#between numbness and overwhelming agony

[suffercerebral]

me having gone to bed at 6 am every day for the past week and generally spiraling mentally while rotting in bed waking up this morning: a 4 mile hike in the heat is a really good idea right now, and while we're at it let's start like 3 art projects

[onebadassunicorn]

His Blue-Eyed Angel

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: torture, beating, captivity, depression, hopelessness, serious angst

word count: 3.4k

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Story tags: @bravo-delta-eccho @tele86 @tiredsleepyhead @celestialgilb @theflowerswillbloom @fuckingsimp4azriel @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @salvatoresister1 @imperfect0angel @stvrdustalexx

Image owned by Velocity Visual Media

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

Chapter 17

Y/n POV

My world was a blur of confusion and terror as I was pulled into the dark, cold space. Panic surged within me, my heart hammering as I struggled against the binds that restricted me. Every breath felt shallow, choked by the overwhelming fear gnawing at my chest.

The first blow hit, sharp and sudden, a burning sting that tore through my skin, a violent reminder that I was no longer in control. I gasped, my body instinctively flinching, but there was nowhere to run. Pain pulsed through me, each strike and each cruel movement adding to the weight of helplessness pressing down on me. It wasn’t just the physical pain that tormented me—it was the sense of being completely powerless, of being at the mercy of someone who relished in my suffering.

Tears welled in my eyes, but I couldn’t bring myself to cry out. There was a strange numbness creeping into my mind, a survival mechanism that dulled the worst of the agony. The pain still seared, but my thoughts became disjointed, my mind retreating in an attempt to shield itself from the constant assault. Yet, the darkness of my reality was undeniable. I had no idea where I was, or what my captors wanted from me—each unanswered question making my fear grow deeper.

In the moments between the torture, my mind drifted, desperate for any escape, any distraction from the overwhelming pain. But instead of finding solace, my thoughts inevitably turned to him—Azriel. His name was now a ghost in my mind, lingering in the back of my thoughts like a phantom I couldn’t escape.

Azriel.

I remembered him—not the brutal warrior I saw on the battlefield, but the way he had been before the war and before he started pushing me away. The quiet strength in his eyes, the kindness hidden beneath his sharp exterior. He had always been different from the others, a presence that was at once distant and somehow familiar. I had admired him from afar, the way he carried the weight of his past with such silent dignity. There had been a time when I thought, in some impossible way, that he could save me—that he could be the one to rescue me from the nightmare that had now become my reality.

But now, all of that felt so distant, so hopeless.

I will come for you.

But he never did.

Why?

My chest tightened with the weight of the unanswered questions, the impossible hope that had died with each passing day of my captivity. I had waited, silently, for the moment when Azriel would burst through the door, his shadows swirling around him, his voice the calm in the chaos, telling me it was over, that I was safe.

But it hadn’t come.

And now, with the cruel reminder of Elain’s rescue, that hope felt foolish, childish. The reality set in like a vise around my heart.

I was his mate.

I love you.

He had whispered.

But perhaps I was now just a shadow in his past that would never be worth saving.

My stomach twisted in despair, the thoughts spiraling downward into a dark pit.

Did he even think about me?

My body trembled as fresh tears slipped down my cheeks, the hopelessness of it all crushing my spirit. The memory of Azriel’s hazel eyes, his quiet strength, felt like a distant, unreachable fantasy.

At first, I tried not to count the days. In that dim, stinking cell—walls of rough stone and iron bars—time had become slippery. The only constants were darkness, the taste of old blood on my tongue, and the murmurs of distant voices, each more merciless than the last. Hybern’s men had kept me trapped, their cruel methods refined over decades of brutality. And no rescue had come before they left their mark upon my flesh and mind.

The scars were more than the thin white lines traced over her shoulders and wrists. Those could heal with salves, with magic, and eventually fade to faint memories on her skin. However, the cruelest marks were made, given with doses of faebane, to ensure those scars would remain forever.

The one on my abdomen, an eternal reminder of their cruelty.

Inside was another story. I no longer dreamt in colors. Sleep now brought shadows shaped like leering grins, the sound of steel dragging over stone. I woke gasping, heart pounding, disoriented and panicked. But in the quiet hours before dawn, every moan of the wind brought a hiss of a guard’s voice in my ear, every shifting shadow the approach of another torment.

They hadn’t been kind.

I hadn’t expected them to be.

They’d yanked at my wings, twisted joints until I screamed, and laughed when I begged them to stop. They starved me for days, providing only enough water to ensure I remained alive to feel the next blow, the next invasive question. They’d demanded secrets I didn’t have, forced me to repeat answers until my voice cracked and the words meant nothing. When I didn’t speak—when silence was my only defense—they pressed hot iron to my skin, delighted by the way I bit my lips bloody to hold in cries of pain. Eventually, they’d learned to savor my struggles, not for information, but for entertainment, as they each took turns in subjecting me to their own personal style of torment.

That was the worst of it: understanding I was no longer a person in their eyes, only an object whose suffering could amuse them. Over those endless nights, my sense of self had frayed. I’d once been proud, fierce in my own gentle way, but how did pride survive when reduced to sobbing and shaking at the sound of approaching footsteps?

My dignity had slipped through my fingers along with my tears, leaving only raw survival instinct and the desperate hope that someone would come.

Azriel would come.

Tarquin or Rhysand would come.

Anyone would come.

But no one had arrived in time before I was drug off the battlefield.

My body ached, but the worst of it was the crushing weight of vulnerability—how small and insignificant I felt in that moment. I tried to hold on to memories of my life before, of moments where I felt safe, where I had the control I now craved desperately. But even those memories seemed to fade, like distant, unreachable stars.

******

Azriel POV

The war was over. Hybern had been defeated, their forces scattered, and Prythian stood victorious.

Yet, for Azriel, there was no relief, no celebration.

Azriel stood at the edge of the House of Wind, staring out over Velaris as the night wind howled against his wings.

Three months.

Three long, torturous months since she had been taken.

Three months of searching, scouring every possible lead, sending his spies far and wide. And they’d found nothing.

Not a trace.

Not a whisper.

His shadows curled tightly around him, restless and agitated as they whispered in his ear—whispered nothing of use, nothing about her. He had hoped, desperately, that one of his spies would come back with something, anything, but every report brought silence.

An empty trail.

Azriel’s hand clenched around the railing so tightly the wood splintered beneath his grip. He barely noticed. His mind was lost—lost to her. Y/n. The name was a ghost in his chest, echoing through the hollow space she’d left behind.

Three months since he’d seen her on the battlefield, fighting with every ounce of strength she had, her wings flaring defiantly as she told him to go, to save Elain. Three months since he’d felt the bond snap for her and seen the confusion and love in her tear-filled eyes as she whispered, You’re my mate. And the last words he’d told her…

“I love you. I’ll come back for you.”

A promise that now mocked him.

Azriel exhaled a shuddering breath, his head falling forward, his wings drooping under the weight of it all. He had fought wars, spilled blood, ended countless lives, faced horrors that would break lesser males—but nothing had prepared him for this.

For losing her.

For three months, he’d led the search personally. Every waking moment was spent hunting for her. He combed through every camp, every hideout Hybern’s soldiers had fled to after the war. His spies followed every lead, but they all ended in nothing but cold trails and dead silence. As though she had vanished from the earth entirely.

The bond in his chest still pulsed faintly, like a flicker of a candle nearly snuffed out. It was there, a cruel reminder that she was alive—somewhere. But it was so faint now, so fragile, he feared it would disappear at any moment. And then he would know. He would know she was gone.

He sank down onto the edge of the balcony, his hands running through his hair as he tried to breathe, to steady himself against the tide of grief that threatened to pull him under.

“I didn’t get to kiss her again,” he whispered brokenly to the shadows that curled at his feet. “I didn’t get to—” His voice caught, and he dropped his head into his hands, his shoulders trembling. “I never got to hold her. To touch her the way I wanted to. To… love her the way she deserved.”

He had tried to connect with her every day since the war had ended, had poured everything he had into that fragile thread that tied them together. But there was no response.

He could still see her in his mind’s eye—the way her black feathered wings spread wide with such beauty and strength, the way her eyes, deep as the ocean, had looked at him with love even as she was surrounded.

Why did I leave?

He had told himself he didn’t have a choice. That she had made the call. But it wasn’t enough to ease the torment in his mind—the gnawing despair that he had left his mate to be taken, to be broken, to be tortured.

“She’s gone,” he whispered hoarsely to no one, to the night, to the stars that offered no solace. “She’s gone, and I’ll never—” His throat closed, a single tear slipping down his face as he gripped his knees tightly.

Never hold her. Never feel her warmth against him. Never run his fingers through her midnight hair or kiss the sadness from her lips. He would never get to take her flying over the Sidra, never get to tell her just how deeply, how irrevocably he loved her.

Three months of silence, of failure, of waiting for a truth he couldn’t face.

“Please,” he murmured aloud, his voice raw, his hazel eyes staring into the night as though he could find her there. He closed his eyes, focusing all his energy on the bond, tugging at it gently, trying to send her something—anything.

Y/n, he called through their connection, his shadows curling around him in frustration and despair.

Talk to me.

Please.

The shadows whispered restlessly around him, unsettled and agitated, as though they, too, could feel the truth of what was happening.

The bond.

The fragile thread in his chest pulsed faintly—so faint it might’ve been a ghost. A cruel trick of his own mind. For three months, he had felt it weakening, fraying at the edges. She was still alive. He clung to that truth, that faint hum. She is alive. But it wasn’t enough.

Because there were moments—terrible, shattering moments—when the bond screamed.

Azriel’s head snapped up suddenly, his breath halting in his throat as the sensation hit him like a physical blow.

Pain.

Agony.

It tore through him, scorching every nerve, leaving him doubled over as though he’d been struck with a blade.

He clutched his chest, his heart hammering as the feelings bled through the bond, unrelenting.

Fear—so potent it made his own blood run cold.

Desperation—like hands clawing at a prison that wouldn’t break.

Pain—sharp, bright flashes, as though steel had been dragged across skin.

And through it all, the silent scream.

Her silent scream.

“Y/n,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, desperate, as though she could hear him. “Angel…”

She wasn’t doing it on purpose. He knew that. She didn’t even realize what she was sending down the bond.

It had started shortly after she’d been taken—those flashes of raw agony that would break through the silence of the bond like lightning through a storm. At first, they had been faint, just the barest flicker of something—of her. But as the months wore on, as Hybern’s remnants worked to break her, the bond had become a lifeline of its own, even as it sent him to his knees.

The bond pulsed again, sending another sharp wave of fear and unbearable pain, and Azriel gasped, his wings snapping out behind him as he fought to breathe through it.

“Baby,” he whispered, closing his eyes tightly, trying to steady himself. “Hold on. Just hold on.”

There were no words in response—no whispers from her side of the bond. She had never sent anything willingly. This… this was her body, her mind betraying her, the terror bleeding through to him against her will.

Azriel pressed a hand to his chest, where the bond still flickered faintly, like a dying candle in the dark. It wasn’t fair.

The Mother, the Cauldron—it wasn’t fair to give him a mate, to bind them together so deeply, only to tear her away before he ever had the chance to love her the way he was meant to.

But he could feel her, even now. The way her fear trembled against the bond, as though she was trapped in a nightmare she couldn’t wake from.

His teeth clenched, his shadows spiraling wildly around him in response to his fury. He could do nothing. For months, he had searched, sent his spies, combed through every whisper of Hybern’s remnants. And yet she was still there. Still in their hands.

And every time he felt her pain, felt her terror, it killed him all over again.

“Hold on, angel,” he whispered, the words raw, his voice breaking as he stared down at his trembling hands. “I will find you.”

He didn’t know if she could hear him. He doubted it. But still, he sent those words down the bond like a prayer—like a promise.

The bond trembled, faint and fragile once more, the storm of agony fading into a haunting silence. Azriel slumped back against the wall, his chest heaving, his body shaking from the force of it all.

She was slowly dying.

He buried his face in his hands, his entire body trembling with the weight of his emotions. He could feel the agony that was breaking her piece by piece. The thought of her being tortured, of her suffering alone, was a torment he couldn’t escape.

“Angel,” he whispered again, his voice breaking as he pressed his hand to his chest, where the bond pulsed faintly beneath his ribs. He could feel the distance between them, the fragile thread connecting them stretched so thin it felt as though it might snap at any moment.

His shadows swirled restlessly around him, reflecting the chaos in his heart.

He didn’t deserve her—he had told himself that over and over.

But Gods, he couldn’t lose her.

Not like this.

The thought of her dying alone, her last moments filled with pain and suffering, was more than he could bear.

He had thought the war was the hardest thing he would face, but this—this slow, agonizing loss—was worse. The silence through the bond, the absence of her presence, the knowledge that she was still alive but beyond his reach, was a torment that consumed him.

Azriel leaned forward, his wings curling around him as he let out a shaky breath. The stars above blurred as tears filled his eyes, the weight of his failure pressing down on him like a crushing tide.

He had left her behind.

He had made the choice that haunted him every moment since, and now she was paying the price for it.

Azriel leaned back against the cold stone wall, staring up at the star-flecked sky with hollow, haunted eyes. The world around him was silent, still—so at odds with the war raging in his heart.

And Azriel let himself cry—quiet, broken sobs that echoed through the night.

Because he knew, deep down, that he was losing her. That the bond would soon flicker out. And when it did, he would feel it—feel the moment she was gone forever.

That was the thought that shattered him completely.

And as he sat there in the dark, sobbing, clutching at the bond he feared would slip away entirely, he made a silent vow.

He would find her.

No matter how long it took, no matter how much blood he spilled to do it. He would find her and destroy every single soul who had dared to harm her.

Because every ounce of pain he had felt through the bond—the fear, the torture—he would repay a thousandfold.

And when he held her again, when he pulled her into his arms, he would tell her—tell her that she had never been alone, not for a single heartbeat.

Because even across the vast, empty silence, Azriel had been there.

And he always would be.

******

Y/n POV

The days bled into one another in a haze of exhaustion and despair.

Three months.

Three long months of silence, of waiting, of aching for something I couldn’t have.

It felt as though time had stopped, as though I had entered a place where nothing, but torment existed. Desperation set in, my mind cycling between thoughts of escape, of somehow fighting back, and the sickening realization that I was alone.

The scent of damp stone filled my nose, and the flickering light from the small torch in the corner did little to soothe the cold in my bones. But the deepest chill came from within, from the gnawing emptiness in my chest.

I was his mate.

The bond between us should have been enough, but it hadn’t been. It was like I no longer existed in his world. In the three months since I had been taken, I hadn’t hadn’t felt his presence the way I once had when the bond snapped for me…so strong, so real, so undeniable.

Perhaps it was the faebane.

Or worse, he had moved on.

But even in the silence, a part of me still longed for him. The bond tugged at me, subtle but undeniable, pulling my thoughts to him in the dead of night when I couldn’t sleep. I could still remember the way his touch felt, how his eyes would soften when he looked at me, how his lips felt when he kissed me that night in the alley at Rita's.

I could still feel the warmth of his presence, as though he were just beyond the reach of my fingertips, and the ache to have him near me again gnawed at me relentlessly.

The fear grew, not just for the pain, but for the terror of what might come next, of the uncertainty stretching out before me in a never-ending void. Would it ever end? Or was this my life now? I couldn’t tell. All I knew was that I couldn’t escape, and the torment felt like it would never cease.

The bond, that maddening pull, kept me tethered to him even as my mind screamed at me to let go. Every day, every hour in this dark prison was a reminder of my helplessness, of how little control I had over the one thing that mattered most.

I’d thought I could fight it. With hopelessness growing more and more each day, I thought I could erase the memories of him. But with every passing day, it only grew stronger, as if my soul itself was tethered to his. It didn’t matter that he had saved her and not come back for me. It didn’t matter that Elain was now the one he would protect, the one who had his care and his attention.

I would never stop longing for him.

Chapter 18

[lila-lou]

✨Beyond saving - Pt. 2✨

Summary: Dean is back and no longer a demon. But with all the emotions he has to deal with now, he would rather die.

This is part 3 of "Beyond saving".

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only!, Mention of rape, Language, Angst, Hurt

Word Count: 5518

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

As the hours stretched on, the pain seemed to deepen, sinking into your bones and settling in your soul. At first, you lay on the floor, tears flowing freely as you grappled with the overwhelming sense of despair that threatened to consume you.

But as time passed, a numbness set in, dulling the sharp edges of your agony and enveloping you in a cold, empty void. You lay there, lost in the darkness of your own thoughts, the weight of your suffering pressing down on you like a leaden blanket.

After hours and with trembling limbs and tears streaming down your face, you forced yourself to your feet, the pain in your broken wrists and ribs a constant reminder of the brutality you had endured.

With each step, you felt the weight of your pain bearing down on you, threatening to crush you beneath its unbearable burden.

You made your way towards the bathroom, each movement filled with agony.

As you sank into the warm embrace of the bathtub, the water enveloped you like a soothing balm, offering a brief respite from the relentless ache that gripped your body. But even as the comforting embrace of the water washed over you, the pain remained.

Your wrists throbbed with a dull, persistent ache, the broken bones protesting with every movement. Each breath sent sharp spikes of pain shooting through your ribs, the fractured bones protesting against the strain of simply existing. And between your legs, your pussy throbbed with a raw, tender soreness, a painful reminder of Dean's brutal assault.

As you lay there, staring blankly at the water stained crimson with your own blood, you couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness wash over you. It wasn't just your body that bore the scars of Dean's cruelty, but your heart and soul as well.

Your face bore the imprint of his violence, your Skin bruised and swollen. And beneath the water, your bruised buttocks throbbed with pain, the memory of his forceful kneel still fresh in your mind.

As Sam and Cas returned to the bunker, a sense of urgency filled the air. Sam's heart raced with fear as he noticed the dried blood staining the kitchen floor, his mind racing with dread at the thought of what could have happened to you. Without hesitation, he began knocking frantically on the bathroom door, calling out your name with increasing desperation.

"Y/N, open up!", Sam's voice was filled with concern and panic as he pounded on the door, his hands trembling with fear. "Please, we need to make sure you're okay!".

But there was no response, only silence echoing back at him from the other side of the door. His heart sank as he exchanged a worried glance with Cas, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him like a heavy stone.

"Cas, we need to get this door open", Sam urged, his voice laced with urgency as he turned to his angelic friend for help. "Something's not right. I can feel it".

With a determined nod, Cas focused his powers, channeling his energy into the door with a burst of light. In an instant, the lock clicked open, and Sam pushed the door open with a sense of dread gnawing at his insides.

But as he stepped inside, what he saw took his breath away. There you were, lying motionless in the bathtub, surrounded by water tinged with the faint traces of blood. Sam's heart clenched with fear as he rushed to your side, his hands trembling as he reached out to touch you.

"Y/N, can you hear me?", Sam's voice was thick with emotion as he gently shook your shoulder, his eyes wide with fear. "Please, say something. Anything".

But you remained silent, your eyes vacant and distant as you stared blankly ahead. Sam's heart sank as he realized the depth of your pain.

As Sam pleaded with Cas to heal you, desperation crept into his voice, his eyes pleading with the angel for help. But despite Cas's best efforts, his healing powers seemed ineffective against the depth of your injuries. You looked terrible, completely broken, your body bearing the physical and emotional scars of Dean's cruelty.

Gently, Sam scooped you up in his arms, wrapping a towel around you with Cas's help, mindful of your fragile state.

As he held you close, he could feel the weight of your pain pressing against him. With each sob that wracked your body, his heart broke a little more, his own tears mingling with yours as he whispered words of comfort and reassurance.

"You're safe now, Y/N", Sam murmured softly.

With each step, each movement, you cried out in pain, your broken body unable to withstand even the slightest touch.

Again Cas tried to heal you. His touch enveloped your broken body, his powers surging forth with a gentle glow. With a focused determination, he began to mend the shattered bones in your wrists and ribs, his efforts slowly easing the physical pain that wracked your body.

As the warmth of his healing magic spread through you, you felt a glimmer of relief wash over you, the sharp edges of your agony blunted by his divine intervention. But even as your physical wounds began to heal, the scars that marred your soul remained untouched, a constant reminder of the darkness that had consumed you.

With a heavy heart, Cas realized the limitations of his power. Despite his best efforts, he could mend your broken bones, but the wounds that lay within you ran far deeper than he could reach.

"I've done what I can for your injuries", Cas murmured softly, his voice filled with regret as he regarded you with a solemn gaze. "But healing your soul… that will take time".

Sam's heart ached as he watched you, his own eyes filled with a mixture of compassion and sorrow. He longed

Three long weeks passed before you found the strength to speak again, the weight of your silence bearing down on you like a heavy burden. With trembling lips, you finally opened up to Sam, your voice barely above a whisper as you recounted the horrors that Dean had inflicted upon you.

"I… I couldn't stop him", you began, your voice trembling with emotion as you struggled to find the words to convey the depth of your suffering. "Dean… he… he hurt me, Sam. He hurt me in ways I can't even begin to describe".

Sam's eyes filled with tears as he listened to your words, his heart breaking with each revelation. He reached out to you, his hand offering silent support as you continued to speak, recounting the brutality of Dean's actions with a raw honesty that left him reeling.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N", Sam whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I had no idea… I never thought Dean could… could do something like that".

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face as you struggled to come to terms with the reality of what had happened. "I… I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive him", you admitted, your voice choked with emotion. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to look at him the same way again".

From that moment on, everything changed. The lightness and laughter that had once filled the bunker were replaced by a heavy silence, the weight of your pain casting a shadow over everything you did. Even the thought of Dean filled you with a sense of dread and betrayal, and you found yourself withdrawing further and further into yourself, your hope for redemption slipping away with each passing day.

Six months had passed since Sam had succeeded in healing Dean from the darkness of his demonhood. As Sam carefully uncuffed him in the dimly lit basement, a sense of trepidation hung heavy in the air. Dean’s first question, as the shackles fell away, was for you.

“Where is she?”, Dean’s voice was filled with a mixture of concern and longing as he scanned the room, searching for any sign of your presence. But Sam’s expression remained firm, his resolve unyielding as he stood between Dean and the truth.

“Not now, Dean”, Sam replied gently, his voice tinged with sadness. “She’s… she’s not ready to see you yet”.

Dean's heart sank at Sam's words, a heavy weight settling in his chest at the thought of your absence. "I understand", he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm… I'm not sure I'm ready to see her either. Not after what I did".

Sam's gaze softened with empathy as he looked at his brother, understanding the depth of Dean's guilt and remorse. "She's been struggling, Dean", he explained gently, his voice filled with concern. "It hasn't been easy for her these past six months. She's… she's hurt".

Dean's jaw tightened as he listened to Sam's words, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him like a leaden weight. "I know", he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "And it's all my fault".

Sam reached out, placing a comforting hand on Dean's shoulder. "We'll get through this together, Dean", he reassured him, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him. "But it's going to take time. It's going to take a lot of work to earn back her trust".

As you entered your room, after a few days at Jodie´s, the familiar scent of Dean enveloped you, sending a shiver down your spine. It was a scent you had once found comforting, a reminder of the love and connection you shared with him. But now, it filled you with a sense of unease, dredging up painful memories that you had tried so hard to bury.

Unaware that Dean was back and healed, you began to unpack your belongings, your mind drifting back to the last time you had been in this room together. The memory of his touch, his laughter, and the warmth of his embrace lingered in the air, a bittersweet reminder of what had been lost.

Little did you know, Dean had been there just moments before, his presence lingering like a ghost in the room. He had come seeking solace in the familiar surroundings, hoping to feel some connection to you.

But as you moved about the room, your senses tingling with the weight of his presence, a sense of foreboding washed over you. It was as if the walls themselves were closing in, suffocating you with the memories of a love that had turned sour.

And as you stood there, frozen in place, the realization slowly dawned on you—Dean was back. He was here, in this room, just minutes ago, his presence a haunting reminder of the pain and betrayal you had endured.

Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled to come to terms with the truth, the weight of his absence and his return crashing down on you like a tidal wave. You knew that facing him again would reopen wounds, dredging up emotions you had spent months trying to suppress.

As tears streamed down your cheeks, Sam found you frozen in the room, your emotions palpable in the air around you. Concern etched deep lines into Sam's face as he approached, his footsteps slow and deliberate.

"We need to talk", Sam said gently, his voice filled with compassion as he reached out to touch your shoulder.

You turned to face him, your expression a mixture of anguish and resignation. "I already know", you whispered hoarsely, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sam's brow furrowed with concern as he moved closer, his hand lingering on your arm. "Y/N, I know this is hard, but you can't just run away from this", he urged softly, his eyes searching yours for some sign of understanding.

But you were already moving towards the door, your mind clouded with pain and uncertainty. "I can't do this, Sam", you choked out, your voice breaking with emotion. "I can't face him again, not after everything that's happened".

Sam's grip tightened on your arm, his expression filled with determination. "You don't have to face him alone", he insisted, his voice unwavering. "I'll be there with you, every step of the way".

For a moment, you hesitated, torn between the desire to flee and the need to confront the truth. But in the end, it was Sam's unwavering support that gave you the strength to stay.

With a heavy sigh, you nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that bound you together.

As the days passed, the weight of Dean's presence hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the turmoil that engulfed your life. Despite Sam's assurances, you couldn't bring yourself to face him, the fear and uncertainty gnawing at your insides like a relentless beast.

Each night, you lay awake in bed, listening to the echoes of Dean's screams as he wrestled with his nightmares. His tortured cries pierced the silence of the night, a haunting melody that echoed through the empty corridors of the bunker.

And during the day, you remained holed up in your room, barricaded behind closed doors as you sought refuge from the chaos that threatened to consume you. The sound of Dean's footsteps outside your door sent shivers down your spine, the fear of his presence paralyzing you with its intensity.

Sleep became a distant memory, your mind plagued by a never-ending carousel of worries and anxieties. Dark circles formed beneath your eyes, a testament to the sleepless nights and endless torment that plagued your every waking moment.

In the kitchen, your hands trembled as you reached for another cup of coffee, the bitter taste a poor substitute for the comfort you so desperately craved.

Cas found you in the kitchen, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow as he took in your tired and worn appearance.

"Y/N, you look exhausted", he remarked softly, his blue eyes filled with worry. "Have you been sleeping at all?".

You shook your head, the weariness weighing heavily on your shoulders. "Not much", you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's been hard to find any peace, especially with him back".

Cas nodded in understanding, his expression sympathetic. "I can imagine", he replied gently. "But you can't keep going on like this. It's not healthy".

Tears welled in your eyes as you confessed your fear. "I'm afraid to sleep", you admitted, your voice trembling with emotion. "Every time I close my eyes, I hear Dean's screams and footsteps outside my door. I can't bear the thought of facing him again".

"I can stay with you while you sleep, if that would help".

Your heart swelled with gratitude at his offer, a sense of relief washing over you like a wave. "Thank you, Cas", you whispered, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I don't know what I would do without you".

A few hours later, the sound of the bunker door opening signaled the return of Sam and Dean from their hunt. Sam's footsteps echoed through the corridors as he made his way through the bunker, his expression a mix of exhaustion and anticipation.

"Hey, Cas, you here?", Sam called out, his voice carrying down the hallway.

Cas emerged from your room, his gaze meeting Sam's as he stepped into the dimly lit corridor. "Sam", he greeted quietly, his tone somber.

Sam's brow furrowed with concern as he took in Cas's grave expression. "What's going on?", he asked.

Cas hesitated for a moment before speaking, his words measured and deliberate. "Y/N hasn't been sleeping well", he explained, his gaze drifting back to your sleeping form on the bed.

Sam's glanced into the room, his heart sinking at the sight of you curled up on the bed, your face drawn and pale in the soft light.

"What do you mean?", Sam asked, his voice filled with worry.

Cas sighed. "She's been afraid to sleep", he admitted quietly. "So I offered to stay with her while she rests".

"Thank you, Cas", he said sincerely, gratitude evident in his voice. "I'll take over from here".

And as Cas nodded in acknowledgment, Sam stepped into the room, his gaze lingering on your sleeping form with a mixture of concern and tenderness. With Cas's help, he would ensure that you found the peace and rest you so desperately needed.

As Sam and Cas remained in your room, their voices barely above a whisper as they discussed your condition, Dean found himself drawn to the doorway like a moth to a flame. Despite Sam's explicit instructions to stay away, he couldn't resist the urge to see you, to reassure himself that you were okay.

With each hesitant step, Dean's heart pounded in his chest, his footsteps silent on the floor as he approached the room where you lay sleeping. He knew he shouldn't be here, knew he was risking Sam's wrath by defying his orders, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to see you, to make sure you were safe.

As he reached the doorway, Dean's breath caught in his throat at the sight before him. You lay on the bed, your breathing slow and steady, your face peaceful in sleep. For a moment, Dean was transfixed by the sight of you, his heart aching with longing and regret.

But even as he stood there, a voice in the back of his mind reminded him of the pain he had caused you, of the darkness that still lingered within him. He knew he didn't deserve your forgiveness, didn't deserve to be anywhere near you after what he had done.

As Dean turned to leave the room, Sam’s voice cut through the silence like a knife.

“Dean, what the hell are you doing here?”, Sam’s tone was sharp, his eyes flashing with anger as he confronted his brother in the hallway.

Dean froze in his tracks, his heart sinking at the sound of Sam’s voice.

“I just… I needed to see her, Sammy”, Dean replied, his voice heavy with guilt and regret. “I needed to know she was okay”.

"I get that, Dean", Sam said, his voice softer but still tinged with frustration. "But she needs space, especially from you".

Dean nodded, a mix of shame and understanding evident in his eyes. "I know, Sam. I fucking screwed up", he admitted, his voice tight with emotion. "I just… I can't stand the thought of her being in pain and not being able to do anything about it".

Sam sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping as he tried to find the right words. "I know you care about her, Dean", he said gently. "But right now, what she needs most is for you to respect her boundaries. Give her the space she needs to heal".

Dean swallowed hard, the weight of Sam's words sinking in. "I will, Sam. I promise", he vowed, his voice filled with sincerity.

With a nod, Sam gestured for Dean to follow him away from the room. As they walked down the hallway together, Dean couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that weighed heavily on his heart.

One week later, Sam and Dean sat in the library, the weight of their conversation hanging heavy in the air. They had been discussing Dean's time as a demon, the darkness that had consumed him, and the pain he had inflicted on those he cared about.

After a long silence, broken only by the soft crackling of the fireplace, Dean spoke up, his voice choked with tears. "I can't do this", he admitted, his words barely above a whisper. "I can't live with what I've done to her".

Sam's heart sank at the despair in his brother's voice, the anguish written plainly on his face. He reached out a hand, placing it gently on Dean's shoulder, offering what little comfort he could.

"I know it's hard, Dean", Sam said softly, his own voice thick with emotion. "But you can't give up. You have to find a way to live with what you've done, to make things right".

Dean shook his head, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I don't know if I can, Sam", he confessed, his voice raw with pain. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself for what I did to her".

Sam's heart broke for his brother, for the torment he was enduring. He wanted nothing more than to take away Dean's suffering, to ease the burden of guilt that weighed so heavily upon him.

Dean’s voice cracked as he continued, the weight of his confession pressing down on him like a heavy burden. “I hate myself, Sam”, he whispered. “I can’t even look at myself in the mirror anymore. Every time I close my eyes, all I see is… is what I did to her”.

"I know, Dean”, Sam said softly. “I know it’s hard, but you can’t let it consume you. You’re stronger than this”.

But Dean shook his head, tears streaming down his cheeks unchecked. “I don’t feel strong, Sam”, he admitted. “I feel broken. Like I’m irredeemable”.

"I know she'll never forgive me, Sam", he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I don't blame her. What I did… it's unforgivable".

Sam's heart clenched at Dean's admission, the weight of his brother's pain almost too much to bear. "Dean, you can't give up hope", he said gently, his voice filled with compassion. "People can surprise you. You just have to give her time".

But Dean shook his head, his eyes filled with resignation. "I've lost her, Sam", he said, his voice hollow with despair. "I've lost the love of my life, and the respect I had for myself along with it".

Standing in the hallway, you listened silently to the conversation unfolding in the library. The weight of Dean's confession and Sam's comforting words hung heavy in the air, their voices echoing through corridor.

Tears welled in your eyes as you heard Dean's admission of self-hatred and despair. The pain in his voice cut through you like a knife, stirring a mixture of emotions within you. Part of you longed to reach out to him, to offer him solace and forgiveness. But another part of you recoiled at the memories of the trauma he had inflicted upon you, the scars that still lingered both physically and emotionally.

Taking a deep breath, you silently retreated from the hallway, the weight of the conversation heavy on your heart. You knew that healing would take time, for both you and Dean.

Another week passed, the weight of the unresolved tension between you and Dean hanging heavy in the air. Despite Sam and Cas's efforts to provide support and comfort, sleep continued to elude both of you. And as Cas had to leave to attend to other matters, leaving you without his comforting presence, the nights grew even longer and more restless.

One evening, as you stood in kitchen, the soft glow of the overhead lights casting shadows across the room, you reached for a beer from the fridge. Your mind was consumed with thoughts of Dean and the tumultuous emotions that swirled within you.

But before you could retreat to the solitude of your room, the sound of footsteps drew your attention, and you froze as Dean entered the kitchen. The air between you crackled with tension, the weight of the unspoken words and unresolved emotions hanging heavy in the silence.

As you found yourself alone with Dean in the very room where he had caused you so much pain, a wave of fear washed over you, paralyzing you in place. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering against your ribs as though it were trying to escape the confines of your chest. Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision as you pressed yourself against the cold surface of the kitchen counter, seeking any semblance of safety and distance from the man who had once been your everything.

For Dean, seeing the raw fear reflected in your eyes was like a dagger to his heart. The weight of his past actions bore down upon him, crushing him with the knowledge of the pain he had caused you. His own eyes filled with tears as he watched you retreat, his heart breaking at the sight of your distress. Seeing you pressed against the kitchen counter, seeking refuge from him, shattered him in a way he hadn't expected.

"I'm so sorry", Dean whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he took a hesitant step forward, his hands trembling at his sides. "I never wanted to hurt you. I swear, I never meant for any of this to happen".

His words hung heavy in the air, filled with the weight of his sincerity. But he knew that mere words could never erase the pain he had caused you. He longed to reach out to you, to offer you solace and comfort.

As Dean took another step forward, his expression wrought with anguish and regret, you held up a trembling hand, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger.

"Don't… don't come any closer", you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper, yet laced with a palpable sense of urgency. Your cheeks were wet with tears, your entire body trembling with the weight of your emotions. Every fiber of your being recoiled at the thought of him drawing near, the memories of his past actions haunting you like ghosts in the night.

"I can't… I can't do this", you continued, your voice wavering as you struggled to maintain your composure. "Not now, not ever. You… you've broken something inside of me, Dean. Something that can never be fixed".

Your words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the irreparable damage that had been done. The distance between you felt insurmountable, a gaping chasm that stretched on for eternity.

Dean froze in place, his heart breaking at the sound of your trembling voice and the anguish etched across your tear-stained face. He longed to reach out to you, to wrap you in his arms and beg for your forgiveness. But he knew that he had no right to ask for such mercy, not after what he had done to you.

"I don't expect you to forgive me, (Y/N). Not after everything I've done".

His words were heavy with resignation, his gaze cast downward as he grappled with the enormity of his mistakes. The pain in his eyes mirrored your own, a reflection of the shattered pieces of both your hearts.

"I just… I just want you to know that I'm sorry", Dean continued. "I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make things right, even if I never earn your forgiveness".

As Sam stumbled into the kitchen, his eyes half-lidded with sleep, he froze in his tracks at the sight before him. The scene that unfolded before his eyes sent a jolt of adrenaline coursing through his veins, instantly banishing the remnants of sleep from his mind.

The sight of you, standing there with tears streaming down your face, your eyes wide with fear, pierced through him like a knife.

"Hey, hey, what's going on?", Sam's voice was soft but urgent as he rushed forward, his eyes flickering between you and Dean, who stood nearby with a look of devastation etched across his features.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. His instincts told him that something was seriously wrong.

With a sense of urgency, Sam stepped forward, his gaze never leaving yours as he reached out a comforting hand. "Are you okay", he asked, his voice filled with concern. "What happened?".

With a shaky voice and a forced calmness, you respond to Sam, "Nothing, Sam. Nothing happened". But the tremor in your voice and the haunted look in your eyes betray the truth of your words.

Before Sam could press further, you turn abruptly and practically flee from the kitchen, your heart pounding in your chest as you race towards the safety of your room.

As the door slams shut behind you, the sound reverberates through the quiet bunker. Inside the confines of your room, you collapse onto the bed, tears streaming down your face as you try to quell the storm of emotions raging within you.

Meanwhile, Dean stands in the kitchen, his fists clenched at his sides as he stares at the spot where you had stood only moments before. The silence hangs heavy in the air, broken only by the sound of his ragged breaths and the steady thud of his heart.

With a growl of frustration, Dean lashes out, his fist colliding with the wall with enough force to leave a sizable dent. Pain shoots through his hand, but it pales in comparison to the anguish that gnaws at his soul.

Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes as he sinks to the floor, the weight of his remorse pressing down upon him. He had thought that seeing you again would bring him some measure of closure, some semblance of redemption. But all he had accomplished was to reopen the wounds he had inflicted upon you, tearing them open with brutal force.

In that moment, Dean feels utterly lost, adrift in a sea of regret and self-loathing. He had shattered the one thing he had cherished most in this world, and now he was left to face the consequences of his actions alone.

As Dean sat on the floor, his back against the wall, Sam approached him cautiously.

"Dean, man, are you okay?", Sam asked softly, his voice tinged with worry.

Dean looked up at his brother, his eyes bloodshot and filled with tears. "No, Sam, I'm not okay", he admitted, his voice choked with emotion. "I don't think I'll ever be okay again".

Sam sinked down beside him, mirroring his brother's posture as they both sat in silence for a moment. "Dean, what happened between you two… it wasn't your fault", he said gently.

But Dean shook his head, tears streaming down his face. "No, Sam, you don't understand", he insisted. "I hurt her, Sam. I hurt her in ways that I can't even begin to comprehend. And now… now I don't know how to fix it".

"Dean, you need to forgive yourself first".

Dean's voice trembled as he spoke, the weight of his words heavy with shame and self-loathing. "How am I supposed to forgive myself, Sam?", he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "How can I ever look her in the eyes again, knowing what I did to her? How can I live with myself, knowing that I… that I raped my own girlfriend because I was a fucking demon?".

Dean felt like he's drowning in a sea of guilt and remorse.

"Sam, you don't understand", he said, "This… this is worse than anything I ever experienced in Hell. Worse than purgatory. Since I've been back, since I'm no demon anymore, the pain of what I did to her… it's unbearable. It's like a constant weight crushing down on me, suffocating me. I can't escape it, Sam. I can't escape the guilt, the shame, the remorse. It's consuming me from the inside out".

"I don't know how to live with myself, Sam", he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Every day, every moment, I'm haunted by what I did to her. And the worst part is… I know I don't deserve to be forgiven. I don't deserve to be happy. I don't deserve anything".

Sam's heart broke for his brother, knowing the depth of his pain. He reached out, wrapping Dean in a tight embrace, offering what little comfort he can. "Dean, listen to me", he mumbled softly, his voice filled with conviction. "I promise you, we'll find a way to make things right. But you have to hold on. You have to keep fighting".

For a moment, Dean allowed himself to lean into Sam's embrace, seeking solace in the comfort of his presence.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

-

Part 3

[zorosdimples]

YOU’RE MINE

pairing ༄ alpha!kakashi x princess!reader

warnings ༄ minors: please do not interact! i will block you. suggestive content, predator/prey dynamics, light a/b/o dynamics, mild descriptions of injuries. reader is a princess, wears a gown, and has an intricate hairstyle, but there are no gendered terms aside from “princess.” kakashi calls reader “pup” once.

word count ༄ 922

notes ༄ everyone can thank cher @honeylavendr for unknowingly?baiting me into writing this. it was really only a matter of time… kakashi is my first love and i’ve lost the omegaverse battle, so this is the result. this has no plot, so just enjoy the whirlwind of emotions!

the cold air bites at your exposed flesh like a hungry wolf. you ignore your discomfort as you hike up the heavy skirt of your gown and delve deeper into the pitch-dark forest. stray moonbeams cut through the dense canopy and illuminate patches of earth and gaps between the trees, your winding path mostly guesswork as you feel your way through the vegetation.

branches sharp as claws rip your gown and flay your flesh, and while you can faintly feel the warm dribble of blood down your frozen temple, it’s difficult to focus on anything other than moving forward. shreds of shimmering velvet catch in brambles as you run, but the sickening sound of fabric tearing doesn’t reach your ears.

after what feels like hours of running, your senses are overwhelmed to the point of numbness. the only absolute truth is your ragged breathing; everything else is hearsay as you float through the night, a whisper among the leaves. the primal urge to just survive is your sole guide.

your lungs burn and legs ache—at least you think they do—but your mind and body are currently separate entities. you know your pace is unsustainable, and you cry out to the gods in relief when you finally crash through the tree line and into a clearing. the moon hangs brightly in the inky sky, light rippling on the surface of a lake so large it stretches beyond the horizon.

you collapse to the ground in a pool of tattered velvet, frantically gasping for air as the tight bodice of your gown painfully squeezes your chest. a wave of nausea rolls over you and you bite back the urge to retch.

stretching your legs out, you clumsily gather your skirt and pull it back, gasping when you see the mottled bruises and bloody gashes that litter your skin. feet in agony, you opt to crawl to the edge of the lake to peer at your reflection in the frigid water.

“you can’t hide from me, princess.”

the smooth taunt stops you mid-crawl, horror blossoming in your gut and unfurling to caress every nerve in your now-trembling body. as if you can no longer control your movements—can you ever when he’s around?—you slowly turn to face the shadowy forest.

you see his eyes before anything else. his right iris shines silver like a honed dagger and his left glows crimson like spilled blood. when kakashi emerges from the cover of darkness, you forget your fear for a moment and bristle with irritation. he looks impeccable—not a strand of hair or thread of clothing is out of place. he doesn’t look like he has been tracking you through the wilderness for hours. for a split second, your right palm itches to slap his perfect face.

kakashi is unhurried as he approaches you, soaking in the sight of the kingdom’s beloved princess at his feet, cowering in defeat. when he reaches you, kneeling down so you are eye level, he decides that you have never looked more beautiful.

your soft face is covered in claret scrapes and angry welts, shiny eyes swollen and dripping hot tears. your hair has fallen out of the intricate updo your handmaiden worked on all afternoon; most of the pearls and pins that once adorned your silken strands would now rot away on the forest floor. the expensive gown that took hundreds of hours of labor and dozens of seamstresses to craft is now unrecognizable.

fear courses through your veins under his scrutiny, but kakashi doesn’t have to look at you to know how you feel. he can smell how terrified you are. it only makes him desire you more.

he reaches out a gloved hand to brush your icy cheek, but you jerk away from his touch. he simply tuts in mock annoyance. “there is nowhere left for you to run, princess.” his coo is cloying as he leans over you. his signature mask covers the bottom half of his face, but when he sees you eyeing the fabric, he slips it down with a cruel smirk. “if you want to look, all you have to do is ask, my little omega.”

you swallow dryly at those words. you are no longer just an omega; you are his omega, his mate. the fetters of royalty have chained you to this man—this monster. kakashi moves to grip both of your arms at the elbows, large hands gently pulling you closer and closer until you tumble into his lap.

“no matter how many times you try to run, i will always find you,” kakashi murmurs into your ear, warm breath lighting a fire beneath your skin. he nuzzles your cheek then grazes his fangs down the side of your neck, leaving goosebumps his wake; you shiver beautifully for him. “do you know why, pup?”

you whimper as kakashi’s lips ghost his mark on the juncture of your neck and shoulder. he kisses the healing wound sweetly before laving his tongue over it until you breathe a pleased sigh. kakashi raises his head to meet your heavy lidded gaze, one hand cradling your face, the other—now gloveless, claws exposed—slicing down the length of your dress until you sit completely bare. his lips meet yours chastely, but for some inexplicable reason, you hunger for more. he pulls back with a chuckle after you try to pry his mouth open with your tongue. both of his hands come up to wrap around your neck, thumbs pressing sharply beneath your chin.

“it’s because you’re mine.”

[kdwg]

• Scaramouche x Eroded God!Reader • Genshin Impact

----

•Warning: English is not my first language, I use ggl translate, Vietnamese version below, hurt-comfort, soft!Scara.

Words: 1,5k

English Version:

"Just do what I say, okay?"

You respond with a weak nod. Scaramouche can see your eyebrows furrowed, your nails digging into your knees and your back hunched over like a millipede. He sighs, the overwhelming pain inside you was growing stronger, almost beyond endurance. Scaramouche is afraid you will soon lose consciousness, and worst of all, you won't hear anything he says anymore.

He snaps his fingers to signal a few times:

"I know you're in a lot of pain, don't focus on it, just listen to me."

Scaramouche straightens your back. You can hear him whispering in your ear, repeating the words relax over and over. The fingers on the shoulder pin to the wall are now running down to the lower abdomen, the back of his hand places on the navel slowly pressing gently.

"Don't breathe through your mouth. Absolutely not. Breathe out completely."

He is pleased when his knuckles feel your ribs and pelvis.

"Very good. Inhale, expanding your belly, making sure each inhale is so full that you can't take another breath. Then, exhale completely, flattening your belly. Repeat ten times."

You seem to be struggling, the pain is so great that you can't fully relax your muscles. However, you did as Scara said, trying to focus on your breathing, mentally maintaining those words like a broken tape recorder.

"Hey! You're transferring the pain into--"

Before he can finish speaking, Scara quickly squeezes your mouth painfully enough for moans to escape from your throat. You felt two of his knuckles wedged between your jaws followed by a sharp crack as you bit down and pieces that felt like porcelain or plastic shattered in your mouth. They quickly turned into pale yellow spots of light, drifting along with the red blood flowing down the chin and floor. You coughs, your whole body collapses, the agony was like a cleansing spear cutting your body in half. At that moment, there was only a plaintive scream in your ears, not Scaramouche's, your mind was only filled with a dazzling, dense white that made your eyes and skin numb. You find yourself exposed to the naked essence, they burn your nerves, the pain is excruciating but you cannot move even a knuckle bend. Everything is just white, white and polarized to the point that it's like three or four millennia have passed, and life is inviting you back to the dark night.

"Hey! Wake up, did you hear anything?"

You realize you are screaming, you are in a kneeling position holding your head. Scaramouche used all his strength to get you back into a meditative position but it was useless, you looked like a dried corpse.

When the pain fades, you take a deep breath, repeat what he told you five times before standing up straight on your hands and knees.

"Kunikuzushi..."

"You're always like that, you always hold your breath when you're in pain."

He frowns, placing two uninjured fingers under your nose to check the stability of your breathing.

"I hurt you again."

You grab his wrist, pull him closer. Half of his mangled hand is still bleeding. Raising his head to look into his eyes, Scara just gives you the look like not to worry. Sighing, you kiss his white wrist, blue light envelopes both of you and in a moment his beautiful hand intacts.

"I can heal myself. If you still have the strength, you'd better find a way to lift your body up."

Scaramouche let you lay your head on his shoulder, hearing your own panting, you also guessed his dissatisfied expression.

"Just makes your work easier."

Scaramouche is not a good at healing his wounds, and he rarely lets himself get seriously injured in fights. You're right, if he needed to heal half of his hand by himself, he'd have to keep it hidden in his pocket for a week at the palace.

"So does it work?"

"Maybe it would be effective if I focused completely on my breathing. At first I did as you said and it helped, but at the last moment the erosion was almost at its peak, I passed out and stopped breathing... To be honest it was quite difficult to do."

Scaramouche laughs:

"If every time it hurts you remember what I said, do half of it would be great."

"What do you mean by that?"

Seeing your confused face, he hesitates for a moment but finally answeres:

"I'm going to Sumeru, I'm not sure how long it will take..."

Scaramouche knows it is quite useless to look for some method to relieve your pain when most of them are useless. He also understands that even if it's painful, you can get over it, whether he's here or not doesn't help much. However, Scaramouche couldn't stop worrying about leaving you to torment yourself.

"I'll be fine. Even if I breathe wrong or stop breathing, I'll still live."

"That's right, I worry about nothing."

He smirks and looks down condescendingly. Having said that, he cleaned up the mess before holding you down.

"I have to go, take care of yourself...okay?"

"You look worried. You won't come back?"

You confusedly clasp your fingers together when you catch Scara's complex, long look at you. Fear comes when you start to think he was too tired of taking care of you and now Scara was choosing a reason, looking for a good excuse to leave. If he does that, you think you'll still be okay, you'll overcome everything, even dying alone, if you've come this far, all the worries in the world are just...

"No, I just don't know if I can return or not."

Scara interrupts your train of thoughts, his hand covering your withered eyes.

"Why are you discouraged this time? It's not like you at all..."

"It's a premonition."

You intertwine your hands in his and whispered:

"Didn't I bless you?"

Once again, you spread kisses on the hand that had been broken countless times because of you.

"Are you saying this is a blessing?" Scara laughs mockingly, "To be honest, I expected something more. But, I think I will find a way to return, I'm afraid it will take a long time, soon maybe a year, maybe longer... thirty or fifty years?"

An indescribable wistful look, Scara suppresses a sigh of frustration, you have enough problems to worry about, he doesn't want to make the situation worse. But, he is just afraid that at this rate, if he doesn't come back soon, you may not remember who you are, don't even say him.

"I won't forget you," You pull him closer, clasping your hands in a very urgent prayer position, "Even if I lose myself. Please promise to return, I can wait as long as it takes."

Hearing your voice lost in endless fear, eyes bright and pure, lips trembling, he smiles faintly:

"Does someone like you have to beg?"

"Aren't you my god?"

Scaramouche leans in to kiss affectionately at the tail of your eyes as deep as a well:

"I'm always your god, right?"

He bends down, snuggles into the crook of your neck, he doesn't know how long it will be before he can immerse in your hug and kiss.

"I will return, I am not the one who would betray my archon."

Scara places one last kiss on your forehead as you drift off into a light sleep. He put firewood in the stove, turns off some candles and oil lamps, adjusts the blanket and the direction of your slippers.

I hope that on the days I leave, Snezhnaya will be warmer.

Vietnamese version:

"Hãy làm theo những gì tôi bảo, được chứ?"

Bạn đáp lại bằng cái gật đầu yếu ớt. Scaramouche có thể thấy lông mày nhíu sâu lại, móng tay đâm sâu vào đầu gối và lưng bạn còng rạp xuống như một con cuốn chiếu. Anh thở dài, nỗi đau chồng chéo đang dày xéo bên trong bạn đang ngày càng lớn dần sắp vượt ngoài sức chịu đựng. Scaramouche lo sợ bạn sẽ sớm mất đi ý thức, tệ nhất là bạn sẽ không còn nghe thấy anh nói gì nữa.

Anh búng tay ra hiệu vài lần:

"Tôi biết chị đang rất đau, đừng tập trung vào nỗi đau, hay nghe tôi nói."

Scaramouche chỉnh cho lưng bạn ưỡn thẳng. Bạn có thể nghe thấy tiếng anh thì thầm bên tai lặp đi lặp lại hai chữ thả lỏng. Những ngón tay trên vai ghim vào tường giờ đang chạy dọc xuống bụng dưới, mu bàn tay anh đặt trên phần rốn từ từ ấn nhẹ.

"Đừng thở bằng miệng. Tuyệt đối không. Thở ra hết đi."

Anh hài lòng khi đốt ngón tay mình sờ nắn được phần xương sườn và xương chậu của bạn.

"Tốt lắm. Hít vào, căng bụng ra, chắc chắn rằng mỗi lần hít vào đầy đến mức chị không thể hít thêm. Sau đó, thở ra hết hơi, xẹp bụng lại. Lặp lại như vậy mười lần."

Bạn có vẻ chật vật, nỗi vần vã quá lớn khiến bạn không thể thả lỏng được hết cơ bắp. Tuy nhiên, bạn chật vật làm theo điều Scara nói, cố gắng tập trung vào hơi thở, trong đầu tâm niệm duy trì những lời ấy như một cái máy ghi âm bị hỏng.

"Này! Chị đang chuyển nỗi đau vào--"

Chưa kịp dứt lời, Scara vội vã bóp miệng bạn đủ đau để những tiếng rên la bật ra khỏi cổ họng. Bạn cảm giác hai đốt ngón tay anh chèn giữa hai hàm và theo sau là tiếng rắc chói tay lúc bạn cắn xuống và những mảnh tựa như sứ hay nhựa vỡ tan tành trong khoang miệng. Chúng nhanh chóng hoá thành đốm sáng vàng nhàn nhạt, trôi theo dòng máu đỏ chảy xuống cằm và sằn. Bạn ho sặc sụa, cả thân hình đổ sập, cơn đau thống khổ tựa như một mũi giáo tẩy trần đang xẻ đôi thân xác. Bấy giờ trong tai bạn chỉ còn tiếng hét ai oán, không phải của Scaramouche, tâm trí chỉ còn một màu trắng đặc sệt chói loà và bức mắt làm con người da thịt tê tái. Bạn thấy bản thân mình như phơi giữa cái tinh túy trần trụi, chúng đốt cháy sợi dây thần kinh, đau đớn khôn xiết nhưng bạn không thể cử động dù chỉ là một cái gập khớp ngón tay. Tất cả chỉ có trắng rã, trắng rã phân cực đến độ tựa như ba bốn thiên niên kỉ trôi qua, đời mời trao trả lại miền đêm tăm tối.

"Này! Tỉnh dậy đi, chị có nghe thấy gì không?"

Bạn nhận ra mình đang gào thét, bản thân ở tư thế quỳ rạp ôm đầu. Scaramouche dùng hết sức bình sinh để gỡ bạn trở lại tư thế thiền định nhưng vô ích, bạn giống một cái xác chết khô.

Khi cơn đau nhạt dần, bạn hít một hơi thật sâu, lặp lại theo những gì anh chỉ năm lần rồi mới chống tay ngồi thẳng dậy ở thế quỳ.

"Kunikuzushi..."

"Chị luôn như vậy, chị luôn nín thở mỗi khi chị đau."

Anh nhăn mày, đặt hai ngón tay không bị thương dưới mũi bạn để kiểm tra độ bình ổn của hơi thở.

"Tôi lại làm đau em rồi."

Bạn cau mày nắm lấy cổ tay của anh kéo lại gần. Một nửa bàn tay nham nhở vẫn còn đang chảy máu, ngẩng đầu nhìn vào mắt anh, Scara chỉ ngụ ý đừng bận lòng. Thở dài, bạn hôn lên cổ tay trắng ngần ấy, những làn sáng xanh bao trùm lấy cả hai và trong chốc lát bàn tay đẹp đẽ của anh đã nguyên vẹn như cũ.

"Tôi có thể tự chữa lành, nếu còn sức tốt nhất chị nên tìm cách xách được cái thân dậy."

Scaramouche để bạn gục đầu lên vai anh, nghe tiếng thở dốc của bản thân, bạn cũng đã đoán ra nét mặt không hài lòng của anh.

"Chỉ là cho em làm việc dễ dàng hơn."

Scaramouche không phải là người tự chữa các vết thương tốt, đặc biệt anh cũng hiếm khi để mình bị thương nặng trong các cuộc giao tranh. Bạn nói không sai, nếu tự thân chữa trị nửa bàn tay chắc cả tuần đến cung điện anh phải giấu khư khư trong túi áo.

"Vậy nó có hiệu quả không?"

"Có lẽ sẽ hiệu quả nếu tôi tập trung hoàn toàn vào hơi thở. Lúc đầu tôi làm theo lời em nói thì đúng là có ích, nhưng cơn bào mòn vào phút cuối gần như là đỉnh điểm, tôi đã bất tỉnh và ngừng hô hấp ngay sau đó... Thành thật mà nói nó khá khó thực hiện."

Scaramouche cười trừ:

"Nếu mỗi lúc đau chị chịu nhớ lời tôi nói, thực hiện được một nửa là đã tốt lắm rồi."

"Nói thế là sao?"

Bắt gặp khuôn mặt khó hiểu của bạn, anh lưỡng lự một lúc nhưng cuối cùng vẫn trả lời:

"Tôi sẽ đến Sumeru một chuyến, chưa rõ bao lâu sẽ về..."

Scaramouche biết khá là vô ích khi tìm một số phương pháp để thuyên giảm cơn đau của bạn khi hầu hết chúng là vô dụng. Anh đồng thời cũng hiểu dù đau đớn bạn cũng đều có thể vượt qua được, chuyện anh có mặt ở đây hay không đều chẳng mấy giúp ích. Song, Scaramouche không nguôi nỗi lo canh cánh để mặc bạn tự dày vò.

"Tôi sẽ ổn thôi. Dù có thở sai cách hay ngưng thở, tôi vẫn sẽ sống."

"Phải rồi, tôi toàn lo chuyện không đâu."

Anh cười khẩy nhìn xuống đầy trịnh thượng. Nói rồi, anh lau dọn đống lộn xộn trước khi bế bạn nằm xuống.

"Tôi sắp phải đi rồi, hãy tự chăm sóc bản thân...được không?"

"Trông em có vẻ lo lắng, em sẽ không quay trở lại?"

Bạn bối rối đan những ngón tay vào nhau khi bắt gặp ánh nhìn phức cảm thật lâu của Scara nhìn mình. Nỗi sợ hãi ập đến khi bạn bắt đầu nghĩ anh quá mệt mỏi với việc chăm sóc bạn và giờ Scara đang lựa một lí do, tìm một cái cớ thoả đáng để bỏ đi. Nếu anh làm vậy, bạn nghĩ bạn vẫn sẽ ổn thôi, bạn sẽ vượt qua tất cả, kể cả cái chết đơn độc, bạn đã đi xa đến mức này thì mọi âu lo trên đời chỉ là...

"Không, chỉ là không biết có trở về được hay không thôi."

Scara cắt đứt mạch suy nghĩ, bàn tay anh phủ kín đôi mắt héo mòn của bạn.

"Tại sao lần này em lại nhụt chí? Không giống em chút nào..."

"Là dự cảm."

Bạn đan tay mình vào tay anh, thì thầm nói:

"Chẳng phải tôi đã chúc phúc cho em?"

Một lần nữa, bạn rải những nụ hôn lên bàn tay đã vô số lần gãy nát vì bạn.

"Chị nói cái này là chúc phúc sao?" Scara bật cười nhạo báng, "Thành thật mà nói, tôi trông chờ thứ gì nhiều hơn nữa. Nhưng, tôi nghĩ tôi sẽ tìm cách trở về, chỉ sợ là rất lâu, sớm có thể là một năm, lâu hơn có thể là ba mươi năm mươi năm?"

Một ánh nhìn đăm chiêu khó tả, Scara nén tiếng thở dài ngao ngán, bạn có đủ vấn đề đáng bận tâm rồi, anh không muốn làm tình hình trở nên tệ hơn. Nhưng, anh chỉ sợ đà này, nếu không trở về sớm, bạn có khi không nhớ bản thân mình là ai chứ đừng nói là anh.

"Tôi sẽ không quên em đâu," Bạn kéo anh lại gần làm tư thế chắp tay cầu nguyện vô cùng khẩn thiết, "Dù kể cả đánh mất bản thân. Làm ơn hãy hứa sẽ trở về, tôi đợi bao lâu cũng được."

Nghe giọng bạn lạc đi trong nỗi sợ miên man, đôi mắt sáng thống khiết, bờ môi run rẩy, anh cười nhạt:

"Người như chị cũng phải cầu xin sao?"

"Em không phải là thần của tôi sao?"

Scaramouche nghiêng mình để hôn trìu mến lên đáy mắt sâu như giếng của bạn:

"Khi nào tôi cũng là thần của chị đúng không?"

Anh cúi xuống, rúc mình vào hõm cổ, anh không biết bao lâu nữa mới được vồ vập trong cái ôm, cái hôn của bạn.

"Tôi sẽ trở về, tôi không phải người sẽ bội ước archon của mình."

Scara đặt một nụ hôn cuối cùng lên trán khi bạn chìm dần vào giấc ngủ nông. Anh cho củi vào lò, tắt một số ngọn nến và đèn dầu, chỉnh lại chăn và xoay hướng chiều dép cho bạn.

Anh mong những ngày anh rời đi, Snezhnaya sẽ trổ nắng.

[mynameisjag]

With Friends Like These

Chapter Two

Notes: DP x X-Men

The Fenton parents mistakes come back in the form of G.I.W working with the Friends of Humanity.

Decided to post this chapter here as it's own with the one on the A03 profile.

He should leave, he should go down to the basement into the portal, grab anyone that is willing to help him and get rid of the place that has his sister prisoner.

He should freeze it over, cold enough that it feels like it burns to touch, ice that sticks to skin, killing nerves, muscles…bury the tundra that beats in his own chest into theirs.

Yet…he continues sitting on the stairs that lead up to their bedrooms, face buried close to his knees and arms wrapped around his head.

Danny can’t leave…not until the men his parents have called are gone.

The hand full of agents in their home rushed in like a stampede, making their own demands, passing the blame around to anyone and everyone that wasn’t them.

His mom and dad are screaming back at them, his father’s loud voice seems to shake the walls with his anger…no one questions it…

One of the men had made their way over to him, another reason he couldn’t just go, someone had their eyes on him.

“Don’t worry your head off lad, we’ll get your sis back, girlie might be smart as a whip but she didn’t get it from no freakish genes, not with the way she pours herself over those books, right?”

If only this man really knew…the one with the “freakish genes” was the one he was talking to.

Danny hates him, hates them…and he feels the worse for it…

“They’ll probably just run some harmless test on her and she’ll be back before dinner, yeah?”

He’s lying, lying to protect what ever connection they’ve made with his parents, lying to protect himself…

“Look it this way, if she does have something, she’ll be taken care of.”

Danny is fourteen, not even a year dead, has traveled through time and space, has fought the worst of himself and tries his best to keep a balance between his worlds.

Danny is fourteen and he wonders what idiot decided to give him responsibility of overwhelming powers. What force would want to bless him, curse him, like this? In a world of heroes, he still finds himself facing things someone his age shouldn’t be up against much less someone his senior.

He is fourteen and he wants to hate the man in front of him as much as he and the others he came in with hate others that are different.

The ghosts that escape the Realms are far different then the ones that haunt the living in the shadows. His head might be down but he can still hear the whispers of those these men have lead to death.

They too are filled with an all encompassing hatred, moments of pain forever tied to these people, of agony of force forfeited life. The lingering essence of death too soon hangs off their shoulders like stained cloaks.

He weeps, the thrum in his chest calls out to a creator that he wishes he was ignorant about, he keeps his head down, the coldness of his tears still flowing and numbing his cheeks.

There is a hand on his back, quick little pats that are supposed to be comforting instead leave the feeling of prickly bug legs squirming under his skin, “Ah, lad, they did say ya was abit of a soft heart, bet all this talk about spooks and mutants got ya feeling all worked up.”

The man continues to linger, awkward in the way one doesn’t know what to do with a distressed child, before finally just leaving the teen on the stairs and heading back down to rejoin the others.

Danny can hear him whispering to one of the suits, they think he is too timid to know anything, that he’s heart condition renders him unlikely to get possessed because of the strain and that any powers he had would have been activated by now.

The G.I.W has taken him running off to transform as a kid that is terrified of the world around him and they probably want to use that because that is what they do. They use ignorance and fear to grow their ranks and spread their own fear and hate.

His parents are the same.

Not quick enough, they finally leave, pushed out by his Dad, rage thick enough that even base humans would be able to choke on it, his mother’s fury, just as strong but quieter as she joins Danny an the stairs.

She curls around him, whispering about how they will get Jazz back, they’ll figure this whole mess out and everything will go back to normal.

Normal hasn’t existed for him awhile now and what ever thin line his family had been balance on has finally broken. There is no going back to the false mask they had put on as a ‘happy family’.

The barrier has snapped, something finally gave and the one that is currently paying the price his older sister.

He wants rage, wants to fling his mothers poor attempts of comfort away from him and show them, those men, everyone what his anger brings.

…but he can’t…he can’t because he knows it will just make things worse if he rushes fool heartily in…this is not a singular enemy to beat and what ever moves and actions he takes will effect the future and it’s balance in permanent consequences that could potentially spell out a terrible future for…everyone…

Danny weeps, the slow dissipation of the agents haunted ghosts and their furious whispers echo, his mother’s empty words holding nothing that could help him and his father’s smothering rage lingers even as the man himself is now downstairs in the basement.

He weeps, he hides he brightened blue eyes that swirl with color green, he pushes down his anger in attempt to be able to think and he wishes that he was able to hate those responsible for everything guilt free…

Mostly he doesn’t want the feeling to consume him like it has everything else in his life…he doesn’t want to become his parents…

So he let’s his mother find her own comfort in trying to encourage him while he takes a moment to mourn…he can only afford this moment.

They don’t notice the storm outside, the clouds gathering, spinning slowly, darkening, the air becoming icy, snow already gathering on the outskirts of town…someone else notices though…

Pure white eyes watch the weather above, a frown on her lips before she raises her hand and dissipates the incoming danger, as though she did a simple clean swipe of the air. The sun shining once again, warming the area quickly, she turns her attention to her companion.

He crouches over one of the rapidly disappearing snow piles that had just started to form, eyeing a half form deer skull made of ice that was already melting away. It seemed to have been emerging from the snow itself, forming out of the coldness…

It’s teeth were wrong though…meant more for tearing apart flesh then the what a deer’s usual diet is.

It melts into slosh, slipping between his fingers, thicker then water…feeling more like the spill of fresh blood…it seeps back into the ground.

They glance at each other and without speaking, move forward into the town.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Bleeding Love 🌸

You have Hanahaki disease and time Is running out to confess your feelings for Eddie.

Even in the darkest times hope finds a way.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of blood, hanahaki disease, unrequited love or is it? fluff.

Don't copy, reuse or repost my work.

❤️

The Blossoms are pink, innocent looking but they insight fear in you that you've never felt before.

You've faced monsters in the Upside Down but this is the scariest shit you've ever seen.

Pain grips your stomach and you vomit, the Blossoms are growing more and more each time your sick.

When the disease first took root inside you, the petals were so small, it was easy to forget that it even happened (even if in the back of your mind the worry bloomed each passing hour)

Over the last few weeks the petals had been growing in volume. To the point that you were making excuses not to see your friends, anxiety and stress from what was happening overwhelming you.

Stomach aching you curl up on your bed terrified about the severity of the situation you were in.

Hanahaki disease had took hold on you and every day you suffered more and more, the only way for this to stop was if you confessed your feelings to the one person who you were madly in love with.

Eddie Munson, but that was impossible. He was your friend, he had a girlfriend and you knew he didn't feel the same.

You were doomed literally to unrequited love and there was nothing you can do to stop it.

♥️

Hiding it from the boys at Hellfire ended rapidly. Harriet was at the latest meeting with Eddie and even though you tried to ignore the constant affection she was lavishing on Eddie, you heard all of it.

Each kiss or comment made your heart rip open at the seams, agony wracks your stomach and you can barely concentrate on the game.

You don't notice Eddie watching you concerned.

Eventually the pain is too much to ignore, the pain in your body is vicious and petals force their up your throat, it chokes you and you being to cough.

Dustin who is beside you, immediately begins to panic and the game is forgotten in the panic.

"What's wrong with her?" Harriet screeches and Eddie is by your side in an instant. His presence should be soothing but it has the opposite effect and the petals are soon brought up.

Blood and the petals mix on the table and you stumble into Gareth who catches you before you fall.

"Shit" Lucas eyes are wide and blown and Jeff looks sick to his stomach.

"Fuck... Is that? Are those petals" you nod feeling numb and tears run down your cheeks.

"How long?" Gareth asks and you wipe your eyes, shaking.

"A few weeks, it's getting worse" Eddie looks between you and Gareth his eyebrow raised and panic over his face.

"You know what this is?" he demands to Gareth who nods sadly and squeezes your hand.

"Hanahaki disease, the victim of the disease coughs up flower petals when suffering from one sided love" silence fills the room and you're helped up by Dustin and Lucas.

"Well, there has to be a cure right?" Eddie implores and Gareth swallows, tense. He doesn't want to say what you already know and have to accept.

"Eddie... She has to confess to who she loves and they return her feelings. It can't be friendly feelings it has to be love" Eddie's face turns paler by the minute and his voice is barely a whisper as he asks his next question.

"What's the other option?"

"Wait I've heard of this disease Nance has a book on it the other option it's..." Mike freezes and Eddie looks like he might explode at any minute.

"Don't leave us in fucking suspense Wheeler! What is it?" his voice is higher now and he moves closer to you, concern and worry pouring off him.

"Death" Mike murmurs and Eddie stiffens on the spot and he turns to you his face full of determination.

"Yeah, that's not fucking happening. Who's the guy? Is it Harrington" Eddie demands and you shake your head, your throat is scratchy and you cough again, bits of petals falling out your mouth.

"It's no use Eddie. He doesn't feel the same" you know it in your bones. Eddie's face falls and he shakes his head.

"No, no fucking way. You're not going anywhere you hear me. Who is he? You have to tell him princess" There's a tiny note of hysteria in his voice and you touch his cheek gently.

"I can't force him to love me Eddie" your voice is tender and kind but it doesn't stop Eddie's lip from wobbling and real tears pool in his eyes.

"I can't lose you" he whispers and your heart breaks at his pain. The coughing starts again and the force burns your lungs, has you gasping for breath.

String arms steady you and you rest your head on Gareths shoulder. "I need to go home"

You're exhausted, aching all over and just want to sleep, Mike calls Nancy on his walkie talkie and you hear snippets of their conversation.

"Wait Nancy says that surgery is an option to remove the infection! It removes the feelings too and all memory of the person"

Lose your memories of Eddie? There was no way. You shake your head.

"Not an option" Eddie gapes at you and anger crosses his features.

"I don't care if this douchebag is a Greek god he's not worth your fucking life. You don't deserve to die princess"

Harriet is watching Eddie with a contemplative look on her face and she reaches out to him.

"Can we talk?"

♥️

Eddie is out of his mind with worry. Anger, frustration and panic fills his veins and he kicks a near by trashcan to let some of the feelings out.

"Eddie" Harriet begins and he shakes his head feeling the beginnings of a panic attack take hold.

"I can't lose her, I can't" the fear chokes him and he can't calm down. Harriet softens as she watches him.

"Wow, you really do love her don't you" she gets it now, how he was never really fully invested in her, not while his heart was with you.

It hurts a little but she thinks on some level she's always known. Eddie nods.

"Of course I do. She's my best friend" he replies instantly and she chuckles.

"Sweetie, that's not what I mean. You're in love with her aren't you?" she expects Eddie to deny all the feelings but his shoulders slump and he sighs sadly.

"She's in love with someone else incase you haven't noticed and it's killing her" Harriet ignore this and kisses Eddie on the cheek.

"We had a good run. Do me a favour yeah? Tell her. You never know, that's all I'm saying" he looks skeptical but nods and just like that she walks out of his life.

♥️

Everything smells like Eddie, Old Spice, a hint of smoke and leather. You open your eyes to find you're in his bed and he's beside sitting on the floor beside you, his hand in yours.

"How did I get here?" you barely remember anything that happened and Eddie fills you in.

"I brought you here. Wanted to keep an eye on you sweetheart" it warms your heart and you squeeze his hand.

"Maybe there is hope with this surgery thing? Might be a good idea or at least worth a try? If you get rid of these feelings it's best for you." Eddie gets up and settles on the bed looking hopeful and he continues speaking.

"Still don't you want to at least confess and know for sure that he doesn't feel the same" this quietens you for a moment and you ponder this.

At least you would know either way.

"I... It's you Eddie. It's always been you" for a second Eddie doesn't say anything and you're already cursing yourself for screwing up.

"I know you don't feel the same and it's okay, you have Harriet and... He doesn't let you finish the words as his lips press to yours.

The action stuns you but the feel of Eddie's lips on yours is perfect, you ease into the kiss before pulling away as reality sinks in.

"We can't... Harriet is your girl" he shakes his head and you're confused. What the hell happened in the last couple of hours?

"She told me to tell you how I feel. We're over sweetheart. It would never have worked out because I'm head over heels in love with you"

The reality of his words don't sink in until the pain in your body lessons and begins to fade, the pressure on your lungs eases bit by bit and breathing feels easier and easier.

It only means one thing. Eddie does love you like you love him. The joy is all consuming and instead of agony all you feel now is hope and blooming happiness.

"Eddie" There's tears in your eyes and his stare back at you with utter devotion as he cups your cheeks.

"I wish you would have said sooner princess, the thought of you in all of this pain, god I love you so fucking much. To think I could have lost you...'' emotions overwhelm him and he kisses you again.

Everything feels brighter, your body healing from it's ordeal the last few weeks as Eddie presses kisses onto your lips and between each kiss is three little words.

I love you.

The happiness blooms even stronger now.

🌸

[monstrouslyobsessed]

vile affection

concept: in which your guardian angel wishes nothing but misfortune for you—just to keep you. —momster

—a/n: well no one asked for a concept and I wanna post smth so here it is!! enjoyyyyy~

side note, i tried to be vague on what religion this story is referencing to so you yourself can implement your preferred beliefs, but unfortunately, catholicism still carried some weights in this one. sorry!! i tried my best dlfkfsdl

—tw / tags: gn reader, implied loved one(s) death(s), implied killing, heavy religious themes, grief, horror, body horror, teratophilia, exophilia, general yandere themes, sfw.

—featured character(s): the guardian angel / the angel, the (unfortunate) priest

A piercing wail erupted from the depths of your throat as you crumbled to the floor, shrieking into your phone, “No, no, nonono! No!”

Not another one…!

Sobs wracked your body so hard the sounds emerged as tiny high-pitched squeaks. Tears blurred your vision to near blindness, distorting the colors into blobs of grey. Your breaths came so harshly they scorched your lungs.

Curling into a ball, you lost control and hyperventilated. With wild abandon, you pounded your fist on the cold tiled floor and released inhuman cries of agony. Something throbbed where your knuckles had split open, staining the hard ceramic surface with your blood, yet you felt nothing. Numbness drenched the overwhelming misery and panic, and your world creased its spinning.

They were gone—every single one of them.

Distantly, a voice, laced with sympathy, pleaded with you not to hang up the phone. Without hesitation, your battered hand moved on its own accord to end the call. You sat there, head between your knees, as you let the device to slip away to clatter and crack against the floor.

Now, there was nothing left, nothing but the hollowing emptiness that gaped deep within your pounding chest, where the love of your life had once filled and kept it warm. Memories of their smiles faded as tears stung your swollen eyes. Wheezing sobs continued to fill the room, oblivious to a strange distortion perching on your bowed back to comfort you.

The funeral was a somber affair, a closed-casket viewing attended by strangers. You remained quiet throughout the priest’s recitation of the psalms, disregarding the whispered condolences offered your way. It took every ounce of your strength not to jump into that casket and howl your grief.

“Poor thing…” one attendant murmured to another, “this makes it the fifth loss in this year alone, doesn’t it?”

The other attendant responded sympathetically, stealing a brief glance in your direction. Anger flared within you, only to fade just as quickly when you felt something brush against your bare neck; feather-soft, cold and intangible. You tensed.

This was not the first time you had experienced these strange sensations—these invisible touches. At times, it would gently trace down your skin, soothing like a caress on the back of your hand, or enveloping you like an embrace around your waist. But, it always felt as though it was petting you with a sharp, scalpel-like claw, sharp and unyielding. These sensations left behind only cold goosebumps and an increasing sense that something was extremely wrong.

Once, you thought it might be the ghost of your loved one—but even you knew such possibilities were ludicrous. It could be your mind breaking apart under the weight of so many consecutive tragedies; less than a year felt like a lifetime of pain. And, by certain, their touches had never felt so…disgusting and inhuman.

There were moments where the hairs on the back of your neck bristled and you heard the faint disembodied crooning, words too indistinct for you to understand. Yet, it vaguely resembled a demonic chorus, singing some eerie song. The lingering echoes, you thought, was just an auditory hallucinations brought on by intense grief.

The phenomena worsened each loss you suffered though. These unseen presences grew more persistent and suffocating, clinging to you like a shroud of darkness. Your instincts would scream at you to flee—but how could you escape from something you don’t even know was there?

Rubbing unconsciously where the invisible entity touched you, you remained in your seat, fixated on the casket. As you waited for the priest to conclude his prayer for the departed soul’s safe passage to the afterlife, you lifelessly watched mourners rising from their seats to form a line to pay their respects.

Your mind was numbed by both exhaustion and sorrow to even count them all.

After the attendants withdrew for the impending burial, the priest motioned for you to join him. A gentle—yet strangely tight smile formed on his lips, as he spoke, “Would you mind returning here after the burial? I’d like a word with you.”

You furrowed your brows at the priest's unusual request but nodded, your agreement barely audible. Whatever he had to say couldn’t possibly be more harrowing than the lonely hell you were enduring. Quietly, you promised to return.

After the burial, once the guests departed for the wake, you found yourself alone in the cemetery. An ache gnawed at your heart as you forced yourself to walk back to the ever-looming church. As soon as you stepped inside the holy building, something strange caught the corner of your eyes.

Startled, you pivoted to see what it was.

But, there was nothing there, just the endless rows of gravestones scattered across the green grass. Your muscles taut with unease, you shook your head and drew a deep, heavy breath. Your sanity was fraying to a snapping point, you thought to yourself.

The weighty doors thudded shut behind you, the sound reverberating thunderously throughout the silent sanctuary, nearly jumping you out of your skin. Following the abrupt noise, you heard a voice beckoning you to follow, as the priest shuffled his feet down the aisle.

You couldn’t help but to notice the nervousness in his steps.

Closing the distance between you, he ushered you past the archway and toward the altar of the church’s fallen deity. Lightheaded and worried at the haste and anxiety he displayed, you allowed him to lead you to a room in the rear of the sanctuary. Rashly, he locked the door behind you and stood there stiffly, pressing his ear against the wooden surface.

“Father…?” You glanced at him, fear swelling up at his odd behavior.

His shoulders tensed upon your hesitant voice and he turned to face you, his eyes filled with unmasked horror. Swiftly, the priest made a sign of the cross and whispered a prayer. With a shuddering sigh, he returned his attention to you.

Before you could open your mouth to demand an explanation, he cut in with urgency.

“Tell me, my child, what do you know of the guardian angel?”

Perplexed, you blinked until his urgent words seeped into your mind. Swallowing thickly, you replied in a hoarse voice, stifling the swelling grief in your breast, “They are meant to protect and to guide you in the times of strife and tribulations.”

He fell silent for a moment, then parted his trembling lips, “Then tell me, my child, why has yours only destroyed? Why did it regard you with such a perverse gaze?”

“I…what?” You gaped, a cracked laughter escaping your lips in an unhinged melody.

Had this man lost his mind?

What could he possibly mean? How could this man assume that the loss of your family was the work of divine beings? How ridiculous—

But upon the stern and fearful look in his eyes, disbelief constricted in the pit of your stomach. An overwhelming urge to flee coursed through your nerves, propelling your legs toward the bolted door. You were disrupted by a sudden yank on the collar of your shirt.

An inexplicable dread settled beneath your skin, as the priest forcefully dragged you backward with unexpected strength. Before you could voice your frustration and demand an explanation, the door buckled.

The wood splintered and the shrieks of a demon reverberated.

A scream pierced the air, laden with terror—but you couldn’t discern whose voice it belonged to. Was it your own? Or was it the priest’s? You remained uncertain, as you transfixed by the sight of something great and dreadful emerging from the sundered door.

An angel.

Except, to you, it was not.

Trenched in crimson, the mangled remains of rotten bodies hung from its many jagged wings. Countless eyes turned toward you, each radiating with worship and desire. A seam split on its featureless face, forming a broken maw that drooled with hunger. Its tongue, as dark as oil, swept away the spattered blood on its pure white skin.

Numerous arms reached out for you, each finger tipped with claws, glistening with something pungent. Its resonant voice echoed your name, tainted with the same twisted desire mirrored in their manic eyes. It repeated those three words, like a disturbing hymn.

I love you.

Blood roared in your ears and fear seeped through your body, paralyzing you. You couldn’t move, your vision obscured by a sudden cascade of tears. Disgust churned within you, sickening you to your very core.

You couldn’t even discern the abrupt swing of one of its arms, releasing the lifeless body from its monstrous sword, as the abomination closed in. A flurry of limbs encircled your shivering form, some caressing while others coiled around your spine.

Its’ many eyes blinked at you and its rotting wings fluttered, its grinning face lovingly nuzzled yours. Against your ear, it moaned its proclamation.

I love you.

The slithering tongue smeared across your lips in a parody of kisses. Your skin crawled at the way it touched you, its embrace suffocating, yet sickeningly gentle. Its affection for you was vile. Unwanted.

Your hands beat its armor weakly, attempting to fend it off, and its crooning changed into something sharp and incensed. Snarling, frustrated that it was unable to indulge itself into its unholy pleasure with you, it grabbed your hands and held them tightly.

Sobbing, you knew you would never be able to escape. Desperate to appease it, your voice rasped out from your dry throat,

“I…love…you…too.”

Its painful clenches softened upon your trembling words.

Love swelled within those golden irises.

—end

[shes-some-other-where]

June of Doom Day 15, 28

“Get me out of here!” | Rescue | Gag

Taglist: @scoundrelwithboba, @tildeathiwillwrite

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Contains: restraints, gag, suspicion, non-life threatening injury

WC: 750

Bleeding, fraying edges

Stupidly, the food taster hoped that when the chair fell onto its side—bringing him with it—he would somehow find himself graced with the good fortune of having loosened the ropes on his arms, legs, and torso.

Alas, his luck had at last run dry. His arm, pinned between the chair and the floor, flared with agony and then went numb, deadened to the point where he couldn’t tell quite how injured it was.

Bucking and struggling against the restraints, even with the chair halfway overturned, did little but scrape his skin even more until it was nothing but swollen, bleeding, fraying edges. The knot in his mouth kept his shouts for help woefully subdued, and the thick material sucked away moisture until he was certain he would die of thirst.

By the time the door to his prison reopened, he was soaked with sweat, limp, and on the verge of tearfully agreeing to provide his assistance in murdering a queen.

But the voice that called his name was not the one he expected.

The world tilted the right way again, restored to its proper orientation, and worried hands tore at the gag and the ropes. “You idiot! I told you that you’d get caught up in trouble! Why don’t you listen to me?”

Half-laughing, half-groaning as greatly unwelcome sensation flooded into his arm, the food taster said, embarrassingly sincere, “Okay. I admit it. I should’ve listened. I’m sorry. Now get me out of here.”

“Damn right you’re sorry.” His friend grasped his arms. “Can you stand?”

“I don’t know,” the food taster admitted, a little dizzy when he tried. “How long . . . ?”

His friend replied, but it was then that the food taster realized that his rescue had not been executed independently. A girl in a palace uniform watched him with wide, sympathetic eyes, while a man stood by the door, hunched and silent as he kept watch over the corridor.

“You made friends,” he observed stupidly. The ghost of a smile flicked over the girl’s face.

“Yes. I suppose.” Giving only a raised eyebrow and mere moments as warning, the governor’s son pulled the food taster to his feet, propping him upright to support his trembling limbs. “We, well—we’re not done yet, either.” As if to punctuate this statement, the girl nodded. “She’s looking for someone, too.”

“And we’ll find her,” the girl said adamantly, folding her arms.

The food taster’s stomach sank. “Her? The girl who lured me here? She works for that mad prince.”

As the girl responded tightly, “So do I,” the man by the door went rigid.

“You’ve changed your tune,” his friend said, paling. “I thought . . .”

“He wants me to kill his mother,” the food taster explained in a rush. “The queen. Break some curse and then help poison her. That girl’s the one who—she was looking for me. Because he told—”

A wave of dizziness washed over him as the silent stranger with blood streaking his face and neck turned to meet his gaze.

Overwhelmed by the taste in the air, that salt-and-acid tang of a curse, the food taster nearly gagged.

“You, too,” he said, his heart racing as he pointed toward the man. More cursed gold. How? Why? How many people did the prince manipulate like puppets? “You work for him, too.”

The man’s mouth twisted, and his fingers curled into fists.

“I don’t think so,” said the girl. “I’ve never seen him before. We freed him from another cell here.”

“How can we be certain, though?” the governor’s son asked, cold and wary. “If he can’t say anything?”

The gold around the man’s throat glinted.

The food taster staggered forward, reaching out his non-benumbed hand. “It’s this, isn’t it?”

The metal seemed to sizzle against the man’s skin; the taste of magic burned the air.

The man tried to jerk away, fear and fury contorting his features, but the food taster—the cursebreaker—wrapped his fingers around the chain.

“Explain yourself, then.”

The chain snapped.

The man fell backwards, chest heaving, eyes gleaming and wide, as the cursebreaker collapsed to his knees. Breaking through the fog in his mind—too much magic, too much exertion, too much, too much—came the stranger’s voice, rusty as ancient iron.

“Never mind me,” he rasped. “I want to save her, too. My sister.” He choked as if he suppressed a sob. “I see things. I know things. And I know we have to find her. Now.”

June of Doom Masterlist

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All my writing is original. Feel welcome to interact/comment/reblog. Pls don’t steal or repost.

[lex-the-flex]

A World Between Worlds

Sith!Luke Skywalker x reader

Summary: Picking up the pieces of your shattered soul, the very bonds of space and time open to give you a new experience you never thought was possible.

Word Count: 989

Warning(s): MEGA ANGST, HEARTBREAK AND SADNESS, panic attacks, mentions of depression, (the reader nearly loses hope), brief action and violence, descriptions of injuries, R2 being a resourceful droid, brief exile, love conquers all.

A/N: The new Ashoka ep just gave me so much inspiration for Luke! If you are uncomfortable with ANY of the warnings, then DNI!! Feedback is appreciated and enjoy!

The very air you breathed was taken from your lungs the second you collapsed to your knees. Your entire body went numb as your mind remained blank, as if you couldn't process what just happened. The Grand Admiral stood before you with his new colleague.

Rather, his new Apprentice.

The farm boy turned Jedi Master was now his to control. To do whatever; conquer all that he wished. And there was nothing you could do.

*****

Descending to a familiar place, your feet stumbled underneath you whilst you ripped the orange and white jumpsuit from your body. Dropping the pieces of equipment on the swampy terrain, your dark ebony robes were finally free to flow gracefully with your erratic movements. Snatching the pilot helmet from your head, you threw it to the floor as tears began to well in your eyes.

Feeling your knees buckle beneath you, you refused to fall. Instead, you stood tall and suddenly became overwhelmed at the memories resurfacing of your previous adventure to this marsh. Balling your fists, you couldn't take it anymore. A scream left your chapped lips and you sank to the forest's floor, unable to contain yourself.

Gently covering your heart, your palm began to shake, and you could feel the muscle itself grow weaker and weaker.

He had succumbed to the Dark Side before your own eyes. The man you loved, the only other person in the entire Galaxy who understood what it meant to be a Jedi. Your other half, your shared Force Bond had vanished. Luke Skywalker was gone.

The moment your throat began to ache, the scream had subsided, echoing into the forest; and it was loud enough to be heard across the Galaxy. A series of sobs filled your face and you quietly hugged yourself in silence. The sound of your continuous wails were strong enough to make the Outer Rim sense a hint of sadness in the air, changing the once sunny weather into a cloudy day that eventually sent raging storms to Naboo.

Lowering your head to your chest, your cold tears dripped to the mossy ground below, and the constant rattling of a faithful droid calling to you brought you back. Quickly wiping the tears from your cheeks, you extended your dominant hand, and reached out with the Force.

"Sorry, R2. Let's get you out of there." You manage to say.

Carefully lifting R2 from his spot behind the cockpit of the X-Wing, a searing pain tore through your delicate chest, causing you to drop the droid in the process.

Falling to the ground, you gripped at your heart between your breasts, writhing in pain. Screaming at the pin-prickling, a very faint glow of white light lit up the forest above your body. He leaned over the sleek desk in agony, sharing the same pain you were enduring. Gripping at his chest, the same light hovered above his limp body, and the Admiral ordered that no one touch the young Master.

Then in a flash, the light snapped and cracked like an ornate glass vase. Your shared Bond, conceived from the Force itself, broke in an instant. And you could no longer sense each other as darkness filled your vision, forcing you to sleep.

*****

Dagobah's greenery shifted along with your unending sorrow as you continued to keep a hand over your healing chest. Lying beneath the comfort of your dark cloak, your fingertips hovered over a new patch of green moss on a nearby log. Your exile felt right, but you couldn't deny the longing for your friends. You didn't want to risk putting them in danger, so you remained alone for two months.

Turning to face R2, his whirls and beeps remain cheerful, and you smirk at his never-ending efforts to make you feel better. Shifting your hand to rest on his colorful switches and lights, his cold metal exterior never fails to feel welcoming.

"I'm so sorry, R2. I'm sorry that I couldn't save him. I wasn't strong enough. I'll never be strong enough to save him now. ...I'm all alone." You  apologize, letting your hand sink beside you.

Closing your eyes, you beg for sleep to take over your sore body. But instead, the voices of those who came before fill your ears.

"You're not alone, Y/N. You never will be."

"Been by your side, we have been."

Shifting to your back, you open your e/c orbs to find yourself staring at the infinite sea of stars in the Galaxy. Your brows furrow together as you sit up, gazing around for R2, but he's nowhere to be found. Standing on the holographic ocean waves, your lips par at the sight before you. All the myths and legends were true. It was real.

The World Between Worlds.

Where space and time bend their wills and form an alliance like no other. Just like your broken Force Bond, all things come together. Gazing over your shoulder, the whispers of past guidance flow with the nature of this sacred place.

"Luke?" You call out.

Slowly turning around, your friend's presence fills the air. His cloaked form stands tall before you, and he removes his hood to reveal his icy blue eyes. Sprinting towards him, Luke welcomes you with open arms and holds you tight.

He had returned to you as the Jedi Master you knew and loved. Your shared embrace seemed to heal all of your wounds and mend your broken heart.

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, Y/N. I don't know what came over me -- why I left you. But I managed to escape Thrawn." Luke explains, taking your cheeks in his hands.

"Oh, Luke. Why-- Why did you do..." You try to speak, but can't.

"I know, I know. But I'm here now. I'm all yours, for now and forever." Luke confesses, pressing his forehead to yours, beginning to rebuild your Force Bond in this quiet oasis.

luke skywalker taglist ~

@dreamliners

@midnightepiphany

@ladyrebel25

@maybeimart

@nonbinary-tatooine

@kaleidoscope1967eyes

@tearsleft

@thereallchristine

@partofmejustwantstosleep

@xxx-aurora-swirls

@remusstefon

@annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny

@0paperairplane0

@jobean12-blog

@iamhavingamomenthere-crowley

@winter-soldier-101

@kethamine

@pantaeudaimonia

@acupnoodle

@flawroses

@skx-wlkr-blog

@xplore-the-unknwn

@tatooineknights

@myevilmouse

@edwxrdkenway

@shions-new-blog-of-stuff

[pizzaboat]

Might as well make a list of fun (sad/horrific) things to explore. Headcanons for the motivation I have to write with. Like a reminder list.

TW I suppose

Eda has C-PTSD from all the shit that's happened to her, and maybe BPD too

She still struggles with depression after the show. Her life just doesn't suck half as bad anymore

Massive SI pre-ending that got worse in the time skip

All she has is nightmares, she doesn't dream (that's basically canon)

She's always tired and fluctuates between insomnia and extreme exhaustion that makes it hard to keep her eyes open.

She has had so many panic attacks. Eda is pretty prone to them. She's actually quite an anxious person

What Gwen did for all those years was abuse. Like, emotionally that would fuck anyone up. Same with Lilith

Eda forgives easily in perspective to the crime done to her because she's terrified of being alone. She doesn't see anyone putting in the work to actually make things right with her and stay with her because she's so "difficult to love" so she leaves the door open to her heart constantly

Having detachable limbs has saved her from her mother's "cures" more than once

She's had so many horrible exs, and she chose to date some of them to feel something other than alone and numb. Eda thought she really deserved it with some of them

Eda has spent so long not crying or getting angry when she really wants to, so when she can cry or be angry, it surprises her

She's touch starved and gets separation anxiety from her family now

Eda doesn't feel pain the same anymore. Her threshold is so high that she could break a rib or have internal bleeding and not notice. Really not notice. That's not a curse thing, that's her body adapting to agony for decades

She flinches at loud noises behind her. She flinches during arguments with people. She's on the offence so she doesn't have to be on the defence and Raine points that last bit out to her because they're determined to show her she's safe with them

Eda will start crying over something and not be able to stop. She's super emotionally disregulated

Eda can't sleep for the longest time after the events of the show without being held. Doesn't matter who. She has to hold or be held and not be alone.

Raine spends a lot of nights spooning and doing protective cuddles because Eda falls asleep the fastest that way, and they're worried about her sleeping

Making money was hard at multiple points in her life, even with the door, so she was used to skipping meals to let King, and then Luz, eat and she doesn't see anything wrong with skipping multiple meals in a row. Raine, Lilith, everyone is so concerned, and Raine has to insist that she's maybe making the curse worse this way from the stress of starvation

Raine gently pulls Eda aside to talk about what she tried to do in the woods that day and they check to see if she still feels the same and Eda starts crying. Not because she is, but because she's overwhelmed

Eda always feels overwhelmed

[the-fiction-witch]

Baby Mama P3

Media The queens Gambit

Character Benny Watts

Couple Benny X reader

Rating sweet and Adorable

Concept Baby Mama series

Warning Features heavy swearing & graphic descriptions of childbirth

"Okay, Mrs. Watts we are going to get you set up in room 16, Mr watts you're welcome to the labour waiting area just down the hall" the nurse explained as they sat me on a wheelchair but the moment they did liquid began rushing down my legs "Okay your water may have broke, we need to get you down there now"

"Yeah, okay, I love you." He nods, giving my bump a kiss "I love you." He says kissing my head "I'll see you soon I promise."

"Okay, bye Benny"

"Bye y/n" he smiled before they took me off to the small room setting me up in the bed giving me a gown, and setting my bag by the bed for me They all talked around me but honestly I was kinda in another word just trying to process the pain until my doctor arrived and peeked under my gown

"Ahhh I see"

"What?"

"You are further along than I thought almost fully dilated and water has definitely broken?"

"Almost per minute doctor," the nurse says

"Further along?" I asked

"Yes, from the information from the call I assume early active labour' but no no were much further than that"

"We are!"

"Yes I'm surprised you were able to be so calm From the look of it you've been in active labour for at least twelve hours"

"Ahhh I have?"

"But that does mean baby will be along shortly. But not a lot of time for"

"No no, I know what you're gonna say, no. It's not going to happen. I need my drugs"

"I'm afraid that's just not possible Mrs watts not this late. It could do major damage and cause a lot of issues I'm afraid we cannot give you anything. Maybe if you'd come in a few hours ago you could have" he says

"I didn't know I was in labour hours ago! Please please I'm begging you I need drugs there is no way I can do this without drugs. There is going to be a whole Human making its way out of me, I was promised drugs"

"Sorry, Mrs. Watts." He says before he got on with business with the nurses I just laid back on the bed trying to comprehend this I'm already in agony and I have to do this without medication... I .. I'm going to die. I am literally just gonna die.

"Ahhhhhhh!" I screamed as this pain rocketed through me and the room sprung into action a nurse beside me giving me a pace to breathe at, the doctor between my legs and nurses beside him by now the waves had subsided and it was now just this constant pain growing and growing each push of my almost numb muscles made the pain grow more and more I could hear them talking telling me things but I was so overwhelmed by pain all I heard was breath and push and that's all I did just keep breathing and pushing keep breathing and pushing I'd never felt pain so intense in my life that my mind basically shut itself down tears streaming down my face my body numb but in agony "aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!'

"Good good you're doing fine, another big push for me"

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" I screamed

"Very good"

"Where Benny?" I asked the nurse beside me as she let me have a drink

"I'm sorry?' She asks

"Benny, where's Benny? My husband, where is he?"

"In the waiting room," she says

"Let me see him"

"We don't allow fathers in the delivery room" the doctor warns "Big push for me"

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh! Let me see him! Let me see my husband! You denied me my goddamn medication! I want him here. The least you can do is let my husband be here to hold my hand. I need him here you are not taking this from me"

"Madam we-"

"Being me my fucking husband!" I screamed

"Get him in here" the doctor sighed "Okay another big push it won't be long now"

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

"Hey, hey you doing okay?" Benny smiled as he arrived taking my hand and kissing my head

"Do I look okay!"

"Sorry, what's going on?"

"They won't give me drugs!"

"What?"

"She's been in active labour too long, Given how long it has been since her water broke it would be far too dangerous to give her anything but she's fully dilated and I can already feel the baby's head" The doctor explained

"I see why you wanted me" Benny nods "You must be... in agony"

"You think!"

"Well I'm happy to be here to hold your hand sweetheart" He smiled holding my hand sweetly and giving it a kiss but I grabbed his shirt

"You really think I brought you here to be all cute and loving? You think I brought you here to hold my hand and kiss my head like some shit rom-com movie Benny! NO! If I have to sit here and push a goddamn human out of me without even a fucking ibuprofen as it rips its way out of me, You are gonna fucking be here! and you are going to fucking watch the absolute shit show that is the birth of a child! You dare look away I swear to god I will make you feel this pain Benny I swear it!"

"And push" the doctor demanded so I did what I could even if my body basically began to work on its own at a point where my body knew it had to get this out whether I liked it or not pure animalistic evolutionary madness fueled my body as it worked to get this thing out! And I screamed the blood-curdling sound bouncing off the hospital walls "You did this to me! You fucking bastard Benny! Ahhhhhhhhhh!" I screamed

"Oh my god! You broke my hand!" He screamed

"Uhh doctor?" The nurse spoke up

"Ohh - uhhh Nurse check his hand." The doctor demanded "Okay we're almost there One more big, big push for me and we should be at the ring"

"Ring?"

"Ring of fire Mrs. Watts." a nurse spoke up

"Ohh fuck no. no. I'm not ready I can't do this" I panicked

"Of course you can, not much more now," The doctor says

"He's fine she just popped his finger out of place," The nurse said as she returned from checking Benny's hand having reset his finger for him and he sheepishly returned to my arm

"You can do it y/n I know you can," he says

"Do you understand what the ring of fire is?"

"No?"

"That's when the skin stretches as the baby's head makes its way out"

"Oh god-"

"Yeah"

"Okay big push," The doctor says and I grab Benny's hand and scream "Perfect perfect keep that going," he says and I basically left my body from the stinging burning pain my vision blurring all I saw was the nurses working the doctor barking orders and benny holding my hand even if I did see his face go white I swear I blacked out and merely woke up to the nurses rubbing my legs and smiling

"You did great, that's amazing, baby's here," The nurse told me

"Baby's here?" I asked

"Baby's here, nurse is just checking them over"

"Oh... I see..." The doctor says

"What?" I asked

"Nurse, I need some fresh tools and a new blanket" The doctor demanded

"What! Why!" I yelled

"Don't stress-" he began

"WHY!" I screamed

"Well we are having a second," he says

"A- a second?" Benny asked

"It's twins, so you need to push"

"Noo... I thought it was over!" I cried "I don't wanna do this again!"

"We don't have time to go over this just push," the doctor says

I was so so tried but I didn't have a choice my body had to get this out of me the pain was now even worse than before as I was so tired, so exhausted but I just had to keep going until I reached the second ring of fire which again made me basically blackout, only really coming back when they gave me oxygen for a few good breaths until I pushed it away myself

"Is it over?"

"It's all over, it's all okay," He says giving my forehead a kiss "There with the nurse it's all okay," he says

"It's over, it's over" I muttered

"Okay, placenta time," The doctor says

"No. No. I'm done. I'm done." I told him

"Not just yet, just the placenta and then it's over," He says as nurses work on my stomach at that point I didn't care, my body was just done with this shit. And finally, he said the words I had been longing to her since this the moment I got pregnant "There we go, we're all done, it's done. We'll get you sorted" He explained leaving the room with the nurses and leaving us alone

"Are you okay?" Benny asked and I merely glared "That's fair." he nodded "I'm sorry"

"For what?"

"Throwing up"

"You threw up?"

"Yeah, when I saw the first one coming out it kinda got stuck with its shoulder and I threw up. Sorry"

"It's fine. I was out of it I didn't even know, I'm sorry for popping your finger out of place"

"It's no trouble, the fact you did all that without pain meds is impressive and terrifying," he says "But you did amazing," he says giving me a kiss "You want help getting cosy? Maybe get changed into your nightie?"

"I'd like that"

He helped me change and I even got to put my slippers on with the blankets over me I had water, and air if I needed it I even got to use some water to scrub the top half of my body at least and put my hair up so I could be comfy

"Any news?"

"Not yet, still with the nurses"

"They've been gone a while"

"Yeah well no news is good news," he says perching himself on my bed so I can cuddle him

"I guess. Did you see?"

"No all kinda happen so fast

"Did it?"

"Yeah, like seriously the head comes out then the shoulders pop through and then it just kinda plops out and they scoop it up, cut the cord and wrap it in a blanket"

"Oh? Guess I kinda went into some strange primal state and didn't really pay attention"

"Oh yeah, you were primal. You were terrifying"

"Two babies just forced their way out of me"

"I'm not saying it's not justified I'm saying it's terrifying"

The door then opened to a nurse with two happily swaddled babies in her arms

"Good news, both are happy and healthy, We had a bit of a scare but it's all fine they are both perfect" she explained

"A scare?" I asked

"The second one here wasn't breathing at first likely due to being second out waiting behind the sibling They were exposed to things longer but after some oxygen and a little slap on the back they were both fine" she explained as she came over and gently helped me to hold one of the children immediately as I was the red mushy little face I fell utterly in love if anyone tries to take this child from me or harm it in any way I will literally bite them I noticed "this is a little boy" she smiled

"Awww hi, little guy" I smiled tearing up as I looked at every bit of him in his little Blanket and tiny little hat barely even aware of the world he was just born into I noticed immediately he had Benny's dark brown eyes and mildly convinced he had his nose too.

"And then this is little girl," she says helping Benny to hold our little girl "You need anything just press the call Paperwork is on the table," she says before heading out I couldn't help looking at them both as they were so snug and cosy and I noticed

"Are you crying?"

"Shut up. I'm allowed to cry. I'm holding our daughter holding our little girl for the first time" he muttered clearly trying not to cry

"Awww it's okay to cry Benny It's adorable" I smiled giving his cheek a kiss "I think he looks like you"

"Humm I think she looks like you"

"Great I'm a generic printer"

"You know what I mean, they're both so beautiful."

"They are, you not naming him jr"

"No that's stupid he should have something that matches his sister'

"Who was first?" I asked

"Uhh" he says he sighed and slowly handed her over to me giving her head a kiss and then giving his head a kiss too before he checked the paperwork "Little girl first little boy second he had the troubles"

"We'll keep an eye on him just in case" I smiled "Here I'll trade you" I laughed handing him little boy so I could really look and snuggle our little girl

"Hi little guy, now was it you or your big sister who caused your mummy all that trouble?"

"I have an inkling they were fighting"

"Probably kicking each other all day every day"

"That does sound right, already at odds with each other" I laughed

"Any ideas?"

"On?"

"Names?"

"I have one"

"Ohh? Do I get to know or do I not get a say?"

"I mean I carried them for nine months and gave birth to them"

"I helped"

"You did help Benny" I smiled giving him a kiss "I love you very much"

"I love you too, I love all three of you"

"Yeah, our nice little family of four, ohh no"

"What?"

"We have one crib"

"...shit."

"And one car seat"

"And you said I was stupid for keeping the recipient. I'll go tomorrow and trade them in her a double seat and stuff. But come on I wanna hear your idea for a name"

"I have two ideas, the first" I smiled stroking their little faces "Marcy and Mark"

"Marcy and Mark?"

"Marceline and Marcus for long"

"Mark and Marcy watts? It is nice I feel like I can yell that up a flight of stairs"

"I don't know, I'm not sure he's a Mark or Marcus."

"Yeah plus kinda don't want them to sound too twiny. It's cute when there little but teenagers and adults are gonna get mad about it like imagine getting shouted at in class"

"Yeah you have a point"

"What's the other idea?"

"Simon, and CeCe"

"...okay, that I like."

"Yeah he looks like a Simon"

"Simon Watts. That does sound like a good name. I can see it on a book spine or a tournament sign"

"Yeah me too,"

"CeCe Watts," he says "I think it suits her"

"Or Cecilia?" I suggested

"No, I think plain CeCe suits better"

"I think so too, are you happy?"

'More than happy, you like it?"

'I do, little Simon and CeCe Watts"

"It's perfect, they're perfect, I'm so happy" he Cooes "You don't seem as excited?"

"I am Benny, just you know pain."

"You give them two a snuggle I'll go find a nurse and get her to give you some drugs"

"Thank you Benny" I smiled

"I love you so much my little baby mama" he Cooes giving my lips a kiss "I love you little boy, and I love you little girl. Don't cause your mummy too much trouble while in gone," he says kissing both their heads before leaving to find the nurse. 

[linneapeverell]

„At least I did it all for you and not for him…“

Scriptorium - Part II

„The cold crept into my bones as we descended deeper into the Scriptorium. The silence around us pressed heavily on my shoulders, as if the darkness itself was a weight I could barely bear. Every step felt like a betrayal—of Ominis, of the trust he had placed in me. His words echoed in my head, the story he had told me about his aunt Noctua. He had told me of her attempt to uncover the secrets of the Scriptorium, and of her tragic end. There had been a deep worry in his voice, a worry that struck me to my core. It felt like he had revealed more of himself to me than he had ever shared with anyone. And yet, here I was, with Sebastian, about to do exactly what Ominis had warned me not to do.

The pressure was unbearable. Sebastian was so determined to enter the Scriptorium and unlock its secrets, but my heart was torn in two. On one side, there was Sebastian—my friend, desperate for knowledge that might help him. On the other side, Ominis—someone who had become important to me, someone weighed down by a dark past. The thought of betraying Ominis’ trust made it hard to breathe. I never should have followed him, but I couldn’t turn back.

When we finally reached the door, engraved with a skeleton and the word “Crucio” carved into the stone, a wave of nausea overcame me. I could feel the chill in my veins, as if the entire Scriptorium was holding its breath. It was a grim reminder of what had happened here—what would happen if we went any further. The thought that this was where Ominis’ aunt had lost her life nearly made me turn around. But Sebastian’s resolve was unwavering. He was ready to do anything to continue.

“Talk to him,” he pleaded desperately. “He won’t listen to me. But he trusts you.”

I shook my head. No. I couldn’t. Ominis had trusted me, and I had already stretched that trust too far. Asking him now to cast one of the Unforgivable Curses was too much. I already felt guilty enough for having come this far. But Sebastian wouldn’t stop. The tension between him and Ominis escalated. Ominis’ voice rose in desperation and anger as Sebastian dared to ask him to cast Crucio, and a cold shudder ran through me. Ominis hurled furious words at him, his voice trembling with disbelief, and I could hear the pain in his voice as he said he would never cast it. It was unbearable. I stood there, trapped between them, my guilt pressing down on me like a physical weight.

“Then I’ll teach her,” Sebastian said suddenly, his voice sharp and determined. I turned to him slowly, my heart racing. “I’ll show you how to cast the curse, Linnea. If we want to get out of here, one of us has to do it.”

His suggestion made my blood run cold. The thought of learning Crucio was horrifying enough, but the idea of actually using the curse—on Ominis or Sebastian—was unimaginable.

“Teach me the curse,” I finally whispered, barely able to speak. “But I won’t cast it on you or Ominis.”

Sebastian nodded. He seemed relieved, but all I felt was dread. Mechanically, I repeated his instructions as I felt the dark magic building inside me, heavy and cold, as he cast the spell on me.

The moment the curse hit me, my world collapsed. The pain was immediate, searing through every part of my body like fire igniting my nerves. It was as if something inside me was being torn apart, as if thousands of needles were piercing my skin. I screamed, but my own scream sounded distant, drowned out by the overwhelming roar of pain. My body trembled uncontrollably, and my knees buckled as I collapsed to the ground. The cold stone of the Scriptorium floor pressed hard against my cheek, but I barely felt it. All I felt was the agony coursing through me, numbing my mind, paralyzing my body.

It lasted only seconds—perhaps minutes, I couldn’t tell. Time had lost all meaning as the curse ravaged my body. When it finally ended, I lay on the ground, gasping for breath, my body numb from the pain. Next to me lay the skeleton of Noctua, Ominis’ aunt, a silent witness to everything that had happened here. Just like her, I had fallen victim to the curse, but I was still alive. But was that really a victory?

The door creaked open slowly, the heavy grinding of the stone breaking the silence, and I knew we had done it. We had entered the Scriptorium. But as I got to my feet, I felt no relief, no triumph. All I felt was emptiness. Sebastian had what he wanted—Slytherin’s book. But for me, that was meaningless.

As we left the Scriptorium, I lagged a few steps behind, lost in thought. I felt the notes I had found during our time there in my pocket. They were the writings of Ominis’ aunt, Noctua. I hesitated for a moment before handing them to Ominis as we finally reached the surface again.

He took the papers with trembling hands, and as he began to read the first lines, I saw the relief and sadness wash over his face all at once. He finally knew what had happened to his aunt. It gave him the closure he had sought for so long, and yet it forced him to relive the pain of her loss.

And yet, when I saw the relief in his eyes, I felt something I hadn’t expected—a strange calm, a sense that this hadn’t been about the book, or Slytherin’s knowledge. It had been about Ominis, about Noctua. Fate had led me here, not for the book, but to help him learn the truth.

Sebastian might have the book in his hands, but that didn’t matter to me anymore. All that mattered was Ominis.“

[bkchaos]

Credit to @jasminem18 for giving the wonderful idea of some angst between Xeno and Exe in my au, which is the inspiration behind this sketchy comic done in a teary eyed delirium!

I had never intended to pair them together as more than bros but Jas, ough, you tempt me....

As consequence, have this writing :']

cw// bit of body horror mentioned (related to Xeno's crystals), hurt/comfort

"I'm sorry!" Xeno cried out, voice cracking as emotion overwhelmed him. Regret, guilt, terror—each felt like an iron cord wrapped around his throat, choking every ragged breath he took. Tears streamed down his face. His chest seized with each step Exe took away from him. His skin ached as more crystals tore through, slowly creeping out.

"Please."

His legs could hardly move. Stumbling forward, he shakily reached out for his dearest friend's hand.

"Please, Exe, please..."

Xeno never had a problem with Exe's muteness. He had never wanted to force him to speak for any reason, and he was perfectly content to sign back and forth their usual jokes and gossip...but now? He silently begged for a word. Something, anything, just turn around—!

No.

Xeno froze.

No. No!

Slowly, his head turned up to stare up at Exe looming over him. His brows furrowed and his jaw clenched, as did his hands that trembled at his sides. Fury and hate were written across his features—and rightfully so, Xeno thought—but what hurt the most were the pained tears that rolled down Exe's cheeks.

No! No! No! No! No! The voice, unknown yet known at the same time, screeched at Xeno who simply stared up at Exe. His dearest friend. The only person he truly, truly cared about more than anything else in the world. Exe, the one person he wholeheartedly loved yet realized only when he fucked everything up. The cacophony of screeches had little effect on Xeno, aside from a growing ringing in his ears, as he slumped to his knees with a harsh thud and crack from the crystals embedded within his knees.

His body ached. Screamed. Pain searing with the spread of crystals that tore open every pore of Xeno's skin, creeping out from their points of origin to cover every bit of his body. It rendered him immobile...He didn't want to move, anyway. He didn't know what he wanted to do except for staring up at Exe. Sitting there, thick tears pouring down his face, Xeno let the crystals consume him, welcoming the agony of his body being torn apart with hopes of it drowning out his guilt. His eyes slip shut as he feels crystals digging into his muzzle...

.

.

.

.

With a jolt, Xeno awoke.

He gasped hoarsely for a breath of air. First one, then two, and slowly he found his breathing returning as his core pounded in his chest. He lifted his head up carefully and looked at his surroundings, realizing where he was: the sofa in the shared living space of the four-man dorm. Thank fuck. He let out a relieved sigh, a hand raising to his chest as he realized Rewrite and Fleet were out now. The last thing he needed was angry or weird barging in on him slumped on the sofa with—

Startled yet again, Xeno's eyes widened at the feeling of a gentle kiss placed on his cheek.

A kiss...?

His head turned slowly to look at the source: Exe. His eyes were half-lidded with sleep that he tried to blink away, and his brows creased with concern at Xeno's state. Staring at Exe's calm face, Xeno gradually remembered why Exe and him had fallen asleep. A TV rambled on as a background noise with a film they had randomly picked out, hm...an hour or so ago based on the credits that just begin to roll. Xeno's left arm felt numb from Exe leaning against it so long while curled up into Xeno's side after their discussion where they worked things out.

Finally, a smile played on the corners of Xeno's mouth. That's right. They worked things out. Exe had come out of his room for a snack and found Xeno mindlessly sat on the sofa for the first time in a week, and his heart seized at the sight of Xeno's gauntly form slumped forward staring ahead without a focus in sight. Crystals painfully jutted from nearly every inch of his body, nearly obscuring most of his quills and fur.

Exe couldn't continue storming out as he had been doing. He came over, sat beside Xeno, remaining in unnoticed silence for a few minutes before finally shaking Xeno's knee gently to capture his attention. Exe begun to sign, but from there, Xeno's mind becomes blurry as tears well within his eyes. The details of what came pouring from his mouth are known only to Exe by this point because all Xeno remembers is apologizing over, over, and over until Exe hugged him.

With a choked chuckle, Xeno's mind returned to the present moment. He leaned forward just enough to press his nose against Exe's smaller and stubbier one, and his lip trembled as he smiled at Exe's comforting gaze. They were okay. Xeno raised a hand to softly cup Exe's cheek and paused, waiting to see if Exe would pull away.

Things would take time to heal, yet the way Exe leaned in to complete the kiss without an ounce of hesitance assured Xeno it would work out for both of them. Another bout of tears came trickling down Xeno's cheeks, though he didn't mind them this time. He let his eyes slip shut peacefully as he held Exe close, smiling happily and losing himself in the quiet bliss, while Exe's hands on Xeno's waist drew him ever closer.

What Xeno endured had been a nightmare—both literally and figuratively—but finally, he found himself awake and alright with Exe in his arms despite it all. 

[justjams2003]

Sweet Savagery- 2

Paring: Dark!Thor Odinson x Slave!Reader

Summary: All your life, Thor's blue eyes have haunted you. You believed you outran him, but now all your hopes come tumbling down.

Warnings: Death of loved ones, violence, nightmares, non-con, p in v, degradation. Tell me if I missed any.

Word count: 1.8k+, Unedited

1st Divider by: @firefly-graphics

2nd Divider by: @cafekitsune

Masterlist

Part 1~Part 3

The throbbing pain between your legs overshadows the comfort of a bed after years of not having one. It feels as though someone has run lightning through your back and shoulders.

Your thighs are raw, and your shoulders are red with hand prints. Regular lovers would preen, they would show off love bites after a steamy night. But you’re left only with the signs of aggression.  

Moving feels almost impossible. Each of your muscles is stiff and worn. The morning wind blows through the windows and curtains, causing a chill to run down your spine.

You’re still on top of the sheet and the side you didn’t sleep on, has gone untouched. If it weren’t for your appearance and the presence of pain, you’d think last night never happened.  

You did not move until the sun was high in the sky. Not that it matters much, this time of the year, the sun has little effect. At least it hasn’t started snowing yet, but that can be expected in the following days. The need to crawl into the sheets is overwhelming, but the dryness of your throat is more substantial.  

Each move is agony, but soon enough you find the remains of your nightdress. Though now, it covers even less than it did before. A choice must be made. Go through the mad king’s closet and find something to fear, but risk angering him? Or risk the guards seeing more than they should? With a sigh, you open the door ever so slightly.  

“Sir?” Your voice is coarse and faint, but still, you go on. “Could you perhaps ask a maid for some water?” You question if they even heard you, but it’s clear at least one of them had when they start marching away. Soon after, you heard a knock and let the maid in. It’s a short, stout, older woman who seems to enter in a flurry.  

“Oh dear! I cannot tell you how strange it is to see someone in His Majesty’s room. Or even be in here!” You can’t help but furrow your brows, has she never been in here. “My apologies, dear, we had a hurried meal made for you. You must be starved, it’s already mid-noon!” She pulls off the silver lid from the plate.  

On the plate, are an assortment of cheeses, meats and fruits along with water and wine. Your stomach grumbles for the first time in years. After being starved for so long, your stomach had grown numb and used to scraps.

“Just look at you! So strange, so strange.” She mutters to herself, pouring you a glass of water.  

“Would it be rude of me to ask why my presence is so strange?” You ask after taking a big gulp of the liquid. It eases the pain and soreness and makes it must easier to ask the questions burning in your mind. “Surely His Highness has had other guests?” A frown forms on your face when she shakes her head.  

“Oh no, dear, His Majesty himself is only seen entering and leaving his room once a day. And when he does have a person over, they...” It appears that she refuses to continue speaking.

A chill rushes through your body at her words. Violent images flash through your mind. “Not to worry, dear, if he’s let you stay, I’m sure it means you’re special.”  

Suddenly the cheese tastes sour. What if he has something planned far worse than any other people? “I’ll have one of the maids bring you a dress when they pick up your dishes. How long do you think you’ll be staying?” She asks with an unknowing smile. “I fear I might be staying forever.”  

Every day it was the same ritual. He would beckon you over with the fall of his hammer. And after taking off his cape and armour, he would take you like an animal. As if you're prey, he's claiming as his own property. A wild beast tearing you to shreds and at the same time causing a tear in your mind.

He's the only interaction you had throughout the day. Besides, of course, the simple hello, thank you and goodbye to the maids. These four walls are all you have.  

Morning and night, the quiet creeps into the corners of your mind. The balcony helps, yes, seeing the villagers go about their day. Doing their daily tasks, surely begging for the sweet silence you have now.

What they don't know is how cruel it can be. If you counted the moons correctly, it was a full 2 months before you finally caved.  

After another night of grunts, pull and push, your body acted much quicker than your mind. Reaching out to the only form of contact you have. Grabbing the king by the wrist before he can scatter away like so many nights before.  

"Thor, please...stay." You can't believe you uttered the words. It feels almost strange to hear your own voice. What's even stranger is his reaction. He doesn't even waiver in his actions. He pulls the sheets back, allowing the both of you to crawl underneath. And now, in the silence, you're not sure why you asked him to stay.  

His blue eyes, still the exact same shade of thunder blue, still glow in the dark. So beautiful, so dangerous, so enticing. What is it about them that lingers so? And why does nobody else seem to notice them like you do?  

His golden locks are lightly coated in sweat and even after so many nights you still haven't gotten used to his beauty. "Please say something." It's all you manage to mutter. It's barely above a mumble and yet even in the dark, you can tell he's heard you.  

"What would you like me to say?" His voice is just as coarse as your own, in contrast though, it carries so much more authority. His years of battle seem to ooze from him. "Anything. I fear the quiet will kill me before you do."

Now you've really done it. The solidarity has made your tongue loose. You hope to cover it up with a chuckle, but the deep furrow in his brow shows that he does not find it amusing.  

"I will not kill you." He keeps his words sparse as he leans back against the headboard with his back. "You can't blame me for thinking it." He scoffs at this. "If I wanted to kill you, I would not be making love to you." His words hold a sense of humour as if it's the most obvious thing in the world for him.  

Now you’re the one to scoff but bite your tongue. If he believes that to be making love, it’s no wonder he’s left without a wife or child.  

"That's not what the maids say. People tell me I'm the only one to have spent a night with you and live. They won't even speak of what remains of the others." You relay to him, for some reason growing comfortable. Or maybe you've gone just a bit mad yourself, here, alone.  

"They are not you." The words speak volumes unmatched. Still not satisfied, you press on. "I should be no different from them. I should mean even less than them." This seems to be the wrong thing to say. For he has the same look as your first night. Guilt. His heart opening just so slightly. He reaches to touch you, softly and without malicious intent.  

Lightly on the cheek and then tucking stray hairs behind your ear. "Sleep. I will have someone show you the castle tomorrow. I feel your solitary confinement will cause you to get in trouble."  

That morning, just like every morning before, you find yourself alone in the room. Yet for some reason, the crumpled sheets next to you bring a warm fuzzy feeling to your heart.

Some slight form of domestic bliss through the rabid ruthlessness of the king. And yet, now you're questioning if he even is such a mad king.  

If his forced violation of your body can ever be looked past, what has he done? In the two months spent there, he has not lifted a hand against you. He’s been much kinder than any of your other owners.

But is the violation worth it? Is it worth a full belly, clothed body, warm bed and wrists free from chains? Where must you give in and embrace the life you’re sworn to live now?  

A knock disrupts your mind, and you start the same routine every day over. Except today, you decide to wear the prettiest dress that the maids had given you. Braiding your hair, which has grown so long after many years of neglect, in the only way you know how.

You’ve never been in a castle before and judging the architecture of Thor’s room is anything to go by, it’ll be gorgeous. 

It was, to say the least, beautiful. Each wall and roof has intricate details. Golden touches and marble floors. Statues made of colossal size, each celebrating Thor or one of the higher-up men.

Pillars made of stone and granite of enormous size, hold up roofs as tall as mountains. They showed you the great hall, the kitchen and the gardens. Which are filled with mostly dead bushes now due to the winter air.  

The library is huge, and it makes you yearn to force yourself into each one of the written stories. Just how badly you so wished you could read; never have you had the opportunity to be educated. What truly sent your adrenaline flowing running is the training arena. Your maid, one of the younger ones seemed the most excited about this area.  

There is a platform to watch, and you can’t help but laugh at the silliness of it all. “Why do you laugh? I do think this is a good past time.” She’s not entirely wrong, heavyset, sweaty men, bigger than any other kingdom you’ve seen before, clashing muscles and swords. Dust flies in a storm and then suddenly stops.  

Those piercing blue eyes, you recognise from anywhere, enter the arena. They all salute him before returning to their training. Now, they spar. They form a circle around Thor. Each of the knights gives it their all, attacking with their years of skill and hours of training. It has little effect; he throws them off with ease.  

Like the nights you know so well, he doesn’t even break a sweat. The other men are in comfortable clothes, some even shirtless, but he is still in his usual full armour.

It comforts you knowing he can leave over 6 foot tall, over 20 stone men, groaning in the dust, and yet he chooses to keep you well. “My Lady, I do not know how you handle all that each night.”  

A blush coats you from your cheeks to the tips of your ears. It’s as if he heard you at that very moment, his eyes catch yours. He smirks and, at that moment, slams a guard, full speed, into the wall. The guard, who now looks small in stature, falls to the floor with a thump.

He grabs onto his body as groans of pain leave his mouth. His pain ripples through the arena. Everyone can feel that his bones cracked. After hours of training, this act seems to be the end of it.  

Thor finally speaks a word, it’s a loud boom, even if he doesn’t yell, it echos all around. “Pathetic.”  

[yukidragon]

Can we have a one shot of Jack having a nightmare of MC marrying someone else, saying that they don't love him anymore and banishing Jack back in his VHS prison. Only to wake up with an empty bed causing more panic. But MC's just in the bathroom getting ready for the day.

You know, between this ask, and this absolutely heartbreaking picture by my good friend @illary-kore, I've been inspired. I say it's high time for Jack to get some comforting, and I'm going to use my specific MC Alice for it. Sound good? Awesome~

A reminder to everyone that Something's Wrong with Sunny Day Jack is an Adults Only fandom. Mature topics will be discussed, mostly in the form of psychological horror, body horror, angst, trauma, and a hint of spice. I hope you all enjoy this flashfic draft of painful nightmares and healing fluff.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur

...

Alice was gone. Jack couldn’t feel her anymore. Desperately, he sought out any trace of her warmth, but all he felt was the hauntingly familiar cold numbness that grated on his senses and wore them away until there was nothing but static and an endless, empty pain.

No, no, no, no, no! Not again!

The gunshots, the screams, the crying, the pain… Jack felt that endless cycle of agony and death creeping in on his senses. It consumed him until the warmth he felt from Alice almost seemed like a lie, a delusion of heaven he created to escape hell.

Alice! Please, no… Alice! Sunshine! Help me! Save me! Alice!

Jack reached out for the barest whisper of warmth. Maybe he was just imagining it. Maybe he was deluding himself again, but that didn’t matter. He needed to find her. He needed her.

Alice!

There was a wall of ice so cold that his hands immediately felt numb when he touched it, even through his gloves. Vaguely, Jack remembered this feeling - a glass screen, a window that showed him his first glimpse of sunshine in forever. He slammed his hands against the glass blindly, screaming Alice’s name until his voice cracked and broke.

Faintly, through the static, Jack saw something to form. It was hazy, and only his left eye worked. He could feel the empty socket where his right eye used to be, weeping blood and tears down his face. He squinted his only remaining eye as he called out desperately for his sunshine.

Finally, he saw her, Alice wasn’t alone.

He was with her, the liar who tricked his sunshine and toyed with her heart. Ian was dressed like him - the new Sunny Day Jack… or rather the “only” Sunny Day Jack. He was a mockery of the original, redesigned and repackaged for a new generation that weren’t allowed to ever know that he was nothing more than a copy. He was a lie that would ensure everyone forgot the truth.

“Oh, Sunshine,” Ian said, his voice barely audible through the haze of static. “Alice, I knew you would choose me. We’re meant to be together… We were always meant to be together.”

“Jack…,” Alice said in a sigh that Jack barely heard, but she wasn’t talking to him. That name spoken so sweetly and with such a fond expression on her face was directed at the fake who held her close. “I love you.”

Alice! That’s not me! He’s not me! I’m the real Sunny Day Jack! Look at me! Don’t leave me here! Please! You can’t replace me with him too! Not you too!

 The kiss they shared was a rusty dagger gouging through his heart. Jack cried out, but his voice never reached them. They turned and walked away from him, slowly disappearing into the haze of static.

Alice! Please! Come back! You promised! You promised you’d never forget me! You promised we’d be together forever!

They were gone. Alice was gone… and Jack knew deep down in his soul that she was never coming back.

Please… Alice… my sunshine… What did I do wrong?

The despair was suffocating, the cold overwhelming, and the numbness that dissolved his senses and refused to let him ever find rest was maddening. Jack could do nothing but scream without a voice in the static and his memories of death and sunshine.

“Jack? Jack, wake up.”

Jack woke up gasping for air as if he was still capable of drowning, his body covered in a faint sheen of sweat. The cold numbness was still carved into his bones, but a glorious, beautifully familiar warmth caused it to recede back into the depths of his nightmares. His eyes - both of them - came into focus on his shaking hands that clasped tightly around two very familiar pale ones. He looked up to see Alice leaning over him, her brow knit and her pale blue eyes filled with worry. Although it was dark in their bedroom, it was nothing like the endless void he had been trapped in, and he saw his sunshine perfectly.

“Are you okay?” Alice asked. “You sounded like you were in pain an-”

Jack struck with the quickness of a cobra and snatched up Alice into his arms, who squeaked in surprise as she suddenly found herself pinned to the bed underneath him. His body, so much bigger and bulkier than hers, was a cage that surrounded her, securing her in place against him and refusing to ever let her go.

“Alice,” Jack said, his voice hushed and haunted. “Don’t go. Don’t forget me, please.”

It was difficult for Alice to make out his expression, as his hair and the way he loomed over her cast his face in shadow, but she could feel Jack shivering against her body. His breath was irregular, a bit ragged, and she could feel hot puffs of it against her cheeks. His hold was secure, but delicate, as though he was afraid that she would shatter into dust and slip between his fingers if he wasn’t careful enough.

Despite being trapped, Alice worried more about what was wrong with Jack than the position she was in. She could practically feel how much he needed her in that moment, and her heart went out to him. She brought her hand up to his cheek and he nuzzled into it immediately. He murmured her name and his breath tickled against her skin, sending a shiver up her spine.

“Jack…,” Alice said, her voice soft and soothing. “It’s okay. I’m right here. I won’t forget you, not ever.”

As the fear slowly began to recede, Jack became more aware of what he was doing and grew self-conscious about how he must’ve looked to Alice right now. This wasn’t behavior fitting of Sunny Day Jack. He needed to present only the best to his sunshine if he didn’t want to lose her. He looked away from her, growing bashful as he fumbled for a recovery, some way to smooth things over with that classic Sunny Day Jack charm that won over an entire nation, but Alice spoke first.

“Did you have a nightmare?” she asked gently, her eyes soft and focused only on him.

A nightmare. Of course. Jack almost felt stupid now for how he was reacting. Of course Alice wouldn’t leave him for some cheap imitation, or for that awful ex who toyed with her heart. How could he believe otherwise?

“Y-yeah… it was… It was just a nightmare,” Jack said, more to himself than Alice. He tried to shake off these feelings that were uncharacteristic of the Sunny Day Jack, giving his sunshine his sunniest smile as he let out a small laugh that came out more strained than he would’ve liked. “L-looks like I spooked myself pretty good, huh? But dreams can’t hurt us since… since they’re only our imagination running away with us while we sleep.” Reluctantly, he shifted so that he lay beside Alice in a more casual position, though he couldn’t bring himself to let her go. “I hope I didn’t give you a scare too, sunspot.”

Alice moved along with Jack so that she stayed close, hooking one of her legs around his despite the fact that it was obvious he wasn’t going anywhere. She wanted to make sure that he knew that she wasn’t going to leave him alone. “I’m more worried about you right now.” She slowly stroked the edge of his strained smile and felt the tension in his cheek. “Are you okay?”

“I’m swell as a bell, sunshine,” Jack said, his smile coming a bit more easily now. “As groovy as a smoothie. I just…” He forced out a small chuckle that was almost genuine. “I guess I got a little caught up in the moment, but it’s nothing some sweet dreams with good company won’t fix.”

Alice furrowed her brow. She could tell that Jack was trying to mask how he felt, which only made her concern for him grow. He had been fine earlier, when she snuck out of his arms and their bed to use the bathroom. Her “business” took longer than she would’ve liked, and at some point she had a bad feeling that something was wrong, which was only confirmed when she returned to the bedroom.

Jack had been a terrible sight, his body contorted and tangled in the sheets, his face twisted with panic and desperation. He croaked out her name and half-mumbled pleas that broke her heart. His hands weakly groped at the sheets until she snatched them up to hold as she roused him awake.

Alice could see the fear still haunting his dark eyes despite his attempts to soften it for her sake, making her heart ache for him all the more.  “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Oh, no, I don’t think that’s really necessary,” Jack said quickly. “It’s just a dream, and dreams can’t hurt us because they’re not real. They don’t ever have to be real…”

That last sentence was spoken under his breath, obviously not meant for Alice to hear, but she caught it all the same. “Yeah, I know that,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean they can’t make us feel bad. If something’s bothering you, I want to help.”

Jack hesitated, his resolve wavering in the light of his sunshine’s concern for him. He knew that he had to be perfect for her, to show only his best sides to her, but he could feel how much she ached to help him. A guilty part of him craved that feeling, especially when he could remember just how cold it was without her in his nightmare. “I… I don’t… I-I mean I appreciate it, sunspot, really, but I just…”

The feeling of Alice combing her fingers through his hair made it difficult for Jack to focus on his excuses, and his rambling eventually trailed off. She touched him so gently, stroking his head and drawing him even closer to her. She closed her eyes as she rested her forehead lightly against his, making him just that much more aware of her softness and warmth. He breathed her in, relishing in that familiar combination of sugar cookies, vanilla cupcakes, and something else that was distinctly Alice.

“I love you, Jack,” Alice said, her tender words sending a jolt through Jack that caused his heart to flutter. “You’re my partner, and my best friend. I’m here for you… whether you’re okay or not.”

Jack recognized the words that he told to her once upon a time, back when she was still hiding her pain from him, too afraid to let him or anyone else see her weakness. It made him waver. A part of him wanted to break down, to collapse into her arms and just unleash all those terrifying tangled up feelings twisted up inside his heart, but those feelings were too big, too horrible for him to even think about. How could he ever dare to risk crushing her under the weight of everything he had been through? How could he dare risk chasing her away showing her anything less than the very best version of himself?

He couldn’t go back to that hell. He could never risk losing his sunshine.

When it was clear that Jack was reluctant to speak, Alice continued in a gentle voice. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.” She leaned back just enough that she could kiss his forehead. “Just don’t force yourself to pretend you’re okay when you’re not. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jack closed his eyes and savored the feeling of her lips on his skin. Alice pressed soft kisses all across his face, making sure no spot was left feeling unloved. She finished by meeting his lips with hers, and he was only too eager to return the kiss to show his love in return.

When Alice eventually drew back to end the kiss, Jack couldn’t help but give chase, snatching up just one more quick peck before he could regain enough self-control to let her catch her breath. She looked up at him with a lopsided smile and lightly tapped his nose. “I love you whether you’re okay or not, starlight.”

Those words were his undoing. Although Jack desperately refused to break, in that moment he allowed himself to bend. “I love you too, sunshine… more than you’ll ever know.”

Alice offered Jack a lopsided smile. “Well then, I guess I’ll have to stick around if I want to find out just how much you love me,” she teased lightly.

Jack chuckled softly. “Nothing would make me happier, Alice.”

Alice drew him in closer, and Jack allowed her to guide him to rest his head on her chest. Her heartbeat thrummed against his ear along with her breaths, as her soft warmth cradled him and her sweet smell made her so much more aware of her. She was so close, her soft curves so tempting. He could drown himself in her, in that intense love and desire that came when their bodies meshed just perfectly together.

It was so tempting; they were both barely dressed. Alice was wearing only his shirt and a pair of panties while Jack had only his boxers on. It would be all too easy for him to just tear their clothes away and make love to his sunshine until he forgot everything but her name.

It was tempting, but Jack hesitated. This moment between them felt intimate in a way that was different than lovemaking but just as powerful, and he wanted to savor it just a little while longer.

That was when Alice began to sing, startling Jack. It was a song that he didn’t recognize, something soft and soothing, likely a lullaby. He was so taken aback by hearing her sing for him that the words failed to register at first, and all he could focus on was the warmth of her voice washing over him.

Eventually Jack caught the lyrics as well. It was a sweet song, one that promised that no matter what storms may rage or tears may fall, she would stay with him, and everything would be fine in the morning.

Her voice was beautiful, and the song Alice sang was sweeter than anything Jack had ever heard before. He melted into her, and his heart squeezed every time she repeated that she would be there with him, tonight and tomorrow. He keenly felt just how much she loved him, the warmth of her love filling him up like nothing else ever could. He made sure to share his love and gratitude in return, wanting to make her feel just as special and loved as she did for him. He would have said as much, but he didn’t dare interrupt this private concert that she sang only for him.

Instead, Jack silently thanked God for finally allowing an angel to save him from hell and bring him to this heaven made from their love. More than God, he thanked Alice for finding him, saving him, and loving him just as much as he loved her.