,” he wept. His lungs burned, both with the panic of losing Roman, and the ash that quickly got swept up into his lungs. They sat alone in a burnt building. When did they get there? Virgil may have known at some point, but right now he didn’t remember. He didn’t care. All that mattered right now was the man rapidly dying in his arms.

“If I could go back,” Roman heaved. “I’d do everything the same.”

“You’re- you’re dying, Roman! It’s not-”

“I got to meet you,” Roman said with a grin. “I got to love you.” With shaking hands, he pulled Virgil’s body closer to his own. “I love you so much, Virgil. Tell Remus I love him. Patton and Logan too. You’ll be okay. All of you-”

“Stop it, Roman! Stop! You’re- you’re accepting it! You can’t- Just- hold on. I-I can-” Virgil choked on his words, the thick, ash-filled air filling his lungs with every breath.

“You can’t stay here. There’s nothing you can do,” Roman said softly. “Tell my stories. All of them. I don’t- I don’t care what you have to do, just… Get 'em out there.” He smiled, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I love you.”

Virgil watched as the light faded from Roman’s emerald eyes as he exhaled. Clutching the dead man to his chest, he wailed. All color and life draining from his world.

“I love you too,” he sobbed. “I loved you so, so much, Roman. More than you’ll ever know.”

Sniffling, Virgil set the dead man’s head in his lap, brushing aside chestnut strands of hair out of his face. “I’m sorry.”

Then, he woke up. Sun shining on his face, and the still-breathing body of his boyfriend beside him.

If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this fic, please send an ask! :3

[lavenderlilacbones]

Love Never Dies

Vampire!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Description: It's been months since the horror that enveloped your spring break ended. Life has been miserable in the aftermath and all you want to do is run away until an unexpected visitor shows up in your room.

Warnings: NSFW/18+ ONLY, SMUT with an attempt at minor plot (post ST4 Vol 2), minors DNI, slight praise kink, dirty talk, blood, reader uses she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, use of pet names, fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, tiny touch of fluff at the end

A/N: Vampire Eddie fics are *chefs kiss* so I really wanted to do one too. I was further spurred on by rewatching Bram Stoker's Dracula recently which is a surprisingly horny vampire movie (and overall great film). This one came out pretty quick which is great since I've felt a little creative block with the other story I was working on. Hopefully this gets the juices flowing.

Word count: 3500

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Months had passed, spring had given way to summer and as the days grew long and the midsummer heat continued to rise, your window rarely stayed closed. The living nightmare of March of '86 was behind you but still left lasting trauma. Hell, you barely graduated in the end but you pushed through. You couldn't bear to fail and get locked into staying in Hawkins another year, having to continue walking through those now claustrophobic halls at school. Not without him.

Living without Eddie didn't get easier so much as it just got more bearable as time went on. You woke up, you went to work, you came home, you went to sleep. Rinse, repeat. You'd almost become a recluse, trying to save up as much as you could from your meager paychecks just so you could get the hell out of town as soon as possible. To run from the painful memories. The gang always checked in, they've been through this enough to know how important it was to support one another in the aftermath. They were the only people who could get you to break your dull new routine.

After spending the evening with Robin and Nancy, all you wanted to do was be in your bed and shut off. You flopped back on your mattress, kicking your shoes off before pulling your legs up to join the rest of your body. As you curled up on your side, you reached a hand up to fidget with the skull ring attached to the delicate chain around your neck. One of Eddie's rings. Something he shoved into your hand as he choked on his last dying breaths lying between you and Dustin. Your mind drifted, staring off unfocused into nothing. Time had transformed your grief from crying fits to quiet moments of dissociation.

Before you let yourself slip too far you sat up sharply. You weren't going to fall asleep like this again. Getting up, you went through your normal evening routine, settling for a cropped tank top and your underwear to sleep in. As warm as it was, you couldn’t sleep without something covering you, loosely pulling the flat sheet from your bed covers over your lower half. You left your bedside lamp on. Despite being an adult now, the horror of the Upside Down had reignited your fear of the dark. At least now when the nightmares ripped you awake, you couldn't be fooled by shadows in the dark. You drifted off to sleep, hoping for a more restful night for once.

Not long after sleep claimed you, a red fog began creeping through your window. Slowly it gathered at the foot of your bed in a thick growing pool before it began to take shape, becoming a tall figure with wild dark curls. As the figure solidified, he rolled his shoulders, taking a long and satisfying stretch. He trained his eyes on your sleeping form, walking round to the side of the bed, taking a careful, weightless seat on the mattress beside you. Lifting a hand to your face, he caresses your cheek softly.

You shiver slightly at his touch. Despite the extreme gentleness of it, the stark difference in temperature between his freezing cold fingers and the heat surrounding you stirs you from your slumber. Bleary eyed you begin to notice the large form beside you, suddenly shoving yourself backwards towards the opposite side of the bed. "Who are you?!" You blink and rub your eyes, forcing them to focus.

"I know it's been a little while, but you can't tell me you don't recognize me already," he chuckles, turning his body to face you.

A sharp gasp slips out, your hands darting up to cover your mouth as it hangs open. You can't believe what you're seeing. "...E-eddie?"

Eddie spreads his arms out in a small flourish, bowing slightly, a smirk flashing across his face, "In the flesh, sweetheart."

You reach a shaking, cautious hand towards him. "I must be dreaming, there's no way… Eddie… I watched the lights go out in your eyes. Steve had to practically drag Dustin and I away from you!" If this was a dream, it was a cruel new kind of dream. You would almost prefer the nightmares, reliving that terrible moment of being too late over and over again was at least familiar.

Eddie attempts to grasp your hand, the sudden cold sensation shocking you and causing you to rip it back. He frowns at your reaction, "It's really me. It took a long time, but I recovered, I pulled myself out. I…" His voice trailed off as he looked away from you, his eyes distant.

"Eddie…" you reached for him again, this time not shying away from the chill as you took his hand, "...baby why are you so cold? What happened after you died?" Tears filled your eyes and threatened to start falling down your face.

His gaze returned to you, closing his hand around yours and squeezing. "I'm not sure… something changed. I changed. I thought it was something about that place, but I've been back in real Hawkins for a week and I haven't eaten, I haven't wanted to for months." Eddie's tongue darts out to lick over his lips as he becomes more aware of your warmth and of something else he can't put his finger on. "I've been hiding in the woods. You're the first person I've tried to come near."

You take in a deep breath, using your free hand to wipe your eyes. "Eddie, it's July. How have you not eaten anything since March?"

"Sweetheart, I don't think I'm human anymore." His words hang in the room, the silence near deafening.

You study his features. Even in the soft warm light of your lamp he looks paler than usual, the demobat bite marks you remember seeing on his neck are completely gone, he doesn't even have a noticeable scar. You scoot closer to him again, hanging a leg off the side of the bed as you take his face in your hand.

Eddie closes his eyes as he breathes you in, leaning his face into your hand. The scent is intoxicating, he always loved the way you smelled, but something is different now. An insatiable hunger began to ignite in him as he cupped his hand over yours, turning his face to it and placing a gentle kiss on your palm, trailing another closer to your wrist, followed by another as his mouth opens slightly.

Your eyes widened as you took your hand from him. "Eddie!"

Your voice snaps him out of his trance as he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights, pupils blown out.

You grab his face, thumb gently lifting his lip to see his much more pronounced canines and gasping again as you release him. "Fucking shit Eddie, you're a goddamn vampire! That's why you haven't been hungry!" You pause for a moment before slapping his knee. "Did you just try to bite me?!"

The metal head blinks and throws his hands up. "Sorry! I can't help it! You're the first warm body I've been this close to and…" he licks his lip again, "God, baby, you smell so good. I mean, you always have but… this is… different." He pants slightly, rubbing his hands over your warm thighs. "I think you're right. Those fuckin bats turned me." He's not looking at your face anymore, eyes dropping to your chest as his hands slide towards your hips and down again.

Having his hands on your thighs reminded you of your own needs, how much you missed his touch. As inappropriate as it felt to get aroused at a time like this, you couldn't help yourself. Despite the situation at hand, you felt overtaken by some unknown aphrodisiac and you needed Eddie. His fingers kneaded the flesh of  your thighs. "Eddie…" you breathed, leaning towards him, placing a hand on his thigh sliding it further up his leg as you grew closer.

"Yeah?" His eyes don't meet yours, it's almost as if he's staring directly at your heart, seeing your veins through your skin as the blood pumps through them.

"Are you doing this?" Your hand comes to his face again, your breaths quickening.

He meets your eyes now, pupils still blown out with lust. "Dunno, haven't really had a chance to flex all these new vamp abilities yet." He laughs to himself, beginning to lean in as well. "Vampire books were your thing, sweetheart." He places a tentative kiss on your chin taking note of the change in your demeanor. "Are you saying I have some kind of new sexy powers?" He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

You choke down a hard gulp, your hands sliding over his dingy, torn Hellfire shirt. Despite your fictional knowledge of vampires, you weren't sure how much of it applied to real vampires. Hell until tonight you didn't even think they could be real. What little you had read had been about tragic, romantic vampires and less about terrifying monster vampires. Fingers crossed Eddie was the former. "Maybe I've just been ignoring my needs since you've been gone…" You chanced a chaste kiss on his lips, feeling him softly groan into you. 

"I missed you so much, baby. Thinkin' about seein' this pretty face again might've been what drove me to crawl my way out of that fuckin' hell hole." Eddie slides a hand on your ass and another around your back, dragging you closer to him as he kisses you. "I don't know how much control I really have over myself but fuck, I want you so bad sweetheart and I don't mean your blood."

A small moan escapes you as he kisses your jawline. "Just try not to kill me, would ya, Eds? Christ, I've missed you so bad too, it'd be a shame to end our reunion on a sour note," you try to slip a little humor in, laughing nervously at your own words. 

Eddie pulls back to study your face, bringing a hand up to your cheek and dragging his thumb over your lips. "I'd go back down there and throw myself at Vecna himself before I'd do that sweetheart." His eyes are locked with yours, a moment of clarity in the haze as he makes his promise. 

You give him a little nod and he meets your lips again in a kiss, more passionate this time. Before you realize it, he's lifting you over his lap like you weigh nothing, settling you down to straddle against him. He sighs through his kisses at the feeling of your full body heat against him, wrapping his arms around your back.

Your hands grip his shoulders before sliding over them and around his neck. You grind into his lap, moaning into him from the friction, your thin panties providing a very minimal barrier between you two. Eddie takes advantage of your open mouth and slips his tongue in, connecting with yours and twisting together. His fingers dance nimbly over your sides, sliding under your loose cropped tank, his hands coming up to cup your tits and squeeze them.

"I missed these perfect tits, baby," he huffs as his kisses begin to trail down your throat. Unwilling to break his grasp on you, he nods down and takes the hem of your top in his teeth and pulls it up over your chest. He locks his lips on one of your nipples, gently sucking and biting at it before switching to the other.

Your hands slide up his neck, fingers wrapping in his hair and tugging lightly, eliciting a moan from Eddie as he worked your chest. "Eddie… I need you, I want you inside me," you whine against him, face buried in the crown of his hair as you pant.

Eddie licks a line between your breasts. "Yeah, baby? Want this cock inside you already?" He thrusts his hard bulge against your heat, another moan falling from your lips. His hand trails down your stomach, slipping under the hem of your panties. The longer his body was in contact with yours, the warmer he became, you barely noticed a chill when his fingers rubbed your clit. Eddie sucked in his bottom lip as he pushed further, strong fingers running over your soaked lips. "God I missed this too," he groans into you, "I missed how wet you get for me." He slides two fingers inside you with minimal effort, curling them inside you and immediately finding that spongy spot he knows best. "So warm and inviting."

You whine into him, your hold on him tightening as he works his magic, quickly causing you to fall apart in his hands. You really hadn't given yourself any attention since he'd been gone and it was embarrassingly apparent with how easily he ushered your orgasm forward. "Fuck Eddie, I'm gonna cum baby!"

He laughs and uses his free hand to cup your jaw so he can look at your face as you cum. "So soon? You really did miss me, didn't you? Cum for me, Princess. Soak these finger and then I'll fuck you."

Without another word, you clamp down on his fingers, sobbing moans leaving your mouth as he helps you ride out your first orgasm in months. He hisses through clenched teeth as he watches you writhe in his hands, his fangs glinting in the soft light. "That's it baby." He pulls his fingers from you, bringing them to his mouth as he drags his tongue over them, lewdly sucking your juices off each individual digit. He closes his eyes and growls, "Fuck, you taste so good." He roughly removes your top, sliding you down on the bed at an inhuman speed you can barely register.

Eddie pulls his shirt over his head, throwing it across the room before unfastening his belt and pants, shoving them off his legs. Crawling over you, his fingers hook in your underwear as he slides them down you legs. "Look at this pretty pussy, I bet she missed me too," He teases his thumb over your clit as he palms his erection through his boxers.

"Eddie…" you beg, "Please baby…" you writhe beneath him, hips thrusting into his hand. You look up at him, his slim, muscular form, hands reaching for him, to touch him.

Eddie grins, his large fangs more obvious now. "Please what baby?" He presses his thumb against you a little harder leaning over you to whisper in your ear, "What do you need, my love?"

Panting, your head falls back on your pillow, eyes closed. "Fuck me, Eddie. I need you so bad, baby."

He slides a finger down to drag along your slit, chuckling at the way your hips buck in response. "Fuck... I love when you beg for me, baby." Finally, he pulls down his boxers, kicking them off the edge of the bed. His thick cock hangs free as he spits in his hand, jerking himself until he's sufficiently lubricated. "What kind of man would I be if I left my pretty girl hanging?" He rubs his tip against your entrance, slowly pressing himself in.

Gripping the bed sheets, you moan beneath him, eyes rolling back slightly at the familiar feeling of Eddie stretching you as he fully settles inside you. He wraps his arms around you and kisses you passionately as he thrusts, slow and deep at first. Your legs wrap around him, both of you moaning into each other wantonly as Eddie begins to thrust faster and harder. 

"Fuck Eddie! You feel so good!" You bite his shoulder, fingers scratching his back 

Eddie moans loudly. "Ohhh sweetheart, you're so fucking tight. I could cum right now. It's like this pussy was made for me." He nibbles on your ear, trailing more kisses and love bites down the side of your neck. Eddie's breathing quickens as he licks over your jugular, feeling your pulse as he continued his unforgiving thrusts. His lips latch over your pulse point, sucking gently, teeth grazing the space as his left hand finds your right and intertwines his fingers tightly with yours.

Despite how lost you are in your combined pleasure, you can feel him teasing over your neck. Whining and mewling, one of your hands snakes through his hair, pressing him against you. "Eddie…" you gasp.

"Mmmhm?" He's in a trance, he can practically taste your blood already with how close he is to it.

"Drink from me…"

Eddie's eyes shoot open, pulling himself from your neck as he processes what you said, his hips stalling. "...what?"

"You'll need to feed eventually and I know you want to. You can drink from me. I-if you think you can stop that is." You feel your cheeks flush, you'd be lying if you said the thought didn't turn you on a little.

"I don't want to hurt you." Eddie's looking at you with those brown eyes of his, half hungry and lustful, half soft and cautious as he searches your face for any hint of doubt.

"You won't. I trust you, baby." You cup his cheek in your hand, giving him a deep, reassuring kiss. "Drink from me," you beckon, offering your neck to him.

Eddie begins to thrust into you again, watching as the sensation brings up your heart rate and quickens the pulse in your neck. Licking his lips he locks them on your jugular, fangs gently grazing the vein. He brings a hand up to caress your cheek before settling it in your hair and tangling it in the strands. Tender flesh gives away under the pressure of his bite and warm, coppery fluid fills his mouth. His eyes roll back in his head slightly before closing them completely, moaning into your neck. 

A heavy, sobbing moan leaves your mouth and you tug on his brown curls, your walls fluttering around his cock. The endorphins that rushed over you were incredible as Eddie's mouth sunk into you. His thrusts became ragged, your other hand running down his back to squeeze his ass and encourage him to keep going. "Fuck Eddie! Oh god I'm gonna cum again!"

He pulls his mouth from you, lapping gently at the punctures he left behind. "Fuck yes, baby. I want to feel you cum around me." He pulls his hand from your hair to grab your hip and angle your body against him, helping him keep pressure on your sweet spot. 

He has you screaming for him and in a few more rough thrusts, an overwhelming wave of pleasure washes over you. You pull him in for a deep kiss as you ride out your climax, sucking on his tongue and tasting the barest hint of your blood. Before long Eddie moans deeply into your mouth, his own release spilling forward as he shoots his load into you. He continues to thrust until your orgasms pass, finally stilling in you when your walls let up the pressure.

Eddie's head falls against your chest as he manages to keep from crushing you under his weight. "Still with me, sweetheart?" He asks, a hand coming up to touch your cheek.

Sliding your hands up his back, one following his arm to rest over the hand on your cheek as you pant. "Still here," you look down at him and smile. Blood gently trickles from where he bit you. 

Eddie licks over the punctures again, another satisfied groan leaving his mouth before using your sheets to apply a little pressure over them. "I think you're gonna need new sheets, Princess," he laughs, taking note of the small blood stain that had pooled beneath your neck.

"Mmm, I guess bloody sheets aren't a very good look," you smile at him, eyes half lidded in exhaustion. Eddie usually wore you out, but the slight blood loss exasperated it. "What do we do now?"

"Now," he pulls his softening cock from you with a small grunt and lays beside you, "we nap."

"No you dork, I mean, how do we tell our friends you're not dead anymore? Henderson's gonna flip," you gently bat at his shoulder, ushering a laugh from Eddie. His face is noticeably flushed, his soft lips that familiar pink again. An added benefit of the blood you assume, he looks a little more human after he's fed.

"I don't know," Eddie checks your neck, satisfied to see the punctures had finally clotted. "Right now all I want to think about is right here in this bed." He traces his thumb over your lips before presses his into them, joining his forehead against yours. 

You sigh and wrap your arms around him, his body feels warmer now, but still provides a welcome chill in contrast with the sweltering heat from outside. "I love you, Eddie."

He smiles, planting another sweet kiss to your lips, "I love you too, baby."

[wishing-stones]

Alternatively, how do the skeles care for a sick human? I’d imagine Baggs would be the best candidate for medical care, but probably not snuggles..

Baggs, since you mention him, is absolutely the best candidate for medical care, but if he's especially attached to you (and doesn't have any immediately pressing duties), he can absolutely be conned into snuggles. Safety, comfort, and security are also integral to getting better! If you're stressed and feeling alone, your immune system won't bounce back like it should. (Besides, you're running warmer than normal, and even if you object because you're gross and snotty, he'll wipe your face and cuddle up. He likes the warm.)

As for everyone else:

Killer is pretty okay with this. He'll sit and lounge with you-- you can even put your head in his lap and he'll run his fingers through your hair while you watch TV. It's okay if you drift off and wake up at random intervals-- you need your sleep to get better, after all! He's also a big fan of the 'laughter is the best medicine' adage Dust will cuddle up with you and play some video games instead of watching TV. Something nice and cozy-- BOTW/TOTK, Animal Crossing, Stardew Valley, Minecraft, something like that. Sometimes, if you're especially restless, he'll just walk around in an open-world game just to have the ambiance and scenery to help soothe you. Axe is caught between cuddling with you and making you soup. It's all very easy to eat, meat so tender it melts in your mouth, vegetables that fall apart and are easy to chew, chock full of all the good things your body needs to fight off this bug. He'll make it spicy too, if you can handle it! Burn it out is an option. Cross prefers this. He believes you can't make mucus if you burn it out of your system. Whatever heat you can stand, he encourages you to eat it. He'll help if you need to stand and move around if you have to, and is happy to run errands to get things you need. He gets a little antsy sitting still, but if you need cuddles and rest, he'll oblige and stay put. Nightmare plays that he's put-upon having to take care of you, but you can tell that he's hamming it up to make you laugh. He's very gentle and can be made to cuddle if you need it. He makes sure you get your sleep, too-- and there's no need to worry about terrible fever dreams while he's around. He's actually... pretty concerned, and hovers a lot. You might have to shoo him off-- you aren't dying from a pox or anything, it's just a cold. You may be languishing in a lovely canopied bed in a rococo castle, but you aren't suffering consumption or an imbalance of humours. (Which makes him laugh.)

[telemna-hyelle]

SO

Uh 

Gonna put this one under the line real quick for peeps who don’t know the plot of Link’s Awakening

*coughs nervously*

I know this may not be the most popular take, and I want to state that this is me stating my own opinion/trying to hammer out my thought process for myself, but I was thinking about Legend and the Windfish, and the bottom line is... I don’t think Legend hates the Windfish? 

Nor do I think the Windfish is a jerk. 

Now, to be fair, I have not played either version of LA and therefore was not emotionally gutted by the reveal so I have less of a stake in the discussion. 

But i do know the plot, and I’ve given it a bunch of thought. 

First, Jojo has gone on record to state that they don’t think that Link could really, truly intently hate any person with the sole exception of Ganon--hence Time’s bitterness towards the Master Sword, as he sees it as a soulless, unfeeling tool that stripped seven years of his life away. But by definition that dismisses the possibility that Link would truly hate the Windfish. 

Secondly, I, uh... I don’t see why what the Windfish did was wrong?

Not saying it was all roses and daisies for Legend, he’s definitely got some trauma to deal with. 

But the Windfish was a victim. He was under siege, being attacked in his own mind! Can you imagine how terrible an ordeal that must be for him? And he fought back the only way he could--by creating a dream to protect his mind. But the dream could only shore up so much. Bit by bit, the nightmares were beginning to break through the wall.

And then Link almost drowns. And the Windfish saves his life. He was knocked unconcious, but was somehow floating on a barrel when eventually he wakes up back in the real world. That feels like giant flying skyfish magic to me. 

Also--and this part I’m not certain about--but it’s not like Link was forced to wake the Windfish. He could have just stayed, right? But if he wanted to leave the island, he needs to wake the Windfish. That’s Link’s choice. But Link is a good person, and he can’t just ignore the monsters--but again, that’s his choice. The Windfish didn’t trap him for the purpose of killing the monsters. As far as I can tell, at the very most, when he realizes the poor boy he’s saved is a hero, he’s like ‘would you mind helping? i’m in a bit of a fix. Also I saved you from drowning, but unfortunately i’m trapped in your own mind so you’re trapped too unless you wake me’. Which, yknow, would you rather he just left Link to drown? 

Perhaps he could have saved Link without pulling him into the dream--but we don’t know that. And again... if you’re in danger, if you’re dying, is it bad to cry out for help? 

And it’s not like the Windfish lied to Link--he leaves a message and tells Link the truth of what’s going on. Maybe not right away, but he does. He didn’t have to do that. He could have just kept it a secret. 

And, well...

Koholint is a dream. Dreams end. It was a lovely dream, but it wasn’t real. What would have wanted--Link to drift asleep on the ocean forever, perhaps sustained by magic, perhaps until he dies in his sleep of dehydration or something. All his friends in Labrynna and Holodrum and Hyrule--they would never know what happened to him. 

The Windfish needed to wake--but Link needed to, too.

And it was sad. We can see it’s affect on Legend. He was falling in love with Marin, after all, and even if she wasn’t really real, his feelings for her were. You don’t just bounce back from that.

But I just don’t think he would blame the Windfish for that. If he blames anything besides himself it’d be the Nightmares that caused the situation in the first place by attacking an innocent sky-whale-fish-thing. 

And for my final thought...

at the end of the game, Link sees the Windfish, and looks so happy to realize the Windfish is alive and well

These just don’t seem like the face a boy would make if he hates or even resents the Windfish

He just seems... glad the Windfish made it out okay

Course, I wanna make it clear that I don’t think it’s wrong or bad to think that Legend hates the Windfish. A lot of y’all have made really great fics with that good angsty stuff, and I’ve enjoyed all those that I have read! It’s an interesting way to explore the game and the affect on Legend’s emotional state post-koholint.

This is simply me wanting to write out my own character/game analysis for Legend, and to present an alternate view than the general fanon. 

[mandos-mind-trick]

Corruption - Part 2

Summary: Mari's always had darkness in her, threatening to take over in the back of her mind. No matter how much the Jedi tried to train her, the darkness was always there. After the death of her first master, she finds herself under the tutelage of Master Kenobi due to the council's growing concerns about her well being. The sudden return of a certain enemy, however, has some things coming to light. Maybe the darkness was never hers to begin with.

Pairing: Maul x OC (only named, no physical descriptions given)

Warnings: NSFW, smut, fingering, oral, super inappropriate use of the Force, Maul being Maul, biting, licking, violence, they're kind of toxic together, implied mental torture, injuries, Order 66, some blood but nothing too gory, seduction to the dark side, sort of implied idea of Grey Jedi but not really, nightmares, PTSD.

A/N: Yeeeah I don't have much to say about this one. It's a lot, uh, probably bring some tissues. It's kinda filthy, it's kinda toxic, it's pretty ugly. Yeah. Just Maul being Maul and poor Mari is dragged along for the ride.

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They found her. 

She doesn’t know what’s happening. She can feel it, the Force cracking and crumbling. Dying. The countless screams, the cries cut off too soon. It was too much. Too much. 

Master. 

She doesn't know where her Master is. If he’s still alive. No, he has to be. 

Her side is burning, singed from the blaster bolt that had nicked her. 

They shot at her. 

The clones. The ones she’d spent the last two years with. The ones she’d fought beside, protected and been protected by. The ones she considered family. 

They had turned and shot at her as soon as they saw her. 

There was something deeper going on. Something horrible. She’s losing the Force. She can feel it draining, like it’s slowly being sapped from her. Something else is stirring, bubbling underneath. She can feel it. The darkness is just behind her, reaching for her. 

It’s all that’s left. 

She needs to get off the ship. 

To do that she has to get to the escape pods. She knows there’s going to be clones there, many clones waiting for her to try and make an escape. They’ll have cut her off, slowly lessening the space she has to run, to hide until she’s trapped. 

Until she’s dead. 

Her stomach aches at the thought. She doesn’t want to die. She wants to get out, she wants to find her Master. She wants to be safe again. She doesn't want to have to kill any clones. Clones that had been like family to her, protecting her just as much as she’d protected them. 

They turned on her so easily. 

She doesn’t understand. 

Tears blur her vision as she navigates the cruiser filled with hundreds of clones, all searching for her, all wanting to kill her. 

She can’t do it. She’s so tired. 

Something shifts within her, anger and rage burning through her. The darkness in the back of her mind begins to almost pulse in time with her heart. Someone has done this. Someone has caused the clones to turn against her. Someone has caused this disturbance in the Force. 

She needs to get off the ship. She needs to get to an escape pod. 

***

She’s shaking. 

The escape pod is drifting, heading nowhere. There’s nowhere to go. Tears stream down her cheeks as every inhale burns, every exhale agonizing. 

The first shot had hit her back. She’d given up fighting, instead just trying to run, trying to escape. The second had hit her chest, fired from in front of the escape pods. The third had hit her shoulder, throwing her forward into the escape pod. 

It hurts. It burns. Every breath reminds her of the pain of what had just happened. She’s not going to last long. Maybe it would have been easier to let them kill her. It would have happened quicker. 

She doesn’t want to die. 

She is dying. She can feel it. The quiet whispers of the darkness, the voices of hundreds urging her to give in, to slip into the warm embrace waiting for her. It would be so easy to close her eyes, let all the pain and hurt go. 

Pain brings her back. 

The escape pod jostles before stilling. Something’s docked onto the escape pod. She closes her eyes, waiting. Waiting for the inevitable death. She’s not going to last long floating in space anyway. 

Something clanks as it lands in the escape pod. Footsteps. She feels cold, ice chilling her blood. This is it. She’s going to die. 

She’s being lifted, cradled against a chest. Her head falls back, not having the strength to hold it up. She peels her eyes open, spotting the figure looming above her. 

“Maul.” She chokes, recognizing the oppressive feeling burning deep inside her. 

“Easy, little one.” That velvety voice drolls. “We’re not out of this yet.” 

***

Pain. It hurts to breathe. She can’t get enough air. It hurts too much. 

Images float through her mind. The clones attacking, being shot. 

Maul. 

She forces her eyes open, pain rippling through her chest as she tries to take a breath. 

“Easy. I only have so much bacta.” 

A figure comes into view. A red and black face with yellow eyes. Those familiar yellow eyes. 

She lifts a hand, the motion seeming to take all of her strength. She feels her chest, finding a bacta patch over the blaster wound. She’s been undressed, most of her robes removed. 

Tears blur her vision. She’s killed clones, she’s been shot, and now she’s stuck on a ship with one of her master’s worst enemies. 

Her Master. 

Was he still alive? She could no longer feel their bond. He could still be alive though, cutting her off in hopes of keeping her safe. She’s not safe.  

Maul. 

Had he taken her to get revenge on her Master? One last revenge, to make her Master truly suffer? Hadn’t he suffered enough? 

But if Maul intended on killing her, why go to the trouble of saving her, and attempting to heal her? Unless he wanted her whole to make it worse on her Master. 

She can taste blood in her mouth. It’s metallic, slowly pooling in the back of her throat. The feeling of it tears a cough from her chest, pain rippling through her body unlike anything she’s ever felt. The blood at the back of her throat sprays out, coating her already bloody tunic in more of the red substance. 

She’s still dying. The bacta isn’t working fast enough. She can feel it again, the darkness closing in. She can hear them calling to her, inviting her to be with them once more. 

Red. All she can see is red when her eyes slip closed again. 

****

It’s white. All she can see is white. There’s no pain, none of the agony she’d been feeling before. She feels light, like she might float right off the floor. 

“Mari.” 

She spins around at the sound of her name, tears welling in her eyes. “Master!” She runs into his arms, into the safety of his embrace. He feels warm, just like she remembers. “What happened?” She asks, clinging to him. “I don’t understand.”

He tells her. He tells her of the betrayal, the turning of the clones against the Jedi, the fall of the Republic. Most of them are dead. They’ll be hunted. 

She tells him how she escaped...barely escaped. She tells him of her supposed rescue by Maul. “Master, I have to tell you something. Maul, he’s...” 

“I know.” He says, not making her finish. “He told me, when I went to Mandalore.” He holds her at arm’s length, squeezing her shoulders gently. “Be careful. Stay hidden. The fight won’t end for us for a long time.” 

Tears blur her vision once more. “Will I ever see you again?”

He smiles softly at her. “Perhaps some day our paths may cross again. You were a good student. You would have made a great Jedi.” 

***

Her chest burns. She’s not sure how long it’s been, how long she’s been asleep. The darkness is there, surrounding her once more. She can feel it, the cold settling in her bones once more. There’s something salty on her lips. She’s crying. 

She lets her eyes open, hoping it had been just a dream. Some horrible nightmare that had felt all too real. Some sort of hallucination and she’d wake back on the ship surrounded by friendly clones. 

The face above her tells her it's not a dream. It had happened. It was all real. 

“I was beginning to worry.” His voice flows over her, velvety and calm. “Thought you may have been a lost cause after all.” 

She takes a deep, shaky breath, wincing at the ache in her chest. It was less severe than it had been when she’d first woken, but it still hurt. She can feel the pain of each blaster shot, not just the physical pain. The clones had shot her. 

“You’re healing, albeit slowly.” He continues, looming over her.. “You’re not going to die, though you are still very weak.” 

Her hands fumble weakly to her sides, searching. Of course it wouldn’t be there. Even if it was, what did she expect to do with it? Fight Maul? In this state? 

“Looking for this?” The dim room suddenly glows blue from the light of her saber as it’s ignited. “What exactly would you plan to do if I gave it to you?” 

He’s right. She was not in the state to do much of anything right now. She glares at him, or at least tries to. Judging by his amused chuckle, it wasn’t very effective. 

“You look like an angry loth kitten.” He says, hooking her saber back on his belt. He leans over her again, yellow eyes scanning her face. “You are angry. I can feel it.” A gloved hand lifts to her face and she braces herself. She still flinches when his finger trails down her cheek. “So much anger and pain. You will learn to use it before long.” 

“Never.” She grits out, opening her eyes back up to look at him. 

He smirks. “So sure of it. You cannot help it.” 

“Why?” She asks. “Why did you save me?” 

He hums, his fingers trailing down her neck. “I told you we would see each other again.” 

She swallows thickly, trying to ignore how close he is. “Why now?” 

“Would you have preferred I left you there to die?” He pulls his hand away to remove his glove, pressing his bare hand against her cheek. 

Her breath hitches, the months of yearning for his touch, months of suffering suddenly easing away. She’d had to suppress the urge, the need to feel him again, to have him close. The desire for his touch, dream after dream of him, of being close to him again. Now he’s here, having risked his own life to save hers. 

Something rumbles through his chest, a quiet sound barely audible even in the silence of the ship. “Is it too far-fetched to think I might want to be selfish? That I might want to have my soulmate after so many years of waiting and longing?” 

“Yes.” She says quietly, staring up into those yellow eyes. “There’s always a motive.” 

He chuckles, his thumb brushing her lips. “You are wise, little one. Everything I do has a purpose. You will serve a purpose as well.” He straightens up, removing his hand from her face. “You and I, we are not so different. By nature we are one and the same. The darkness has always been there, and it will never leave.” He presses a finger against her forehead, the walls of her barrier shaking as he tries to force his way in once more. She’s ready this time, forcing him out. 

“I will never turn to the dark side.” She growls, glaring daggers at him. 

He laughs, stepping backwards towards the door. “Can’t you feel it, little one? You’re already starting.” 

***

She wakes alone. Her body aches far less than it had before. She’s still sore, the wounds from the blaster shots still throbbing, but it’s nothing like it had been before. Mari pushes herself up to sit, a slow process as movement aggravates the pain. There’s no sign of Maul this time, the small room she’s been confined in empty. 

On a small crate next to the bunk is her lightsaber. 

She casts a glance around the room, but it is empty. She reaches slowly for the hilt, her fingers wrapping around it. She half expects him to jump out of nowhere, to appear in front of her, but...nothing. She ignites the blade, feeling comfort in having it in her hand once more. 

She pushes herself off the bunk, stepping towards the door. To her surprise it’s unlocked, sliding open with the press of a button. She slowly steps out into the hull, half expecting Maul to jump out and ambush her. Even with her lightsaber, she’s not sure she can defend herself for long. 

She is weak. Her injuries, and the change in the Force has left her feeling vulnerable. She makes her way towards the cockpit, moving cautiously. She feels tired already, her body yearning to return to the bunk. She wants to sleep again. Yet something tickles in the back of her mind. A warning. 

She turns on her heel, swinging blindly. Had he been anyone else, she would have cut him hip to shoulder. Instead he manages to turn, narrowly missing getting grazed. He uses the Force, pinning her to the cockpit door behind her. She tries to struggle against him, but it’s no use. She’s too weak, too tired. Her lightsaber drops to the floor with a clang. 

His eyes are narrowed in slits, glowing slightly in the dim light of the ship. “Still so eager to fight me.” He muses, stepping closer. “It would be much easier if you simply gave in.” 

“I’ll never give in.” She grits out, the pressure increasing just slightly against her. He can’t hurt her. The nature of their link prevented it from happening. That wasn’t going to stop him from trying. “The dark side promises nothing but pain and suffering.” 

He chuckles. “Oh, little one. Isn’t that what the Jedi have caused you? They never understood you. They denied you your true power, your true nature. They ridiculed you, called you weak. ‘The perfect makings of a Sith.’ That’s what they said, isn’t it?” 

She gulps, fighting the emotions brewing in her. He’s not wrong. She had been forced to fight twice as hard in her training, forced to prove herself over and over, forced to work twice as hard as any of the other younglings and padawans simply because of her soulmate link. 

“If you really believe what the Jedi taught you, if you really think their way is the right way, why haven’t you rejected me? That is what you’re supposed to do, isn't it?” 

He’s right. She should have rejected him a year ago. She should have gotten it over with. The darkness would have been gone. There would have been nothing left but her and her true nature. 

But what if it had still been there? 

What if he is right? What if it is her nature? What if she was always meant to fall to the dark side regardless of his hand in it? 

What if all her fighting, all of her struggle, was hopeless all along? 

He releases her, her body crumpling to the floor. Her muscles and her injuries cry out in protest. She’s so tired. She’s so tired of fighting, so tired of struggling. He steps towards her, and she half expects him to continue his assault, but instead he sits beside her, pulling her body into his arms. 

Her head lolls against his shoulder, going limp against him. She can feel it, the bond between them stirring once more. Why can’t she do it? Why can’t she just reject him? It wouldn’t have changed anything if she had. The clones would have still attacked, she would have still been shot. Would he still have come after her, even if she had rejected him? 

What would he do if she rejected him now? She’s entirely at his mercy. Until she heals, she has no chance of overpowering him. Even if she heals, fighting him alone would be hard. Six words. All it would take is six words. Six words and it would be over. 

His hand presses against her chest, something warm tingling through her. It spreads through her body, the ache easing away. He’s...healing her.

She stares up at his face, surprised to see him watching her. His gaze is hard, face drawn in focus as he stares down at her. “Why?” She whispers. “Why did you save me?” 

The corner of his lips draw up in a smirk. “Revenge.” He says. “Against my former master.” 

She frowns. It was not quite the answer she had expected. He had been cryptic, when she’d asked the first time. This was something entirely different. 

“You know of the Sith doctrine, the Rule of Two.” He continues. 

She nods. “There can only be two Sith, a master and an apprentice.” 

“It was created after the massacre of the Sith at the hands of the Jedi a millennium ago. Its predecessor was the Doctrine of the Dyad.” He removes his hand from her chest, wrapping it around her too. “It wasn’t just the Sith that believed in it. The Jedi allowed it, until too many of them fell to the dark side. That was when they decided the Jedi must reject their soulmates if they’re going to follow the path of the light side of the Force.” 

“The Doctrine of the Dyad,” She says, staring up into his yellow eyes. “Two Force-sensitive soulmates.” 

He grins at her. “Yes. Some believed it could be created by will, but even the strongest could not create a connection such as a dyad. Soulmates in themselves are a dyad, but two Force-sensitives sharing the connection creates a Force-dyad. An unbreakable bond making them one and the same in the Force. The power they can wield is far beyond what the Jedi, or even the Sith, can imagine.” 

Mari lets out a long breath. That was why she had been drawn out fifteen years ago to find him. That was how he was able to survive using her life force. That was why she dreamed of him endlessly, of his madness, his anger. That was why the darkness was always there, always looming in the corners of her mind. 

“My former master took everything from me. My home, my childhood, my family. He was behind all of this, the destruction of the Jedi and the Republic. He has played this game far too long. Together, we can wield a power great enough to destroy him, to remove his stain from the galaxy for good.” He cups her face, his bare hand warm against her skin. “Become my apprentice. Let me teach you and together we may get our revenge.” 

Mari squeezes her eyes closed, her heart racing in her chest. She knew there was more to their bond than just a simple soulmate connection. She knew about the Jedi and where their rule about rejecting soulmates came from. She hadn’t known the extent of it, though. Two Force-sensitive soulmates were rare. Even more rare were two on opposing sides of the Force. 

She had always been set up to fail. There was nothing that could be done, no rejection, no meditation would keep her from the darkness inside her. It had always been there because it was meant to be. Her fall was inevitable. They had all been right. 

She was the perfect Sith because she was always meant for the dark side. 

No. She could prove them wrong. She wouldn’t fall. She had put in too much work, fought too hard for it to all be for nothing. She’s not going to give up for the promise of revenge. She’s not going to give up for the promise of her soulmate either. She was never supposed to have one anyway. 

“You cannot fight it for long.” He murmurs, his lips brushing her forehead. She begins to feel like she’s drifting away, leaving her body as her mind begins to shut down. “You will see.” 

***

Her body jolts awake, the scream sticking in her throat. She’s well practiced in the art of waking silently from nightmares. Her heart is thumping rapidly in her chest, her lungs throbbing for air but she won’t breathe. Not until she knows it’s not going to come out in a scream. 

A hand presses against her stomach, forcing the air out of her lungs. Black dots dance in her vision as she gasps, hands clinging to the arm wrapped around her. There’s something pressing against her, warm and solid against her back. Tears threaten to fall again, gathering in her eyes. She forces them back, having spent enough time crying. 

“You get them often,” A silky voice vibrates against her back. “The nightmares.” 

A hand presses against her chest, a strange warmth and tingling washing through her. The ache in her chest eases just a bit. He’s healing her. 

Maul is pressed against her back, holding her in the small bunk. Her hands are wrapped around his arm, holding onto him. It should feel wrong. She should be repulsed by him, by his presence. Instead all she can feel is that warmth spreading through her as he uses the Force to heal her. 

Still, despite her resistance, he continues to heal her. 

The ship is quiet, no hum of the engines or occasional creaks from the force of hyperspace. They’re not moving at all. 

“Where are we?” She whispers, releasing his arm. 

“Somewhere safe, for now.” He says. “They will not stop hunting us.” His nose brushes the side of her neck, warm breath fanning against her skin. Goosebumps erupt along the skin, making her shiver. “You are nearly healed.” He continues, dragging his lips up to her jaw. “Then we can begin our training.” 

“You seem so certain I will agree to this.” She says, attempting to wiggle from his hold as his lips trail along her skin. 

“You have not rejected me.” He smirks, one of his horns brushing her skin as he licks across her jaw. He holds her tightly as she tries to free herself from his grasp.

She huffs out a sigh, wincing as his tongue traces across her neck. She wasn’t doing herself any favors by not fighting him. It would be so easy to reject him, but...would that remove their bond completely? If their bond was supposedly unbreakable...how much of it would be removed by a rejection? 

If she wanted to reject him so badly, why can’t she? 

Was that the curse of the dyad? Being unable to reject your soulmate? She can picture the words in her mind, repeat them over and over, but she can’t say them out loud. She can’t bring herself to tell him, to reject him. 

Does she even want to? 

She’d spent her whole life expecting to reject her soulmate eventually. Then her master had revealed the darkness inside her was her soulmate and she had been eager. Then she’d come across him for a second time and she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She can’t bring herself to do it now. She knows she has to leave the Jedi behind her. Maul and her master had warned her they would continue to be hunted. That doesn’t mean she can’t still uphold the Jedi code. 

Does she want to? 

She jerks herself free of Maul’s grasp, rolling off the side of the bunk and hitting the floor with a thud. She lays there for a moment, catching her breath. She does feel better. In fact, her fall had caused far less pain than she’d expected. She pushes herself to sit up, keeping her back to Maul. 

“The longer you fight it, the worse it will become.” Maul says. 

She presses her palms against her temples, squeezing her eyes shut. “Just shut up!” 

He chuckles. “It’s only a matter of time.” 

***

It’s torture. 

She’s constantly on her toes, waiting for him to snap, for him to ambush her like he did before. Her mind is growing weary as her body grows stronger. He’s wearing her down again, like he had before, except they’re trapped in close quarters this time. He keeps them on the move, never telling her where they’re landing, where they’re going. 

She’s ready to give in. She’s focused her energy on keeping the wall in her mind up, keeping the darkness at bay. It’s crashing against the barriers like waves in a storm, threatening to wear it down until it’s all eroded away. She knows she can only hold it so long. He’d broken through so easily the first time. 

Her master had spent hours training her, rebuilding the wall and strengthening it. He must have known the chances of them running into Maul again were high. He couldn’t protect her all the time, so he had taught her to better protect herself. 

It worked, at least for a while. 

It’s only a matter of time until he gets through again. It’ll be over for her. There will be no fighting the darkness then. She wants to give up, to give in, but she can’t. Not after everything she’d spent her whole life fighting for.

It can’t all be nothing. 

Perhaps it hadn’t been for nothing. 

Perhaps it had all been the catalyst after all. 

She finds herself on her back in the hull, pinned down by the force. He’s straddling her once again, a mirror of their last meeting. There had been no fight before this time, though. He had pinned her easily, her mind and body weak and helpless against him. 

“You are weak without the connection.” He hisses. “Our combined strength would be unstoppable. Give in.” He commands, the Force pressing harder against her. 

She lets her eyes slip closed, her mind slipping deep into itself. She can feel it, the constant humming in the back of her mind. She allows herself to get close, to feel the thrumming of the energy through her body. 

“Yes.” Maul says, his bare hands cupping her face. “Feel it. Let it take over.” 

She does as he says, letting the feeling take over her completely. She’s overwhelmed by energy, her eyes snapping open. She’s not in the ship anymore, she’s flying, hurtling towards the black hole at the center of the galaxy. She can feel everything, like every inch of her body is alive and thrumming with energy. It’s too much, the feeling threatening to overwhelm her, to drag her straight into the center of the black hole. 

She feels alive. 

She slowly begins to settle, suddenly aware of everything surrounding her. The ship, the planet, down to the very core. 

She’s back in her body again, staring up into those yellow eyes that had plagued her dreams for years. She can feel him. Not the cold, angry presence she’d come to associate him with, but she can feel every atom, every midichlorian that made up his being. 

Images begin to flash through her mind. A little boy with red skin and black tattoos running away into the forest. An angry little boy being beaten and starved, being taken away from his home, being stolen away from everything he knew. 

That angry boy grows, being subjected to horrors she can’t even imagine. She can feel him growing angrier and angrier. The anger burning into rage, the need for revenge, the pain. 

She feels it, the moment she had been born, the dyad being completed. The connection they’d shared coming alive, his desperate attempts to hide it, to keep it buried. He had kept it a secret to protect her from his master. 

She sees the moment they met, her at four years old finding him on the streets of Coruscant. He knew instantly. She had been too young to understand. She sees things she already knew, things she’d dreamed of. The fight, his fall, his survival. 

She watches him be reunited with his brother, the care he had felt. She feels the pain of his death, of his torture. She sees everything right up to this very moment. 

Her eyes snap open again, half expecting to be staring at herself, but she’s staring up at Maul again. His own eyes are closed. Was he experiencing her life, her short life in comparison to his? 

She can feel it, the darkness taking over, washing over the ruins of the barrier in her mind like a tidal wave. She’s shaking, hands lifting towards him. She feels all the emotions she had been forced to bury, everything she’d been forced to fight for years washing over her. 

“Maul.” She whispers his name, his eyes fluttering open. There’s tears in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks. She reaches up for him, cupping his face. “Maul...I...” She doesn't know what to say. What does one say when they’ve just watched their soulmate being tortured endlessly for years? 

She wraps her arms around his back, pulling him into her. He lets his body fall over her, leaving hardly more than an inch between their faces. He rests his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling. 

“Perhaps we understand each other a bit more now.” He breathes. 

He’s right. She does understand it now. His endless drive for revenge, his need for vengeance against those who had wronged him. While she wouldn’t agree with his need for revenge against her former master, she understands his hatred. She can feel his hatred as if it was her own. It scares her, these emotions she had been taught not to allow, emotions she had fought off for years. 

“Do not fear them, little one.” He says quietly, his lips brushing hers. “Let them in.” 

She lets the emotions burn through her, watching them almost from the outside. There’s no struggle anymore, no fight to keep them at bay. There’s no point in fighting them anymore. It feels like a weight off of her shoulders, a release. 

She’s never felt so free. 

***

She wakes feeling lighter than before. There’s no pain, no turmoil. The pressing darkness in her mind has settled, filling in the cracks where there once was nothing but walls to keep it at bay. 

For the first time in her entire life she feels at peace. 

No amount of meditation could have ever gotten her to this point. Her entire life would have been a struggle against the darkness. 

She’s leaning back against something warm and solid. She’s still on the floor, leaning back against Maul’s chest. His chest is bare, his tunic and shirt piled on the floor. Her pants and boots are gone, only her thin, blood splattered tunic and underwear left. 

“Maul?” She asks quietly, shifting slightly. He hums, the sound vibrating through her back. “Where are my pants?” 

“You took them off.” He murmurs, sounding like he just woke up as well. 

That doesn't tell her much. She can’t remember taking them off. She can’t remember getting in this position either. 

Maul’s hand runs up her arm, squeezing her bicep. “You claimed you were too warm. Something about Zabrak body heat.” 

“You are warm.” She says, settling back against his chest, starting to run her fingers through her hair. “Which is strange. I used to feel cold in your presence.” 

He hums again, trailing his fingers up to her shoulder. “You’re not fighting anymore. You’ve accepted the darkness, and it has accepted you.” 

“That’s...reassuring.” She says, continuing to comb her fingers through her hair until she hits something. 

She pauses, pushing the rest of her hair out of the way. 

Her Padawan braid. 

Her fingers close around it, trailing along the length of it. She’s not a padawan anymore. She’s not a Jedi. She’ll never be one. She was never meant to be one. She was meant for something more. She curls her fingers around it, holding onto it for a moment. It’s nothing more than a memory of the past. A painful memory. 

Maul is quiet as she sits there, holding the braid. She doesn’t have to speak for him to know. He can feel it. 

“Cut it off.” She says finally, holding it out. 

She could just undo it, cut it to the length of the rest of her hair, but that doesn't feel like enough. She needs to remove it completely. 

He hesitates, but he can feel her insistence. He takes her saber from his belt, holding her head still. He cuts as close as he dares to her skin, severing the top of the padawan braid. 

She holds it in her hand, staring at it for a moment. Now it’s nothing more than a memory of what could have been. What was never meant to be. 

Mari lets the braid drop to the floor, letting go of the past entirely. She turns to face Maul, looking up at his face. He’s staring at her intensely, yellow eyes glowing in the dim light. She shifts so she’s kneeling between his legs, letting her fingers trail over his tattoos. 

“What do they mean?” She asks, dragging her fingers along his skin. 

“They’re tribal markings.” He says, watching her. “They signify which Nightbrother clan I was born into. They mark us as warriors, and kin to the Nightsisters.” 

She smiles, the corners of her lips lifting. “I think they’re beautiful.” 

She's not lying. He doesn't have to look far to know that. He stays still, letting her trace the patterns along his chest and arms. 

She moves up his neck to his face, tracing the patterns around his horns. He lets out a quiet sound, vibrating against her front where it's pressed against his chest. She pauses, waiting for a moment before repeating the motion. He does it again, a bit louder this time. 

"Are you...purring?" She asks. 

His hand shoots up, grasping her wrist. He tugs it away from his horns, eyes narrowed as he stares at her. He was purring. 

She smirks, leaning her face closer. "I wonder what else will make you pur." She bites his bottom lip, tugging at it with her teeth. 

He lets out a low sound, deeper than a purr. "Careful." He warns when she releases him. 

“What, can’t take what you deal out?” She smirks, dropping her head to his shoulder and sinking her teeth into his skin. 

He lets out a dangerous sound, his hands dropping to her hips. He moves fast, her back hitting the metal floor with a thud. He’s hovering over her, a predatory glint in his eye. She feels a bit like the prey he had just caught after hunting. She wonders how much of it is his natural instincts shining through. The years of abuse and Sith training melting away to just him and what he would have been had he lived out his life on Dathomir. 

“Don’t start things you can’t finish.” He growls, yellow eyes glinting in the darkness. 

“Who says I can’t finish them?” She smirks, wrapping her legs around his waist and flipping them once more. She smirks down at his surprised face, leaning in close. “Getting slow old man?” 

He wraps a hand around her throat, pulling her down so their faces are centimeters apart. She can feel his warm breath fanning over her lips, she can see the ring of red around his irises. “You won’t be so cocky when I’m done with you.” 

“So many empty threats.” She murmurs, darting her tongue out to lick the tip of his nose. 

He flips them once more, pinning her with his hand around her throat. “I’m going to take what’s mine.” He growls in her ear, hands dropping to the neck of her tunic. “You cannot stop me.” He rips her tunic down the middle, exposing the rest of her body to him. 

“That was my only shirt!” She whines, despite it being filthy and splattered with blood. 

“You’re not going to need it anymore.” He says, tugging her breastband down enough to free her breasts. His hands instantly cup her breasts, kneading the soft flesh. 

His lips meet hers in a kiss, the first real one they’ve shared. It’s all teeth and tongue, as if they’re trying to devour each other. She moans into his mouth as his fingers tug at her nipples. Her own hands never made her feel this good. 

His mouth leaves hers, trailing down her neck. He sinks his teeth into her shoulder, her hand moving to the back of his head, fingers wrapping around one of his horns in surprise. He lets out a sound, something between a growl and a whine and she lets go wide-eyed. She’ll have to store that one away for later. 

He growls as he continues down her body, fingers wrapping around the waistband of her underwear. 

“Don’t,” She warns him, giving him a look. 

He smirks, sliding them down her legs and tossing them somewhere behind him. He sits up on his knees, his hands sliding down her thighs to part her legs for him, revealing her glistening folds. He runs his thumb along her slit, gathering some of her wetness before dragging it across her clit. 

She gasps, lifting her head to stare at him. He’s watching her, a knowing look in his eyes. She groans, letting her head flop back onto the floor. 

“Tell me, who did you think of when you touched yourself?” He asks, amusement in his voice. 

Her cheeks burn, thinking up the many hours she’d spent on the cruiser in her private room under the sheets, eyes closed, fingers between her legs pretending it was someone else.

He presses a hand against her stomach, gasping dramatically. “The Commander?” 

Her cheeks burn hotter, her whole face on fire. She had never acted on it, no one ever knew but her. Her, and now Maul. It had lasted until their encounter, when her thoughts had shifted, the daydreams of Cody no longer able to make her feel anything. Instead her thoughts had shifted somewhere darker, somewhere far more private. 

Maul chuckles, slipping a finger into her. “Naughty little thing.” 

It hadn’t been right, she had known that, but she couldn’t forget him and the way his touch had felt. The electricity burning through her nerves, the way a fire lit under her skin every time he touched her. 

The way his lips had felt. 

It was the bond. It was nothing more than the bond, but it had ruined her. Even her own fingers hadn’t been enough. She needed him. She needed his touch. 

Maul smirks, lowering his head to kiss her stomach. He slips a second finger into her, stretching her out as he kisses his way between her legs. Mari watches him, hands curled into fists at her sides. Nothing could ever compare to the feeling of him. He had ruined her. He had corrupted her. 

His lips wrap around her clit as his fingers curl inside her. She lets out a moan, hips jerking in response. She feels as if she could cum right now, just from his simple touch. She wants it to last as long as possible. She never wants this moment to end. 

Maul sucks and licks at her clit, the obscene sound of his fingers fucking into her loud in the quiet of the ship. She lets her head drop back, moaning his name as her back arches. She’s so close, so kriffing close. It’s been too long, far too long since she’s even thought of his touch. 

She can feel him through their bond, focusing on her, drawing the pleasure from her into himself. Of course, physically he couldn’t pleasure himself. He’d lost that ability on Naboo, when her former master had cut him in half. He could never fully give her what he desired, but that didn’t stop him. He could make her feel just as good without. 

Her fingers dig into the metal floor as she cums, grinding her hips against his face. She soaks his fingers, his pace not stopping until it’s growing to be too much, until it begins to get uncomfortable. He pulls himself away, face glistening with her cum. He reaches up, gripping her jaw with his hand, forcing her mouth open. He shoves his fingers into her mouth, her lips closing around them, tasting herself on his skin. 

He stares at her as she drags her tongue across his fingers, licking every last bit of her cum from them. He hums quietly, wrapping his free arm around her waist, tugging her closer to him.

He settles himself between her thighs, the metal of his cybernetic legs pressing into the soft skin of her thighs. He pulls his fingers from her mouth, leaning down on his elbows over her. 

She begins to feel something, a pressure rolling over her body. It starts from her toes, slowly traveling up her legs. It feels almost like a hand, even though Maul’s hands are by her face. The pressure prods against her pussy, flicking over her clit for a moment. She gasps, pressing her hips up to try and get closer to it. She’s getting wet again, bare skin brushing against Maul’s as he holds himself over her. 

His eyes are closed in concentration, the prodding moving down until it’s pressing against her entrance. She relaxes, waiting as the feeling increases, something pushing into her. Her walls clamp around it, Maul grunting quietly. Her breathing is picking up again, heart beating rapidly as something fills her, stretching her. 

She gasps as it begins to move, fucking her slowly. Her arms wrap around Maul’s back, fingers digging into his skin as the pressure inside her increases. It’s hitting everything, all the right spots. 

“Maul,” She breathes, nails digging hard enough into his back to draw blood. 

He presses his face into her neck, kissing and licking at her sweat-soaked skin. There’s a slight movement to his hips, matching the thrusts of the pressure inside her. She lets her head fall back, giving him more room as she succumbs to the pleasure. 

She can feel it building once more, her body thrumming with energy, with him. She drags her hands up his shoulders, taking hold of his horns. He growls, teeth sinking into her skin as the pressure increases inside her, forcing her over the edge and into another orgasm. 

Her body writhes under him, his growl vibrating against her skin. He falls limp against her, breathing heavily. She releases his horns, letting her arms fall to the side. The ship is quiet aside from their panting breaths, and the thumping of her heart in her ears. 

Maul presses soft kisses across her skin, carefully lifting himself off her. He rolls to the side, dropping on his back beside her. The pressure is gone, just the occasional spasming of her walls from the aftershocks of her orgasm left. 

She drags herself onto her side, dropping her head against his chest. She can hear the double beat of his two hearts, thumping as rapidly as her own. “How did you learn to do that?” She asks, breaking the silence. 

“It wasn’t easy.” He says, his hand pressing against her back. “The Force can be used in many ways.” 

“That feels sacrilegious.” She says, draping her leg across his waist. 

“Everything about us is sacrilegious.” He counters. 

She can’t help but laugh. 

***

Months.

Months have passed since the purge, since the fall of the Republic. 

Months have passed since she’s been with Maul, evading clones and Inquisitors. 

She’s come to trust Maul and his dedication to her. She had no reason not to. He had saved her life, helped her, healed her, kept her safe. He never led them astray, always seeming to be one step ahead of the Empire. Even if he only did it because she was the key to his revenge, if his only motive for caring for her was because she was useful to him, she doesn’t care anymore. They were all pawns of the Force. They were meant to be together for some reason or another. 

Eventually they settled on Dathomir. Mari had only ever heard stories of Dathomir and its witches. Maul had been amused by the rumors, quickly dispelling any incorrect ones, and teaching her the truth. Dathomir had felt strange to her, the roots of the dark side running deep into the planet. She had come to understand it though, and it had come to accept her. 

Maul had taken his place as the leader of the Crimson Dawn, establishing them on Dathomir. Mari rarely interacted with the criminals that frequented the halls of their new home, even Maul only speaking to a few he trusted to act as figureheads. 

Instead he focused on her training, rebuilding his own lightsaber, planning just how they would take their revenge. Mari still doesn’t feel quite right about his drive for revenge, even if she could understand why he felt it necessary. Part of her simply wished to live a happy life on Dathomir with him, forget the rest of the galaxy and live quietly for the rest of their lives.

The dark side hadn’t taken quite the hold on her as she had expected. When she had looked in a mirror for the first time, she had expected the usual yellow eyes, the hatred permanently marked on her face. She hadn’t looked much different, really, except perhaps a bit less tense than usual. She can still feel it, stirring the anger, rage, fear, hatred. She could feel him, when those emotions burned hot in him, she could feel them within her too. 

She still felt at peace. 

She could still draw on the light side, pushing those emotions away to settle herself in the Force. She spent quite some time thinking, wondering if the Jedi had been wrong. Was there a way to balance the light and the dark? She could feel the creeping darkness still, the cold of the dark side drawing her in. Yet she could also wash those emotions away, focusing herself in the light side. 

Had those years of struggle been for nothing? Would she still have been a good Jedi if she had let the darkness in? 

Thinking about it makes her angry. Angry at the council, angry at the Jedi, angry at her former masters. 

Lately her time has been consumed by a faint disturbance. It had started one morning, something tickling the back of her mind as she laid in Maul’s arms. She had still been sticky from the night before, both of them tired from hours of intense fucking. It had been different, the connection between them more intense, the emotions seeming to come to a head. Both of them had nearly blacked out, something happening between them, but neither could quite figure it out. 

The tickling at the back of her mind doesn’t go away. She tries meditating, she tries everything she can think of. She had focused on every one of Maul’s closest allies, thinking perhaps one may do something brash like betray him. That wasn’t it. She had reached further, looking for any looming danger. Had the Empire found them? Were Inquisitors about to come knocking? 

She begins to feel sick, blaming it on the looming feeling within her. The stress of training, the looming worry, Maul’s own stress. All of it was getting to be too much. 

Except that wasn’t it at all. 

She’s shaking. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, playing over and over how to even approach this subject. She knows what he’ll think. She knows what he’s going to assume, even if he knows it’s not true. 

But how? 

It shouldn’t even be possible, yet...

Her heart jumps as the door slides open, Maul stepping through. He can tell already, sensing her nerves without even having to look at her. She’s wide-eyed, not unlike how she looked two years ago when he cornered her on that planet. Scared, vulnerable, confused. 

“What is it, my love?” He asks, stepping closer to her. 

“Maul...something’s happened.” She says, her voice shaking. 

Her fingers tremble as they close around his, squeezing. He can feel it all, the swirling emotions burning hot through their bond. She can’t look at him, her gaze focused on the wall across from them. 

“Maul...” Her voice is hardly more than a whisper. “Maul, I’m pregnant.”

His eyes widen in shock. For a moment he thinks she may be joking, but no, he can feel it. Deep inside her, the quiet thrumming of life not her own. 

His hand wraps around her throat as rage burns through him. Of all those he thought to betray him, she had not been one. He wishes he could hurt her. He curses their link at that moment. 

“Maul, please.” She gasps, wrapping her hands around his wrist. “I would never betray you. You know it. You would know if I had.” 

He takes a breath, closing his eyes. She is right. He would have sensed her betrayal before it even happened. She had never been anything but loyal to him, even in her doubts. Indeed, she was telling the truth. There had been no other. 

He releases her, letting her drop back onto the bed. He begins to pace, hands curling into fists at his side. It shouldn’t be possible. It wasn’t possible. Yet...something begins to come to light, one of the many lessons he’d learned as a boy being trained. 

“My former master once told me that it was possible to manipulate the Force to create life.” He says, still pacing back and forth. “If one grew strong enough, they could manipulate midichlorians and form life of their own design. It happened once before. Darth Plagueis manipulated the Force in such a way he created life. A boy born a slave. The 'chosen one' they called him.” 

“Anakin.” She breathes. She knew the story, most of the Jedi did. 

Maul nods. “Yes. Sidious’ new apprentice was born of the Force.” 

She looks down at her stomach, fingers trembling as they come to rest there. “You think that we...” 

Maul kneels in front of her, placing a hand on her arm. “Together we are strong in the Force. You’ve seen it, you’ve felt it. To create life...” He cups her face. “I do not think it would be impossible.” 

“Why now?” She asks, tears gathering in her eyes. “Why all of a sudden?” 

He cups her face, wiping the tracks of her tears. “The will of the Force is a mysterious thing. Perhaps our plans have changed.” He wraps his arms around her, resting his forehead against hers. “Perhaps this was our path all along.” 

Taglist: (I know I'm forgetting people that asked to be tagged in everything so if I'm missing you please let me know)

@bobaprint, @star-trekker-0013, @rosechi, @lune-de-miel-au-paradis

[swoosbadfuture]

ian and erin headcanons . hi im sane

Ian

Barely scraping 5’7

Half Canadian on his mom’s side

Bisexual, male pref

Straight A* student all aside from literature in which he barely has a B. Do not mention literature to him ever he’ll go mad

superiority complex . start the clown music . he needs to prove he’s the best always because if he isn’t the best then he’s automatically the worst

Very very autistic + low empathy. Prefers logic > emotion . Has a kind of “im not the weird one everyone else is weird I’m the normal one” view by accident

Complete Mama’s boy. you would never expect it but he is her little boy through and through

Gets along well w his dad too but they have very similar personalities and kinda clash a lot . Similar ideals just both very argumentative n stubborn . But god they will sit and listen to music for hours and just go full autism mode over it

Both his parents are very chill though. They are also both goths n r very proud of Ian

He's an only child

Voice breaks the moment he shows any emotion he’ll be talking normally n then get emotional n his voice just 📈

Speaking of which he is overly emotional and very bad at expressing it . very volatile person

Loyal to a fault and very justice oriented but also kinda holds these values to everyone without realising not everyone has the same morals . He doesn’t quite Get that not everyone is the same as him

Overprotective in a way that sometimes comes across as possessive . He’s not possessive he just has issues okay 💔

Phobia of the ocean and everything in it u will never see him on a boat ever he’d rather Die

Was good friends with Jason in kindergarten but kinda drifted apart from him as Jason got closer with Kevin. Kevin and Ian have never liked eachother insult eachother mercilessly. Poor Jason had to sit there and watch as they tried to beat eachother to a pulp. You can tell Kevin hates Ian because he rarely ever calls him by his first name

has a boyfriend in secret. Very much denies it. Only Erin and his parents know and he is trying so very hard to not let the secret out

Wants OUT of McKinley so bad . doesn’t even care abt changing his last name. I imagine McKinley is probably a bit of a small suburban town thats a bit of a bedroom community. The theme park is probably more well known than the town itself. Ian knows that if he just moves a few towns over then the name association will Go Away

Wanted to do astrophysics at college :) thinks space is cool as fuck

Resting face is worse than bitch he looks like he’s about to commit a murder in cold blood . Cold stare 0 emotions. And then suddenly he smiles and he’s just :D

Must stick to a consistent sleep schedule or else he’s a delusional nightmare

Stronger than he looks but would also probably crumple into 1000 pieces if he stubbed his toe

Likes horror movies but is lowkey a bit squeamish . would never admit it though. His favourite movie is Saw 2004 and he has to look away at all the gorey parts

Erin

5’8 and uses this 1 inch she has over Ian for Everything.

German ancestry on her dad’s side but doesn really know much about it besides that It’s There

Bisexual w pref for girls .

She/they nonbinary

Dyed her hair blue once and the ends are still kinda stained . Doesn’t care to cut it off because she thinks it looks cool (it does (it absolutely does))

Actual straight A* student and again uses this against Ian and teases him about his many struggles with Shakespeare

Collects bones n skulls n animal pelts and etc. Owns a few taxidermy animals .

Also very autistic n relates a lot to Ian bc of it

Is actually fairly good at socialising! just hates people

Parents do not understand the whole goth thing but are trying their best . Yes they did freak out when Erin brought home a taxidermy rat she got while out with Ian at an arts fair but oh well what can you do

Used to do figure skating when she was young !! still very confident at ice skating n likes to show off whenever she goes compared to Ian whos constantly falling on his ass. Let her have her moments of glory she deserves them.

The one who does the nail polish. Hence why hers is always perfect and Ian’s is always chipped bc she can always touch hers up whenever she needs to and Ian Cannot

Very aware of Ian’s superiority complex absolutely humbles him every chance she gets

Kinda obsessed w shitty low budget horror movies and indie films

Absolutely adores the art of SFX and fake gore / blood / etc n loved doing it herself. Halloween was her favourite holiday and she’d always go all out with it. Or would grab Ian and make him sit there for 2 hours. “come here sit down I need to see how realistically I can make your hand look like it’s been mauled” “Erin ew what the fuck”

Crush on Wendy that she’d never ever admit to. Only Ian knows and they have a deal where if he doesn’t spill about her crush she won’t spill about his boyfriend. Problem solved (they’re at eachother’s necks over it)

Makes friendship bracelets for her friends. Rest in peace Erin Ulmer you wouldve loved the Loom Bands craze of 2014

the both of them

Social rejects but they own it ™️ . Will literally take in anyone who’s also a bit of a ‘weird kid’ and convert them to goth subculture

Unfortunately this happens never it really do just kinda be the two of them vs the world huh

Dated for like a week once in sophomore year. Broke up immediately after their first kiss and decided they’d just pretend it never happened and that that 1 week of their lives just doesn’t exist. Did not happen ❤️

That being said though RAAAH WHAT ARE THE BOUNDS OF FRIENDSHIP. They hug and cuddle and hold hands and kiss cheeks constantly even if only as friends. Very physically affectionate though partially kinda to fuck with people who can’t seem to understand what the hell is going on with them both

“Oh yeah look at us nobody thinks we’re queer” “Ian we’re goth we might as well have it tattooed on our foreheads” “Fucks sake I can’t have shit in the 21st century”

Friendly banter is fucking insane they are just straightup insulting eachother. You know that one Gumball meme where Gumball is in hospital after being hit by a bus and he gets a card from Darwin saying “that bus should’ve ended you. love Darwin” that’s them that’s them that is them

They care eachother so much they are just bad at vocalising it so if they arent sitting there hugging they instead feel the need to be aggressively mean to eachother in loving and caring way

Erin is way more grounded and has more common sense than Ian who meanwhile is batshit insane at times and will 100% do crazy shit for the hell of it

Both of them rockin up to the town next door w their fake IDs to buy a months worth of R rated movies (fool proof plan (Ian almost got arrested once))

If only they had been around when Vine came out …. they would’ve been famous i tell u

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Twenty-Two

I wake up from a nightmare certain that I am dying. There is a rancid taste in my mouth, and before I even open my eyes, the light through my eyelids is too much, too harsh. I open them just a little bit and feel like I’ve been whacked over the head by the floral pattern on the curtains. The bedclothes are far too hot and I feel restricted by them like they’re a pit of snakes that has coiled around all of my limbs, but as soon as I’ve freed myself my stomach lurches. I scramble out of the box room and dash across the landing to the bathroom where I clutch onto the toilet dry heaving but nothing is coming up. I am certain I’ve never felt worse in my life. I lay my cheek on the cold tile of the floor and don’t spare a thought to how disgusting it is to do this. The coolness feels so good against my skin. I must lie there for twenty minutes.

“…and what else? Oh, okay, well I never knew that, that’s actually interesting…” Jude’s voice drifts across the landing. He’s on the phone, probably with Jen because he calls her every day to catch up now that she’s recovering at home with Michelle’s family, and usually I find his voice quite soothing, but now, even through the walls of this bathroom it’s far too loud, searing right through my brain as my head throbs more aggressively than it ever has. I squeeze my eyes closed and let out a pitiful groan. Footsteps approach the door and he knocks so loudly that I feel like my eyeballs will rattle back into my skull. “Evie?”

I groan again. 

“Sorry, Jen, I have to go. I’ll call you back later maybe? Yeah. Okay, take care,” Another knock, “Do you mind if I come in?”

I use all my strength to drag myself up until I’m at least sitting on the floor, my head supported by the wall behind me. “Yes,” I manage. He opens the door. 

“I’m sick,” I announce, “I think I’m going to throw up soon. Eventually.”

“I don’t think so, love,” He gets down on his haunches beside me, “You already puked up the entire contents of your stomach last night, I doubt there’s anything left.”

“I did?”

“You don’t remember?”

I shake my head which makes it feel like my brain is banging around inside my skull. I wince and clutch my forehead, “No, I don’t remember anything.”

“Claire called Shane last night at like three AM, both of you were plastered in a club in Paphos and didn’t know where to go to get a taxi home. He went out and got you himself.”

Little pieces of the night start coming back to me in flashes. The wine event in the vineyard, downing all of my glasses and then what was left of Claire’s. Us dancing around to arabic music in the back of a taxi, shots at the bar, begging the DJ to play Cotton Eye Joe “because it’s funny”, trying to climb onto a table and getting pulled back down by the staff, coloured lights in my eyes and then… nothing. “Christ, I was really drunk,” I say.

“Yes,” Jude says, “You came into my room when you got home, threw a little bag of peach rings at me and said ‘chow down, pretty boy.’”

“Oh, Lord.”

“Then I thought I’d try and put you to bed but you rushed into the toilet and spent a couple of hours throwing up everything.”

“Did you stay with me?”

“Yeah I did.”

The dry little sob that escapes me is pathetic, “That was so nice of you, and I don’t even remember it. I’m so sorry. I bet I was so annoying, I’m the worst drunk, honestly, I get insufferable, I know-”

“Evie, no, you weren’t at all. You were fine, actually, I found you funny.” He takes out his phone and taps around on it for a moment, “You also drunk texted me for the first time, which was a bit of a thrill.”

“What did I say?”

He flips the screen to show me a selfie I took in the nightclub toilets, camera held above my head at a ridiculous angle, pointing right down my top to where I’m shoving my boobs together and making a stupid kissy face. I’ve captioned it ‘Do u like me?’ I catch a glimpse of Jude’s response: ‘No’.

“You said no?”  

“Yeah I thought it’d be a fun joke, ” he shoves the phone back into his pocket and hooks an arm around my back to haul me off the floor. “Come on, I think you’d be better off back in bed for now.” 

“What time is it?”

“Around eleven”

“AM?”

He chuckles, “Of course.” I go almost completely limp and don’t help him at all, but he’s bigger than I am, I know he can manage me. He lifts me easily and tries to get me to walk back to bed, but I feel extra sorry for myself at this moment, sorry enough to ask “Can you carry me?” in my best pathetic voice and he gives me a look like he thinks I’m being cheeky, but without protest he scoops me up into his arms. I bury my face in his neck and grab the opportunity to take a not-so-subtle inhale. He always smells so good and today is no different. Soapy, fresh, clean like a sober morning.

“Are you sniffing me?”

I sob, “I’m dying.”

“You’re just hungover.”

“Can I stay with you?”

“Your bed is a little small for two.”

“In your room then.”

“If you like.” He takes me inside, his suitcase open on the floor with clothes all around it and the bed unmade, crinkled pale blue sheets. He places me down upon them and then draws the curtains across the windows while I snuggle up into his pillows and whimper self-pityingly. Then he comes over and strokes my hair which I wish he wouldn’t because it is greasy and knotted at the back of my head. 

“I’m disgusting,” I say acidly.

“Yes, Evie,” He drawls with a huge eye roll, “You’re foul, how could you get drunk? I’m so put off by you now.”

“I haven’t been this hungover in years.”

“We’ve all been there, you’ll be fine, I just think you should try and hit the reset button by getting back to sleep for a while. I’ll get you some water and maybe some toast?” At the mention of water I suddenly feel like I’ve been traversing the barren Sahara without a drop of it for days. My whole mouth and throat feels as cracked and dusty as a desert floor. 

“Yes, water,” I gasp, and Jude thinks I’m doing a bit instead of being serious, which I can’t blame him for, but I still get annoyed when he imitates me by clutching at his throat and pretending to die. He heads to the kitchen and comes back with a glass of water, some painkillers, which I swallow with relish, and two slices of plain toast, which I don’t feel ready to eat, and then eventually I fall back asleep while he lounges around at the end of the bed looking at his phone until I wake up again and feel slightly less like passing away. 

“I think I should brush my teeth,” is the first thing I utter, “My breath is awful,” 

“Good idea,” he says, and I try not to be offended by the fact that he didn’t disagree, but all is forgiven as soon as he helps me off the bed and towards the bathroom like he’s afraid my legs will give out underneath me, and even squeezes a dollop of toothpaste onto my toothbrush, which he definitely didn’t need to, because I’m not that bad. 

“You’re being very sweet,” I say through a mouthful of minty foam. 

“I know, it’s weird but you bring it out in me. See, usually I’m horrible.”

“Says the man who feeds stray cats outside his apartment. I think that you like pathetic creatures.”

“That must be it,” He goes over to turn the shower on for me, and when I protest, he insists that I’ll feel better when I’m clean, which, once again, is true, because once I’ve scrubbed last night and this morning from my body and hair I almost feel myself again. When I have dressed myself in a vest and shorts and pulled my damp hair into a knot at the top of my head, I cross the landing back towards Jude’s room and realise that the house is completely silent save for the dim sounds of the Vines he is watching inside. I push through the door. 

“Where are Claire and Shane?”

“They’ve gone to the Adonis Baths.”

I gasp with betrayal. “But we were all supposed to go together.”

“I know, but you weren’t well enough,” He idly pats the bed next to him and I sit down, “You and I can go tomorrow if you’d like.”

“Did they ask you to come with them?”

“Yeah of course.”

“And you said…”

He glances at me, “I said no, I didn’t want to leave you alone when you were sick,” The corner of his mouth ticks up “It’d be a bit shit to sneak away while you were sleeping and have you wake up to an empty house, wouldn’t it?” For some reason this makes me feel like I might start crying. “Eat your toast,” Jude says, and I scramble up the bed to retrieve it, cold now, from the bedside table, and take a small cautionary bite from the corner of one slice. “Isn’t Claire hungover too?” I wonder. 

Jude pauses, his finger hovering over the video he’s looking at before swiping to the next. “No,” He says carefully, “She wasn’t quite as drunk as you were, but obviously that’s okay, it must have just hit you harder for some reason.”

“I’m fairly sure I just went bananas and drank everything in sight because I’m a lunatic, but thanks for trying to make me feel better.” I take another bite of brittle toast, “God, I wish I had, like, a fry-up or something.”

“Yeah? I can cycle to the shops and get you something.”

“No, please, don’t. I’ll be fine, don’t go out of your way for me.”

“If there’s something that’ll make you better…”

It would, but I can’t bear the thought of sending him on a forty minute round trip just to buy some rashers and eggs, mainly because I don’t want him to put himself out on my behalf, but a little part of me really doesn’t want him to leave my side. I insist that he not go, and then we lapse into silence for a while, and he keeps watching videos, and I look at my own phone, ignoring a message from my mother about something she read in the Tullamore Tribune, as if it’s at all relevant to me, and slyly open my message thread with Jude, just so that I can wallow silently in the shame of my drunk messages to him. 

There are more than just one photo, there’s four, just three of them are completely blurry as though I dropped my phone mid selfie. One of them is distinctly the bowl of a sink, droplets of water on ceramic and a bit of my hand in the corner, with a message underneath that’s completely incomprehensible, except for the word ‘baby’. I suddenly have a new thought that makes me become very still. The phone screen fades to black in my hand. 

“Jude?”

“Yes?”

“Did anything happen last night when I came home?”

“I mean, like I said, you burst in here and threw those sweets at me before vomming in the toilet.”

“Yeah, but anything else?”

He frowns, “Um, you went to bed, I suppose?”

“Alright.”

“What are you asking?”

I clear my throat, “Well, no, nothing, like… just in case, you know…” He stares at me for ages, and I start to regret saying a thing. “…did we do anything?”

“When you were drunk?” He says. “Are you asking me if I… if we-”

“Yeah, it’s just because-”

He recoils, “No, Evie, Jesus Christ, of course not.”

I say, “Never mind, it’s not a big deal.”

“Why would that even come into your head?”

I am looking at my phone now, not at anything in particular, just opening apps and closing them again while his eyes are on me with such razor focus that they might as well be searing holes into my skin. “No big deal,” I repeat, “Just wondering,” I don’t understand why he’s acting so shocked. It’s a normal question as far as I’m concerned. 

“I wouldn’t do anything with a drunk girl, that’d be insane. Do you really think that I would?”

“Well, no, but I don’t know, maybe I came in last night and tried to have my way with you or something, it’s whatever. I just know that I can be a bit more flirtatious when I’m drunk, that’s all. Clearly it was a stupid question, so just forget that I asked it.”

There’s a long pause, and I can tell he wants to say something else, but I try to stay very focussed on what I’m doing so that he doesn’t have a window of opportunity to do so. Eventually the atmosphere fades into something much more benign, and we both lodge pillows beneath our heads and tangle our legs together, and he reaches over his head to whip the curtains open wide to let in the light, and we forget that I said anything at all. 

Jude has The Prince of Tides on his bedside table, a corner folded on a page about halfway through, and I read a few paragraphs just to read what he’s been reading, and then skip back to the start to read it for myself. It’s nice being like this, in the silence of this house, completely alone for a rare afternoon with nobody else around, no housemates, no siblings pottering around in other rooms, just us and the birds outside the window, the distant roar of the waves.

“Do you think we should make the most of the day?” I ask Jude eventually, “I feel a bit like I’m trapping you inside when you could be doing something more interesting, especially since you spent yesterday inside too with your thesis, and… did you finish it?”

He smiles, “Yeah it’s done, thank God. You can read it if you like but I promise you that it’s boring.”

“Hmm… maybe later.”

“If you’re in the mood for going outside then yeah, I’d be up for it. You want fresh air?”

“Mm,” I say. “Fresh air, to stretch my legs, maybe just see something on the island that I haven’t seen yet.”

“There’s a vineyard at the top of the hill over there if you feel like trying out some fancy wines,” He teases, and laughs at me when I wince, “I’m joking. How about we get the bikes and go exploring.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[altschmerzes]

🌹the torture fic

It is the great love of my life (there should be a question mark after 'fic' but my keyboard is very broken. It looks really agressive without it, sorry. Love the writi

sdlfkjds thank you!!! i'm so glad you enjoy it and no worries, not aggressive at all <3

here's a (very long sldfkjs as is the trend with clips from this fic) clip from part 2, which i've been working on today! as per usual with this fic, it's under a cut, with specific warnings at the top

(warnings: not much actively going on here, just that this is from right when they're leaving the motel mac was tortured in for two days, so he's in extremely bad shape. he's in a lot of pain, and there are references to what murdoc did to him in part 1, though none graphic or descriptive.)

The injection takes effect quickly once they’re back on the road and the relief is so strong that it makes Mac dizzy. Or maybe he’d been dizzy already and the pain has just eased away enough that he’s able to notice anything aside from that and the cold. He’s tired, too, and it’s hard to stay awake, though more tolerable to do so now that being conscious isn’t an automatic intolerable crush of constant shifting agony. It’s not gone, but it feels survivable at least.

Mac can’t let his eyes close. While the meds had helped the pain, he’s discovered that they haven’t done much at all for the anxiety still singing through his veins like the long, high note of a violin. It’s not particularly logical but Mac can’t help the sense that if he closes his eyes for longer than it takes to blink, he’s going to be right back in that room again, and Murdoc will be waiting. So he remains alert, not even given the choice to rest. Not yet.

Around the edges of all of it - the panic, the thudding of his own heart, the slight haze of the painkiller - Mac can hear Jack talking to him. The voice is unmistakable, though he can’t make out the words. It reminds him of when he’d been pushed past his limits and Murdoc’s voice had faded into a static blur, but with the opposite effect. That had been an insistent, cloying awareness that he was not safe and that Murdoc was ever-present, that there was no getting away from the threat, the promise of further pain and violation.

This, though… This is countless days on some couch or another, too exhausted to keep his eyes open but needing the sound of safety and home around him to remind him that he’s not out in some unfamiliar place surrounded by unfamiliar people. This is getting lost in a puzzle - a literal puzzle or just a complex problem that needs solving - and being guided along by a current that let him think clearly without getting too lost in the weeds. This is the shadow of a nightmare and the thick post-surgical haze and the jittering anxiety of an almost-flashback, calmed and soothed away by a voice he knows, a voice that belonged to a person who would keep Mac safe until his dying breath, and thus proof that whatever was going on, if that voice was calm and even, he didn’t have to worry about it, and everything was going to be okay.

Eyes barely kept open a slit, Mac drifts, slumped in the car’s seat. Jack is closer than he should be from the other side of the back of the car, but Mac isn’t complaining. The looming presence of someone else beside him isn’t as frightening as he might have expected it to be, and the warmth is welcome. Mac finds himself leaning over, drawn to the source of the warmth and safety that he knows even without being able to think clearly. At some point, clearly noticing this, Jack shifts. He slowly and carefully eases an arm up over the back of the seat, letting his hand rest high on Mac’s back, between his aching shoulders and just beneath his bruised neck. Jack puts just enough pressure into the point of contact to ease the burden on Mac’s shoulders and Mac leans into it, soaking in the point of heat and the paradoxical sense of safety.

The awareness that someone is touching him after what’s just happened makes Mac frightened and wistful at the same time. It sends a crawl of fear down his spine at first, calling forth fresh memories he wants desperately to keep stuffed down and locked away, but there is enough fighting against the reminders of his captor that he wants to turn and lean into it more than he wants to rip himself away. The man in the back seat with him is beside him and not in front of or behind him, and there’s still that voice, always that voice reminding Mac that he knows exactly who this person is, and that there’s nowhere he could be farther from harm than here with Jack’s hand on his back.

They continue on their drive to the airstrip, which seems both insanely far away and closer than Mac would’ve guessed for how remote the motel had been. Most of the trip passes by in a blur, aches renewed whenever they hit a rough spot of road. Several times, Jack sends an admonishment to be careful at the driver’s seat, and Mac flinches with every snapped word. They’re just tiny twitches but he knows that Jack notices. The hand on his back responds, a thumb smoothing over his spine in silent apology.

It happens again the next time, though. The car skids very slightly on a patch of ice and Jack hisses, “Watch it,” which is how Mac knows that Jack is having a hard time holding it together himself.

Ordinarily, he would have noticed in about a hundred other ways. Mac should have caught on much sooner, but the mess of his own head is taking up so much of his bandwidth that it takes that obvious of a tell to make its way through.

Another snap up at the front of the car and Mac inhales sharply.

“Sorry, kid,” Jack murmurs, and his voice is tight and strained.

A pang of worry clatters through Mac’s chest, followed by an even stronger wave of guilt. He fumbles with his good hand, trying to reach over. He wants to pat Jack’s knee or his shoulder, but he can’t get his arms to cooperate well enough. They’re tangled in the blanket wrapped tight around him and it hurts too much to try for long, so eventually Mac lets his head tip back and roll to the side instead. His neck throbs at the movement and it nearly tips him into another coughing fit, but it’s not as bad as it would’ve been before the injection, and he needs to get Jack’s attention somehow. Mac’s cheek presses into Jack’s arm where it’s stayed braced against the seat back, and he blinks up at him, determined to make eye contact at least for a few moments.

“Y’ ‘kay?” he asks. It’s hard to get it out but Mac needs to, even though he can hardly hold onto a coherent train of thought. Now that he’s aware of how badly Jack is struggling with this, he has to find some way to check in.

“Am I…” Jack stops before he finishes repeating the question and sighs, short and harsh. This close to Mac’s head, it sounds loud. Mac twitches, almost a flinch, and tries to pull himself up and away.

He wants to apologize, but he can’t get the words out through his raw throat and he’s too mired in exhaustion and pain to make a second attempt. It doesn’t help that he isn’t even sure what he’s apologizing for, and Jack doesn’t usually let him get away with saying he’s sorry without being able to answer that question.

“It’s okay,” Jack is quick to add, the press of his palm strong and warm on Mac’s back. “Hey, it’s alright. Sorry. I’m not upset at you, Mac. It’s okay.” There’s an insistence in the way the fingers of Jack’s hand dig in very slightly, and getting Mac to lay back down is a swift and easy fight.

There they stay for the rest of the drive. Mac still can’t close his eyes for longer than a moment or two, but it’s more than he’d managed before, and he’s almost up to four seconds at a time by the point that the car stops, and Thomas King announces that they’ve arrived.