#cause the others are too broken and battered from trying to get something out of that bike

[apr1lias]

I find it incredible how Jack Miller has one weekend of not throwing his bike down the road in a main race and then decides to target everyone else who’s on a worse bike than him cause that’s absolutely normal.

[mrs-barnes-rogers-writes]

Angel - Part 4

Marvel AU

Pairing: Alpha Steve Rogers x Enhanced Omega Reader x Alpha Bucky Barnes

Theme: A/B/O / True Mates

Summary: It's different when you're enhanced. Everything is different, every smell, every sound, touch, feelings. The way it's different doesn't make sense unless you are enhanced. Throw in what comes with Alpha and Omega instincts, and the intensity of your presentation is even more than any other. When you find yourself in need of help you can call on the alpha you trust the most, Natasha Romanoff. You just don't expect to find your alphas at the same time. Are you really enough for them? And can you really be the Luna to the Avengers?

"To be loved, to be loved by your mate is everything." - Wanda Maximoff

Reader is enhanced, has wings and has powers connected to electricity.

Chapter Summary: The readers rest is cut short.

You woke with a jump as your ass bounced on the seat. You winced in pain as the knock vibrated up and into your broken ribs. Your eyes tried to focus as you continued to be bounced around. You pulled the straps tighter, realising Clint had left them loose probably in a bid to not hurt you. You glanced forward expecting to see him or Natasha in the pilots seat but found both the pilot and co-pilot seats empty. There was another harsh bump and as you focused you could see through the jet’s window that you were in the middle of a storm. A bad one. Quite possibly a hurricane. Any standard jet would be in serious trouble right now. Who the fuck is flying this thing?

Checking the dials and screens of the jet you realised the AI was piloting. Another harsh bump, a yell and a smashing sound caused you to release yourself from the confines of the seat and head to the back of the jet. The door to the back of the jet was open and the wind was blowing at force through it. Bruce seemed to be setting up three medical beds. Clint and Nat were near the opening on lines securing them to the jet. What the fuck was going on? You suddenly remembered Nat’s previous statement. Wilson. Barnes. Rogers. Trouble. Bruce spotted you before you had chance to move any further.

“Ermmm guys?” He said turning to glance at Nat and Clint and gesturing at you.

“Go back to the front and strap in.” Clint ordered. You frowned at him.

“Please sestra!” Nat yelled over the wind. Spotting something on the outside of the jet, your eyes went wide when you realised what it was. You went to yell but nothing came out.

“DANGER” you signed and they ducked as the rescue line whipped in the wind. The rescue cradle at the end smashed into the ceiling and sides of the jet before flying back out again, the winch pulling as it went.

“What the fuck is going on?” You signed as Nat and Clint righted themselves.

“Rogers, Barnes, and Wilson are in the water.” Clint shouted. You went towards the opening as they all called for you to stay back, looking out into the stormy darkness you could see the jet in the water. The three alphas on the roof as the emergency inflatables kept it afloat. You saw Barnes try and grab for the line before it hit Rogers hard in the side of the head as he held onto Wilson. They were being battered by the waves and you were sure if two of them hadn’t been super soldiers they’d be dead, lost in the water. You stepped back and signed to Clint.

“Retract the line.”

He went to speak, ready to argue with you but he knew you were right. It was too windy for the winch and line. Too dangerous for him or Nat, and if Bruce, or rather the Hulk, went out there the force of him landing on their jet would sink it and he’d probably damage their's as he jumped back. Clint hit the button on the wall of jet and retracted the line.

“What are you doing?” Nat yelled.

“You know what I’m doing.” He replied glancing at you. They watched as you grabbed your bag from the cargo net Nat had stowed it in and pulled it open.

“No!”

“Nat, you know it’s the only way to get them up here safely.”

She huffed as she watched you pull out a spare suit. Bruce fussed around you, helping you when he could as your injuries caused you to grimace. He quickly taped your broken fingers together as you wiggled in your suit and zipped it up. Clint and Nat smiled briefly at each other. They always amused by the little wiggle you did. You pulled out your flight glasses and Clint instructed Friday to connect them to the jet so they could see what you were doing. You signed the passcode for the AI to connect them.

“Be careful.” Nat told you as you made your way to the open door.

“Grab Wilson first.” Bruce shouted. “He’s the worse injured.”

You signed asking for the wind speed and direction from Friday, before nodding and leaping from the jet. Your wings appeared, pushed from your back as soon as you were clear of the door, the nanotech in your suit reacting to make room for them. The wind knocked into you and took your breath away as you dipped and soared to reach the alphas, still being battered from the storm.

As you neared you caught a flurry of scents that immediately spurred you forward.

Your omega stirred in the back of your mind and you pushed back. Not now. She stirred again and purred. You neared the three alphas but found your eyes drawn to two in particular. Your omega reacted instantly.

Mine.

Fancy a cuppa? My Ko-Fi.

TAGLIST

@animegirlgeeky @mrsevans90 @vicmc624 @elissanatok

More tags in comments

[who1ssheesh]

With every touch

Hot take: in contrary to a popular opinion, people do consider xanxus' scars ugly. not you though - with every touch you heal a broken man.

just a rambling about his scars without a plot idk

Warnings: kinda short but i put my soul in it; huge UNAPOLOGETIC OOC, i wanna see my man happy at least once; 100% wrong grammar, english is not my native; no beta we die like tyl tsuna

Note: they always portrait xanxus' scars as something hot, but there is probably a reason he doesn't like'em, huh? In short, not-so-popular opinion that people tend to be terrified of a huge man with ugly scars

Oh, that man...My battered, cruel man.

At first Xanxus was furious to even look at himself in the mirror. Every of them probably was shattered and he felt so too. Windows curtained, lights off - he avoided any possibility of seeing himself until Superbia had to beat some sense into his boss.

His father left him tainted, how could he? Always reminded being number two, number two, a nuisance, a mistake. A reminder of a ruined life that he can never fix.

Not only that, Xanxus started noticing that people...didn't like them, to say the least. Xanxus being Xanxus, he at some point likes it (coping? question mark?) since he enjoys to be feared and respected, you can't take that away from him, but he was still young and impressionable when he got them.

Like what, he got frozen at 16 and got rescued still having the same mentality? He was...not a child but not an adult either.

Civilians tend to side eye him. You don't have to be smart to know such scars are not an accident and he is not some fucking florist, y'know what I mean? It is a branding of a life he lives and the one that will kill him one day.

His whole body - and in every way too fucking visible place - deformed with the thick layer, it feels as if his skin was melting at some point. It's rough, harsh and bumpy to the touch but Xanxus couldn't give more shit since he can't even feel those.

He doesn't like to touch his face and not feel anything, cause scars are so fucking deep

And it is an ironic cycle - Xanxus gets angry at those scars, and they get bigger, and he gets even angrier-

He hates his father so much.

Oh yeah, for some reason we all consider Xanxus as a womanizer but hear me out he is very selective because he is proud to an unhealthy manner

He would fuck some annoying lesser boss' wife to humiliate him, fight me on this take

Probably tried to have several sugar babies and random one night stands

Tried

None of them mentioned it out loud but he could notice their...disgust? Xanxus would light like a match instantly - he is fucking Xanxus, how dare they?

how dare they remind him what a mistake he is?

Xanxus gets black-out drunk while cleaning his weapon way too much and considers this his life. Who needs feelings and others anyway?

His past shape him, so he will live at least out of spite. Every scar reminds him of why he was hated by a man he thought as a father - too furious, too dangerous, too ambitious.

So be it.

But then there is you...

Xanxus likes your cheeks. You could never tell that though, since he is very distant, but they are so...soft. Untouched. He will touch them rarely, covering with "you pig got some dirt on your face"

He will get furious if anyone dares to leave even the smallest scar on your body. And we're not talking about just angry but "blind rage" angry. He won't let you live through mafia experience the way he did. It can be even "ouch, he scratched me while trying to capture" - he doesn't care. Even this slight scar still has a memory of your capture left on you body

He knows you're strong even if you have never held a gun in your hand - that's why you're his in the first place. But man has some unresolved issues, m-kay?

But his hickeys and marks are okay. That little-little hypocrite.

They were left meaning his deepest emotions though, right?

The touch moment happens - surprise - not during sex. It's a random kiss in the cheek. It's when you cling to his arm as if it doesn't look like fresh from the meat grinder.

You touch his skin so softly as if this man is not forged through pain and blood

They say severe scar skin is so thick it cannot feel anything - and so thought Xanxus about himself - anymore, but why does he feel like he is burning every time you do that?

With every touch Xanxus melts

His past shapes him, he says. But doesn't define him, you add.

Every scar shows strength and is a reminder of how strong your man is. He is still here and - very gladly - keeps fighting (even when he shouldn't)

With every touch Xanxus melts until one day this huge man bends down to put his head on your shoulder, his scarred cheek touching yours.

He hugs you. And you kiss this very cheek, finding peace in his warmth and bitter - but oh so dear smell - of alcohol and gunpowder

[greetingfromthedead]

Sanctuary (Knives x GN!Reader)

Plot: After finding yourself at Death's door you seek sanctuary from your longstanding foe Knives.

Series: Kiss With a Fist

Pairing: Knives x GN!Reader

Raiting: Teen and up

Tags: Angst, Hurt, Blood and Injury, Plant Reader, Winged Reader, Enemies to Lovers, Comfort, Protectiveness

Word count: 1.1k

Author's Note: According to the vote it looks like an enemies-to-lovers story with Knives is gonna be my next big project and this scene has been stuck in my head for a while now so have a sneaky little oneshot sneak peak.

Bloodsoaked wings flap in the dark night sky. Every stroke of them is painful and torturous, a reminder of what you have escaped. Just a little bit more until you reach safety. Is it safety or perhaps is it your doom? A feeling of unease creeps into your clouded mind, but this is the only place you can think of retreating to. The city lights far below twinkle, but to you, they are nothing but a blur through your tears. You must keep moving forward, determined to survive by any means necessary.

The strength is seeping out of your body quicker the closer to the building towering above the rest you get. The broken wings carry you to the domed roof, but there is no energy to land in any graceful manner. You crash onto the rough surface, feeling the last of your energy slip away. You tumble down, bloody fingers unable to grab hold, as you begin to lose consciousness. With a loud thud, you hit the balcony, your vision fading into black. You can just barely see the bloody smears you left on the windows and the emblems of July. Slowly, you close your eyes, trying to fight off the darkness. You wonder if he will find you before it's too late, or if this is the end of the line for you.

Knives is on his way back from meeting with the doctor. He is on the last leg of his plan, and his goals are within reach. Years of collecting Plants are coming to an end, and soon he will be able to get to his brother and set in motion the final stage of his plan. He can show no more mercy to the southern area; they may be under your pesky protection, but the time to play games is over. It's time to finish what he started and take back what is rightfully his. But it is yours too. It doesn't matter; you have made your choice. Now you have to face the consequences. Yet the thought stings something deep inside Knives, but he is unsure what or why. He has already shown you too much lenience in the decades leading up to this day; you are his enemy, no matter what you say. Anyone siding with humans shall die with them.

He is ripped from his thoughts by a loud crash echoing through the building. It comes from outside, and he is lost as to what could have caused such a ruckus. His analytical mind races through options as he heads to the exit nearest to the sound. Could it be one of The Beast's flying worms? No, they would know better than to disturb his peace. Anger and disgust twist his face as he is prepared to rip to shreds anyone and anything daring to set foot in his territory.

As he enters the atrium, he sees moonlight shining in through a sheen of red smeared all over one of the windows. He moves confidently closer to see something dark moving just outside the glass. It looks enormous, but he has no fear. He has nothing to be afraid of and is ready to face whatever lurks there. He pushes open the door and steps outside.

The sight is nothing like what he expected. The deck is covered in blood and feathers, and in the midst of it all is a figure so vaguely familiar. The back bears multiple pairs of wings, but some of them are nothing but bloody stumps; others are bent unnaturally in a way that makes his stomach turn. The feathers are sticky with blood and the figure's head is bowed in despair. He takes another step closer, and the mass shifts slightly, the gaze creeping up along his legs until they meet his eyes. Your face is bruised and battered; an iron shackle is around your neck, the chain of which is clattering against the floor.

Anger rises in Knives stomach, boiling into his chest and setting his icy eyes ablaze. He moves even closer to you, back straight and fists clenched. The sight enrages him and pulls him apart at the seams, unraveling his carefully crafted mask of indifference and calmness.

"Who did this to you?" He growls, voice low and dangerous. He reaches out his hand to your meek form and continues, unintended words slipping over his lips: "I will destroy them. There won't even be anything left of them once I am done."

Your hand grabs onto his forearm with more speed and strength than he thought was left in your body. Your desperate fingers are digging into his flesh. You hold on to your years long opponent with everything you've got. The man you've stared down across battle fields, the tyrant, who has been threatening to take the Plants from the towns and villages under your protection. The man you've despised in the past is now the only one you can turn to.

"No," you say resolutely, looking into his blue eyes. "Don't leave me. You're the only one I trust not to kill me."

He stands frozen for a moment as he looks at your face, tears streaming down your darkening face. He squats down and reaches behind your neck with his free hand that you aren't clinging on to. The weight is taken off your neck as the shackle falls to the ground with a loud clatter. His cool hand strokes over the reddened skin, soothing the burn caused by the iron. You lean into his touch, grateful for the relief.

You feel safe in the presence of your longstanding foe. It is a strange feeling, but you can't deny the comfort it brings. The feeling washes over you and settles into your bones. It sets your mind at ease, and you can no longer fend off the darkness. You succumb to the bliss, and your fingers loosen the grip on his arm as you can no longer support your body. Before you hit the hard concrete, he has stopped your fall, and he carefully turns you, mindful of the sprawled out wings. His eyes glide over your body, covered in wounds and bruises. His gut feels heavy with more than just boiling anger. A strange sickly feeling ties knots in his entrails, and he picks your limp form up off the floor. He is considerate of the open wounds and broken bones as he cradles you in his arms. He heads back inside, the bloody wings trailing on the floor, leaving a trail of blood and feathers.

"You're safe," Knives says in an icy tone as he carries you away.

Did you like this? Go check out my MASTERLIST and drop a follow for any and all future projects!

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

MERMAY: Twisted Wonderland Mermaid!AU Skit

Okay, here’s the other skit for my other version of the Mermaid!AU~!

Compared to the Marine Biologist!AU, this version has Yuu getting stranded on an island while on a scuba diving trip, and their goal is not only to find a way to get home, but also to discover the secrets of the island and uncover the history behind what caused the mermaids and the avians (aka like Rook since he’s a seagull) to be separated and turned into mere mythology.

What you’re about to read was more or less a writing exercise I wrote and edited for a possible part when Yuu first wakes up. I don't think I'm going to use this as part of the prologue, but it’s still a possibility if anyone else wanted to imagine this situation once I get it started!

Reminder: there is a language barrier between the humans and mermaids/avians, meaning that things we know the names of would be things they don’t know. Just like in the Little Mermaid! 0v0

Enjoy~!

////------////

Drip…drip…drip……

A quiet groan escaped as Yuu slowly opened their eyes, grunting and gasping as they slowly picked themselves up. Their body was battered and sore, their lungs burning as cold, damp air chilled their skin. Struggling to gather their thoughts, slowly but surely the memories of what happened came flooding back. What the hell was that…that…thing they saw?! What could possibly exist in the world that could destroy an entire ship in one swipe?! How—

How…did they survive?

“Where…am I?” Yuu uttered, looking at their surroundings. It became clear that they were inside a cave, a large pool of water nearby illuminated with a bright blue-green light that made ripples across the ceiling. The stone walls were also covered with glowing blue lights, slowly fading in and out like glittering stars. Were these glow worms? Wait…no, those hung from the ceiling. Some type of crystal?

On trying to stand to get a closer look at the wall, however, they collapsed the moment they tried to put any weight on their leg. In the dim lighting, they could see that their leg was wrapped tightly in seaweed. Peeling it away, they discovered a strange paste covering a large gash in the wet suit’s leg and an injury that looked mostly healed. Where had it come from? Who wrapped their leg up in seaweed and tended to their injuries?

“What’s…going on?” they uttered, noticing the array of random junk and items nearby. It looked like random stuff that had come from ships, some old, broken, and tattered while others were sealed in water-tight containers. Digging around one of the containers, Yuu found several survival kits inside and a survival guidebook in a waterproof bag and immediately pulled out the thermal blanket to wrap around their cold body. Sighing as their body began to warm up, they looked around once again and wondered, “How did I even get here?”

Bloop!

Yuu’s eyes landed on the pool of water nearby, staring at the rippling surface.

Bloop!

Their heart skipped a beat as they scuttled away from the edge, clutching the blanket around them tightly as they stared. Even from this angle they spotted two shadowy shapes appearing, both slowly growing larger and larger. ‘What is that?!’ they thought, heart hammering in their chest. Then—right before their eyes—a head emerged from the water.

A humanoid head with fins on its head.

Bright green eyes stared at them, the creature’s skin a mix of soft and dark blue with a black spade mark on its face partly hidden by the dark blue hair on its head. Its jaw dropped open as the fish it had been carrying fell, floating in the water. Seconds later, a second head emerged from the water with a head of bright red hair and a red heart-shaped mark on the opposite side of its face. This one looked annoyed as it chittered and squeaked something at its friend…before it too stopped and stared at Yuu.

“……I…I’m dreaming,” Yuu whispered. “I’m delirious and imagining fish-people in the water. There’s no way this is real…”

Then—in what looked like whispering—the creatures began quietly clicking and chittering at one another.

///---///

“…dude…it’s awake…”

“I know…”

“Why is it awake?!”

“I thought it was going to still be unconscious by the time we left the fish for it!”

“Dude, I told you to leave that thing alone! What if it’s dangerous?!”

“If it were dangerous, it would have already attacked us, Ace!”

The cavern echoed their words back at them, both of them glancing back and forth between each other and the strange two-legged creature.

“This is not good,” Ace uttered, gripping his head nervously. “Seriously, what are we going to do? How are we going to explain this to the others?! What even is it in the first place??”

“I don’t know!” Deuce snapped. “Maybe…they’re a deformed seal? Or an avian who lost their wings?”

“Then how do you explain the flippers on its legs instead of talons?” Ace pointed out. He did a double-take and asked, “And did it just grow a new set of silver scales? That’s so weird!”

“Weird or not, it still needed our help, Ace!” Deuce said with a frown. “They only appeared right after the Island Guardian reacted to that small metal whale, right? So maybe…it’s a new species that came from another island seeking help?”

Ace groaned as he shook his head. “We’re going to be in so much trouble once Riddle finds out about this…”

“You’re the one who said you wanted to go out beyond the void after getting him angry in the first place.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Eem treemin,” the creature mumbled, shaking their head before smacking their palms against the sides of their head. “Eem treemin, eem treemin…!”

“Is…is it okay?” Deuce asked, cautiously swimming forward to try and check on them.

Spotting movement nearby, Ace noticed a brightly colored form slithering across the cavern floor as it crawled across the silver skin around the creature’s body. It seemed to notice its new visitor too and—with wide eyes—it jumped up with a shriek.

“AAAAA!!”

“AAAAA!!!”

“AAAAAAA!!!”

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Falling for you, a little too literally

SS!Link x Reader

TW: Attempted suicide, suicidal thoughts, implied SH, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone lives, soulmate AU if you squint.

Hope y’all enjoy, let me know what y’all wanna next! Not beta read and i’ve been up for 18 hours 😙✌️

-🌲

It didn’t take a genius for someone to know something was up. Your best friend was missing, your other (definitely not romantically interested) best friend chased after her, and you were left alone. Normally, this wouldn’t bother you too much. Between all of your classes, working maintenance at the bazaar and every other little task of life, you get busy every now and then. You appreciated a little time alone every now and then especially when things got rough. But that’s not to say you didn’t miss Link nor Zelda. No. It was quiet cold nights like this things got bad. Skyloft is tiny, suffocating, even. Everyone breathing down your neck and all the eyes watching and all the expectations…. You were the equivalent of glass beneath someone’s boots. But this time, there was no one to pick up the shards left of you. No one to cradle the broken pieces and reassure you that it’d all be ok. No one to wrap up your wrists after you searched out the proof of your humanity, proof of you not being a monster despite feeling otherwise. No. Today you were alone. And you were yesterday and you would be tomorrow. You were honestly just tired. So many sympathetic stares and questions, so many people trying so hard to make you feel seen and yet they never listen when the words finally spill. They’d tell you they cared and yet they never acted like it when you were down to the wire. With a heavy sigh you pushed yourself off the floor of your dorm room.

It took roughly 10 minutes to see everything again, sneaking through the knight’s hall, your eyes lingering on Link’s door for half a second to long. You felt a tug dragging your heart downward, your mind starting its spiral again. You passed by everything you wanted to see one last time. The goddess statue, The bazaar, The main plaza, the lake before finally getting where you needed to go. The wind pushed you to the tombstone, you kicked it to the side and watched the tiny passage open. You fell through to the wooden platform below, leaving you alone at last. Truly alone. No one to stop you from leaving this time.

Link POV:

Battered and bruised he stumbled out of the temple, Eldin’s heat causing his caramel locks to stick to his forehead. Too late. He was too late. Too slow. Not enough. Never enough. He sighed, the image of you flicking through his mind. He hoped so badly he was enough for you. Sometimes it’s all that kept him going, those funny little memories. Cooking when you’d both missed dinner, flying around on your loftwings, sharing gifts on the winters solstice, all proof he was enough. That he was loved. He hoped you knew you were loved to. He hoped so much for you both, hoped even when you couldn’t. Hoped that there’d be brighter days for you both, hoped he could make it back to you alive. Hoped that one day your eyes would meet his with the same amount of adoration. Goddesses, He hoped.

Walking up to the stone carved loftwing, a breeze of wind sent him upward with his sailcloth. He extended his arms, letting the wind greet him before whistling for Crimson. But… something was off. Crimson lunged and dived erratically, never following his directions, something Link hadn’t seen before from his avian companion. So, with hesitance, He let Crimson fly. He would’ve been impressed at the speeds he managed to gain, Skyloft no longer a tiny dot in the sky, but a quickly approaching landmark. But his heart sank quickly from its place when he realised what it was that had Crimson riled up. His other half was falling and there would be not (f/c) loftwing to catch them.

You POV:

The wind felt nice brushing past your fingertips, a (f/c) feather loosely pinched between your forefinger and thumb. Your other half. You hoped they wouldn’t be lonely when you were gone. Ownerless Loftwings usually weren’t cared for as well, not fairing well without their beloved hylian. But maybe Link and Zelda would take care of them. Maybe. Your hair was in tangles as you finally met the clouds, finally dismissing your title as burden, finally freeing those around you from needing to worry. Your weight lurched upward, stomach twisting at the sudden deceleration. You hadn’t whistled for your loftwing? Why are you?- Your fingers were met with soft carmine down, your frame cradled between familiar arms.

“Link - I…” You were breathless, perhaps the air was thin or you were too flustered to speak. He was silent, One hand wrapping around your mid to pull you closer to his front as you flew. He navigated to the closest island, a small patch of dirt and grass, a little tree near its center. He offered a calloused hand after you landed. You didn’t look him in the eye as you dismounted the loftwing, to scared the shame his stare would bring you.

“(y/n)” His voice, you’d been longing to hear it for weeks. To soft and rhythmic, a song to your ears. But now, you felt ashamed for causing him such worry, even with all that’s happened with Zelda, you still managed to make yourself a nuiscence. His hands reached for yours, taking them ever so gently, as if cherishing them. You met his eyes, the color of storms, of the bold sky, your favorite color. He looked so tiered, freckled skin slightly sunburnt, hair tousled, eyes pooled with worry. But before you could find it in you to feel worse, he pulled you close. He hugged you so tightly, as if you’d run to fall again the second his grip faltered. He buried his face in your hair, kissing the crown of your head and keeping you there, not a single word said. And it was like all the pressure on you finally shattered, you sank into him, and let yourself break. He held you so carefully as you sobbed into his tunic. He whispered all sorts of comforting things into you ears, but you get a sense of pleading urgency within his voice you hadn’t caught before.

“Please don’t leave. Don’t go. I won’t need to long. I won’t be late to save you. I’ve got you, i’ll be here as long as you need. Sky or surface, i’d find you if it ment i could have you again.” His words were a quiet promise between the two of you as he pressed soft kisses to either side your temples, eyes searching your own. You guided one of his hands to your cheek, unable to stop yourself from its warmth. He was enamoured by your actions, letting you do as you pleased so long as you’d be happy. You pressed a small kiss to the inner of his wrist and were met with a small, albeit tired smile.

“If you fall, i’ll catch you. Just maybe not that literally next time”

You both laughed lightly, he’d always made things a little lighter. And with his goofy smile you couldn’t go without seeing, you finally gave in. He kept that same wobbly smile as your lips met, content to just have one another once again? even if the situation that led you here was difficult to navigate. You looked between your childhood friend, and his loftwing that had saved you when no one else even knew you had fallen. Perhaps it was your soul that had called out. Perhaps your other half had heard your souls last weeping cry and responded. But it didn’t matter when you had your hero to chase away the bad thoughts what led you to the ledge. Not a knight or the Hero. Your knight, Your Hero, Your Link.

[peachymilkandcream]

Payment|Part 5|Mafia Levi x Evelyn

WARNINGS: noncon/dubcon, big age difference, kidnapping, slavery, violence, power imbalance, implied somnophilia, forced pregnancies, mind breaking, yandere behaviour, yandere themes, forced exhibitionism, sexual coercion, blackmail, etc.

===============================================

Over the course of a few days Evelyn saw little of her captor. Apparently his recent run in with Kenny had annoyed him to a point where he needed space. She had fucked up in getting the attention of another man. One who, according to Levi, didn't understand what was Levi's and what was free game.

"He's your uncle and you don't trust him?" She had foolishly asked.

"Of course not. He's still pissy that I was the one who brought our family notoriety and not him. He's the oldest member and yet I brought us out of the slums. He'd do anything to put me in my place so to speak."

The idea of what that would entail sent shivers down her spine.

"Good. You should be scared. It seems you have the habit of attracting the attention of some of the most dangerous men in the country."

Evelyn huddled under the covers, still watching Levi pack his briefcase. "Then are you sure it's a good idea to be gone today-?"

"No but I have no choice. One of my new clients won't buy unless they meet me in person. Some people have trust issues."

She bit back a remark about how she wouldn't trust Levi either, but that would lead to consequences.

"Just stay put in here and you should be fine. Don't cause me any problems."

Without so much as a backwards glance he leaves, resigning her to a day of staying by herself in this penthouse. With nothing to do but wait around until he came back. Rich people could be such assholes.

==============================================

As the long and boring day wore on, Evelyn just needed to get out. Lying in bed all day was doing nothing for her brain activity. She at least needed to walk around the apartment and hopefully do something to entertain her until Levi came back. Surely there was no harm in that.

Right?

While exploring, she took note of what kind of a person Levi was. The type to only have one room entirely decorated, one where he clearly met with his "influential people", as he called them. Probably to look like he was a man of the arts who had taste, and not some back alley thug who delighted in tormenting others.

It took a while. but she thought she had explored it all. Noting how the front door was of course locked and couldn't even be budged with all of her might and the help of a chair battering ram.

On her final try to get it open it was caught in mid air.

Evelyn spun and looked into the wrinkled face of the man from the party.

"Now what are you doing trying to escape the runt?"

Fear gripped her instantly, the way in which Levi spoke of Kenny sending shivers down her spine. Was any of it true? If it was, Levi wasn't here to protect her.

"Nothing to say huh. Shame. You're a pretty thing, it's too bad you're roped in with that shorty. Probably doesn't even give you a good time."

As he stepped forward, Evelyn inched back. Until her back hit the door.

"I feel sorry for you, I really do. Which is why I'm going to help you."

A chunk of fear fell away, replacing it with hope. "Really?"

"Of course I am. I can't very well allow a young lady like yourself to go her whole life pleasing such an irritable boy."

Tears of gratitude started to well up in her eyes. "Thank you so much- You don't understand how much this means to me."

He smirked. "Oh I think I do little lady."

With a sudden motion he grabs her arm, throwing her to the carpeted floor.

Evelyn tries to overcome the shock and begins to stand, stopping as the chair she had been previously using to make her escape is brought down her back. The broken wooden pole then used to pierce her leg's flesh, making her scream in agony as she felt the body on top of her.

Hurt and in a vulnerable position Evelyn still tries to fight back the roaming and bold hands grasping at whatever was in reach. The long shirt of Levi's pushed away as he teased her most sensitive spots.

"I wonder just how many vile things Levi's done to you. Just stop fighting and I'll let this one be enjoyable for you."

That doesn't stop her, she continues to fight as his long fingers pierce her core, trying to coat a reaction out of her. Words she had learned were useless in these situations, men like Kenny, like Levi, couldn't be reasoned or bargained with. Better to use your strength to fight back.

The firmness pressing into her rear sends her into more of a desperate fit. Sure, like Levi he was probably getting off to the struggle, but the alternative was to lie down and take it. And that, she would never do. No matter what happens, at least she can live with herself later and know she tried. She tried her best.

Just as she thinks is all over for her the door bursts open, and a gunshot rings out in the air.

At first she thought it was her, finally meeting a cruel end. That Kenny was going to get his final revenge by killing her the moment Levi stepped back in the door. But no, it was Kenny who screamed and rolled off of her, clutching his shoulder as blood oozed out of it.

Evelyn looked back up to Levi, a pissed and raging mess shooting daggers at his uncle as the two guards who Levi had brought with him held Kenny in place.

"You disgusting sack of shit. You'll pay for this. Pay for touching her. What kind of coward goes after another man's woman when he isn't around?"

Kenny smirks, still holding his wound. "I told you to keep an eye on your songbird Levi. Seems you still can't listen to me."

"Yeah." He nods to the men holding his uncle. "Take this filth out of here. He's making everything dirty."

"You're really going to kick out your own flesh and blood runt?"

"My conscience is clear. From now on, you'll no longer be associated with the Ackerman family. But because you're flesh and blood, I won't kill you this time. Simply because my mother would be pissed."

Kenny scoffs. "Kuchel really coming in to save me huh. I promise you runt, this won't be the last you see of me."

"I don't doubt it. But until then, take him out of my sight men. I can't bare to look at him any longer."

As he's dragged away part of Evelyn's unease settles. At the very least one of her problems was taken care of.

So why then did it feel like something terrible was on the horizon?

[a-crumb-of-whump]

Saved By A Killer #1: Just Two Months

Masterlist

Content: Rescue, morally dubious caretaker, stranger caretaker, death wish, begging, death (of a semi non-important character), blood, restraints, gags, grief, [non-sexual] nudity, platonic bathing, wounds/injuries, false accusations, caretaker isn't the best but he's trying.

over 5k words... oops.

-

He hadn’t heard it at first. 

The sound was barely audible, muffled by the only locked door in the cabin that separated a supposed bedroom from the living area. Though, as Cohen started to get closer, it morphed into something resembling a gagged cry. 

“Shit,” Cohen mumbled, reaching out to fumble with the door as he glanced back at his most recent target’s corpse, Lucas Wade. It lay sprawled out across the carpet, staining all its surroundings crimson with each passing second. “‘nother victim of yours, hm?” 

The corpse said nothing in return, its dead gaze staring directly at him as he took a few small steps back and prepared to kick the door down himself. Usually he was smart enough to bring a lock pick or two, but it was becoming apparent to him now that he hadn’t been as prepared for this job as he thought. 

It had to have been an old door with how little effort it took to kick inwards. The entire cabin was, now that Cohen thought about it. Chipped wood everywhere, broken floorboards and ones that caved inwards when stepped on, and there were even several crucial doors inside the house that didn’t lock or even fully close in general. Apparently this was one of the few doors that did work just fine, considering the state of everything. 

At first, it almost seemed like the room was empty. Cohen took a moment to examine the blood stains on the walls and the floor, along with the shattered glass windows and the shards now scattered across the floor. Had they escaped somehow? 

And then he heard it. The same muffled cry from before, only louder this time and longer in duration. Cohen turned his attention towards the bed that sat in the corner, eyebrows furrowing the moment he realised there was a bare foot sticking out from under it. 

“That a corpse under there?” 

Despite the obvious gag in their mouth, he was able to make out a sarcastic, gargled ‘yes’ that made him laugh. He knelt down beside the bed frame, taking a moment to tuck his knife away inside his back pocket before resting the side of his face on the floor. 

“Well, aren’t you a sorry sight?” was all he could think to say. 

This had to have been Lucas’ last captive. A young adult, barely looking over the age of twenty one, wrapped in barbed wire with a ball gag stuffed in his mouth. Either Lucas had hidden him beneath the bed or he’d managed to weasel his way underneath it himself. No matter who did it, there was no way to pull him out again without causing him an intense amount of pain. 

So, he begrudgingly got back onto his feet and began to drag the frame out from its spot himself, revealing a little more of the captive’s battered body with each pull. Before too long he’d pushed the entire thing into the center of the room, giving him room to both see the state of the boy’s body and to get them both out of there when the time came. 

As soon as he was able to, Cohen knelt down beside the victim once more and slid one of his hands beneath his head to lift it up. However, all his movement paused right as his fingers made contact with the metal.  

“You’re not gonna bite me if I undo this for you, right?” 

He received a frantic head shake, followed by more tears. Satisfied with the answer, Cohen undid the buckle at the back of his head, still supporting him as best he could with his other hand, and finally tugged the ball out of his drooling mouth. 

The boy let out a small sob, still restrained by the barbed wire wrapped around his torso, hips and ankles. “You- you killed him? Is he finally gone? Please- please tell me he’s gone. ‘s been so many months, you don’t understand-”

“Hey, hush. It’s all over, yeah?” Cohen offered him a tight smile as he cupped the victim’s tear-stained face in his hands. “If you give me some time to cut this wire, I’ll even let you see for yourself. Y’can spit in his eye or whatever it is you wanna do.” 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he babbled in between sobs, too caught up in his own relief to even notice that Cohen had begun to carefully untangle the lengthy bits of wire. It wasn’t even tied together by anything - the only thing that held it in place was the fact that each bit of barb had been pushed into his skin, preventing him from moving at all without experiencing a world of pain. “He kept pro-omising to kill me. He kept telling me that- that this was the last time I’d ever have to feel pain again ‘n’ then it would just- it’d keep on go-oing. Over ‘n’ over ‘n’ over again.” 

Cohen gave him a sympathetic look. “That must have been hell for you, huh? What’s your name?”

“My- my name?” The boy paused for a moment to think about it, struggling to resist a wince as each barb of wire was individually plucked out of his skin over time. Although Cohen was attempting to make this as gentle as possible, there was absolutely no way to avoid causing him pain all together. “Elias, I think. ‘s been so- so long since anyone called me by my na-ame, you know? He- he always called me someth’n’ new every week until I- I didn’t r’lly know who I was an’more, b-but I never forgot my name. Not entirely.” 

“That’s impressive. Stay still for me, yeah? Tryin’ to make this as painless as possible. Do you have any family or friends who could take you in if I took you back to the city?” 

“I had my mom,” he managed to respond. Even Cohen could tell the fresh wave of tears that welled in his eyes were for her. “But she died a few months before I was taken. I ha-ave no one else.” 

Shit. “Okay.” The man let out a tense sigh, attempting to create a picture in his head of the new living arrangements if he decided to take him home with him. It was beginning to seem like the most likely option. “Lemme think on it for a moment.” 

“Ca-an you just kill me?” Elias begged as soon as the opportunity arose. “You- you can do that, right? I have no money to pay you with b-but- but… oh, I’m so tired of living. I just want it to be over. Please?” 

Admittedly, Cohen considered the possibility. This was a young man who had no doubt been through and witnessed horrors that even he couldn’t comprehend, begging him to take his life. He understood, and in most cases, probably would have just done it. 

But…

“I’ll tell you what,” he started, only pausing to set the first set of wire aside before beginning on the next one. “Let me take you home with me. I’ll make you a nice home-cooked meal, get you some clothes and tend to these wounds. You could even have a bath or a shower and wash the last of this place off you. Give it a go for, let’s say, two months. If we reach that day and you still find yourself wanting this, then I’ll do it. Promise.” 

To say Elias looked devastated would have been a complete understatement. Whatever hope he had drained from his expression and he continued to cry, even louder than before. 

“Ho-ow can I trust you’ll keep your promise?” he asked in between sobs. “Why can’t you just do it? I’m begging you, please! It’ll only take a minute or two!”

“I know. I know it’s selfish of me and I know there’s nothing I can do right now to make you feel better about the situation but I want you to at least have a go.” 

Finally, the second piece of wire was off. This meant that Elias was able to move a little more with what little strength he had. Unsurprisingly, he used the opportunity to reach for the knife in Cohen’s back pocket, a frustrated scream emitting from the back of his throat when the man easily grabbed him by the wrist. 

“What on earth was your plan there?” he shook his head, only releasing the boy’s wrist again to move himself down to his ankles. One more wire to go and he was free to move around as he pleased. “Look, I get it. I’m chronically suicidal, too, and you know what? It fucking sucks.” 

“Please don’t follow that up by telling me there’s people out there who love me ‘n’ all that bullshit,” Elias mumbled as he wiped furiously at his eyes. “I’ve heard it all before ‘n’ I don’t believe it.”

Cohen snorted. “I don’t believe it, either.” 

That got his attention. He slowly uncovered his eyes bit by bit, stifling another sob as he stared up at him from where he lay on the floor. “Why are you still alive, then?” he whispered hoarsely, the edge in his voice slowly replacing itself with genuine curiosity. “What is so good about this world that you decided to stay?” 

“I honestly couldn’t tell you.” Cohen gave him a pursed-lipped smile and shrugged. “I don’t find joy in many things anymore - or, I guess I never really have. The only thing that’s ever made me feel like it might be worth living is making life for other people a little less sucky, hence my line of work. May not be the most morally sound way of doing things but it gets the job done.” 

Elias’ eyes widened, not to Cohen’s surprise. “So- so, you kill people for a living?” he asked in disbelief. For a moment it looked as if he was going to blow up at him, but eventually the boy’s face broke out into an awe-filled grin. “That’s so fucking cool.” 

A little while later, the last bit of wire finally came off. It’d taken fucking ages to get through but the look of unbridled relief on Elias’ face as he examined the open wounds that wrapped around his body was worth it, Cohen thought. He doubted he could even comprehend the amount of pain he’d been in, and would continue to be in for the next week or two at least. 

“So,” he began as he stood up off the floor. Elias immediately looked up at him, his face still covered in silent tears as he expectantly waited for more words. “Do we have a deal, Elias?” 

The sound of his own name caused the boy to tear up all over again, and despite his previous objections to the idea, he gave him a small nod. “Yes,” he whispered, obediently lifting his arms as soon as Cohen bent down to pick him up off the ground. “Only two months… I can do it.” 

“That’s the spirit, and hey; my name is Cohen.” 

“Cohen…” He let the word quietly roll off his tongue, resting his head on the man’s shoulder as the two finally left the bedroom. “I’ve been stuck in that room for weeks… ‘n’ it almost feels a little surreal that I get to finally leave. Is that-” Cohen felt him stiffen and glance over his shoulder at the dead body of his captor. “Holy shit. He’s really gone. You- you killed him.” 

Cohen hummed. “Told you. Need anything before we go?” 

“No.” Elias was quick to shake his head before letting it come to rest on him once more, clearly exhausted from the mere effort it took to hold his head up at all. “J’st wanna get outta here.” 

Cohen’s car was hidden a little ways into the bush. The entire way, Elias clung to him like some sort of koala or sloth, desperate for any kind of contact. Although he didn’t dare say it out loud, the man was not afraid to acknowledge that the guy was absolutely covered in filth. It took a lot out of him to ignore how dirty he was becoming the longer he held onto him, and he made sure to put a towel down on the passenger’s seat of the car before setting him down, too. 

“‘m sorry,” Elias whispered in reference to the fabric beneath him as soon as Cohen got into the driver’s side. “It’s been months since I last got to wash myself.” 

“I can tell.” The man was quick to tilt his head and offer a crooked smile. “You don’t have to be sorry. Sometimes I’ll go several weeks without showering and I’ve got one available to me, so no need to be ashamed.” 

The boy let his head come to rest against the window, his gaze still on Cohen as he weaved his way through the trees until the tires finally hit dirt. It made him feel a little uncomfortable, being watched so intently, and he made a conscious effort to focus solely on the road ahead of him rather than what was going on in the passenger’s seat. 

It wasn’t until they were back on the main road less than five minutes later that Cohen allowed himself to relax completely. He took the opportunity to glance to his right, only to find Elias staring intently out the window. Thanks to his own reflection, it wasn’t hard to see the tears glistening in his eyes. 

“You okay there?”

The boy sniffled. “You don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve seen the sky or- or the trees or anything even remotely resembling nature. I always took it for granted before everything that happened, but now I feel like I’ll ever get enough of it.”

Cohen couldn’t help but ask. “How long were you there for?” 

“Nearly a year, I think. I- I was taken out of the house on occasions, but I always had to wear a blindfold or a bag over my head until we were at his client’s house. I assume it was so I never knew exactly where I was.” 

“Forgive me for prying, but client? What did he do that warranted clients?”

The boy spoke through clenched teeth, clearly struggling to keep himself from breaking down all together again. “Clients were what he called the people who paid to have me for a certain period of time. Anywhere from fifteen minutes to several days - if they had enough money, I was theirs to abuse. The only rule was that they couldn’t kill me, and if I asked them to then they were within their right to punish me as they saw fit.”

Unable to find the right words, Cohen simply shook his head, fingers tightening around the steering wheel as the image involuntarily popped into his mind’s eye. A part of him wondered if he was doing the right thing in refusing his request to kill him then and there. He’d always been a firm believer that if someone wanted to die, it was only right that they got to make that choice, and yet the thought of giving in to Elias’ request before the guy got to experience life outside of captivity again just didn’t seem right. 

Cohen had always been grateful to be living on the outskirts of the city. There were never hundreds of cars on the roads and the scenery was far better than any city had to offer. Not to mention the animals that came to visit each morning. If he woke up early enough, he could watch the sun rise and the deer grazing by the treeline opposite his house. Not a day passed by where he wasn’t happy with his current living circumstances, and he was admittedly rather excited to be showing it to someone he knew would appreciate it just as much as he did. 

“I think you’ll enjoy it here,” he told him as he opened the passenger side door. Elias gave nothing but a small, tight smile, still clearly a little irritated by the fact that he was still here despite his earlier statements. Cohen was quick to scoop him up out of the car, one arm supporting his behind while the other hugged his shoulders to keep him close. 

He was not surprised to feel the boy’s head come to rest on his chest almost immediately, followed by a low-sounding whine. “You must be exhausted,” he murmured in an attempt to empathise with him. “Why don’t I run you a warm bath and you can spend some time cleaning yourself while I make some food? Do you have a favourite meal?” 

“...I always liked pasta, before?” Elias whispered, subconsciously fisting Cohen’s hoodie in his hands as the man struggled to unlock his front door. “If I could have anything I wanted in the world, it would be that.”

He almost looked relieved when Cohen smiled encouragingly down at him. Instead of putting him down on the couch, he made his way to the bedroom first and carefully set him down on the side closest to the door. 

“I think I have some angel hair pasta that I can cook, for sure. That’s a great choice,” he praised. “What about clothing? Do you have any preferences there? I have a little bit of everything, so feel free to browse what’s available in the wardrobe while I get the water running.”

Elias nodded, though made no conscious effort to move. Instead, when Cohen came back from the bathroom a few minutes later he found that the guy had fallen asleep hugging a pillow to his chest, and a deep sigh escaped his lips as he wandered over to his wardrobe and picked out some clothes himself. He supposed Elias would be doing quite a bit of sleeping over the next few days. It was concerning to think about the last time he must have had a proper sleep without all the constant pain. 

So, he waited until he had an outfit set up by the bathroom basin and a towel hung on a hook before waking the boy up again with a gentle nudge to his shoulder. It took a few tries but eventually his eyes started to flicker open, followed by a single terrified shriek that soon morphed into a sob when the man grabbed hold of his wrist to stop him from hitting anything. 

“You’re okay. It’s just me,” he soothed, gently resting the guy’s hand back down on his stomach as soon as he knew it was over. “You fell asleep a few minutes ago, remember?” 

Elias sniffled. “I- I guess so? You didn’t- I- I thought you were gonna… gonna hurt me. Di’nt mean t’ throw my fist at you.” 

Really, it wasn’t as if he could have done much harm in the state he was in, though Cohen didn’t say that out loud. Instead, he lightly ruffled Elias’ hair a little before beginning to help him onto his feet, curious as to how he’d fare on his own. Surprisingly, between the two of them they were able to make it to the bathroom in less than a minute, and Elias gave a triumphant smile as soon as he was leaning against the sink. 

“I- I’m not sure I can get in,” he admitted quietly after some time spent examining the tub. “‘n’ is the water gonna hurt?” 

Much to Elias’ clear dismay, Cohen nodded. “Unfortunately, but I promise it’ll get better eventually. Your wounds - particularly the ones left from the wire - are already infected. Whether you get into the bath or not, they’ve still gotta be washed before I bandage them.”

Truthfully, Cohen had been expecting more of a fight. However, it wasn’t long before the boy warily nodded, reaching out a hand for some support. 

“I know it sucks having to rely on someone so much,” Cohen said as he helped him strip out of the last piece of clothing - his underwear. They were damp and torn in multiple places, leaving them to be of little use to him now. It was not hard to see the look of embarrassment on Elias’ face as they were tossed aside to be thrown out later on, but Cohen hardly left him any time to dwell on that as he lifted him off his feet and carefully lowered him into the tub. “Give it enough time and you’ll be independent enough to do what you like.” 

“I know,” he whispered defeatedly, his entire face suddenly twisting up in pain as the water began to make contact with his injuries. Cohen felt his fingers dig into his arm, sharp, uncut nails threatening to draw blood each time he held on just that bit tighter. “Hurts!”

Cohen forced himself to smile. “Yes, you’ve made that very clear. It’ll ease up soon but you gotta try and relax until then, okay?” 

Although it seemed to take a while, Elias’ expressions eventually started to soften, as did the grip on Cohen’s arm. He was quick to pull his other sleeve over his hand to dab away the spots of blood that appeared when it was let go completely. 

“Would you like me to give you some privacy?” he asked, his voice quieting to match the change in atmosphere in the room. “If you’re happy enough alone, I might go make a start on that meal I promised. You can call me when you’re done and I’ll be back to help you get dressed. Otherwise, I’m also happy to sit here and keep you company.” 

There was a moment of hesitation before he mustered his response. “Uhm… is- is it weird that I want you to stay?” 

“Not at all,” Cohen shook his head, and with a small grunt he lowered himself down onto the cool tiles beneath him before resting both his wrists on the side of the tub. As soon as they were within arm's reach of him, the boy took hold of them and started to examine each faded cut, bruise and scar he’d acquired over the years, occasionally trailing a finger along one of them to see where it ended. They were parts of Cohen that he’d always been embarrassed by, but it seemed to be nothing short of intriguing to him. 

“I have hundreds of scars on my body,” he eventually whispered. “It’s kinda cool to meet someone who has them, too.”

While he had tried his best not to focus on them too much, Cohen was not oblivious to the scars that were present on Elias’ body, most of them being at least a little infected while the others had healed over a long time ago. It couldn’t have been the first time someone had used barbed wire as a way of restraining him either - there were multiple faded outlines of the same marks that were now fresh on his skin, though some of them still looked more recent than he would have liked. 

“Yeah?” He couldn’t help but smile, allowing his fingers to curl around Elias’ when he gently sat his hand upon them. “I try to keep ‘em hidden most of the time. Not many people wanna look at something so conventionally ugly, and it also isn’t really good for business.” 

Elias looked as though he couldn’t disagree more with his statement. It was almost amusing watching his expression morph into one of obvious disapproval, and he began to trail his fingertip along another one. 

“Well, I think you’re wrong,” he absentmindedly shrugged. “Scars are only as ugly as we make them out to be. I like that they hold stories we might not even know we had with them.” 

Huh. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”

After he reached the end, the boy looked back up at him and smiled something sad. “I don’t always like mine either. Sometimes I wish I could make them go away, but if I can’t help the fact that they’re there, then I figure it’s far more beneficial to find reasons to like them instead of finding reasons to hate them. Does that make sense? I feel like I might be rambling… just a little. Today has been so long and stressful.” 

Cohen felt himself sigh. “I could not agree more.” 

-

Within a few hours, the two of them had a steaming bowl of pasta each and had sat down together on the couch in Cohen’s living room. The place itself didn’t really have much to offer, but Elias seemed content enough leaning against the arm of the couch, a blanket draped over his shoulders and his entire body hunched over to try and savor as much warmth radiating from the bowl as he could. 

Meanwhile, Cohen had several search bars open on his laptop, all of them with articles relating to whom he assumed was Elias’ mother. They shared the same last name - he’d been smart enough to ask him about that as he cooked dinner, and it appeared that she died a few months before he said he was kidnapped. Not to mention her nineteen year old child that all three articles said went missing not long afterwards. 

But the paragraph that confused him most was the one that mentioned her murderer, who they said had supposedly gone into hiding afterwards. 

“Lucas killed your mom?” he blurted before he could stop the words from spilling out. Almost immediately Elias’ entire body stiffened, fingers tightening around his half-empty bowl despite the heat still going strong. Even for him, it wasn’t hard to see that he’d hit a sore spot, and in an extremely foolish way, too. 

The boy tilted his head a little in an attempt to see what was going on on the screen, his face falling even more when Cohen shut his laptop screen before he could get a proper look. “How’d you know about that?” 

 “I wanted to learn more about what happened.” 

“...and you wanted to do that through the media rather than me?” There it was. That same look Cohen had already seen so many times just in that cabin alone. Something that resembled a mixture of anger and hurt. Except, before, he hadn’t actually done anything wrong. He wasn’t sure he could say that now. “It’s ironic, really. Nobody ever wanted to hear my side of what happened back then, either.” 

Despite his inner voice telling him to just apologise, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. They were such simple words, and yet neither would come to him when he tried. 

So, instead of spending several minutes trying to speak what words wouldn’t come, he slowly sat up and set his laptop down on the coffee table in an attempt to show that his attention was now all on him. “Upsetting you was not my intention, Elias,” he quietly assured him, and the sound of his own name once again had him looking up through teary brown eyes. “I didn’t realise it was so important to you.” 

“Wouldn’t it be to anyone?” he asked irritably. “It was fucking horrible. All of it. I bet you missed all those articles speculating that I was the one who killed her, too.” 

Cohen frowned. “People really thought that?”

“Of course they fucking did, and you wanna know why he had me in his filthy little hands soon after he killed her? I wanted to clear my name. I wanted it all to stop. I wanted to be able to step outside just once without being shunned for the things I didn’t even do.” 

“So…” Cohen’s eyes squeezed shut as the realisation finally dawned on him. It made him felt sick. “You went to find him.” 

“Yeah, I did.” 

When his eyes finally opened again, he realised that all the anger was gone. He was no longer the picture of fury, struggling to have his own voice be heard over everyone else’s theories and speculations. Instead, he now looked absolutely heartbroken, as if any grief he should have felt at the time was finally beginning to make its way to the surface.

“Nobody gave me a chance to stand up for myself,” he whispered bitterly after a quiet minute or two. “Nobody asked how I was or- or if I was handling the death of my own fucking mother okay. Nobody fucking cared that the answer was no. I could not have been more alone, and- and eventually I decided that if I died trying to prove I was innocent, then it was probably for the best anyway.” 

“...’n’ I guess I was too upset to consider all the other possible scenarios.” 

Cohen forced himself to nod. A weak attempt at showing that he was still listening, even if he wasn’t responding to what was being said. Truthfully, he had no idea what to say. Everything he thought of was either only going to make it worse or a completely pointless addition to the conversation. 

“I believe you” was the phrase he finally settled on. Not long afterwards Elias appeared directly beside him, his bottom lip trembling as he suspiciously examined his facial expression for any underlying lies or hints of sarcasm.

Eventually, his shoulders began to slump a little as he relaxed. “You do?” he whispered. 

“Yeah.” He gave a firm nod. “Got no reason not to. Besides, I’m not really in the right position to be judging people on that sort of thing even if you had, now am I?”

Much to his relief, Elias’ face shifted into one of slight amusement. “At least the people you kill are guilty of something,” he mumbled as he tiredly pressed his forehead into Cohen’s arm. “My mother was a good person. Did nothin’ to deserve the fate she got. I miss her more and more every goddamn day.”

Albeit awkwardly, Cohen forced his arm around the boy’s shoulders and pulled him a little closer, allowing him to fully collapse against his side as he started to quietly weep all over again. “She never would’a let me do something so fucking stupid.” 

All he could do was give a sad smile, gentle fingers rubbing soothing circles into his back as the tears continued to fall down Elias’ grief stricken face.

“I… I got you,” he spoke slowly. Truth be told, he was possibly going to end up simply quoting all the most common phrases of comfort from his favourite books until he calmed down if this continued. He knew nothing about looking after another person, apart from the physical aspect of it. 

He wondered how the hell he was supposed to make it through two months of this without constantly messing up. 

-

Taglist:@kiss1t0ffm3 @nyooom @pigeonwhumps @topsheepstudent @whumped4whumplover @whumpsday @whumpshaped

Ask to be added or taken off <3

[mj-iza-writer]

I wrote this at work on a slow day. Character death- MJ

"Amy, stop spacing out", the charge nurse snapped their fingers while they checked vitals.

"I'm sorry, but do you ever feel like something is watching you in this room?", Amy shivered, "it gives me the creeps."

"All of the time", the charge nurse sighed, "I try to ignore it, this poor soul needs us", they looked at the battered body.

It had been a full week since the detectives had located Caretaker's location and raided the building. Caretaker and two others had been held captive there. All three varied in how long they had been there.

Caretaker had been there three weeks, and even in that amount of time, the doctors felt it would be safest to put him into a coma to heal.

The second person had been a week there, they escaped with minor injuries.

The third, Whumpee, had been there for a year. They were badly broken by the time they were removed. It seemed they had fought to stay alive long enough to be found, they succumbed to their injuries in an officers arms. Dead by the time they felt the chill of the night air.

Caretaker had been heard yelling, asking about the two others. No one had the will to tell them Whumpee died.

Now, Caretaker lay in their hospital bed, a long road to recovery. Most was to be spent in the medically induced coma.

Most staff couldn't get over the spooky feeling of someone watching in Caretaker's room.

No one noticed Whumpee sitting on the floor beside Caretaker's bed. At least no one could see them there it seemed.

Whumpee often cried, they didn't want to be invisible. They wished to be acknowledged again, even if it meant going back to the torture. This was almost worse than anything their captors had done.

Whumpee stood up and gently poked Caretaker.

"Caretaker", they whispered, "please tell me what's going on."

Caretaker just layed there motionless.

Whumpee screamed, causing the lights to dim. The monitor beeped a few times before someone rushed in.

"That's the second time today", the charge nurse sighed, "whatever keeps doing that needs to stop, it's going to kill Caretaker."

Whumpee whimpered when they heard those words.

Another nurse came in.

"Everything okay?", they asked.

"Yes, Caretaker is stable", the nurse looked over the vital another time.

"Good. I was reading the chart for Caretaker. Did you know two others came out of that place. One hadn't been there too long, so they were fairly okay and were in a different part of the hospital. But one other named Whumpee died as they were being carried out", the nurse frowned, "it seemed Caretaker had been doing all they could to keep Whumpee alive, with promises that they would be rescued soon. Whumpee died as they left the building."

Whumpee listened, "I remember now, I didn't want to be forgotten in this world. Caretaker kept promising me that we would be found, just hold out a little longer. I remember now. I-I died."

Whumpee fell to the ground in front of the nurses.

"Not to be superstitious, but you don't suppose Whumpee could be here with us. They seemed pretty close to Caretaker", the nurse frowned.

Whumpee listened bewildered.

"I don't know, I have a hard time believing in ghost."

"You can admit though it's spooky in here", the other admitted.

They both left agreeing with each other.

Whumpee stood by Caretaker's bed now. They cried but tried to be careful with their emotions they didn't want to kill Caretaker or anyone for that matter.

Whumpee sat by the bed for the rest of the day thinking about what had happened. Wishing they knew more of what was going on. If only Caretaker were with them to tell them it was going to be okay.

"He probably wouldn't be able to see me anyways", Whumpee sighed.

The door opened again. The nurse from earlier came in carrying something.

"This is awkward, but is there by chance someone in here named Whumpee?", they looked around.

Whumpee stood up.

"If you are here, will you move this", the nurse held up a string with a needle hanging from it.

Whumpee went over to them, but stopped suddenly, "how am I supposed to move that", they waved their hands at it. Nothing.

"Come on, I can feel your energy. Just tell me I'm not crazy", the nurse pleaded.

Whumpee groaned, "I can't", they looked at the string and with all concentration they could muster tried to flick it."

"It moved", the nurse exclaimed excitedly.

Whumpee fell back suddenly feeling really weak.

"Okay wow", the nurse looked around excitedly.

Whumpee smiled, glad they had been noticed again.

Whumpee decided to tour around the hospital a few days later.

There was nothing else to do besides watch Caretaker's steady breathing and the machines thankfully keeping Caretaker alive.

Whumpee came back to the room in time to see the doctor come in.

"They are looking good", the doctor exclamined, "I may consider taking them out of the coma if it keeps up."

Whumpee sat on the couch across the room from them to listen.

The nurse who knew Whumpee was there. They looked around the room.

"You seem a little sidetracked", the doctor smiled.

"I'm sorry, um it's weird, but I feel like someone is watching", the nurse blushed.

"You mean like a ghost", the doctor smiled wider.

"Yes", the nurse looked down, "do you believe in ghost?"

"Well honestly I don't know, there are a lot of things we don't know about in this life", the doctor sighed, "but I don't doubt your senses. There was a death involved in this case."

"Yes, Whumpee", the nurse looked at Caretaker.

"Yes."

Whumpee stood by the light switch, they had learned a few tricks, and was working on their energy. They smiled as they flicked the switch off then on again.

"What the heck", the doctor looked around.

"They have a few pranks they like to pull", the nurse sighed.

"They?", the doctor looked at them wide-eyed.

"Whumpee, they've been with Caretaker this whole time watching over them", the nurse smirked, "I was able to make contact, and I think they've enjoyed being noticed again. The room seems lighter than it did before doesn't it."

"Y-yes", the doctor tried to catch their breath, "I uh, wasn't expecting that."

Whumpee laughed as they walked to the bed. They reached down and touched the doctor's hand.

The doctor jerked back.

"Cold hand touch yours?", the nurse grinned.

"Y-yes", the doctor looked at them shocked.

"They won't hurt you, I think they are learning how to do things, and are trying to be noticed more", the nurse sighed, "I wasn't ready when they poked me the other day."

"What do we do?", the doctor asked, "this is a new one for me."

"Just say hi, they don't want to cause any trouble", the nurse smiled, "they just want people to know they're here."

The doctor nodded, "Hello Whumpee, I promise Caretaker is in good hands."

Whumpee smiled finally someone else knew they existed still, they weren't forgotten.

A few more days passed, three weeks since Caretaker was hospitalized.

The doctor peaked in, "alright Whumpee, no spooks, I need to check on Caretaker."

Whumpee sat on the couch and watched the doctor and nurses working on Caretaker.

"I think we can take them out of the coma, they've healed remarkably", the doctor smiled happily, "better than I thought."

Whumpee did a happy dance, they could finally find out if Caretaker could see them. They ignored the thought of Caretaker not seeing them though.

Later the staff came in to start the process.

Whumpee stood at the bedside next to them.

They poked the nurse they had befriended.

"I know I'm excited to", the nurse whispered.

Everyone gave a weird look, only the doctor gave a knowing glance around the room.

The nurse quickly pointed out where Whumpee was.

The doctor nodded.

Whumpee watched as Caretaker struggled to wake up.

Caretaker gasped a couple times, "where am I?"

"You are in a hospital, just getting out of a medically induced coma", the doctor smiled, "you are safe now."

Caretaker closed their eyes, "okay, yep its coming back to me, how is, how is Whumpee and that other one? Are they okay?"

"How about we finish here, and we'll talk", the doctor sighed.

"No please I know Whumpee was in bad shape, and no one has told me anything. Are they ok....", Caretaker locked eyes with Whumpee, "oh they're right there, good. Whumpee, you look like your in better shape than me, oh that's good", Caretaker relaxed.

Whumpee almost cried.

The doctor locked eyes with the nurse, they both shivered.

Everyone else looked startled as well, Whumpee wasn't there. They figured he was still processing.

Once everyone had left except the doctor and the nurse. They both sat beside Caretaker's bed.

The doctor started, "Caretaker I am so happy you are awake, you've been an honor to take care of."

The nurse agreed.

"I have some news though, um, Whumpee died that night", the doctor sighed, "um the moment the officer got them outside they passed", the doctor wiped a stray tear.

"I'm looking at them right now", Caretaker pointed, almost pleadfully.

Whumpee wiped a tear away, they disappeared and reappeared closer to Caretaker.

"I'm dead Caretaker", they sighed.

"No, no please", Caretaker sobbed, "you were supposed to be free with me, and live and be remembered. And- and be reminded there is good in this world."

"There is good", Whumpee reached and grabbed Caretaker's arm, "this doctor, this nurse, you. There is so much good here.

Caretaker sobbed as they listened.

The doctor looked away, they eyed the nurse.

"I'm so sorry Caretaker", they replied, "we both believe Whumpee is here with you, they've been here this whole time watching over you, and playing pranks on us. I think you might be able to see them, I'm taking it as that."

Caretaker nodded.

"I'm sure you both have a lot to talk about so we are going to leave you now. Use this call bell if you need us", the doctor pulled down the alarms.

Caretaker wiped a tear as they watched them leave.

"The other person was rescued as well, they've already been cleared to go home, they couldn't see me, but I spent some time in their room before they left", Whumpee stood by the bed, "so far you've been the only one to see me. That nurse made contact with me first, then the doctor felt me."

"I yelled for you, no one told me. I'm so sorry", Caretaker sobbed.

"The only thing I would change from this is that I wish I could have known you on your side of life. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do now', Whumpee looked down, "the officer that carried me was very kind. When he saw I was dying, he stopped and hugged me as I died. I'm okay."

Caretaker shook as they listened.

"I promise, I'm okay. You were right, I was able to hold on a little longer, and be free, just in a different way. Hopefully, you will remember me if I ever do fade out of existence. I honestly have no idea what will happen to me now."

"I won't forget you Whumpee I promise", Caretaker smiled weakly, "until that happens will you stay with me, haunt me if you will. Maybe you can enjoy your freedom that way until you know what you are supposed to do."

"I'll enjoy that", Whumpee grinned, "it's been fun learning to be a ghost."

Caretaker nodded, "I'm sure."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13 @notpeppermint

[eldritchaccident]

Timing: In the early hours of the morning Location: The Jones household basement Feat: @faustianbroker & @eldritchaccident Warnings: None on the list, but a large beast does get stapled back together Summary: What happens when a phone call becomes a visit

The downfall of having a physical form was, of course, the risk of damage.

It was a risk Leviathan had happily taken in stride for centuries, and it had never really bitten the demon in the ass too badly until now. The monstrous, semi-aquatic creature was tucked away in the dark recesses of a damp cave that sat along the coast of another dimension, its sides rising and falling with fluttering irregularity. Every once in a while the silence would be broken by the sound of scales dragging across stone as it repositioned itself, battered body aching and bleeding blue onto the cavern floor. It didn’t have much time to make good on the deal it had been forced into accepting, it knew. It had to move soon, but it was in too much pain to even try. They had cornered it here, a half dozen of them, bearing down upon it with ferocity that it knew came from fear. But they wouldn’t kill it, they wouldn’t stoop to that level. No, they had other ideas. They would still make use of Leviathan yet. There was little sense in wasting the talents of one of their own kind, after all, like Leviathan had wasted Wyvss’Kgorr’s. So, with teeth cutting into its neck and its spine threatening to shatter under the pressure, it had accepted the deal. The other demons left it then, satisfied with the results of this single-use league, and went back to their respective dimensions, likely to never coordinate with one another in such a way again. 

Leviathan would be proud of causing such a reaction once it felt less like it was on the brink of death.

There wasn’t a way to tell how much time had passed here, cut off from the starlight as it was, but every moment that passed stacked an additional brick of unease on the wall that the demon was trying to build around itself. All of this had happened because it cared too much, because it was too curious for its own good. It wouldn’t let such things get in the way again, it told itself, even if it did have to return to Wicked’s Rest. It wouldn’t (it probably would). Laying there in the pitch darkness, Leviathan was acutely aware of a sudden tug in its chest. It lifted that massive head, many eyes blinking out of sync as it focused on nothing but dark. A low growl started in its throat and it shifted lazily before wincing in surprise as a sudden light filled the cavern. It was only a pinprick at first, but it blinded the beast into submission, eyes squeezing shut and head rearing back, away from the offensive glare.

Those eyes remained shut, until it heard a sound. It wasn’t sure what the sound was, but it knew it had not come from itself. Blinking them open again, squinting against the light, Leviathan peered into the space in front of it while its eyes adjusted. That tug in its chest grew stronger, heart hammering against prehistoric ribs. The light was a ring in the air, and in the center of it, a dimmer source of illumination, and… a figure. A person. 

“... Teddy?”

—

Days of non-stop work, weeks of planning, months of research. All boiled down to a pin prick point of focus. Determination. Hope. Teddy’s blood, sweat, and tears ran rivers. But the ritual was working. Energy effused through every vein, every pore. Alight inside, illuminating their skin and the dim basement around them with an eerie blue glow. 

Teddy's breath felt like fire, each labored movement came at cost. This wasn't the kind of magic that naturally flowed through them. Summoning was much more Van’s thing than Teddy's. But there was no way they were going to risk hurting her, or even the possibility of bringing her near something so dangerous. 

Hell, Emilio was supposed to be next to them too, but Teddy wouldn't let that happen. Was supposed to be by their side in case shit went sideways, or they somehow dialed the wrong demon number. But he'd been through too much with Basil or whatever the fuck that demon was called. Still on bedrest. His favorite thing. So no. Teddy had to do this alone. Had to make contact. Had to hear from their father. 

And it was working. 

A hole ripped through the fabric of the universe, tore a portal through to another dimension. The brusk smell of the endless ocean burst through first. Unmistakable and nostalgic. Enough to know Teddy was doing something right. A hazy picture began to form next. A room too dark to see, something that Teddy couldn't allow their heart to race at. At that moment, it was like they were a twelve volt battery channeling a whole power plant through its cells. All while trying to recite the dictionary backwards from memory. 

And then its voice rang through. Rough, rich, and rumbling deep into Teddy's bones. 

“D-dad!” Ted called out, the portal shrank slightly as their focus faulted, their breath hitched until they could catch themself and steady it once more. A sizzle at their fingertips reminded them how little room for error there was, and how dumb of an idea it was to do this alone. 

— 

All those ideals of closing itself off from others crumbled in the hopeful and frightened face of Theodore Jones, who called out to it with a term of familiarity that it hadn’t heard in so long… It groaned, picking itself up off the floor of the cave and dragging that enormous body closer to the portal. Without any care for what might happen if its child lost focus and the portal closed on it, Leviathan stuck one bestial, webbed hand through the opening, gripping the edge of the luminous tear in reality as if it were merely a rung on a ladder. “Teddy,” it repeated slowly, eyes closing again as it hauled itself closer. It wasn’t sure which would be easier—helping Teddy make the portal stronger and larger, or shifting into something smaller. The latter would be advantageous to fitting into the basement of their home, which is what the background behind its child appeared to be. But the former wouldn’t be a bad idea either, so Leviathan summoned the last of its strength to do both at the same time. That handful of eyes snapped open again, glowing a bright ethereal blue as it tried to strengthen the connection with its own power, continuing to pull itself through the portal as seafoam bubbled up around it and sloughed off parts of its body. Shedding its previous form didn’t get rid of the wounds, and the pain of ripping them open drew a long, grating cry from its jaws as it slumped to the floor of the basement, thrashing its body farther into the room and curling its tail around itself. 

The spiny, webbed dorsal fin flattened as the creature let out a long, exhausted sigh. Gills flapped uselessly, but the lungs in its anatomy kept it from being in any immediate peril. Drying out would be unpleasant, but that was a concern for later. Leviathan was still slicked with blue blood, long head swinging around to face Teddy. Even among the perplexing layout of the demon’s features, pride could be seen. “Just… the person I wanted to see,” it rattled.

—

The portal wasn’t necessarily supposed to work like that. Was built to be more of a phone call than a bridge, but— Ahh. Leviathan’s energies pooled into the ritual, like the sea meeting a freshwater spring. A brackish backlash that somehow both soothed and burned with a familiarity that only stood to bolster Teddy’s resolve. It wasn’t expected, but they couldn’t help the elation, that quickly melted away into horror as they realized exactly what shape the beast was in. 

Leviathan slithered through and the gateway snapped shut. A sickening pop and rush of air and energy propelled Teddy backwards, falling into the great creature’s side with a soft thud. A moment of shock left the caster breathless, whirling around to take stock of what just happened. Long distance facetime connections don’t usually end with an instantaneous house call. 

A horrible part of Teddy’s imagination briefly wondered whether it was an improperly done ritual that had marred the Leviathan’s hide in such a vicious manner, that somehow this blood was their fault but the bite marks and claw wounds were more than enough evidence that something else was at play. 

“W-what happened— Dad are you okay??” Teddy’s voice croaked, their hands found its face, or at least what they could hold from such a small state beside it. “What can I do to help?” They were tired, spent from the spell, from the variant magic running through their veins, from the weeks of exhausting research and need to get it just right. But goddamn there wasn’t a fucking thing they wouldn’t jump up and do for Leviathan right then. 

Their dad was home, really properly there, not just on the other end of a half-thought dream. It looked at them with pride and Teddy’s heart soared with all the ache they’d carried these months without their father. Thinking they’d never get to see it again at all. Hell, if Levi wanted a few human sacrifices Teds could think of a few less than pleasant neighbors who hadn’t been so kind during Pride month. “What do you need?” 

—

The demon groaned and shifted its body weight again, but held its head still in the caster’s hands. “Fine, I’m fine,” it breathed, not wanting to worry Teddy more than it inevitably would. “They ah… well. It was as I feared.” The greater demons had taken issue, and had pursued it. “I was found.” It sucked in another long breath, closing its eyes again and just enjoying the feeling of being embraced. “It’s okay. I needed… to come back here. You… made that much easier,” it admitted, closing its eyes. “As for what I need… time. Just time.” It let out one last ragged sigh before blinking and swiveling its gaze to meet Teddy’s. 

The human emotions that had plagued it while it remained tethered to its ward had never fully left. Or rather, they lingered in spite of the involuntary compulsion to experience them having been removed, and now they only existed in the Leviathan’s breast because it wished it so. Hours ago, it had wanted to feel nothing, to return to numbness, but how could it still want that when Teddy was here in front of it, pressing their hands to its scales and asking how they could help? Void above, they’d never wanted anything but to help their father and make it proud of them, and Leviathan could have done much better in showing them just how proud it was. In the end, it had become cold. It told itself this was to spare them both a more painful goodbye, and while that might have been true, it was not the whole truth.

“I am sorry,” came the creature’s low, rumbling apology. “For everything. Please, tell me… how have you been? What’s happened since I had to leave?”

—

Fine wasn’t a word they’d use to describe the gouged flesh and torn hide, but Teddy also knew the beast well enough that it would deny any fussing and worrying unless given forcefully. Years ago, a young Theodore had tried to salve the demon’s wounds with stolen Hello Kitty bandaids, glittery stickers, and ‘healing’ pancakes with extra shrimp. But the Jones house never lacked for those dumb enough to pick a bone with them. So Teds got a lot of practice in. Even shapeshifting demons from before the dawn of time needed a little TLC after a rampage or two. 

This seemed worse, somehow. In a way that Teddy couldn’t put into words but felt deep in their gut. They didn’t want to leave its side, but some of the weeping wounds needed a little more than just time. “Too many— even for you to fight?” They guessed tentatively. A spark of undeniable skepticism lacing their sentence, as if anything in the great vastness of the void above and below could ever come close to the might their father commanded. The question was a good enough segue to step aside for a moment. Grab some tools and tenderly start to work. A needle and thread would do about as well as a kayak in a hurricane, so the next best thing would be a staple gun and duct tape. Emilio would be proud. 

“Made easi— I helped you? Dad I just— It wasn’t supposed to be a physical tear— that was all you.” Mend the big gaps, ignore the sounds of pain, wipe off anything too mucky, sanitize with vodka. Teddy’s brain went all methodical in times like this. An engine built to bring things back to calm, to safety. Even so, the talking was nice. Hearing his voice made them feel a little less alone in the world. Sure, Teddy had a pretty tight family they’d forged for themself here, but Levi was their dad. And that was— a bit of a sore subject. 

“Lots.” They admitted. Their mind flashed back to Canada. To the worst parts first. How many times they’d be injured, only to be saved by Leviathan’s blessing. How many times they nearly died. But it wasn’t all bad. “I uh— I think I’m gonna marry Emilio. That’s a big one. Didn’t really see that coming.” 

—

There was a long pause before Leviathan answered the first question, for the demon disliked the answer. “Yes. Even for me.” They had no natural predators but themselves, and while Leviathan had spent centuries battling ferocious creatures and armies of men, it still could not stand up to the might of six others at once. “But I am alive, so who really won?” it added with a grating sound that was maybe supposed to be a laugh. 

Dying, of course, had never been the true peril of being caught. Leviathan had wondered for a time if they would merely seek revenge, but knowing what it would do if faced with such a crisis of personal security and safety, it knew that it would have used that leverage for more than just death. The scenario with Wynne’s demon had been different—more had been at stake. Or, well, things outside of itself had been at stake. There had been no room for loopholes. But of course, it could not tell Teddy any of this.

The demon hissed softly in response to the staple gun, flinching away from it without wanting to, eyes tightly shut. “Maybe not,” it ground out, “but I didn’t have the strength to even contact you, much less… create a portal from the ground up. So yes. You gave me an anchor. You helped.” 

Lots. That was nondescript. But they’d have plenty of time for talking, it knew, so it didn’t worry too much that the full truth was being withheld for now. It had its own secrets, after all. “Marry?” it piped up, looking up at Teddy again. Humans were really pretty crazy about that kind of thing, weren’t they? It stood to reason that Teddy would be just as susceptible to romanticism. Hm. I suppose my faith in the slayer to look after you was well placed. It would have to thank him later. “That is very good news,” the demon purred, carefully lifting a front leg and brushing the back of a clawed, webbed toe against Teddy’s side. Its teeth were bared in something that was probably supposed to be a smile, though given the beastly form it had taken, it looked more like a grimace. Ah well. “I am… here for you. I’m not leaving again, Teddy.” There was a beat of powerful silence. “I promise.”

—

“Naaaah, I bet you had them all scared. Just a flinch and they’d be quaking in their eldritch boots.” A childish lie, hoping to be true. Teddy nuzzled in closer to the hardened scales and expanse of rough flesh. Worming their way between the folds of its arm into a crook that snugly held the all too human Jones. A body never meant for comfort or its ilk, but to the Leviathan’s ward? It was home. Teddy was home after far too long, even if it wasn’t exactly the same, even if it never would be again. They had their dad and everything seemed just a little more okay. 

From their squished up position, using the big amphibious lizard-thing as both blanket and mattress, Teddy surged with a pride vibrant enough to spur what dregs of energy was left in their system to spark outwards and shatter the one lightbulb in the basement. Leaving just the candles and one very persistent glow-stick from a parade in June to keep the space from total darkness. Thankfully. Teds didn’t exactly want to explain that one just yet, and the Leviathan probably needed some quiet and peace to rest. 

“Better that you’ll be here for it. Who else is gonna give away the blushing bride?” To be fair, most of Teddy’s ideas of what marriage was came from old movies and pop culture. Growing up, Levi had never been shy about multiple partners and enjoying itself whenever the whims arose. The desire to tie their life to Emilio came from somewhere else entirely. All wrapped up in the ways the hunter made them feel so secure and safe, in the respect and admiration they had for him. In the love for his personality and how perfectly it complimented their own. Love in a completely new form, as steady as a stone. 

The wriggling human stilled after the Leviathan’s next statement. Its promise. Teddy’s breath stopped short, they let the weight of what it said sink in, even if they couldn’t fully process immediately what it would mean, the elation and joy sparked up right away. Like a giddy toddler, they pressed themself further into the beast’s side. “Thank you, dad I— I needed you. I think I always will. I love you.” 

—

Teddy was wrong, but Leviathan would let them believe what they liked. It didn’t matter, anyway. What had truly transpired was something the demon would not—and could not—speak of. Eyes flicked up toward the shattered bulb—the beast wanted to ask, it wanted to know what had become of Teddy since it had fled this plane, how the child’s power had truly manifested itself without the demonic runes on their bones overpowering whatever had been dormant all these years… but they would have time. They would have all the time that they needed, and Leviathan would ask every question that rolled across its mind like a cavalry of tumbleweeds across the desert. 

“I am going to make sure I write…” It paused to suck in a tired breath, “a very long and embarrassing toast.” There was another rumble of amusement in its throat as it thought about that day, whenever it came about, and it felt itself warm from the inside out. To see Teddy happy was all it needed, whatever form that came in. 

“I am sorry it was for so long. But I think it was the correct choice.” Leviathan shuddered to think what might have happened to Teddy if the other demons had sensed the bridge between them, had sniffed out their familial bond and chosen to use that against it. “Even so…” A second apology hung silent in the air, felt rather than heard as the demon pulled Teddy closer to itself, if that were possible. “I love you too.” Another short, pained sigh slipped free from its maw. “I think… I need to take a very long nap. Much healing to be done.” It shifted its massive head. “You do not need to stay. I will remain here until I feel I can safely return to my disguised form.” If Teddy was so certain they’d be marrying Emilio, then the return of their father was probably a bit of news worth sharing with him. “When you’re ready, go speak with Emilio. I do not know if he is still as angry with me as he was when I left, but… you’ve always been great at diplomacy.”

[charmingsoa]

■ Gunslinger ■                 Ch. 6 ✶ Jax Teller/OC multi-chapter story ✶

🀰 Taglist available🀰

(TW: Mentions of rape, physical abuse, cursing)

@cindsvibes @sweet--catrastrophe  @stephv213  @itspdameronthings @neverland14353  @sweetdispositionsss @fandom-oneshots-etc @xtwistedxwonderlandx​ 

His dirty fingers lingered on my skin as I laid beneath him – tears falling from my lined eyes as his cigarette breath fell onto my neck. I knew she was in the room too – probably standing in the corner as he had his way with me. This had become a nightly ritual between the two of them. She was either too drunk or high for him to get enjoyment – barging through my door instead as she watched with dead eyes. The following morning, I would have to come up with many lies as to why my face was busted or why I was absent from school for such a long period. I had learned to ease the pain with the random drugs I would find as my mother slept. A line or two – a pill or four – just enough to numb the pain as his sweaty body laid on top of mine.

I spent the rest of the night in the broken-down truck that sat in the yard. I didn’t want to be in that house – be near the two of them. I didn’t even bother crying anymore as I washed his stench off my battered body. It was a regular occurrence at this point. I slowly made the walk to school – the clothes that I’ve worn for the past week hanging off my body like dirty rags. I knew the other students and teachers looked at me with pity – some whispering as I would walk by. I was just another kid from the wrong side of the tracks – a welfare case that should have either been aborted or placed up for adoption. I was a pawn to my mother – a warm body for her boyfriends – a guaranteed check from the government.

“Carter?” I looked up as the principle made her way towards me. I already knew how the conversation would go.

What happened to you this time? I’m gonna have to report this if it keeps happening? Is your mother aware of this?

“What happened to your face, Carter?” Her voice stern.

I had learned to lie at a very early age thanks to my mother. “Just an accident is all, Ms. Lions.” I smiled. “I was helping my mom with some home renovations and a couple things fell off the shelf while I was under it. Total stupidity on my part.”

I knew she didn’t believe me – “This is the fourth time something has fallen on your face in the past year, Carter.”

“Just clumsy and accident prone, I guess.” I replied.

She stayed silent as I walked away – a part of me wishing that she would finally call…

“Stupid bitch!”

I whimpered as her nails dug into my skin – no doubt causing blood to pool to the surface. “Had to open your fucking mouth to those nosey fucking teachers and tell them lies.” I glanced to the side, Butch, the fuck of the week, leaning against the trailer door. His eyes glazed over as he tipped back the beer bottle.

“I didn’t say anything!” I cried out. “I promise!”

“Lying fucking bitch.” She growled. “All you do is lie and try to steal what’s mine!”

I managed to get the courage to push her off of me – her body landing on the dirty carpet below. She looked around shocked – Butch just hanging in the shadows. Before she could jump up, I sprinted to my room, locking the door behind me. The sound of more bottles falling to the ground could be heard – glass littering the living room and kitchen as she raged. I had nowhere to go but I wasn’t staying here any longer. I packed up what I could fit in my duffle and backpack – climbing out the broken window to escape. She had put her hands on me before – practically choking me out enough to make me almost lose consciousness at times. This was the last straw though. I didn’t want to stay in a place where I needed to fear for my life. If I didn’t leave tonight, this could have been the last night of my life…

“Are you out of your fucking mind, Carter?”

I leaned against the clubhouse walls; my eyes drawn to the concrete floor. Word of my house burning to the ground quickly made its way to the city of Charming, the club being the first to respond. “It was an accident.” I muttered.

His head turned sharply in my direction, “An accident-“His voice stern. “Carter, you lit a fucking match and set the house a blaze. That’s not an accident – that’s fucking arson!”  

“Stop yelling at me.” My voice low. “If I say it was an accident then that’s what it fucking was, Jackson.” His body tensed as he grasped onto the chair. “You don’t know what it’s fucking like going back into a place where you once felt safe – content. Now you have to look over your shoulder every damn second, afraid someone is gonna be there and finish off what they started. I can’t bring Madison back into that house – I don’t feel safe anywhere, Jax.” Tears fell as I spoke. “What if those bastards come back and hurt our daughter? I can’t have that ever happening and if that meant burning down the God damn house then so be it.”

He let out a loud sigh, his hand running down his tired face. “I know this is a huge mess that you and the club are gonna have to clean up but it needed to happen.”

“It’s fine.” I looked at him. “Clay knows the fire marshal – paying off will be no problem.”

The room turned silent as I took a seat, my hands running through my hair. “You and Maddie will just have to stay at my place for the time being. Her room is already set up and most of her stuff is there anyway.” Jax spoke as he sat next to me. “Be like old times.” A smirk formed on his face.

I rolled my eyes, “Yeah – just like old times.”

“I still love you, Carter.” His voice more serious. “What I said the other day was just out of anger. I would never mean the things and names I called you.”

I glanced up at him, his eyes red with incoming tears. “We both said things that we never meant- that’s just how we work.” It was true – we would always say the vilest things toward one another. “Let’s just put it in the past like everything else, okay.”

He took my hand in his – my heart fluttering as he pressed his lips against my skin. “Promise.”

I moved what was left of mine and Madison’s things into Jax’s house. Half-sack was in charge of watching me – receiving orders from Jax to take out anyone that looked suspicious. I doubt Georgie and his goon squad would try anything right now – especially knowing that the club was on the warpath. I had him drive me over to the studio – Luann still in disbelief that this would happen to one of her girls. Jax had placed a couple of the prospects at the studio to protect the girls, even buying two large dogs in case no one was there during the night.

Luann was restricted to what she could do seeing as the feds were still looking into the business aspect of Cara Cara. The new talent that she had hired weeks before were already gone, either too scared or too greedy. Ima had decided to return after her little stint with Darby, basically begging Luann to take her back. Rumor was she even went and worked with Georgie for a week or two before crawling back.

“How’re you doing sweetheart?” Her arms wrapped around my frame.  

“Bout as good as I can be at this point.” I smiled as I pulled away slightly. “I’m sorry.” Tears formed in my eyes.

“Oh, Carter-“She sighed, pulling me back into the hug. “None of this was your fault, sweetie. You have to stop blaming yourself.”

We stayed silent as she continued to hug me – pulling away after a few minutes. “I should be the one apologizing to you – I’m the one that stirred shit up with him and he comes after you and the others.”

I looked at her confused, “Who else did he come after?”

She stayed silent for a moment, “Well-“She shifted in her seat. “One of his men threatened and punched Lyla in the face. Another guy followed Ima home and basically terrorized her all night by calling and stalking her. Jax and the guys have been trying but the more they press back, the worse the assaults get. They know you’re involved with Jax and that you’re one of my top earners. Georgie doesn’t just want to hurt you – he wants Jax and I to suffer too.”

“He approached me a week or two before the attack.” I spoke. “I was at the grocery store with Madison and the bastard came up to me while I was putting her in the car. Started telling me that I needed to drop you and work for a true professional. I of course told him no and to leave me alone. He obviously followed me home and I didn’t even know it. I’m just thankful Madison wasn’t home when they did it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Carter?

I shrugged my shoulders, “I thought I could handle it – plus you had enough on your plate at that time. I didn’t even tell Jax – I didn’t think it would come to the point it did.”

“Have you talked to anyone about it?”

I shook my head no. “I’ve been through shit like that before – I don’t need to talk to a fucking shrink and have them pick my brain about why I think this happened to me. I don’t need to tell a stranger about how my mom’s boyfriends would have their way with me and then how my mom would beat the hell out of me the next day. I don’t need them telling me that the reason I picked a career in porn is because my father wasn’t around and the abuse that I received when I was a kid. It’s nobody’s fucking business except mine.  

Luann stayed silent.

“I just want this whole thing to be forgotten. I was raped – attacked – it fucking happens.”

“Carter, shit like that doesn’t happen – it’s not supposed to fucking happen.” I rolled my eyes. “You may try to forget about it but that’s gonna eat you alive. Even if you don’t talk to a doctor about it – just try to talk to someone.”

I simply nodded my head, “Sure thing.” I forced a smile before walking away…

“I’ve missed you so much, baby doll.”

Her little legs and arms were wrapped tight against my body as I moved us around the room. I hadn’t seen my daughter in almost two weeks – crying as soon as I saw Jax’s truck pull into the driveway that night. I sprinted off the porch, throwing open the door, her little face lit up like a Christmas tree once she saw me.

“You stay here with me and daddy?” She asked as she played with my necklace.

I nodded my head, “Sure am, baby.”

I set her down on the floor, watching as she ran into the other room. I couldn’t help but cry – Jax coming to my side – his arm wrapping around my middle. “She missed you, kid.”

Moments later, her little sandaled feet came running back, construction paper in her tiny hands. “Mommy, I drew these for you when you were sick. Nana Gemma helped me with the glue and scissors.” She handed me the drawings. “That’s me and you when we go to the park and the other one is me, you, and daddy.”

I looked at the pictures, stick figures and scribbled coloring making my heart break even more. “Nana Gemma said that pictures would make you feel better – make the monsters go away.” Her little hand placed on my leg. “You like it, mommy?”

“I love it, sweetheart.” I pulled her in for another hug.

We ordered pizza that night for dinner, Madison crashing soon after. I carried her into the room, placing her into the princess bed Jax and Opie cursed over a year ago. I still remember the look of happiness on her face when she saw it for the first time. Jax and Opie’s face told another tale. I placed a kiss on her forehead before turning off the lights, cracking her door before walking towards the bathroom.

“All set?” Jax whispered as he leaned against the door frame.

I let out a sigh, “I think so.” I looked around – everything still the same from years before. My eyes caught the tub – Jax and I relaxing in the bubbles before bed most nights. As our relationship slowly started to end, I would go in there alone as my thoughts raced. A glass of champaign and too many lit candles keeping me company as the bubbles faded away.

I looked back at Jax, his eyes searching mine as I slowly started to remove my shirt. “What’re you doing?” He asked unsure. I stayed silent as I plugged the tub, pouring the rest of Madison’s bubble bath into the water. Our eyes stayed locked as I undressed – finally breaking as I stepped into the warm, welcoming water. It had been quite some time since Jax and I had been in an intimate situation. We would tease each other here and there but it had been over a year since we slept together. I just needed a familiar touch – not in a sensual way – but a protective, loving way.

He stood still – moving once I gave him the reassuring glance. I kept my focus ahead as he removed his clothes, moving up slightly as he placed himself behind me. As my back hit his chest, a sense of relief was lifted. My body was positioned between his – a protective bubble that made me feel whole once again. We stayed silent as I laid my head against this shoulder, his hands locked around my waist. Everything felt right for that moment in time.

[toon-tales]

There it is! Part two of the Feral Branch fic!

Enjoy and tell me if you have any comments!

Branch has lost count of the trees he's let his anger out on so far, fire shooting from his fists and all the way up to his elbows as a result from banging them against the hard wood, and his hair sticking out in different angles after pulling at whatever branches came in his face. He knew this wasn't right - snapping at his brothers, telling them to leave, only for him to run away as well. And now, he was battered and bruised, sprawled out on the grassy, muddy floor. He closed his eyes, the sound of rain hitting the leaves that were shielding him fading into the background, drowned out by the thoughts racing in his head. He tried to focus on the simple shower pouring, desperately seeking any sort of comfort. He could feel the tips of his hair getting wet, but he was too careless to even think about moving it under his makeshift ceiling, not like it would hurt anyway, he'll just think of it as the shower he hasn't had for a week. He probably stinked, so whatever.

He would be lying if he didn't say that this was the least of his worries right now. All he could think of was the tantrum he just threw a few ago, in front of everyone. What did they think of him now? That he was a beast? A monster? He groaned, trying to push these thoughts to the back of his head.

But they always found a way to resurface. He groaned again, a voice that echoed between the trees as he tried to calm his racing thoughts. He's always hated thinking about more than one object at once. He tried to stop thinking, or overthinking, in his state, but his mind was seemingly battling him, sucking out every ounce of calm and peace he had managed to feel so far.

He was screaming. Why couldn't he just rest? He needed a break, a break from everything, his brothers, the village, life itself, if that was an option. He was pacing around, just like he's done back there, and his hands clutched at his hair as if he was replaying the scene. Except that this time, he was crying, rain mixing with the tears that were flowing down his cheeks. He wanted to run away, more away, and leave them behind, just like they have done to him. A part of him wanted to make them feel the pain he felt, wanted them to go through what he's gone through.

Yet another part wanted to believe that they have all faced challenges as well, that they all suffered. So why did it hurt him so much?

"Branch…?"

He looked up. It was Poppy.

Oh no, it was Poppy.

He quickly wiped away his tears with the back of his hands. She wouldn't notice anyway–

"Have you been crying?" Wasn't the rain supposed to hide the tracks?

"No…"

"Branch, you don't have to lie." She sat in front of him. "At least not to me, baby."

"I'm fine-"

"No, you're not. And what are all these scars?" His girlfriend's touch was gentle, yet Branch winced the moment her fingers traced the red marks on his arms. Some were fresh, blood still trickling down his arms and palms, and some were old, already starting to heal. Some were intentional.

"We need to go back, you're not okay–"

"Please…" He was begging. He never begged. But for his girlfriend? He was ready to beg her to stay with him if it cost him his life. "Just stay with me. I-I don't wanna see them right now."

The Queen was torn at this point, torn between the urge to lead the others to Branch and the vulnerability in his voice. He looked so small, so hurt and broken. She didn't want to cause him more pain.

"They probably don't want to see me…" Poppy had hardly heard him. His voice was muffled as he curled up and buried his face in his hands. "I don't blame them, though..."

"Branch, I know you're hurting," she whispered, softly stroking his hair. "Talk to me, let me help you."

"I don't know!" the dull troll suddenly yelled, causing his girlfriend to flinch. "They hurt me so much! So much, Poppy!"

"I know–"

"I'm tired! Every time I think everything is fine, something comes up! I didn't want them to come, they reopened wounds I've been trying to close for so long! And they're expecting me to be okay! I'm not okay!"

All Poppy could do was listen as her boyfriend poured his heart out. He sounded as if he'd been bottling up his emotions for so long, the way he was crying and stumbling over his words, face scrunched up and arms aimlessly flailing around as he desperately tried to communicate his feelings. But she didn't dare interrupt him, not even to help him explain. He had to talk, he needed to, by himself, and if it meant she had to listen to his incoherent speech, so be it.

"I just want– I don't know!" He went on, the words unconsciously flowing out of his mouth without even making any sense, even to him. He couldn't take it anymore.

"I hate them–"

"You don't," she blurted out, and immediately felt her boyfriend's glare on her. "You don't hate them."

Of course he did. They hurt him, they left and never came back. Even Floyd. And a thought was telling him he wouldn't be in this position right now if it weren't for his brother getting kidnapped. The dull troll closed his eyes. They wouldn't have made the tiniest bit of effort in checking on him, so why can't he hate them? John? John thought he was dead, and Branch tried to force himself that his brother shed at least a tear over him.

But he didn't know, and it only made him more confused and angry.

"I know what it feels like…" His girlfriend smiled sadly, unaware that her voice cut through the mess in his head just in time. "Someone you love hurting you…"

He perked up. Had he accidentally hurt her?

"I-I'm-I-"

"Not you, Branch," she assured him. "Dad…"

It made sense, Branch thought, slightly calming down. At least it wasn't about him anymore.

"He kept my own sister a secret from me, because of his own fear, and… I was the one who suffered the consequences…" She paused. "Do you even know how many things me and Veevs could've done by now, if only I went out there and looked for her earlier? We could've done a million things, Branch, so many things that I fear we don't have much time to do it all now."

He smiled. It was never enough time for Poppy.

"And the whole Trolls tribes thing… we could've united everyone before the Rock Apocalypse thing ever happened… but he kept it from me…" She frowned. "He kept a lot of secrets from me, secrets that could've changed my life, and I was super mad at him for that…"

It seems like he wasn't the only one who needed to be real in this relationship. How long has she been feeling this way?

She waited, and, seeing no reaction, the girl continued. "Sometimes I even fear he might be hiding something else, you know?" She chuckled. "He hurt me, so much… but I never hated him. I could never hate him."

Her father was there, his brothers weren't.

"Because he loves me." Her face slowly lit up, making her boyfriend's do so as well, even if it was barely visible. "I see it in the way he tries to make it up to me every day, and I know that he cares." She reached out, gently taking his dull, cold hands into her bright, warm ones and giving them a reassuring squeeze. "So believe me when I tell you that I know how it feels."

He sighed. "I just feel so lost and confused, you know?"

"I know, love."

He closed his eyes again, his head leaning against the tree behind him. "I don't hate them, I'm just mad…" His head hung low. "They're probably mad, too, and I don't blame them…"

"Stop right there, mister," the pink troll interrupted firmly, "Whoever told you they're mad?"

"Well, I did attack them." He shrugged. "I wouldn't be surprised if they don't want to see me."

"Branchifer." She cupped his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. She made a mental note to keep an eye on him, he was getting warm. "Your brothers have been miserable." She dramatically extended the last word, her fingers stroking his cheeks in an affectionate gesture. "You don't know what they've been through since last week."

"Are… are they okay?"

She smirked. "Worried about them?"

He giggled and swatted her hands away. "Just answer."

"Well, John hasn't been sleeping, Bruce is constantly angry, Clay hasn't read a single book since then, which is, sooo not Clay, and Floyd, well-"

He sat straight. "Is he okay?!"

"I told you, you care about them!"

"Poppy!"

She laughed, her hair tips getting exposed to the rain. "Alright, alright." She composed herself, wiping away the few droplets that had slid down her forehead. "Seriously, though, he's been crying non-stop for days."

"So they're… not mad?"

"Not in the slightest." A beat. "They're mad at themselves."

"They are?" Huh, maybe they did care after all.

"Yeah." She stayed silent for a few seconds, giving her words a chance to sink in. "They've been looking for you since the forest went silent."

Went silent? Then he remembered that he had been lying in this spot for days, and the forest's been silent since then, devoid from his screams and tantrums.

"They're probably waiting inside Rhonda right now," Poppy said with a smile, "Wanna let them know you're okay?"

Maybe that wasn't the best idea. Branch was hiding his face behind his hands again.

"It's okay," Poppy quickly said, "It's okay not to be okay."

He looked at her, and for a second, she swore she saw the broken child he was years ago. "I need more time…"

"It's okay," she assured him.

His head leaned against the shoulder of his girlfriend, seeking comfort only she could provide. He felt better. Poppy always made him feel better.

She suddenly got up, making the head resting on her shoulder almost make contact with the grass. "Get up," she ordered, "You can stay at my place till you're feeling better."

His lips contracted in a hesitant pout. "We'll cuddle?" He asked hopefully.

"We'll cuddle all night."

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Hiii first of all congratulations for your 750 followers! For the event can I get a Killer with the scenario 3 and the fluff prompt number 4 please? Thank you and congrats again! 💙

Hi, thank you very much. I hope you like this, feel free to come back for more. There's plenty of scenarios just awaiting a request.

Warnings: mentions of drugging and torture

Word Count: 1320

     The two of you had been enemies for years, ever since the first day you met them on the open waters. You’d joined the marines because of him, determined to capture him, him and his stupid red-haired captain. Your determination to take them down is what drove you, it’s what helped you climb the ranks, and it’s probably how you found yourself in this position. Half running half stumbling down the dark streets, holding your bleeding arm. The buildings and streets seemed to blur and distort at times, causing you to stumble as you tried to make your way towards the docks. You’d been tracking them, seen their ship, it should be in the harbor by now. Stumbling, you slammed into the side of a building, doing your best to bite back a pained scream as your other shoulder hit the bricks hard. The things you’d endured these last couple of days, they had your entire body protesting, screaming in pain as you pushed yourself forward. If you couldn’t trust the marines then there was only one person you could trust. Had you been in a better state, you might have laughed, the one person you’d worked so hard to capture was the one person you knew you could turn to. Navigating the docks was harder than navigating the streets, trying not to fall into the cold waters below, knowing that you probably wouldn’t survive if you fell in, not in your state. You stumbled again, feeling your legs give out this time. Closing your eyes, you prepared yourself for the pain that was about to shoot through your battered body.

     He’d been heading back from the bar when he’d seen you. Bloody, shivering, and stumbling. Normally he’d have taken advantage of your wounded state, knocked you out or taunted you before leaving you in some warehouse, but something seemed off. Seeing you trip, he quickly rushed forward, catching you. He couldn’t say exactly what drove him to do so, but holding you in his arms, he was glad he had. You were badly wounded and once you opened your scared eyes, looking up at him, it was clear that you’d been heavily drugged. For a moment you just stared at him as if trying to process what had just happened.

     “Killer… Please help… don’t have anywhere else… didn’t know where else to go.” you muttered, your body going limp in his arms. The blond easily picked you up, carrying you back to the ship, ignoring Kid when the man began to question him as to why he’d brought you, bleeding and broken, into the infirmary. 

     It was a couple of days before you awoke, your battered body wrapped in bandages as you looked around, somewhat confused. You remembered escaping, remembered stumbling down the streets, you remembered looking for a ship and seeing familiar blond locks, but you didn’t recognize where you were.

     “You’re awake.” a voice said, drawing your attention to the Kid pirates’ doctor, “I’ll get Kid and Killer.” he said before leaving you to your thoughts. You were probably on their ship, meaning that, if nothing else, you’d gotten away. That being said, after years of chasing them, it wasn’t exactly comforting that they were the only people you could turn to. Hearing the door open, you turned to see Killer walking towards you, a tray of food in hand.

     “Eat. you’ve been asleep for a few days.” he said simply, handing you the tray. Honestly, even if the food hadn’t looked appetizing, you still would’ve eaten it. You hadn’t eaten for a couple of days even before you’d escaped. That being said, you were surprised at just how good the food was, wolfing it down. 

     “Am I on the Victoria Punk?” you asked, all too familiar with their ship. Killer just nodded, taking your now empty tray and setting it aside.

     “What happened?” Killer asked, making you look away.

     “All you need to know is that I probably have a price on my head now and that, as sad as it is, you’re the only person I can trust anymore.” you said bitterly, wrapping your arms around yourself. 

     “Your bounty was posted the other day. Why?” he asked, making you flinch. You should have expected that they’d have your wanted poster out as soon as they could.

     “I don’t want to talk about it. Listen, can I trust you to keep quiet about me or am I truly alone in the world?” you snapped, glaring at him. Killer stared at you for a moment before nodding.

     “You can trust us. We’re already out at sea, well away from whatever happened.” Killer said. You breathed a sigh of relief that you didn’t even realize you’d been holding in, at very least, you were safe for the time being. 

     It was strange, trying to get used to being a part of a crew that you’d spent so much time trying to lock away. Killer was, surprisingly, the one bright ray of light in what had become a dark world. While he wasn’t necessarily what most people might call ‘nice’ he’d at least made your adjustment easier. Leaning against the ship railing, you sighed. The dark waters stretched on for an eternity, much like the night you’d run to him for sanctuary. 

     “What are you doing out here?” Killer asked from behind you. Biting your lip you thought about your answer for a moment.

     “Just thinking.” you said, Killer standing next to you, his back to the sea.

     “What about?” he asked, looking up at the sky. You hesitated, you’d been thinking about a lot of things. Still, after so much time of being his enemy, it was strange that he was the person you trusted most.

     “Why did you take me in? Why do you treat me so well when I tried to capture you for so long? I’ve tried working it out and I can’t come up with a single reason as to why you’d do it, so what reason could you have?” you asked, looking over at him. He wasn’t wearing his mask, allowing you to see his face. It wasn’t the first time that you’d seen it, nor was it the first time that you marveled at how handsome he was. Killer was silent for a while, staring up at the stars. Taking a deep breath in and out, he turned to you, cupping your cheek.

     “Because I love you. It might seem like there should be more to it, but it really is as simple and terrifying as that.” he said, staring into your eyes. You were left speechless as your brain tried to process what he’d just said. He loved you? But he was a pirate, you’d fought him countless times, tried to turn him in. Were you really though? Had you ever really wanted to capture him? Or were you just telling yourself that's why you chased after him? But if that was true, when had it happened? When had you gone from hating him to loving him? Or maybe you’d never actually hated him, maybe you’d become a marine to make him see you, to catch his attention. You weren’t certain anymore, there were only two things you were absolutely certain of anymore, 1) Killer could be trusted even when nobody else could. 2) … you loved him. Swallowing hard, you moved closer, taking his face in your hands, pulling him in for a kiss. The blond returned the kiss, calloused hands pulling you closer. 

     “I’m not letting you go this time. I’m not letting you get away.” you whispered, thinking about all of the times when he and Kid had just barely managed to slip through your grasp.

     “You have it backwards. You’re not leaving my sight. You’re mine now.” he said, pulling you in for a rough kiss. Not that you were complaining, you’d gladly be his so long as he was yours.

[pyroclaststan]

For a prompt. No editing, no rereading, I’m 80% I didn’t conjugate things correctly but it was 3am when I wrote it and I am too frustrated with technical complications to try now. POV Ortega, post-HB, just going through it.

Maybe it’s the heat, maybe it’s the effort and exertion, or maybe it’s the creeping frustration that always seems to catch up to you at some point of the day, the weeping wound of remembrance of your world being off axis. With a growl of annoyance you launch the hay off of your shoulder and into the trough with more force than necessary: it feels good to hit something in the few ways you can—to make something else the punching bag for once while you lick your own wounds. A trough is no villain, but you can resent it all the same, which is to say for no real reason at all.

That alone burns you up inside, that there’s no real reason for any of this.

Loud, sharp whistling like a songbird from hell draws your attention to the edge of the pen: mamá stands with a foot up on the fence, frowning pointedly in your direction. The patented Ortega look of disappointment or the street disapproval of a mother, both cutting.

“¿Te pedí que alimentarán a los animales o que los asustaras hasta la mierda?” she reprimands, shaking her head.

It’s no fault of hers that you’re irritated, frustrated, and struggling. You know that. But you can’t help the constant crawling that makes you want to curse and scream and fight the world. You can’t tune out all the ways in which everything demands your attention.

Battered by sensations of the sweat dripping down your spine, the way your denim rubs against your legs, the loose string in your work glove incessantly catching on a broken nail, and the pigs pushing you about you let out a string of rapid-fire curses—everything is too much and too little. Too numb and too sensitive.

So overwhelming without that familiar weight by your side.

Stomping feels like the only way to get anything out of your system, so you step heavily towards the gate to talk with your mother before catching yourself, trying to cool off first in a repeating tread back and forth to calm yourself before you come to your mother in any disrespectful fashion. It’s like you’re a child again, a silly little tantrum that boils in your blood but you can find no other escape for—it’s the only way you can get out whatever’s trying to worm its way in. You’ve got to get it out somehow and this is the only place you can safely do so so you let the pot boil over, the cork pop, the dam break.

You let out another stream of curses, fully aware of the weight of your mother’s gaze on you, prickling your skin further.

Not the right gaze.

“Fucking… FUCK!” you shout so loud it holds you in place and echoes out, the desert around you carrying the sentiment all the way back to Kingsley’s hometown, wherever that was.

Mamá however, just chuckles at your outburst, shaking her head and pulling her cream and turquoise stetson lower. “Fucking fuck? If I’d known Mi Rey had possessed you, I’d have put a pot of coffee on.”

“It’s not funny, none of this—“ you’re interrupted by a feeling like your stomach wants to escape up and out of your throat and mouth, and the mindfulness that you’re talking to your own mother. None of this is how it should be, none of this was how it was supposed to go. You’re washed up and retired and even that would’ve been manageable with a bitter shadow beside you chiding you along the way, but you’ve lost your best friend. All you can do is make more annoyed noises, willing yourself to get your shit together before you kick your own ass, trying to express something you haven’t fully fathomed.

Your mother just looks at you knowingly, ever-patient, ever kind. “Vamos, joder joder, lucky for you I did put a pot on ‘cause I’m always prepared for mi Flora.” Without further word she throws a tea towel at you and turns to walk away, back to the house proper.

There’s a small shake of her head, a tiny rise and fall of her shoulders as she goes: you know Kingsley’s loss had affected her, too, but she had chosen to remain strong for her remaining child—for you.

You use the cloth to mop up the sweat that’s gathered on your face and neck from the day’s chores before moving on to your bare arms and chest on your way back. A proper shower will be required to remove the grime and grit but even that little bit of cleaning has made you feel a bit more human, and pulling off your offending gloves and shoving them into your pocket removes a bit of tension.

Making your way through the well-loved ranch home you breathe deep: the smells of leathers and furs and spices as they sit in the heat, despite the windows being left open to keep a drafting breeze. Or maybe all of that is you, but you’re not willing to give yourself a sniff to find out.

She sits at a table, bathed in sepia sunlight, looking far older than you remember her ever being, or maybe just tired… like you’re tired. Silently, your steaming mug is pushed towards you, telling you where to sit. “I know that feeling well,” she warbles, voice sounding full to the brim with emotion as she gently spins and turns the jewellery on her fingers. “Vamos, sientate.”

You take your seat silently, equally drained and somber, but you can’t touch that cup. That mug that isn’t yours. Someone else’s. Theirs.

Before you, your mother steels herself, and within her you see all of the focus of the woman who was almost an Olympian, the woman who was once a wife, the woman who will always be your mother.

“This is the last thing that any child wants to hear, mi amor, but you’re going to hear it: I know what you’re going through. How you’re feeling. Perder a un ser querido, a un ser cercano, nunca es fácil. Especialmente cuando son parte de nosotros mismos... I went through the same thing when we lost your father—do not make that face, because no matter what he was to you, you must think of what he was to me.” Your heart hurts at how her voice cracks but she’ll say her piece through it, you know.

“So you can be mad, be angry—ser un matón si es necesario—but you must get it out before that, like poison, seeps into your bones.” She pushes the mug towards you roughly, guiding you to look down into black depths. “You need to learn to take what’s bitter, and to accept it and appreciate it for what it is, and for how it reminds you to appreciate the sweet. Es una cosa cursi decirlo, lo sé, pero nunca preparé mucha sabiduría para algo como esto.”

She looks you in the eye, taking a sip of coffee before crossing her arms.

“Este es el comienzo, la resta depende de ti.”

[random-vore-blog]

Let me help you

( Sorry this took so long! I was quite busy and had to think of how to write it with how you requested it. Including their personalities. This is also my au. Requested by @silver-tooth-the-panther. Enjoy!)

He barely clung to the piece of wood. The only evidence of his mother ship, along with his brother. He only saw a black leviathian tail with bloodred scales scattered on it. It had to be the damned demons' King! No other siren had that kind of tail!

Something hard smashed against his back, the solid object knocking the wind out of him. He might have gotten a concussion from the sheer impact. Then again, he didn't have any experience of having a concussion. He made out that the solid object was a rock. He had messed up BIG time.

He might have gotten more than a scrape on his poor battered body.

He didn't want to die because of some damn cold and unforgiving waters. Not while there was a chance that those demon sirens were somewhere. Hidden.

"Need help there?"

A voice emerged from behind him. A voice he could recognize as a siren-

" I will cut your head o-"

He grunted in pain when he felt his leg move, the burning reminder of how he injured himself while trying to get off of the destroyed ship. It was after their ship crashed into the Demon Siren Kings' territory- if he assumed correctly.

" With those injuries and apparently broken leg? I doubt that you would be able to cut my head off."

He- judging by the voice- spoke the awful truth. Each word laced with painful reality and words he hated. He turned around, expecting to see a siren, but came face to face with Upper moon 4. Those blue eyes reminded him a bit too much about his situation.

" Why should I trust you?"

" Probably because there is a storm on its way."

Genya didn't believe, and scoffed.

"A storm? Really?"

He turned around.

" There was no way that-"

His eyes widened when he saw the dark clouds rolling in. The sound of an angry storm made his gut twist in absolute fear.

" So,"

He turned back to the demon siren, seeing that it was mere inches away from his small form.

" What do you choose? The storm? Or me?"

If he chose the storm, there would be a slim chance that he would survive. But if he chose the demon siren, he would either survive or die. The more he thought about the pros and cons, the more he realized that the massive Upper moon was his only chance to actually survive.

" If you break the trust that I have put into you, I will haunt you until a slayer kills you."

The larger being made a happy noise, pleased with his decision. Hopefully it had nothing to do with rumours of the intelligent creatures having a 'crop', a second stomach that had no digestive liquids. He knew that those rumours were false-

Razor sharp teeth trapped him inside the cavern, causing him to panic and lose his trust in the seemingly friendly demon siren. A tongue pushed him towards the esophagus, right to the entrance of inevitable death. Or, he hopes that it was not his time to die.

Slowly, his form entered the fleshy tube. The tube itself was not constricting in any way, just putting enough constriction to hold him steady and to move him down the throat. His trip was short lived when he deposited into a small area large enough for him to move around.

The rumours were true.

These creatures really do have a crop.

" Get comfy. You won't be let out for awhile."

And getting comfy he did. The walls were plush and perfect for a nap. Maybe he made the right decision after all.

" Thank you..."

He whispered as his heartbeat slowed, a reminder that he was on his way to dreamland. He felt the leviathan move. The sort of rocky ride made a nice motion for someone as small as him to go to sleep.

[allwaswell16]

Hey Anitra! Hope you're having a good day!

I was hoping you'll know a couple of fics I've been trying to find but haven't been successful. I know I've read them but my history doesn't show these 😐

1. L and H work in the same office and H is very into the work and doesn't have social life. The office has a secret Santa and H has to gift his co-worker (Sheila? I think?). Louis helps him pick something ocean themed picked at a stationary I think.

2. Louis goes for grocery shopping when his house (tw: minor character death) burns down when he is very young. Later whenever he is stressed, he keeps repeating the grocery list his mom told him that day.

I'm so sorry if it's very vague, I would love to go back and re-read these ones. And probably bookmark them so I don't lose it again lol.

Hi, anon! I would lie and say I was having a good day, but I'm actually sick and exhausted but other than that it's fine! lol. But I'm drinking some tea and then I'll go to bed soon. I hope you're doing well though! Here are the fics you're looking for:

something along the lines of ‘an office love story at christmas’ by forthetherapy, levelofcharm

Harry hesitates. “He apparently didn’t know it was just a one time thing.”

Mitch stays silent, brown eyes watching Harry and waiting for an elaboration.

“He was waiting for me to call.”

“And you didn’t,” Mitch concludes.

“It was a one time thing!”

“Did you say you’d call?” Mitch tilts his head. He knows Harry too well.

“Well. Yes. But! That’s just something you say,” Harry shrieks and starts pacing, “like ‘break a leg’, or ‘happy birthday’ to a colleague, or—or! ‘I’ll see you later’ when you very clearly won’t. You know?”

He spins on his heels to judge the response.

Arms crossed like a disappointed parent, Mitch looks unimpressed.

Harry hadn't planned on seeing Louis again, not after that night. When he finds out his only competition for a very desired promotion is Louis, he spirals into a mess of trying to be a better coworker and person right before Christmas in hopes that he can outdo Louis' effortless effect on his office. If he manages to get his head out of his ass along the way, it’ll be a holiday miracle.

all we can do is keep breathing by thealmightyavocado

“Harry, I-I’m so sorry…” Louis stutters out, trying to keep his voice level and even, to portray a depiction of strength, but with the way Harry is looking at him, staring at him like he has a personal passage way straight to Louis’ soul, it’s so hard, nearly impossible.

That simple opening phrase, that short introductory acknowledgement that is often rushed out so easily, painlessly, at a safe distance. Giving a doctor the ability to portray empathy without true emotion, without feeling the full brunt and sheer force of the underlying pain itself.

But Louis feels it, he feels the crushing agony laced behind the phrase, he feels the weight of the painful words slipping from his lips, the cause and effect that the three-word expression holds. The distantly empty “I’m so sorry” that doctors throw out in self-preservation, isn’t at all empty for him. Louis recognizes it, he understands it, he feels it.

a fated story of two broken and battered boys who barely survived the unimaginable and how the love of one little brave girl defies all the odds and somehow puts them back together.