#im not the best a writing comfort.

[b0mblover]

It’ll be Okay in the End

By: J

cw; selfharm, generally negative thoughts, blood (etc everything that comes with sh)

lopt essentially has a silent breakdown and mason comforts him or smth idk im not good at summeries,

[Note; this was wrote out of my own desperation for comfort, not romanizing sh, i do not encourage or believe anyone should do this to themselves, seek help.]

i uh, actually had a easier time writing this than most things, probably because ive been essentially replaying this whole scene in my head for literal years! i for once wasnt upset when i wrote this, i was very tired tho! uh i have alot more to say but hawaii part ii lopt is taking over my brain again, so im gonna go do that! have fun with my depressed 100% projected loptson ig!

•

lopt was in ‘his’ so called room, scribbling away at some paper,

mason was rather concerned, hearing frustrated noises constantly, what sounded like pencils breaking,

they had been “partners” officially for 3 months now, mason had always cared about lopt to an extent, partner or not, but this was… odd.

sure lopt had his own life, hobbies, but he didnt care to keep /that/ much from mason, especially whenever he asked,

but, this was different.

lopt had came home from wherever the fuck he was- hell if mason knew details- annoyed, he stormed off to some room, when mason tried to ask what was wrong he only blew him off saying that “its none of your fucking business, you wouldnt get it anyways”

•

lopt was scribbling away in his notepad, despite being a god and literally being immortal, he still couldnt force creativity to come to him,

it was his fifth time trying,

most drawings resulted in poorly scribbled out lines,

he had went out to try and get inspiration for “some project” though he didnt really /have/ anything to work on, starting a new drawing always seemed to be a block for him,

he sat down his broken (6b) pencil, (rather violently but he didnt want to acknowledge that) and got up, he knew somewhere in him, that he needed a break, he walked out of his room to get water, but his mind wouldnt leave him alone,

constant thoughts about how awful his art was spewed around

“youre not “talented”, youre worthless”

“itd be better to quit now”

“just rip up the damn papers, theyre ugly anyways”

“imagine- you could just go and alleviate all this pain, just with that knife-“

he tried to push down his thoughts,

grabbing a cup from the cabinet and filling it with water,

the knives in the butcher block seemed so… tempting,

most of him /knew/ that he shouldnt- that it was wrong, that mason would be disappointed- disgusted, if he found out about his thoughts,

but, he couldnt help it,

all memories of the nights he got up from their bed to take part in something that would disgust his partner made him sick.

questions runned through his head as he sipped on his water, leaning onto the counter

“would he be sad?”

“would he care?”

“would he call me names?”

“tell me how pathetic i am?”

“leave me?”

“would he hate me?”

“tell me how ugly my body is”

“tell me how he hates the scars”

“tell me just how much he despises me”

the voices grew louder wither every question,

saying that he wanted mason to hate him,

that he did hate him,

in the very back of lopts mind, in the tiniest corner, he knew it all wasnt true, that he was being dramatic over nothing,

but even then, the memories of all the times he loved someone- all the times he didnt question if they hated him, what they all said to him,

he felt like doubting himself was the only way to have them not leave,

to not abandon him,

he took a deep breath before sighing, realizing his cup was empty, he decided that he had enough of a “break” and that he needed to start “working” again,

•

mason was sitting on the couch, some random tv show playing for background noise, when lopt wasnt “there” it was almost too quiet, in a way, mason had grown to love how loud and chaotic the house was with lopt- even if thery were the only two people in it.

he seen lopt walk into the kitchen for around 8~ minutes before he trudged his way into his room once more,

he didnt know excatly as to what lopt was doing,

granted whatever it was had to have been important, he didnt usually spend 3+ hours in a room alone silently, it started to make him worry, was lopt sick? just why did he seem so upset when he came home? is he okay? did he hurt himself?

•

lopt sat down at his desk once more, staring at the scribbled page, a sphere, he couldnt figure out how to shade it properly on the background,

he sighed turning his attention to the top left drawer,

he stood up walking over to his dresser, pulling out another drawer, he took out a roll of bandages, and some tissues, 

he knew that he shouldnt, that it was essentially pointless, that hed feel better soon enough,

but that fear crept back up,

“what about last time you didnt? remember? it got only worse because you didnt”

he rubbed the sides of his nose bridge, the voices were annoying, they knew that he was gonna, even without the encouragement.

he sat back down at his desk, sitting the tissues to his right and the badages to his left before pulling out the left hand drawer,

he rummaged through it, various miscellaneous items, before coming across a box,

a red box, seemingly quiet old, with yellow letters reading “do it” on the front,

he took one out, ‘unwrapping’ the razor blade,

straight edge,

he stared at it, contemplating just what hes doing with his life,

“i cant draw, i cant write, i cant make people happy, i cant make music, i can only recite the tales others have told, im worthless, im doless, i will never amount to anything or anyone in my life, god or not, human or not, this is deserved, if i cannot create, then i at lease deserve to bleed”

a mantra he told himself, attempting to poorly justify his actions,

•

mason listened at the door, hearing nothing, no pencil, no walking, almost no breathing, he didnt know everything about lopt, sure, but he knew that he didnt look well off, and what boyfriend would he be to his partner if he wasnt concerned?

they had an unspoken rule to always at least knock before walking into the others space, granted they had seen every part of each other, it was just a courtesy they had, 

though, something felt off,

mason felt as if he shouldnt knock, that lopt was hiding something,

all those sleepless nights where lopt comforted him abundantly, he had felt him get up, a few times he had caught lopt in the basement, he didnt know just what he was doing, he always hid something,

he didnt want to break any boundaries sure, thatd be rude and disrespectful, but, he had a weird feeling in his gut that it was for lopts own saftey,

“please forgive me for this” he muttered to himself,

sharply inhaling before opening the door,

simply greeted by lopts back.

•

lopt heard the door open, he had three lines going diagonally down his right arm, bleeding, he fumbled the razor, dropping it onto the floor, it had gotten rather dark by now, so it probably wouldnt be seen, he attempted to get the tissues, he had always been a great liar,

“ill just say i accidentally cut myself, if he asks what i was doing with a weapon, ill deflect and say i was being stupid”

it seems like he fumbled the tissues for a bit too long.

“hey”

mason said over his shoulder,

he moved his left hand to cover the cuts,

“o-oh, hey, whats wrong?”

“hm, well, i mean nothing? i guess, what are you doing?”

“i- you guess? is something the matter?”

mason had noticed he was oddly covering his forearm,

“you ignored my question.”

“huh?”

“i asked what youre doing.”

masons tone sounded alot more pissed off, granted he wasnt, just concered more than anything,

“o-oh i um, ok dont laugh but uh- i was trying to draw”

“and why are you covering your arm? are you hurt?”

“i- huh? wh- no, no! i uh, may have also been playing with a blade and accidentally scraped myself, nothing much”

“let me see”

“what?”

“let me see your injury”

lopt was taken aback, all of his previous partners never asked to see his wounds, scars sure but never his wounds, even if they werent self inflicted, he was shocked, he hadnt planned for this.

“i- i assure you dear, it isnt anything to worry about-“

“let me see it. are you hiding something?”

in that moment lopt felt small, like a child almost, weak, helpless, he didnt know how he could get out of this without mason either finding out or being suspicious of him.

“i- here”

lopt moved his left arm to mason, there were a few small cuts on it, though rather old looking,

lopt moved his right arm off the table, into the shadows to not call attention to it.

“uh huh, now the other?”

lopt seen his eternal life flash before his very eyes.

his mind went on autopilot and raised his right arm, he usually would fight but, he knew itd be pointless, mason would just worry more, thus making him keep a closer eye on lopt, he didnt want to feel selfish, not like that,

“oh my, i- oh my god,”

mason was shocked, he had suspected that lopt had hurt himself in the past, granted the scars,

but, he didnt think he still did it, sure the weird behavior, but it never really dawned on him until that moment.

.

mason had brought (more like dragged) lopt to the bathroom, running the slits under cool water, putting pressure to hopefully get the bleeding under control, he opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out another roll of bandages,

he stood behind lopt washing the blood off, still slightly in shock,

“why?”

“huh?”

“why do you do this?”

masom questioned, fully aware of the long list lopt was about to give out,

“i- well, i dunno..”

lopts voice trailed off before starting again,

“i mean, i dont even know why i do this, it just feels good? like i can do something right? it makes me feel like im not worthless”

mason hummed for a second before choosing his words

“do you feel normally that youre worthless?”

“i guess so, i dont know why, i have the best boyfriend, my life is great, i just dont know..”

“mmhm, what were you trying to draw?”

“i dont know. does it matter?”

lopt shot back

“well, you seemed frustrated at it, so im sure it’s important to you yeah? so then it’s important to me”

mason brought his hands around lopts wrist, rubbing it slightly attempting to calm him down

“i- i dont know, i just, i feel frustrated, so i tried to draw, but drawing makes me feel more frustrated, so i did this- an- and n-now-“

lopt began to stutter, tears swelling up in his eyes, mason had only seen him cry on a few occasions,

“shh- shh its okay, i know what youre saying, breath, okay?”

lopt inhaled deeply, feeling masons left hand move to wipe the tears away,

he didnt even know why he was crying,

mason bandaged lopts arm slightly tight, 

“shh, now, you wanna talk about this? or wait a little bit longer to calm down?”

“c-calm down”

“alright alright, shh youre okay, see?”

mason lead lopt into his bedroom, taking lopts hand under the covers as he had done for him every sleepless night,

lopt could feel his eyelids starting to droop, the warmth of his boyfriend comforting him, the love of his boyfriend comforting him,

he shoved his head into masons chest, finding it to be the most comfortable spot out of the entire bed,

mason ruffled his hair, slowly stroking his hand on his neck,

“y’know, you may be a god,

and you may be immortal, but,

ill be with you for as long as you need, in this life and after”

lopt didnt respond, just slightly nodded his head before burrying it deeper into masons chest, 

maybe tonight wasnt so bad after all,

spending time with mason- no, his boyfriend, was never bad.

lopt faded in and out of sleep, trying to fight the melatonin being produced, just to feel the sweet touch of his boyfriends skin, before he completely felt himself drift away, he heard him speak,

“I love you, i love you so much, never forget that, in this life and the next, ill always love you, lopt.”

[fandomrose]

Sunday - Love Hypnosis

Sunday hypnotises you (consensually) to relax you.

No spoilers.

No description of reader or readers troubles so project what you are personally struggling with as you see fit.

No angst just fluff. I thought this concept would be cute. I've seen many a yandere Sunday hypnotises you, and that's great but consider - consent and fluff.

(This isn't a jab, I too enjoy a yandere fic from time to time but I also want to see fluff and I haven't seen this done in a fluffy way yet.)

I don't know why I'm mildly obsessed with this man but I am. (Cough Cough, I read maximum ride as a kid and now I automatically fall in love with winged characters. Cough Cough.) I need him to hypnotise me please and thank you.

(I have a few fics in the works that I need to finish but I'm struggling.)

As usual enjoy. Love ya 💙

"Darling?" Came the light and airy tone of your beloved. Though there was a hint of worry in his voice as he took in your face down, slumped form. "Are you alright?"

He could tell very well that you were not alright. But he would coax an answer out of you one way or another. Though the only answer he received was a groan.

"Darling." He sighs but chuckles at your obviously aggravated self. "Allow me to help you." 

Your body goes limp as you let him move you from a sofa to your shared bed. "My darling. Tell me what's gotten into you."

He chuckles as you groan out a single word relating to your issues. "Life."

"Oh, my darling. You'll let me soothe you for the night won't you?" He only felt it was right after the many nights you had soothed him. 

Patient, kind, understanding. Three words that when asked by others what you think about each other, you'd both say about each other. A pure give and take without a scoreboard, that's how you operated. You were both busy or stressed for one reason or another so that's how things had to be.

The simple love you shared was enough most days but sometimes things went wrong.

Sunday had performed hypnosis on you before so he knew it worked but he'd never engage unless you agreed. You knew the question he asked meant he wanted to soothe you via hypnosis, and with the state of your mind you would happily agree. 

"Please do." 

He wouldn't offer if he didn't have the energy you knew this, a rather large argument took care of that when he'd overworked himself then passed out after hypnotising you once and a medic had to be rushed in. Needless to say, you weren't happy with his carelessness. And seeing how upset you were he agreed to be more careful with his health.

You didn't want to think anymore so as you lay there looking up at him with your tired eyes and weary mind, he smiles. He caresses your face and hair before taking a deep breath and reciting that familiar chant.

"Oh triple faced soul, allow me to take hold of this one's mind and soothe them of all worries and burdens. The word Beloved will be the catalyst for control."

With that simple incantation your mind belonged to Sunday for a short while. Your mind felt fuzzy and slow but not unpleasantly, the way it would when you achieved complete relaxation. 

Like he had done before, he would take you through your nightly routine with this hypnosis.

"Beloved, follow me to to the bathroom." He helped you up while your body automatically followed his words and stood up. 

Walking was about the most complex task you could complete, he wasn't Xipe Themself, so his power only went so far. 

"Beloved, lift your arms." 

You do as told and he aids in stripping you, ready to be cleaned. 

"Beloved, sit on this stool and close your eyes." 

You again do as told his voice muffled through the layers of hypnosis, but soothing nonetheless. "I am going to wash your face first darling." He always narrates what he does before doing it as not to startle you.

You felt a cool, wet, cloth glide over your face and you can't help but sigh with satisfaction. You feel it gently caress your cheeks and softly rub your eyes tickle behind your ears. You hear the cloth being rinsed and wrung, the muffled sounds of the water soothing you further.

"I am going to wash your upper body now darling." And, as before, you feel the damp cloth glide over your neck and upper body, letting him move you has he sees fit. Soft humming coming from him lulls you deeper into his hypnosis. The cloth glides down and caresses your chest before moving to wash your back. You'd make sounds of relaxed satisfaction if you could but your exhausted body coupled with the hypnosis has made your brain devoid of any thought or control. Just how you want it. 

He moves back to the front of you with a new cloth. "Beloved, spread your legs, I need to clean you." 

Your body complies without hesitation and that's what he does, making sure to be extra gentle around this sensitive area. He is thorough but doesn't linger long this time, not wanting to spark anything in you this evening.

Standing to switch the cloth again, "I'm going to wash your legs and feet now darling." Still being as gentle as ever his hands and the cloth slowly makes their way down your legs massaging them as they go. A light massage is given to your feet as well before he finishes and pats you dry with a towel before he deems your body clean.

"Beloved, open your mouth wide." 

He orders next, your mind too fuzzy to think of what else could be doing. You hear more water then feel a hand on your chin. "I'm going to brush your teeth darling." Then light scrubbing of your teeth and tongue can be felt, he is thorough with this area too. Not wanting to be the reason you have cavities he takes his time. Not too long later he finishes with you. You can hear things being put away and muffled sounds of him walking around you, maybe inspecting you. Before he stops in front and, 

"Beloved, open your eyes and stand up. Its time to go to bed."

You're led back into the bedroom now that he is satisfied that you are clean. "Beloved, are you ready to sleep?" 

Compelled to answer, you do. "yes"

"Beloved, do you want to sleep with me?"

"Yes"

"Good, let's get to sleep then shall we." 

The sounds of fabric and draws is all you hear for a moment before he guides you into bed with him. 

"Beloved, lay down." 

When he's satisfied you are comfortable You feel his soft skin against yours, the wings on his head lightly brushing your face in reverence before he pulls them back. It isn't often he blesses you with his naked body, the vulnerability gets to him at times. 

Once you've laid down and he's pulled you close he asked one more question.

"Beloved, are you ready to be released from hypnosis?"

"Yes"

As the words leave your lips he begins the incantation to remove his influence on your mind. 

"Oh triple faced soul, this one has completed this ones tasks and can now be freed from the shackles of my control with no burden."

Everything goes still as your senses return slowly, reacclimating you to reality. A few minutes pass of him softly stroking your head and neck while you come back to him.

"Thank you Sunday" a soft whisper conveying how grateful you are before you promptly pass out the exhaustion and relaxation hitting you full force as you melt into the bed and his arms.

"Oh my beloved, I'd do anything to see you happy and relaxed like this more often. I am grateful for all you do for me so it's only natural. I love you, so much my beloved."

He whispers to your sleeping self, pressing small kisses to your forehead, cheeks and nose. Watching the small twitches at the contact makes his evening and he feels like he too can finally relax.

[chaosduckies]

Congratulations on 100 Followers!!! Big achievement!!!!

Gonna take you up on your open commissions so I’d love to see your take on a tiny being forced to ask a giant for help.

Your choice of characters but I’m a sucker for hurt comfort so go wild ❤️

Congrats again!!!

Thank you! :D

I'm sorry that this took so long to get out! I was having a minor writing slump but I'm back at it! I did have a lot of fun writing this and I hope you do to! (classic borrower asking a human for help)

Word Count: 4.2k

CW: Minor blood

Snow Fall

———Forest———

Everything was going great. I set off on my own, leaving my parents behind and starting my new life. Of course I was scared. Who wouldn’t be when you were two inches tall and leaving everyone you know and love? It was terrifying, but I had to. Borrower children, even though some were some-what good at borrowing from humans, were supposed to leave their parents as soon as they turned fourteen since it was a liability for their parents. I was just lucky and extended my stay for 3 more years. What could I say? I loved my parents just as much as they loved me, and no matter how many times my mom pleaded for me to stay, I knew I wasn’t that good at borrowing. I would eventually get us all in trouble. Which was why I decided to find a new home when I turned seventeen. It didn’t sit right with me that I was still leeching off my parents. 

Humans were scary. The horror stories, the pets, the kids. Almost everything about them scared me half to death. Just thinking about getting caught in one of those huge hands has me shuddering. I couldn’t think about myself getting caught, or what would happen to me, and to be honest, leaving my parents was the worst decision of my life. 

I wasn’t a good borrower to say in the least. I could barely hurdle over the counters without somehow hurting myself or becoming so sore the next day that I could barely move, I wasn’t the best at hiding. I had no idea how my parents did this at such a young age, but I wasn’t like them at all. How did they end up with such a failure like me? I laughed at the thought. 

My new home was nice. The human here had a schedule that I could work around. They left for work every morning, giving me plenty of time to get a little bit of food that they leave out sometimes, get some other things, and head back. They weren’t very observant of anything in particular, perfect for grabbing a few extra paperclips since my hook usually breaks from my own misuse. This house was perfect… or so I thought. 

After a while, the person stopped laying out food everywhere, they had started packing up their things in huge boxes, people in strange uniforms came by and dragged out anything heavy. I had no idea what was going on, but it wasn’t good. I stayed hidden in my home in the walls, scared of what was happening. I was too scared to go out at night and get my daily necessities, like food and water. Humans were terrifying. If I was seen by even one of them, who knows what might happen? I didn’t care if I was so hungry that my stomach was digesting itself, there was no way I was going to get caught and placed in some weird science lab. Testing me everyday, killing me slowly. I shuddered at the thought, wrapping myself in the thin cloth I managed to snag before any of this moving was happening. 

Lately the seasons have been changing, and the human that I thought was still living here hasn’t bothered to turn on the heater. This only made things a million times worse for me. I was already hungry, practically starving from not having eaten anything for the past three days, and now it was freezing cold. There was nothing I could do about it though. I was terrified. Scared. Too paranoid about what would happen if I stepped outside the comforts of my dingy home in the walls. No matter how much I wanted to go back with my parents, I couldn’t. More because I barely even remember the way back home, but also because it was already dangerous enough getting to this new home. I had no choice but to stay here in hopes that I could get over this fear of being seen and that the human had left some kind of food out. But there was no such luck. The house was empty. Furniture moved, heater off, no sign of food in the cabinets. Just nothing. My hope diminished as I sluggishly walked back home in defeat. There was no way I was going to survive. 

The human that I found so easy to maneuver around without being seen, that left food out, was now gone. Who knew when another one would just move back in? Most days I would walk around out in the open because there was nothing to do. I mean, without a human there was no chance of me surviving. I was too afraid to go outside because I knew there were animals that wouldn’t hesitate to mistake me for food. So staying inside was really my only option. Plus, it was just the slightest bit warmer here than outside. 

Sometimes I’d go sit on the windowsill, stay there for hours watching these tiny white balls fall from the sky and cover the ground. People passed by wearing thick coats that protected them from the harsh cold, and I couldn’t help but feel jealous. I looked back at the thin piece of cloth wrapped around me, barely giving any warmth while humans were able to be so warm, get food without having to worry about anyone seeing them (or in my case get food at all), heck, they weren’t even scared of anything. 

I sat alone, in a quiet house just waiting for anything to happen. I didn’t care if it was good or bad. I didn’t know how I was surviving for so long, nor how I was still moving despite searching the top shelves and countertops desperately for something. But of course it was always the same way it was. Empty. Nothing was changing, but in a bad way. 

My legs were sore from the amount of climbing I’ve done the past few days, my body was getting even weaker than it already was. I guess I really was going to starve to death, huh? All of that talking with my parents about making sure I would have enough to last me and it’s just wasted. How was I supposed to know that only a week after I found a new livable home that the human I was just barely getting used to was going to move out? Life wasn’t fair. 

Today was yet another sad, depressing day. I dragged myself along the floor, trying to at least be active while I was struggling to survive. Would another human be coming here soon? As much as they scared me and borrowers alike, most relied on them to help us survive. When they’re clumsy and forget easily, it’s easy to “borrow” a few things here and there. They leave food out or there’s an easy way to get into a cabinet, we can take a few things they wouldn’t notice. It was almost impossible to live without relying on a human in some way. Ironic how the thing I fear the most was the thing that was keeping me alive. 

I hoisted myself up onto the windowsill, breathing heavily as soon as I was safely up. I groaned in pain, wrapping up my hook and sitting by the window, once again staring at the white scenery. Other houses just across that had a slight smoke coming from the top of their house. Must be warm… I rubbed my arms, watching as a few people walked by, possibly on their way to work. I shivered, regretting not taking my “blanket.” 

Life wasn’t fair. I knew that much, but I forced myself to stay alive for whatever reason. My figure was getting slimmer from the lack of food, but I somehow kept moving. It was cold, but I gathered up any cloth I could find and wrapped myself up at night. My hook looked like it could break at any point in time, but it was hanging on just like me. If my hook did break, then there was basically no way for me to get anywhere but home and on the floor. I hoped that something would happen one day, but nothing ever did. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught something gray scurry along the floor. I stared for a couple long seconds before shrugging it off and continuing to look out the window. It was probably just my imagination. Great, now I’m hallucinating. I sighed, watching as cars carefully passed by. 

I don’t know how long I stayed on top of the windowsill, but eventually there was a change of scenery. At first I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but there it was. A car parked right in front of the house, headlights turning off and revealing a human, zipping up their jacket and looking down at something and back at the front of the house. I was too caught up in my fascination to realize that I was out in the open. The human slowly started making their way up to the front door, holding something that looked silver in their hands. 

I scrambled for my hook, climbing down as fast as I could, which was very painful. At some point I lost my grip and fell, but to my luck it was only a couple feet. I hurried to my feet, pulling my hook from the ledge it was dangling from and ran as fast as I could to reach the extremely tiny hole I squeezed myself through. I took a few seconds to catch my breath before the front door opened. My eyes were wide, my heart pounding fast. Would my luck finally be turning around? 

The human was taller than the last and looked much younger. I couldn’t really get a good look at their face, but I could make out his dirty-blonde hair. I could hear my own heartbeat. Is everything going to go back to normal? Would I be able to survive on my own again? 

The human moved around the place, shivering and pressing some buttons on something. Soon enough, the house was slowly but surely being warmed up. I let out a quiet sigh of relief. It might not be much… but at least it was something. Better than the frigid cold that had been filling the house for who knows how long. 

They moved around the house, checking everything out and smiling, their eyes a nice shade of light-brown. They looked… so nice. For a split second my mind wondered what would happen if he would ever see me. Would he keep me as a pet like I’m pretty sure most humans would? Or… nothing? No, why would I even be thinking about that? He would obviously want to hurt me even more than I already was. 

My stomach rumbled quietly, I winced, but confused to watch as they came from outside and back in, carrying a few boxes, bags and a small case that had wheels on it. Was I finally… saved? If this human was moving back in then I could actually have a chance to survive? I silently cheered to myself. How long has it been? Almost a week maybe? How did I even manage to stay alive? Didn’t matter anymore I guess. 

I continued to watch the human, putting up things in the boxes, setting up a few mini tables and placing picture frames of him and, who I was guessing, his parents. Of course occasionally taking breaks for a snack or two, leaving a plastic container filled with what looked like fresh fruit and vegetables. After most of the boxes were unpacked, a few still in their bedroom, he went back outside, most likely to fetch something else from his car. He usually took a while out there… so maybe it would be enough time to go and quickly grab something to eat? No, that was too risky. What if I was wrong and he came back early? I doubt I’d have enough time to find a hiding spot while out in the open since he didn’t exactly have any furniture or anything. 

I slumped, making my way back to my bland home in the walls. I had always tried to decorate… but since there hadn’t been anyone living here for me to “borrow” a few things from, I haven’t been able to decorate. Only the small bed I made by gathering up a bunch of cloth that the human before had forgotten about. It wasn’t extremely comfy, but better than anything I could’ve asked for. Otherwise, boring room. But it’s not like I need to decorate it anyways. Surviving was my main focus right now, and now that there was someone actually living here now… maybe I’d have a chance to get back into things. 

The wait was long, hearing the human talk to someone on what I think they call a phone, hang up, set up their house again and spend most of their time gathering up all of the blankets and pillows that he had brought with him and gathering them all up in what I think was going to be his room. As comfy as it looked, I knew I couldn’t just take a couple of minutes to get somewhat comfortable. Lately every night has been spent cold, hungry, filled with false hope. If I could just take a couple minutes to have some kind of sense of safety and security, that would be great. But I haven’t been able to, and I doubt that I’d be able to even now. I never realized just how hard it is to survive. Imagine what my parents went through while taking care of me… 

I hugged my blanket close, my eyelids threatening to close at any second. I heard the sound of the door open once again, and the loud sounds of him dragging something across the floor. It was all fine for me though. My eyes shut close, I laid down, and soon enough my mind drifted off. 

——————

When my eyes opened, there was a quiet noise of people talking outside. My heart had skipped a beat, thinking that there were more humans living here. That would make it impossible for someone like me to get past without being noticed, but as I groggily stepped outside, rubbing my eyes to wipe away the sleep, I realized that it was only the tv that wasn’t there a couple hours ago. 

I looked around the dark room, seeing that there was now a singular couch in what was the living room, a tv, a table that held two more frames. How long had I been sleeping? Or better yet, just how exhausted was I? Obviously the sun had already set, so I guess it didn’t really matter. I headed back to my room, grabbed my hook, and took off, every now and then finding a hiding spot just in case the human was somewhere I couldn’t see him. 

My head turned towards a dark shadow scamper right across from me, but I didn’t pay any mind. Probably just my imagination, right? Right now I was just trying to make sure that the human was asleep right now just before I go and see if he had any food out… or at least something edible in the cabinets. 

I checked the living room first, hiding by one of the legs under the couch, peaking my head out just enough to see him having trouble keeping his eyes open. Good enough for me. I ran quietly back to the kitchen, throwing my hook as far up as I could before testing if it was safely secure. I started my trek up, my arms and legs begging in me to go back down. Despite my arms threatening to tear off from the lack of strength. I really wasn’t good at borrowing. 

As soon as I reached the top of the counter, I took a few seconds to catch my breath. Once I get used to the human’s schedule I may finally be able to get back into things. No going hungry for that long, not worrying if I’ll make it to the end of the night. as soon as he turns on the heater things would be even better… I wouldn’t be shivering at night and struggle to find something that would act as a blanket. Yet another reason to be jewels of humans. They had everything borrowers didn’t. It wasn’t at all fair, but we all knew what would happen if a human found or saw us. The thought was pure torture to even think about. Literally. 

On the counter, there really wasn’t anything for me to see except for the half-eaten sandwich just lying on the counter. I silently walked over, not really wanting to eat part of the sandwich that they had already bitten into but I had to unless I wanted him to already be suspicious when it hasn’t even been a full day. 

I started cutting off pieces, making them fit inside my bag and taking a few more unnoticeable pieces for tomorrow, learning from past mistakes. As I was cutting, I realized that there was something off. The tv was still on in the other room, I figured that the human still hadn’t left the couch either, fighting off sleep. So why did it feel so off? I treaded carefully, watching every tiny movement that caught my eye. For a moment it was so quiet that I could hear my own heart pounding in my chest, and then too quiet. 

My eyes searched around, taking my final piece into my hands since no more would fit in my bag. I might as well grab as much as I could. Better than having nothing. I let out a sigh of relief, grateful that I wasn’t dead, that I’d at least have some kind of way to survive. Out of curiosity, I took a small bite out of the sandwich, only really getting the bread part but it tasted so good. To be honest, a sandwich was a definite score for borrowers, now when you’ve been starving for days on end, it tastes amazing. 

Two glasses hit each other behind me, I turned my head seeing them spin before returning to their still pose. My eyes widened, hurrying to my hook that was still hanging off the edge of the counter. I looked back, the light making it easier to see a rat chase me down, easily twice my size. I let out a yelp as I ran through several spice glasses in hopes of losing it, only to hear them all fall onto the counter with a loud thud! That was bad for two reasons, one because not only was it making a mess and trails that I’ve been here, and two, because I knew the human would want to come and investigate what was happening. Of course being the person that I am, I would never be able to run faster than this  surprisingly malicious rat. 

I struggled to keep up my balance, eventually tripping on thin air, dropping the small piece of sandwich a few feet away from me. I quickly rolled over, my chest heaving up and down as I faced the rat not even given a second before they scratched at my shirt. I winced, holding my stomach and seeing my hand covered in some blood. My breathing was getting more heavy as I saw a silhouette by the kitchen entrance. The lights turned on, blinding the rat for just a second as I quickly stood up and kept running towards my hook, holding my stomach. I knew what was happening, and there was no way I would be found the second a new human moves in, right? I blinked back the tears building up in my eyes, tripping once again. My vision was blurry from the tears, and judging by the small squeaks from the rat I thought was a good couple feet away, that meant that the human was here. 

Forcing myself to sit up, I looked at the bowl that kept moving. The rat screeching to be released from their prison. The human placed some heavy books on top, sighing to himself as he muttered something under his breath I couldn’t catch, but I didn’t really care. I scrambled back onto my feet, trying to run yet again and slammed into something soft and squishy. I winced as I fell and soon my entire world was moving again, the soft surface now everywhere. 

It settled in my mind slowly, realizing that I was in human hands. It hurt to breathe from my new wound, but I couldn’t help it. Tears streamed down my face as I struggled to muffle the sounds of my quiet cries. 

“Oh! U-um, I didn’t mean to…” Their voice sounded quiet and worried. I just continued crying, not even caring what would happen to me. Who was I kidding? I could never have survived on my own! I should’ve known when that first human moved out. Sure it was okay at first, but obviously them moving was a sign that I wasn’t meant to be on my own. I should’ve listened to my parents and stayed with them. This would’ve never happened, I would be alive and healthy instead of on the brink of death and in Death’s hands himself. Literally. Who knows what this human would do to me? It was scary to think about. 

“P-Please don’t h-hurt me.” I mumbled most likely too quiet for his ears to hear, leaning against what I think was his thumb. He flinched slightly, but why did it feel so… comfortable? 

“Aw little guy,” He smiled softly, “I’m not going to hurt you, okay?” I leaned into the warmth from his hands, hugging what was his thumb closely, still crying to myself. What else was I supposed to do? Of course I was scared but… I also just wanted someone to hold me. Right now I didn’t care that it was a human and I’d face my consequences later, I just wanted to be promised that I wouldn’t have to try so hard anymore. That I could just live without thinking about what I could manage to get for dinner. 

“You were just… hungry?” He asked as I picked my head up, seeing him looking straight at the piece I had dropped on the counter. I shakily nodded my head, hoping he would see. For now, I would just hide my fear. Right now this human was giving me everything I’ve wanted this past week. Comfort, warmth. Heck, I’m even crying in front of him. How embarrassing was that and he still hasn’t said or asked me anything. 

“Hm, here little guy.” He tried tilting me back onto the counter, but I grabbed onto his sleeve and hung on tighter. I didn’t want to be let go already. I know humans are bad and I’d face the consequences eventually, but right now I’d like to think that not all of them were as horrifying as the stories make them out to be. 

He softly laughed, cupping both hands around me again. I sniffled, “C-could you… h-help me? P-please.” I tried wiping away my tears, but they just kept coming. My eyes felt red and puffy, my legs felt like jello, heart racing. I was a mixture of emotions. Terrified, filled with hope, and most of all grateful that this human hadn’t decided to hurt me yet. 

The human studied me, worried. I stood still for a moment, hoping I would get my answer. It seemed ridiculous to be asking a human this. One that probably had no idea that they had saved me in the first place. My heart thumped in my chest, waiting in the eerie silence, awaiting my answer. My stomach still burnt from the deep gash, but I've had to go through worse. There was still some blood that was getting on the humans’ shirt sleeve, but that was the least of my worries. 

I felt something rub against my back, making me flinch, but lean into the gentle touch. Some part of me knew that this was wrong. Everything about this was wrong. I was sitting in a humans’ hand, talking to one, being seen by one. And for some reason, it all felt right. Everything felt right. That this was meant to happen. That it was alright for me to be vulnerable to this human. 

They started moving their hand as I continued to cry, pressing my face into the fabric of his shirt. When I opened my eyes, I found myself in a makeshift hug. I could hear his heartbeat in the background beating rhythmically, the slight rise and fall of his chest with every slow breath he took. I sniffled, shocked from the gesture but otherwise grateful. I wasn’t going to die. I was alive. I felt safe. There was no more suffering, no more false hope, no more anything. I would be fine. I smiled to myself, trying to wipe away the tears trailing down my face. 

I guess sometimes it’s okay to ask for help. 

——————

I hope you enjoyed! I don't know how to feel about this myself, but I think it's alright! Again, I had a lot of fun writing and thank you for the prompt!

Slowly getting out of my writing slump, hopefully get these prompts done plus something reallyyyy exciting (well at least it is to me)

Thank you for reading! :D

Taglist: @da3dm

[starry-bi-sky]

more cfau miscellaneous things because Childhood Friends Danny and Jason have my head and heart always and I need to finish rewriting chapter two dammit (and redo the half-finished chapter 4 because its just Not The Vibes). i'm almost through I need to get through the graveyard scene. (i just stubbornly refuse to have it be shorter than the original chapter and thats the little death. that is the mind killer.)

Danny and jason’s ghost forms both smell faintly like burnt flesh and cigarettes. However, Jason has a more smokey smell while Danny’s smells almost,,, electrical? In a sense? Like he just straight up smells like burnt flesh and sulphur while Jason smells like someone put him in a smoker first.

It’s very much an unpleasant smell but Danny finds an odd comfort in it just as much as he finds a comfort in the smell of nicotine.

(Jason post-revival smells burnt flesh once and is immediately offput by the fact that it brings him an instinctive comfort. He doesn’t realize its because it reminds him of Danny, and is uncomfortable by it.)

-

In an au of an au, Danny’s altercation with Rath ends with Rath regaining enough of his sanity to snap out of the grieving state and ends with him breaking down. Instead of being souped and imprisoned, Rath, who is permanently 14, decides to Move On into the unknown. He’s exhausted, heartbroken, and tired.

(Is this influenced heavily by the ParaNorman scene where he talks to Agatha and helps her move on? Yes. But it doesn’t fit with the Original Storyline so im shoving it into an Au of an Au.)

Rath tells Danny that Jason lied to them (which he genuinely believes), and that he’s tired of waiting/looking for him/grieving. Jason is gone. He isn’t coming back, he abandoned them. And he wants his mom and dad, and his sister, and his friends. And he’s ready to join them.

He leads Danny out to Gotham, which other than Amity Park might’ve been the only city left untouched due to Rath’s own mental block on the place. They go out to the park he and Jason used to frequent or up to one of crime alley’s rooftops, and there Rath lies down and goes to sleep. Only to never wake up again, materializing into nothing as his soul moves on.

Before Rath leaves, he forces Danny to promise him that he’ll only wait for Jason for ten years. After that if he doesn’t find him, or if Jason doesn’t show, then Danny has to move on. Whether that be like how Rath does, or if its inly mentally/emotionally, doesn’t matter. He has to move on. Don’t wait for him. Don’t waste his time any more.

(“Oh, and if you find him, kick his ass for me.”)

Danny reluctantly agrees, and Rath lies down. Danny sings to him as he falls asleep.

(Angsty points if the vigilantes including Red Hood caught wind of their presence and were silently watching from the shadows. Rath might know they’re there, but Danny’s too focused on Rath to notice.)

(If only so that Red Hood realizes that this is what happened to Danny, and that Danny is gone before he can make things right. The tragedy, folks. The angst. The initial realization that Danny was Rath, and then also that Danny was dead and has been dead for years, and that before he moved on, he moved on believing that Jason abandoned him.)

(like i said it doesn't fit in the original timeline/storyline hence why its an au of an au and isn't nearly a fleshed out, but i was largely just focusing on the tragedy of Rath moving on and Jason being alive to see it and realize just who Rath is.)

-

Just like how the Lazarus pits shot Jason's twiggy 4'6-5'4 (depending on what you find) feet tall and 86lb ass up like a tree an essentially fixed his malnutrition, the portal did the same thing for Danny.

(granted i forgot about malnutrition and danny's likely stunted growth at first -- his family lived in crime alley and despite both his parents working, I don't think they had enough food all the time. He probably wasn't as badly malnourished as Jason was, but he wasn't healthy either.)

Granted his ghost in its "natural" state (14) is short, and his growth spurts were slow at first, it did result in him reaching his dad's height. There were points where it just happened overnight, like a baby. He went to bed one night 5’6 and woke up the next day 5’10.

Jazz is shorter than him. Although I have't decided if she's even liminal at all (and if she is, it didn't cure everything because she would have also suffered childhood malnutrition, and since in au canon their parents didn't get their hands on physical ectoplasm until after they got to Amity Park. So the exposure is less.)

-

Danny's voice absolutely sounds like canon Dan's. It kinda just dropped one day when he was 16-17 and never went back up. Sam and Tucker sometimes ask him to just talk about anything because they find his voice soothing.

I'm not sure yet how Danny would feel about it at first considering Rath, but I imagine that Rath, when he did speak, would have had a quieter and scratchier/weaker voice considering he's spent the last decade shrieking and crying.

(and i suppose technically that shouldn't have any effect on his throat considering he's a ghost and idk if that would actually affect him, but i like the idea so im keeping it)

In the beginning you could hear him from a mile away by the sound of his loud, echoing wails, but ten years later you can only really hear him by the soft, shuddering sobs he makes. Like he's gasping for air that isn't there. The future is full of very quiet survivors.

And it's much easier to speak when you pitch your voice upwards (especially when whispering/speaking quietly) so he might've spoken in a higher, airy pitch in order to be heard. So Danny might actually find a comfort in having a lower voice.

[dukeofthomas]

I need people to realize how horrible 'stalking/constant surveillance/breaking into each other's homes is how the Batfamily show love' is. Like i really need someone to just acknowledge how horrific saying this bullshit is.

Like even fics where they're shown as happy and healthy and with good ties, you've always got this thing where none of them have privacy or any boundaries with each other. Which is directly antithetical to actually having good relationships. And this invasion via hacking and stalking and breaking into homes is portrayed as a positive, good thing; it's just how they show love and care to each other, after all. But for some reason I just personally don't find stalking, lack of privacy or boundaries, and emotional manipulation funny, endearing, or healthy, and just end up disgusted at the attempt to sweep it all under the rug.

[sillystringsimpsons]

Pic unrelated. I just think they're cute here. Lol.

SOMETHING IS WRONG.

A short fanfic set in The Good Ones [AU], featuring Johnny and Frankie.

STORY BELOW CUT!

"Something is wrong."

As he speaks, his leg taps incessantly beneath the dining table: little creaks and the rhythmic scuff of his socks against the linoleum punctuating the syllables and iambs in his anxious words.

"Somethin's always wrong with yous," I mutter. My words are muffled as I lazily press a chunk of bread, drowned to limpness with pumpkin soup, into the pocket my right cheek. "What's the matter, coniglio? Jeez, is it the bread? Sorry, baby, I know you ain't a fan of them baked-in olives, but it's all the bodega had out when I got there-"

"Gio, damnit! I ain't a frigging toddler, I can stomach some damn olives!"

...Jesus.

I like his skittishness. I know it sounds a little patronising, but it's endearing to me; the constant fidgeting and wriggling is as much a part of him as the borrowed trace-scent of my cologne in the crook of his neck and the way he gets little crow's feet by his eyes when he smiles. But this, right now, is more than his day-to-day restlessness: he's cagey today: more so than normal. I can see it in the way his eyes dart frantically around the room, the way those dilated pupils can never quite seem to sit in one place, caught in that same little loop of endless motion as his squirming lower half.

"...Sorry."

As soon as he breaks the silence, I realise I've been absentmindedly holding my breath in - as if, if I had let it go, some inappropriate response to his seemingly unprovoked outburst would have slipped out with it. But he's taken the weight of the reply off my shoulders, leaving me with nothing to do but give a barely audible, shaky out-breath after I choke down the food still in my mouth with an unwittingly stilted swallow.

"I... I, uh, don't apologise, Frankie," is all I manage to offer, at first. "I shouldn't 'a cut you off like that. My foul, alright?"

"No, Johnny, it ain't your fault, babe, I just... I just-"

Ironically, he's never been very good at expressing himself: it's no real surprise that the words he wants to get lost at the tip of his tongue, leaving him with nothing but stutters and frustrated little grunts - and once he's run out of those, all he has left to give is a big, defeated groan as he buries his face into his hands.

"It's just... Things have been good."

That confession, meek and padded by the hum of his lips against his calloused palms, is the absolute last thing I expected to hear.

"Good?"

"Too good," he whines, still refusing to look me in the eyes. "Everything is too damn good, and I feel like somethin' awful is about to happen. I can't freaking relax, Gio, I feel like- Damnit, I don't know, it feels like my brain is full 'a fluid, and- And my head is going to explode- Or somethin'-!"

"What, like, a fever? Frankie, if you got a fever-"

"No, no, it's metaphor-ismical, or freakin'- Whatever you call it! I just... It feels like there are a million bees inside my skull, Johnny. Does that make sense?"

No, not really. The bees, at least: I can't particularly envision something like that, I've never been all that good at creative thinking - or whatever the ability to picture insects in your head is called.

But, what does make sense is the look in his eyes as he raises his gaze: only slightly, just enough to meet my own.

There's a frenetic, anxious energy there, one that I've seen time, and time again: in the eyes of the lanky, up-town sixteen-year-old who'd ride past my shop on his bike a suspicious amount of times every day, in the eyes of the point of contention sat across from me at one too many impromptu meetings of DiMaggio's inner circle, in the eyes of the disgraced caporegime reluctantly settling into his new place among the ranks of my crew...

In the eyes of the man sat opposite me.

I give my best attempt at a sympathetic smile.

"Yeah. It does."

[piepiepiemag]

Blown Cover

Montague (Fortnite) x !(GN)Reader

Summary: you're a silly spy, on a silly mission, getting caught by some silly french dude.

Tags from AO3: No Y/N, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hostage Situations, Touch Starved Montague (Fortnite), Touched starved Reader, Codependency, Everyone in this fic has BPD, Whatever the opposite of a slow burn is, Proofread (but badly), Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POC Friendly, Unhealthy Power Dynamics

The mission set out for you was by no means easy, but at least he instructions were simple enough. Enter the Grand Glacier Hotel. Get your hands on Montague’s relic. Return back to the agency.

You were sent out for a reason, your boss completely trusted that you could finish the job without a single problem, so the fact that you got caught while still on the first step of the plan was unbelievably embarrassing. You were by no means a rookie, but you definitely felt like one now.

This guy was too smart. All of his abilities way beyond yours. You practically lost the game the moment you decided to play it, and now there you were, captured in the vault below the hotel.

As you slowly came to, all you could see in the dimly lit room was the man in front of you, and the lustre of the artifact hanging from his neck. It was so close. If you could just reach out your hand and grab it, it would all be over.

But alas your hands were tightly bound behind your back. Same with your legs, making you sit in a somewhat uncomfortable position while leaning your back against the wall.

Your captor pulled out a chair from the far end of the room and brought it in front of you, sitting down in complete silence.

“Why did you come here?” - his voice was less intimidating than you expected it to be, it was almost soft, with a hint of a french accent. You just stared at him, wordless.

“What was the goal of your mission?” - he asked again, his face slowly contorting in frustration. You didn’t say anything. That’s what you were taught to do in a situation like this. Cooperation wasn’t your strong suit anyway. - “Did you come here for this?”

He motioned at the diamond relic but he was met with nothing once again.

Montague was getting increasingly fed up with your silence, pulling his pistol out of its holster and pointing it at your forehead. For a few seconds you still considered if answering would even be worth it, warranting him to dig the barrel of the gun deeper into your skin.

“Yes, for the artifact.” - you groaned, the sharp pain making it even harder to think. - “But I don’t know what it was for. I was never told.”

You lied without even a flinch of your face. You obviously knew what it was for. Even if your boss didn’t tell you, you could guess. It was an attempt to combat his curse. If it was as powerful as they said, then maybe the diamond relic would be able to help him control his golden touch.

You were willing to do anything in your power to help him. And look where that got you.

“Good job.” - he said as he withdrew his gun voice almost sultry. The sound of that made you feel kind of gross, but you had to consider if this could be your way out. Just maybe he would be low enough to fall for it.

“You know, i could do even better if you got these cuffs off of me..” - you batted your eyelashes as you whispered in a low tone, motioning at your hands behind your back.

He looked back at you, his face showing utter horror and disgust, like he was trying to say “How dare you even assume i would do something like that?” with just his eyes. He took a few seconds before regaining his composure.

“The Rules of War are a thing for a reason. Don’t even try.” - with that he got up from his chair and walked over to the desk at the far end of the room. Worth a try anyways.

He looked over all the things he had taken off of you. Guns, guns, more guns, your earpiece, phone, emergency med kit and various other items. Most of these have been taken apart while you were out cold, to see if they had any tracking devices inside of them. Unsurprisingly, a lot of them did. Montague left them on on purpose. He mused over them for a few more minutes before turning back towards you.

“Give your boss a call for me, will you?” - His voice sounded more threatening now, obviously not willing to take no for an answer. You didn’t even want to try. With your earpiece having been disassembled and laid out on his desk he had no choice but to grab your phone.

He grabbed it, then leisurely walked up to were you were sitting. He reached behind you in an attempt to activate the fingerprint lock but you stopped him.

“Won’t work. My fingers are fried” - you wiggled your hands for good measure as you sighed, recalling the pain of having your fingerprints permanently removed. The scars were ugly too but it is what it is. You were a spy after all. Things like that were necessary. Just a part of the job.

He thought about it only for a second before holding the phone in front of your face, activating the face id system. It unlocked without a hitch and he started scrolling through the contacts.

“Under M. He’s the only one.” - you said as he followed your instructions. He swiped his finger on the screen a few times before finally settling on the one he needed.

“Midass?” - He raised an eyebrow and you would have laughed if it wasn’t for your current predicament. You just nodded.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

“Agent?” - on the fourth beep he finally picked up, his voice echoing through the room.

“Midas-” - you gasped out instinctively, almost falling over as you struggled to get closer to the phone, like reaching it would save you. Never in your life would you have thought you'd be so happy to hear his voice. You quickly stopped in your tracks as you felt the cold barrel of his gun press against the back of your head, as if to signal “stay in your lane”.

“I have something dear to you. If you want it back, i’d suggest getting it yourself. Come alone and unarmed” - and with these simple instructions he hung up.

Shit. You should have know Montague didn’t want a ransom or anything superficial like that. Not only did you cause trouble for yourself but the agency and your boss too. You could only imagine the talk he would give you afterwards. Of course, you would have to return alive for that. And the chances of that were dropping lower and lower by the minute.

Would he even risk it to come and get you? Right now, you were as good as dead.

Montague glanced over the items on the desk again, eyes wandering to the rest of your gear on the floor, including your shoes. He turned his gaze towards you.

“Maybe you wouldn’t have been caught if you wore normal shoes.”

This fucking guy. Not only was this situation insanely humiliating, no, he also had to jab at the thing you’re the most sensitive about. Those platforms were an extension of you at this point. You had to beg Midas on three separate occasions to be able to wear them to missions, and now this pompous french fuck decided to roast them as well.

��Insecure I’m taller than you with them?” - a truly weak rebuttal left your mouth as you grumbled to yourself. He was already pretty tall, but you just couldn’t let this one go without saying anything back.

He let out something that almost resembled a genuine laugh, before turning on his heels and heading towards the door of the vault. Good riddance. His shoes looked even dumber than yours anyways.

“I’ll be back.” - with that he opened the door and two guards walked in, taking his place. He left to god knows where and now you were there with twice as many eyes on you. It would be stupid to try anything sneaky like this.

The guards were silent, not even chatting amongst themselves, and for a while you just sat around and watched them. They seemed even less willing to communicate than you, so not having anything better to do you slid down against the wall and closed your eyes. Whatever they used to knock you out with still lingered in your system, making you more tired than usual. Just a moment of rest won’t hurt.

The next morning you woke up to the loud creaking of the vault door, the reddish gold sunrise barely creeping into the dark room. In the doorway stood a figure that you could only barely make out, a tall man in a suit, and your heart almost skipped a beat.

Was he..?

Your hopes shattered just as quickly when he stepped closer.

It wasn’t Midas.

Without his long coat Montague’s silhouette looked eerily similar, but maybe it was just the weirdo rich guy aura they both exuded. Imposing, elegant in their every move. Heads up their own asses probably.

He was carrying something in his hand but you didn’t care to look at him any longer after that. You lowered your gaze to the floor as you turned your whole body to the side. The severity of your situation was quickly dawning on you.

It must have been at least 6 hours since the call was placed. If he hasn’t gotten here in that time there’s a chance he never will. Maybe you weren’t as important as you thought you were.

“Expected someone else?” - Montague asked in his usual prickly way but you tuned him out entirely. You tried to keep it together as best as you could but it was futile. Who cares about protocols at this point. You just wanted to cry.

“Hey..” - he approached again, tone much softer this time. He kneeled down in front of you, getting dust and grime all over his expensive pair of pants. You immediately tensed up as he reached out towards you, only for him to wipe the wayward tears, that you couldn’t hold back, off of your face. - “Maybe it’s a long way here.”

You shrugged out of his touch. The last person you wanted comforting from was the guy who got you into this mess to begin with.

At the same time, it wasn’t all bad. You couldn’t recall the last time someone touched you like this, trying to be comforting, without any malice or intent to hurt.

It was pathetic, but you almost craved more.

After a bit of silence, that probably felt longer than it was he spoke up again.

“I brought you breakfast.” - his words finally piqued your interest and you looked up at him. In his hand was a small plate packed with exquisite looking pastries and fruits. You also had access to expensive looking food at the agency but you never really had time to treat yourself to breakfasts there. Work always came first.

Up until this point you didn’t really consider just how hungry you were. He could have offered you moldy bread and you still would have taken it. Unless there was a catch.

“You’re going to poison me now or what?” - you scrunched up your nose at him, voice still a bit hoarse from crying. He didn’t seem too phased by it, at this point you just looked like a sad, wet kitten he found at the side of the road, trying to keep up a tough act.

“Would it make sense for me to poison you before your boss even gets here?” - he gave a knowing half smile before picking up one of the croissants from the plate and taking a bite. You studied his face, making note of every move as he chewed and swallowed his food. That was enough to convince you and you sat up, struggling a bit against your bonds.

He picked up the other pastry from the plate and reached it towards your mouth, unwilling to untie you just yet. You thought about it for a second before finally taking a bite.

It was really good. So soft and sweet, nothing like the ones you were used to before being hired by the agency. The days of eating cheap, cardboard flavoured croissants were long gone, yet you could still recall them like it was yesterday. This job and by proxy your boss really saved your life. You felt like no matter how much work you put in, it was never enough to repay him for it.

By the time you finished that thought your food was gone as well, and Montague reached for the bright red strawberries that were laid out in a flower like shape on the plate. You watched as his hands moved down so delicately, then up towards you. You caught his gaze, fixed right on you and your stomach churned a little.

Being hand fed like this already felt almost intimate, but the way he looked at you just made it so much more worse.

Seeing him from up close, you could really tell just how attractive he was, not like it was hard to tell beforehand. His mismatched eyes were captivating on their own, but his features made them even more striking. He was a very pretty man, and he knew it. If he told you he was a model you wouldn’t even question it. Not even the scars across his face could ruin this perfect image, they only enhanced it further.

You tried to shoo these thoughts away as you continued to eat, even as his fingers slightly brushed against your lips occasionally. Getting flustered over the man holding you captive would be the lowest point of your career. Even lower than getting caught upon entering the location of your mission.

“Was it good?” - he asked with a small smile on his face. It was probably easy to tell by the way you ravaged that croissant, like it was your last meal on this earth.

“Yes, Sir.” - you face immediately turned pale as you realised what you just said out loud. You coughed a little to clear your throat before your voice fully left you.- “No I mean- Sorry just- Force of habit.”

He found it amusing enough, laughing a little to himself. You must have looked real stupid there. Almost a freudian slip. You decided to change the topic immediately lest he decided to ask about it.

“Can I have a cigarette please?” - you mumbled in a tone much meeker than you usually would. He nodded, rummaging through his pocket before pulling out a small black box. Treasurer. Is this really what all the rich guys smoke? You shouldn’t have been surprised, but at least this one was familiar.

Montague leisurely reached into the box, pulling out a cigarette fully coated in black. It looked cool, you’ll give him that. He held it towards your mouth and you parted your lips just enough for it to fit. Then he pulled out a lighter from his pocket and flicked it a few times before it finally lit up, the golden flame taking over the once dark cigarette. This felt even weirder than being hand fed.

You inhaled slowly. A habit this nasty shouldn’t feel this good. But after what happened yesterday, this was exactly what you needed. You exhaled the smoke, trying not aim for his face since he was gracious enough to share it with you. He reached for it and took it out of your mouth to flick the end off. This continued on for a little before he spoke up.

“It must have been uncomfortable to sleep down here. I’m willing to lend you a room up in the hotel, if you wish so.” - his face was devoid of any malice but you didn’t trust it for a second. Why would he want to do that for his hostage? Out of the kindness of his heart? Most definitely not.

But he was right, the vault was cold and dark, despite its lavish looks. You were used to camping out in uncomfortable places from time to time, but the thought of sleeping in a normal, warm bed was just too enticing.

“What’s the catch?” - you asked bluntly, studying his face, waiting for the moment he slipped up. This sounded way too good to be true. Such an easy bait, something only an idiot would fall for.

“Must there always be one?” - he gave you a half smile but he quickly realised you weren’t buying his theatrics at all. You saw right through him, though it wasn’t that hard.

You took a long drag from your cigarette in place on an answer.

“I’ve looked through your records. You seem quite capable.” - he said, very matter of fact. You weren’t exactly sure where he was going with this, so you just stared at him, somewhat confused. - “I want you to join my team.”

He must have been out of his mind to even suggest that.

“You want to hire me even after I got caught by you?” - you huffed out a strained laugh, raising an eyebrow. This must be some sort of a sick joke on his end. A way to further humiliate you. And yet he seemed so strangely sincere about it.

“Oh, don’t take that to heart.” - he laughed, swiping his thumb over your cheek. So demeaning, but almost comforting in a way. - “You had no chance against me.”

What a punchable face he had.

“You must be real stupid if you think I’d betray my boss for you.” - you blurted out. You squinted your eyes, full of anger at the implication. The fact that he even thought about it for a second pissed you off, let alone presenting it to you as an option.

He took a firm hold of your chin as to not let you look away. He wanted all of your attention on him, and for you to know who’s still the one in control. You felt chills running down your spine.

“No no, who said betray? Take it more as.. cooperation between two parties. A truce if you will.” - that sly smirk on his face made you all the more frustrated. Just what did he even mean by that? A truce for what exactly? Your head was running wild with ideas, but either way, it was not like you really had a choice.

“So?” - his voice interjected into your racing thoughts, as you were trying to imagine every scenario and how they could play out based on your answer. None of the ones where you said “no” ended well.

“Fine, I’ll do what you want.” - you sighed in defeat, lowering your gaze as much as you could, while he still had a hold of you. - “Just don’t hurt anyone from the agency. Please.”

“Mhm, good. I can do that. That is, if they don’t attack first." - he stroked your cheek a few more times, almost sickeningly affectionately. Then his grip on your chin lessened and soon enough he let go of you entirely. It was good to know that you were both on the same page about the possible rescue efforts. If Midas was coming to get you he was definitely not coming alone, no matter what the conditions were. But it didn’t seem like he minded that. Maybe he was betting on that possibility.

Montague put out the remainder of the cigarette on the ground, smearing the ash across the expensive looking carpet. He would have to get that replaced.

He leaned in closer to you as he pulled out a small, shiny switchblade from his pocket and reached for your legs, cutting the rope around them with a few calculated motions. For a moment you though he was going to cut clean into you, but clearly this wasn’t his first rodeo. Either way he seemed a little too confident in his abilities.

He took his time untangling the rope from around your legs, making sure to take in the sight in the process. He reached for your shoes and promptly dropped them in front of you. The moment you managed to struggle yourself into them the world seemed just a bit brighter. Comfy, at last.

After he was done he stood up and dusted off his pants. Those needed to be replaced as well.

He reached out his arms towards you, taking a firm grip on your shoulders as he pulled you up from the ground. Your legs were still too shaky for you to stand, after being cramped in one position for so long, but he expected it, pulling you just a bit closer to himself for balance. Too close. You could practically smell the expensive cologne he was wearing, something with sandalwood and a touch of vanilla. You swallowed hard. If you let your mind wander just a bit too long you might have rested your head on his shoulder.

His right arm snaked around your waist to get a better hold on you, and for a second you almost thought it felt nice. That was until you felt something cold and metallic press against the other side of your body. A gun. Of course. Even if it was just for show, it still made you consider every step you took. You were still planning to use those organs he was aiming at.

The walk up to the first floor of the hotel was long and awkward. You didn’t exactly have the time to look around and take in the sights when you first got here, so you tried your best to memorise where everything was.

The hotel was beautiful and lavish, all the walls and pillars trimmed in gold and decorated in a way that just screamed rich. Some of it was definitely expensive just for the sake of it, but the end result was still impressive nonetheless.

A vacation here would have been nice. Guess that’s off the list now.

He finally stopped in front of a door that didn’t seem any different from the others at a first glance, pulling out his keys from his pocket and unlocking it.

The moment you stepped in you noticed just how suspicious it all was. Guns and weapons mounted on the wall, an expensive looking laptop and monitors sitting on the desk, the luxury clothing peeking out of the halfway open closet.

So there was another catch. This must be his room.

Your racing thoughts got even more hazy as he stopped in front of the king sized bed, motioning for you to take a seat. You reluctantly did so.

“It would be inappropriate to keep you tied up now that you’re a part of my team.” - he said, pulling out his switchblade and reaching towards you back for your hands. - “ I’ll take this off, if you promise to behave.”

“I’ll try to..” - you sighed, leaning forward a bit to give him better access. He cut through the rope in one swift motion, slicing through it like it was melting butter. Just how many times did he have to do this..

You pulled your hands into your lap, hissing in pain as you ran your fingers over the rope burn. You might have struggled too much for your own good back at the vault. It didn’t matter though, you were at least free now. In theory.

Montague’s gaze softened as he reached for your hands, cradling them in his own, something close to actual remorse flashing over his eyes for a second. You weren’t sure if you should buy it. You couldn’t tell if anything he ever said was truly genuine. A flurry of thoughts raced through your head.

You could kill him right now. He’s defenceless. Distracted. You could snap his neck any second. And yet you decided not to.

He sighed quietly, pulling your hands up to him before placing soft kisses all over your torn skin. His lips were so warm, it made you feel dizzy, unable to pull your hand back, and unable to want to as well. You stared at him, expression unchanging and mind blank, but unable to hide just how hot your face was getting. If this was his way of apologising, then he managed to do a good job.

After a few seconds he pulled away, turning towards the entrance and promptly locking the door.

“I’ll run you a bath if you want.” - he said, walking towards the bathroom door. He opened it, revealing a large room full of white and greenish furnishings, packed to the brim with bath and beauty products. - “Im sure it would feel nice to relax a bit. I can bring you clean clothes as well.”

You were still a bit too starstruck by his previous actions to react, staring at your bruised hands, mind replaying the image over and over again. It took you a moment before you finally managed to get your head straight and answer him.

“Will you be watching me or..?” - you raised an eyebrow, finally back to your suspicious self. Montague chuckled, visibly unsure about you being truly serious. The tides have turned.

“Of course not. You said you would behave, haven’t you?” - with that he walked into the bathroom, towards the white marble bathtub, opening the tap and watching the hot mist rise up from it. - “Besides, this room has no windows. I trust you won’t break down the wall while I’m not looking.”

He smirked, unaware of the fact that you have in fact done that on more than one occasion before. You didn’t have the explosives, nor the nerve to do it in such a cramped room though.

“Thank you..” - you muttered, unusually quiet. You got off the bed and walked towards the room, closing the door and twisting the lock quickly. You scanned the door with your eyes, leaning in close to make sure you couldn’t see through any of the cracks.

Next you strolled around the room, checking for any possible places a camera could be hidden. All clear. Maybe he did do this out of the kindness of his heart for once. It never hurt to be cautious though..

You walked up to the bathtub and stripped of your dusty clothes, leaving them in a pile as you stepped into the water.

Many different brands of shampoos, conditioners and body washes lined the side of the tub, but the ones that caught your attention was the bath salts. You opened them one by one, smelling them and pondering on the best choice. Once you picked the winner you poured probably more than you should have into the tub, enjoying the relaxing atmosphere it brought.

You did the same for the rest of the products, deciding to waste as much time as you possibly could. It was nice to have some time for yourself for once, even if it had to come at a situation like this. With the conditioners applied, you sunk down into the tub, laying your head on the edge and closing your eyes. You kept wondering about how all of this had happened.

Why were you immediately suspicious to him upon entering the hotel? Your best guess was that he must have already had some info on you, but you couldn’t be for sure.

Montague was a frustrating enigma. On a first glance you wouldn’t have written him down as a master thief and manipulator, maybe just some rich pretty boy with a strange taste in jewellery. That just meant he was good at his job and even better at hiding his darker side.

Half the things he said he did so with that annoyingly charming smirk, like he knew he was playing everyone in the room and he just couldn’t help but let it slip sometimes. He was a true megalomaniac, but you were somewhat familiar with his kind by now.

His relic was even more of a mystery, it’s origin and full properties and powers all unknown. According to one witness he could turn his body parts into pure diamond with it. Some said his whole body can be transformed into it. You had to wonder if it he might harm himself while doing that. If the diamonds might stay lodged into his skin after. If it ever leaves a scar..

Your mind wandered, trying to imagine where his scars could be formed. Maybe across the arm he uses? Maybe on his chest, where it’s the closest to? Maybe through his legs, running down his thighs or-

You shot up from the water, snapping your eyes open, having had just about enough of those fantasies. You were certainly out of line now, the nagging thoughts in your head reminding you about how he also takes baths here, pushing images into your mind, not making your situation any better.

You washed your hair off and pulled the plug, letting the now colourful water flow down the drain. You reached for the towel that was previously placed by him on the sink. Relishing in its softness, you stepped in front of the mirror, beginning to dry your hair, using all the products laid out for it.

Once you were done with that you finally took a close look at the massive skincare collection standing in front of his mirror, which you have been eyeing the entire time.

It was a lot. By any standards. You carefully looked over and studied all of them before deciding on what to do.

You took them one by one and applied them, having the time of your life in the meantime. You were honestly kind of jealous of his collection. This time you didn’t exactly care about how they would affect your skin, you were hellbent on using up as many as you could. Have a little revenge. Make him think he’s safe when he’s reaching for his favourite lotion, only to find out that it’s empty.

Once you were done with your petty crime of passion you looked towards the door. Maybe he forgot about the clothes. If push comes to shove you could wear the same ones again.

“Can i have the clean clothes please?” - you raised your voice loud enough for him to hear. You heard faint ruffling from the other side before he got close enough for you to speak.

“Open the door and i’ll hand then in.” - you considered your options before twisting the lock. With the door slightly agape, you saw his hand peek in, holding onto a pair of greyish black clothes. The moment you took it from him his hand retracted and you shut the door again.

The clothes were plain but cute. Not exactly your style, but you still found them charming. You got dressed and looked at yourself in the mirror. This change in looks made you feel somewhat uncomfortable. It was like you were looking at a completely different person. Your old uniform and disguise filled you with a sense of belonging, like you were tied to the agency as long as you had it on. You didn’t want to think about it much so you headed for the door and stepped outside.

Montague was sitting at his desk, busy looking over the security camera footage displayed on his monitors, and what looked to be your files open on his laptop. That was not a flattering picture. It must have been taken close to when you joined the agency, based on the hair style you had.

You walked up to the bed and sat down on the edge, dangling your legs in the air absentmindedly. He seemed so occupied with skipping through the cameras that your weren’t even sure he noticed you coming back. You glanced around the room, looking for anything interesting you could occupy yourself with.

Your eyes landed on some magazines on the bedside table, the image on the cover already intriguing. It must have been an older picture, based on the fact that the Montague you saw on it was more younger looking, his face softer and his scar nowhere to be seen.

So he was a model.

You flipped it open, Montague quickly looking over his shoulder towards the noise. He took a long look at you before giving a half smile and turning back to his work. Reading through the pages seemed to be less rewarding than you imagined, most of it only talking about the fake persona he built up to the public.

His rags to riches story told in there was interesting, for sure, but knowing the real details made the false tale far less awe inspiring. He didn’t just climb the ladder of society like the papers said, he practically stole his way to the top. Unethical, but the truth was far more impressive to you.

You felt like you had it more easy compared to him, coming from a similar background but being taken under by someone who was already powerful, while Montague had became that powerful person by his own hands.

In the end, both of you had to do bad things to get to where you were now. Even then, you never once regretted joining the agency.

Lost in thought you stared at the picture in front of you, only seeing him get up and sit next to you from the corner of your eye. You closed the magazine and set it aside, looking up at him, having a question you wanted answered for a while now.

The air seemd to grow heavy as you two stared at each other, neither of you breaking the silence. You traced the scar on his eyebrow with your eyes, running over the jagged lines over and over again. You needed to focus.

“Why did you want me on your team?” - you finally managed to force out the question, eagerly waiting for his reaction. There was really no good reason for him to do that. You’ve shown yourself to be unreliable and a clutz by getting caught so early. He could have just asked for the agency to cooperate and give you back to them. No matter how many times you thought about it, there was no good reason.

“I like you.”

Oh.

His answer was curt, almost surprised that this wasn’t clear to you. It felt like a molotov has just been thrown into your brain, your frenzied thoughts getting even more incoherent by the second. Did he? Was that why he was so nice to you? That didn’t seem right and even if it was true what would that even change and how-

He chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction as you just sat there staring at him, face noticeably red. You sighed, nodding your head in understanding, unable and unwilling to say anything in case that would make things worse.

You knew how you felt, it was obvious, and if he was good enough at reading people then he probably did too.

“Why are you so devoted to your agency?” - he changed the subject, taking your question as a green light to dig into you and unearth your secrets. You didn’t really mind it.

“It’s hard to explain..” - you sighed, scooting up towards middle of the bed and sitting cross legged. He looked at you for a second as if to ask for permission and you nodded, letting him sit on the bed properly and a bit closer to you. - “My boss, Midas he’s.. he’s just done so much for me.”

“Like mutilating your fingers?” - Montague asked, raising an eyebrow. Your expression immediately changed, not expecting him to go there.

“Not that’s-“ - you gasped out, tone very defensive. You turned your palms towards you, looking over the scar tissue that was left behind, speaking more quietly now. - “You misunderstood, it was never his idea. I did it because i wanted to do a better job.. for him…”

He gave you a small nod, understanding but not fully satisfied with the answer. You continued.

“He helped me out of a bad living situation by offering me a job at the agency. I was able to achieve and learn so much thanks to him.” - you smiled a little to yourself as you recalled the memories. It hasn’t been that long since you were gone, but you missed your team so much. - “I’ve been trying to do my job perfectly but i felt like no matter how much i work put in i would never be able to repay him. And now i’m here, getting myself in trouble and giving him more work..”

“If he truly cares, he will come and rescue you, no matter what.” - Montague sighed, raising his arm towards you and gently stroking your cheek. The sudden closeness made you freeze up for a second. - “And if he doesn’t.. this isn’t the worst place for you to stay at.”

His words and actions were so comforting, you almost forgot this situation was partially his fault. You stopped blaming him for it a while ago, even if you couldn’t trust him fully you felt like you could at least relate to him, and that made you feel a bit better. Getting pulled out of your comfort zone like this wasn’t the worst thing that could happen, now that you two were on better terms. It was hard to admit, but you enjoyed being around Montague.

You looked back at him but he didn’t say a word, he was staring at you intently, his eyes flickering across your features.

The tension was thick enough to cut at this point. You caught his glance again.

“What is it?” - you questioned with an almost dumbfounded tone, unable to imagine what was going though his head. His gaze shifted from your eyes to your lips again.

“Can I kiss you?”

Oh.

Oh.

That strangely blunt question, his careful tone, his half smile, that stupidly charming face, all of it was too much. You just stared at him, face hot and mouth slightly agape.

It’s not like you weren’t thinking about it since the moment you laid eyes on him. Even if you knew it was selfish, careless and very very dumb, your body was telling you the complete opposite.

“I mean.. if you.. yeah..”- you turned your eyes away from him, onto your slightly shaking hands. God, you were acting so idiotic. Like a teenager upon being faced with their first crush. It was almost laughable.

He reached out a hand and lifted your chin up so you could look at him again. A sense of danger coursed through your entire body as he leaned in closer, so close that your faces were almost touching.

“Please say you want it, then.” - he said, leaning in closer to your neck, almost begging, voice low and hoarse. Your head was spinning, all rational thoughts leaving you behind with each shallow breath you took. You could feel his hot breath tickling against your skin.

“Please kiss me.”

He raised his head and you could see his smile widen as he closed the distance between you two, his lips meeting yours so softly that it almost hurt.

He closed his eyes as his arm trailed down to your neck, then your shoulder, his other hand tilting your chin up just enough to reach him.

You kept your eyes wide open, almost frozen in place for a second. You wanted this so badly, so why was every cell of your body suddenly screaming for you to stop?

He noticed your shock just as quickly, pulling away immediately upon sensing that something was wrong.

“You’re.. supposed to close your eyes, you know..” - he huffed out a laugh, trying to break through the awkward air that sprung up around you two. His eyes were looking you up and down, trying to understand what the problem was. This wasn’t the right situation to mess around in, for sure, but he thought you were both on the same page.

“…sorry.” - you finally spoke up, looking at everything in the room except him in the process. - “Im just.. a little nervous.”

That was an understatement. It’s been so long since you last felt the warm hands of another person on you like this, it was almost alarming now. You frequently began to associate that feeling with an attempt on your life, which wasn’t the most unusual in your field of work. The better you got at your job, the less people managed to reach you. Familiarity was only to be found in the cold, dead touch of those who stood in your path.

He nodded, thinking about your words, body language and everything else that could have been unsaid. He decided to pull his hands back and place them in his lap, almost as if he was waiting to be cuffed. He was surprisingly good at reading people.

“No need to worry, sweetheart.” - he smiled softly, leaning back a little as he sat. You groaned in annoyance, the nickname making you blush even more and sending swarms of butterflies to your stomach. - “You’re the one in control here.”

That seemed to have calmed your nerves a little. You took a deep breath as you got up, debating for a fraction of a second if you should sit on his lap but ultimately deciding against it. You still had a bit of your common sense left after all.

You sat down on your knees in front of him and reached your hand out, caressing his stubbled face in an amused way.

“You’re really pretty.” - you mumbled, almost too quiet for him to hear. His eyes crinkled as a genuine smile peeked through his facade. You wondered what he really was like under all these layers of lies, if he was truly trustworthy, or someone more despicable than you could ever imagine.

Only time would tell, and you decided to shove those thoughts away for now. You leaned in closer, your lips melting in a warm embrace.

Your left hand trailed behind his neck while your right found its way into his hair, playfully ruffling into it. He laughed into the kiss and your heart almost skipped a beat. This whole thing was honestly comedic but you didn’t care. You never realised how much you actually craved this. Just to have someone treat you like you were precious. Let it be a lie or not.

The world around you ceased to exist for a moment, just you and him, in this fucked up situation, breaking all the rules you set up for yourself.

You pulled away for air, both of your faces flushed, his pupils wide like he just sampled all the drugs money could buy. It was almost silly. You swiped your thumb over his face, whispering praises in your native tongue that he didn’t need to understand.

Amused, you wiped the small string of saliva from his chin.

“Mon Dieu..”- he groaned, mouth agape, almost unable to find his words. - “Please do that again.”

You smirked, leaning back to him. You teased him for a few seconds, grazing his lips with yours, not fully giving in, until he looked up at you. His eyes half lidded, but face screaming annoyed. You huffed out a laugh. He was so stupidly attractive, it was almost surreal. Of course you couldn’t help but want to play with him a little.

You smiled a little, amused by his reaction before finally kissing him again. You felt like you could stay like this forever.

Until a strange sound caught your attention. You weren’t exactly sure where to put it, at first it sounded like drilling, or rattling outside. You tried to ignore it and focus on him, but the more you listened the clearer it was.

Your heartbeat started to quicken.

It was a car.

The realisation crossed your mind and you shot up from the bed, leaving Montague confused until he finally caught the sound himself. He knew damn well what it was and what it meant.

He got up from the bed and grabbed his jacket, hurriedly putting it on, his shoes following after. He leaned over his desk to look at the cameras, but couldn’t find a thing on them.

You reached for your platforms and slid into them as quick as you could, watching from the corner of your eye as Montague stuffed something into his pocket, but paying it no mind.

You were barely able to think, completely forgetting about the weather and putting on something warm before walking towards the door. He opened it wordlessly and lead you down the stairs, towards the entrance of the hotel. Everything was eerily quiet in the hall, somewhat usual for the late evening.

You stepped out of the golden trimmed gate and the chilly air suddenly hit you. This kind of weather wasn’t exactly what you were used to. You tugged at the hem of your shirt in an attempt to cover yourself up a bit more, eventually groaning defeat, a small mist cloud forming from your breath. It reminded you of the time when you were only pretending to smoke as a child.

Lost in thought you vaguely focused your eyes on the horizon, almost jumping as you felt something touch your shoulders.

“You’re going to get cold like this.” - Montague sighed, wrapping his long coat around you. You grabbed the edges and pulled them even closer to yourself in an attempt escape the biting cold.

The coat smelled like him. You closed your eyes for a second, imaging his arms in place of the soft fabric.

This distraction wasn’t long lived though, as you noticed something glistening in the distance, the sound growing closer and closer by the second.

The source of the noise finally dipped into view over the horizon, it was the roaring engine of the pitch black sports car that you were oh so familiar with. As it got closer you noticed how more than half of it was glimmering gold in the sun’s light, almost blinding to the eye. It was shocking to say the least. You couldn’t see through the darkened windows but you had a pretty good idea of who could be driving it.

It took a sharp turn then came to a sudden halt in front of the stairway, drifting through the dirt and ripping up the layer of snow that sat on top of it. A man in a suit jumped out hastily, and you swallowed hard.

It was him.

It really was him.

He didn’t leave you behind.

One look at him sent shivers down your spine. His hair was a mess, falling on his face and in front of his eyes. His tie was halfway undone, his jacket, the cuffs of his sleeves, and his pants all speckled and tainted gold. And the look on his face…

You’ve seen him angry plenty of times before, but never like this. He looked terrifying. The knot in your stomach tightened as a he took a few quick steps forward, looking up at the top of the stairs where you two were standing.

“You..” - you could hear him groan through gritted teeth. In the flash of an eye he pulled out a golden pistol and aimed it at the man standing next to you. Your eyes widened.

“Wait!” - You could barely react as three shots rang out and you quickly snapped towards their target.

The bullets fell to the ground, clanking loudly as they rolled down the stairs.

Montague’s face screamed shock, even though he most likely expected this scenario. It all happened so quickly, almost too fast for him to react. His chest rose and fell under the heavy weight of the protective diamond barrier he created just in time. He laughed out as Midas lowered his gun.

“What a rude introduction..” - he was immediately back at his usual snarkiness and you had to wonder if he understood just how close to death he was right there. He was good at hiding it, but you could see the drops of sweat rolling down his cheek, and how his hands were shaking ever so slightly. That first shot landed a little too close for comfort.

Midas’ face hasn’t changed for a second, his tired eyes focusing only on Montague’s every move, watching him like a predator waiting for his prey. If you hadn’t stopped him, he most likely would have torn him apart by now. If there was one thing he despised, it was others taking what’s his.

Montague cleared his throat.

“Your agent has already agreed to my deal. I’ll let them go for now, in exchange for you lending me some help. Sounds fair, doesn’t it?” - he smirked, his words making your stomach churn. You did agree, yes, but it’s not like it was a fair deal, nor did you know the full extent of it. You wondered just how badly you might have messed up this time.

Still, you were glad he didn’t attack Midas right after he tried to shoot him point blank. Maybe your words actually reached some part of him. Maybe he understood how important he was to you.

“And what the catch?” - Midas asked immediately. Montague just scoffed, you two really did think alike. He raised a hand as if he was making the offer of a lifetime.

“They will stay as a part of my team, while your agency aids me in dethroning the gods. That is also your goal, yes?” - his tone turned serious, his face losing the fake smile just as quick.

So that’s what this was all for. You could barely believe it, he was crazy for sure, but going up against the gods still seemed too far fetched. Midas on the other hand didn’t seem shocked in the slightest. He looked intrigued as he took a few moments to think before answering.

“In that case, I agree to your deal.” - They were both out of their minds. You took a few deep breaths, taking all of the information in. You understood Midas’ reasons very well. He was kept locked up by them for so long after all, of course he would want to take his revenge. If that’s what he truly wanted, then you would throw your life on the line as well.

“Mhm, good.” - Montague smiled, content, as he nudged your back with the gun he was hiding behind himself. Some things never change. - “Go on.”

And just like that, you were free. Truly free this time.

Your thoughts finally cleared as the stress and worry of the situation slowly left your brain. All you could focus on now was the man standing at the bottom of the staircase.

You broke into a sprint, almost tripping at the speed you were running. You ran as if your life depended on it, like he would disappear if you didn’t reach him in time.

Tears pricked at you eyes as his face softened, and against your better judgement you practically jumped into his arms.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I thought you’d never come, I’m sorry, I’ll never make a mistake like this again!” - You sobbed against his chest, words held back for so long finally spilling out all at once, your tears staining the expensive material of his shirt. You held onto him so tight your muscles started to hurt, all signs of professionalism thrown out the window by now.

“Careful! I’m barely able to-“ - He quickly raised his hands to avoid touching you.

“I know. I’m sorry, Sir.” - You sniffed a little as you let go, trying to regain some of your composure. This would definitely not be allowed in the office. But he didn’t look like he minded it much, he just seemed glad that you were alive and unharmed.

In truth, all he wanted to do was to run his fingers through your hair and make sure you were truly okay. He knew better than to do that though, not in the state he was in. He let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

“It’s okay now. I’m here.”

The plan was in motion. Everything worked out just as he had wanted it to. And yet Montague could not shake off the uneasy feeling he was having, digging his nails into his own skin so hard that it drew blood. It all went well, and yet he was still so worked up over you clutching onto that man, like he was your lifeline.

Several other people got out of the car by then, a lady in black, a girl with dark braids and a tall cat. You waved and ran up to them, crying even more than before.

He couldn’t fully hear what you were saying, but he could guess. A tearful reunion, a beautiful way to end things. It’s been a while since he last felt emotions this strong and overwhelming. He was overreacting, and he knew it, but he was still unable to get himself to think straight.

He had you in the palm of his hand, and he was not willing to let you go now. That soft gaze, those gentle touches, the taste of your lips, he wanted it all for himself.

Maybe an unforeseen accident, a terrible tragedy, a mistake that would cost his life or maybe…

He saw you turn around and look back at him, a soft smile on your face. You were smiling at him. A genuine, kind gesture. It made his heart flutter.

…maybe those won’t be necessary.

[ghostl0re]

if 𝕻𝖔𝖔𝖗 𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 doesn't win best picture the Oscars will lose all credibility. that movie is insane from start to finish, actually im thinking on writing a whole essay about the movie.

my love for films resurrected from the ashes with this movie (and Past Lives ngl)

there's many controversial opinions about the movie which is normal and acceptable but no one can deny this movie (i know is a book) talks about a common feeling in a disturbing and haunting way that leaves you mind blown which is the whole point of art; art is subjetive and that's why this movie is not for everyone. you either love or hate this movie, there's not in-between.

if a piece of art doesn't leave a sensation, realization, feeling or thought on you, then is not for you. this movie is not light, to the point that i think i could never watch it again, but is just so good. i could talk for HOURS about this movie and what it made me feel. God i love art so much.

[myfanfic-urfantrash]

When things go wrong write for Welt

He surrounds them with the blanket before drawing them under his chin. Pressing a kiss to their forehead he sighs. "Not everything goes to plan but that doesn't mean you can't be upset about it."

He rubs their back frowning as they sniffle and wipe at their eyes angrily. He kisses their head this time rubbing their arm through the blanket. "Go ahead and let it all out I'll be here."

[forwhump]

Your Light Was On

a/n; will I always start every post by apologizing for posting ? probably, so here we go: sorry ! I’m kind of purging the folder in my google docs app for these two & they’ve lived on my shoulders for years so I have an absolutely insurmountable amount of content. I’m gonna be just unbearable w all my posting & I apologize in advance ! but will I apologize again anyway in the future ? probably yes !

this is kind of light on the whump & more of just a random oneshot, but if I’m gonna post these 2 little guys entire, traumatic lives (& I am) it’s important there’s some backstory okay ?! it can’t get worse if we didn’t know how less shit it used to be !

tw/cw mentions of being gutted, gore, wounds, mentions of medical torture, hints of complete loss of autonomy

human weapon whumpee, patching up wounds, stitches

There had always been something about Wren.

Even before Wren was his Wren, even before Wren had started to beat in the place where his heart used to be. Silas had always been drawn to him, an instinct entirely outside of his own control.

Wren was beautiful, Wren is beautiful, and Wren is beautiful in a completely unapproachable way. Wren is so beautiful it gives him an unsettling sort of quality and honestly, when Silas had first been dragged into this unit, Wren was so beautiful it had kind of creeped him out.

It had really creeped him out, actually, but he’d been drawn to him all the same. As creepy as he was, there was something Silas had always found really enchanting about him.

The way he speaks, maybe, always soft, gentle and sweet, but his accent is thick and Silas always thought it was weird. Every human bit of Silas had been wiped away, his memories along with it. He doesn’t remember a life outside this place. He doesn’t know anything outside these walls. He doesn’t know any accents but those around him, and that’s a total of three; two of the soldiers, London and English, have the the same accent; the rest of the unit shares an accent with Silas; Wren and his brother, Robin, have accents like nothing else Silas thinks he’s ever heard. Weird, but obviously beautiful and enchanting, like everything else about Wren. He’s from a place called Sugar Land, because of course he is. He looks exactly like somebody Silas would picture being from a place called Sugar Land.

Always so soft spoken, though, so patient, so kind. So gentle with Silas.

And maybe it was situational. Silas was their unit’s only weapon, but he wasn’t their only freak. They could be divided up into three categories; Weapons, Super Soldiers, and Wren. For a long time, Silas couldn’t even begin to guess what the hell Wren was doing there, but he was there, and he was human. His skin was still soft. He was warm.

Whatever it was, it pulled at Silas, it clawed at all the squishy human parts of him he didn’t realize he still had.

It was the pain that had woken him up. About a week prior, he’d been gutted during something the soldiers called a training exercise — Silas couldn’t die, so they made a game of making him bleed. Healing was shitty and Silas kept ripping his stitches. It was the pain that had woken him up, and he woke up with his sheets and his shirt both sticking to him, soaked through with blood. He was floating in it.

And Wren wasn’t his Wren yet. They weren’t even really close. Silas probably wouldn’t’ve bugged him at all, but when he dragged himself out of his room, fleeing a sticky trail of bloody footprints, Wren’s light was on, filtering into the corridor from beneath his door.

Silas tried to knock, but he was bleeding a lot and starting to lose dexterity in his fingers. He kind of banged his hand against Wren’s door, cruder than he meant to.

Wren’s voice was more tense than Silas had been expecting. It sounded weird. Not like usual. “What do you want?”

And then Silas realized that maybe he had just fallen asleep with his light on, and he felt weird for standing outside his bedroom, bleeding and waking him up. “Sorry,” he said.

A rustle, like Wren was moving in bed. It had made Silas blush, which he thought was kind of a waste of what little blood was left in his body. “What?” Wren had said. “Silas?”

“Yeah,” Silas said. He’d smudged blood on Wren’s door when he knocked. He tried to wipe it away with his sleeve, but there was blood on his sleeve and he made it much worse. “Sorry.”

The door was pulled away from his face as Wren eased it open. His hair was down, and it was the first time Silas had ever seen his hair down. It made him feel weird, like he was looking at something private, something really intimate, something he didn’t deserve to see, and it made him feel so weird it made him lightheaded. Or was that the blood loss?

“What are you doing?” Wren had asked, soft and concerned. “What happened to you?”

“I think I pulled my stitches,” Silas said.

It made Wren smile. Wren had always had one of Silas’ favourite smiles, even back then. It had made him blush again, which just made him feel stupid. Blushing and bashful, bleeding down the insides of his joggers so they were sticking to the insides of his thighs and his blood was starting to pool around Wren’s feet. Wren said, “I think you might be right.”

“I have a feeling,” Silas agreed. Wren breathed out a laugh, which had made him smile — crooked, now, because of a scar at the corner of his mouth, a lasting memory from a different training exercise.

“Do you need a hand?” He asked softly.

Silas nodded. “Yes, please.”

Wren smiled up at him as he stepped out of the way, and Silas almost slipped in his own blood on his way across the threshold. Wren set him up on the end of his bed and stood between his knees as he peeled off Silas’ t-shirt. It was the closest they had ever been to being the same height, and Silas had felt really weird about that. He thought it might’ve been a good weird, but he couldn’t be sure.

Wren was gentle and his hands were soft. Silas didn’t know why, yet, not at that time, but he knew already of Wren’s weird affinity for getting things; he was the only one of them that could ask a soldier for something, and get it. He could make requests. He got gifts. He was allowed to keep things in his room. He had things to keep.

Among his things were general medical supplies. He cleaned Silas’ leaking wounds. He taped him back together again. His stitches were all ugly, raised staples, barely holding shredded flesh together, but Wren didn’t flinch. He didn’t wretch. He cleaned and he taped and he was so gentle, so careful, as he layered bandages over the furious, red, raised Y of his wound.

Silas watched him closely. He didn’t mean to, not necessarily, but like in every other aspect, he was drawn to Wren, and he couldn’t help but watch him, his long, deft fingers, the part of his lips, the shadow his eyelashes cast on his face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said finally, and he didn’t mean to, but he couldn’t really help himself. Just thinking it didn’t seem like enough.

Wren’s eyes flickered up to him from beneath his eyelashes. “Thank you.”

“It’s kinda weird,” Silas admited.

It startled a laugh out of Wren, who looked up at Silas properly. “Excuse me?”

Silas cracked a smile, crooked. “I don’t know,” he said. “But it’s weird.”

“I think you’re weird,” Wren told him, lips curved into a smile that made Silas feel kind of sick but in a good way.

“Why?” He protested. “Just ‘cause I get gutted sometimes?”

Wren laughed again. He layered another bandage over the stapes down the centre of Silas’ chest, pressing it into place with warm, gentle fingers. It gave Silas goosebumps.

Wren noticed. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. He thumbed gently over Silas’ sternum, an apology. “Did I hurt you?”

Silas was bleeding less so he could feel his blush a little more properly in his face. “No,” he said. “You didn’t.”

He did that thing again, looked quickly up at Silas before he looked away.

Silas didn’t stop watching him. He didn’t think he could’ve if he wanted to. “Thank you,” he said.

“Of course,” Wren answered.

“Your light was on,” Silas said, curious, but it had come out kind of gruff. “Why?”

Wren smiled but he didn’t lift his head. “I don’t sleep very much,” he said.

“What do you do?” Silas asked.

He smiled again. “I draw, usually,” he said. He flattened a hand against Silas’ chest as he smoothed out a bandaid and Silas could only hope he couldn’t feel how much quicker his heart started to beat in return. “I used to be an artist.”

“What’s an artist?” Silas asked.

Wren looked up at him properly, and he didn’t smile. He turned away from Silas, in fact, and Silas very nearly panicked, thinking he offended him. It wasn’t his own fault he didn’t know what an artist was — he had no point of reference. “I’m sorry,” he said, an instinct.

“Why?” Wren asked. He was shuffling through a stack of books on his desk, his back to Silas. “Don’t be.”

He wasn’t looking at him and Silas didn’t find that very reassuring at all. “Okay.”

But when Wren turned back to him, a thick, bound book in one hand, he smiled again. He offered the book to Silas, who took it carefully, before Wren went back to carefully bandaging his split chest. “My art,” he explained.

Oh.

“There are a lot of mediums for art,” Wren told him. “Some people use words. Songs. Charcoal, clay. I’ve always preferred paint and pencil.”

Silas opened the book at random. The pages were thick and white and they were covered in the most unbelievable art Silas had ever seen.

Wren was so talented.

He’d drawn things Silas recognized from around prison, things from before that Silas didn’t remember or that he had never seen. He’d drawn people Silas had never met. He’d drawn the rest of their unit. He’d drawn Silas.

Silas didn’t recognize his portrait at first. There are no mirrors in the unit, nothing really reflective at all, and Silas couldn’t quite remember what he’d looked like before this place, anyway, before everything that had been done to him. But there was an angle to the portrait’s smile, crooked, because of a stenciled scar at the corner of its mouth. Its head was kind of tilted away, angular jaw and crooked smile. Its hair was Silas’ hair, but pulled only half up at the crown of his head, the rest loose around his back and his shoulders.

Silas didn’t wear his hair like that very often; only when June could be arsed to do it for him.

“Me?” He asks, holding the drawing up for Wren to see.

Wren looked up, and looked away just as quickly. Not so quickly that Silas couldn’t see him flush, pink, across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. “Yes,” he said, and his smile was sheepish. “That’s you.”

Silas studied the drawing carefully. The more he looked, the stronger he could taste his own heartbeat. “Why?”

“Why did I draw you?” Wren asked. He nodded. Wren didn’t look at him when he said, “I thought you looked beautiful.”

Oh. Well.

Silas didn’t know what to do with that, but it made his chest hurt, well beneath where Wren was patching him up. He flipped through more pages, looked at more of Wren’s art, found more drawings of himself.

One of them was drawn from behind. Silas, his hair in that half knot, big and broad shouldered. He knew it was him because he’d been drawn in the deadly uniform they dress him in for field tests. He looked lethal; he looked like something from a nightmare.

He held the book up again for Wren to see. “Me?”

Wren looked up, looked away, exhaled a laugh. “Yes,” he said. “That’s you, too.”

Silas found that very interesting. He flipped another few pages until he found himself again, his profile, recognizable enough because of the scars. It was interesting to see them from the outside. It also made him dizzy. He held the book up again.

Wren breathed out another laugh. “Are you just looking for drawings of you?”

“Yes,” Silas said.

Wren laughed properly, which made Silas grin, but he wasn’t kidding, and he flipped a few more pages.

“I’ve never seen me,” he said.

Wren’s hand stilled on his chest. “What?”

“I’ve never seen me,” Silas repeated. “It’s weird.”

“You’ve never seen you,” Wren said, and his hand left Silas’ chest entirely. “I guess you haven’t, have you?”

Silas looked up, shaking his head.

Wren held his hand out, expectant, and Silas handed his book back, reluctant. Wren flipped through the pages deftly before he turned it back around, holding it out to Silas with a smile. “That’s you.”

Silas took the book from him carefully and studied the drawing closely. It was a head on portrait, and it had to be flattering, because it was kind of a handsome drawing, even with all the raised scars and patchwork disfigurement. He wasn’t smiling and he definitely looked scary, there was no doubt he was a nightmare, but he looked more like a man than he was expecting. Less like a monster.

He felt really weird about that, so he said, “you draw my hair like this a lot.” His hair was pulled into that half knot at the crown of his head.

He looked up at Wren, who looked a little like he’d been caught. He said, with a smile, “I like your hair like that.”

“Oh,” Silas said, and he looked down at the drawing again. He couldn’t look at it very much longer. He closed the book and handed it back to Wren, who placed it back on his desk. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Wren said softly. He layered a final bandage over Silas’ chest and they were done. He offered Silas a smile and his blood soaked t-shirt.

Silas took it as he stood. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Wren said, so earnest it had kind of taken him off guard. “If you need me, Silas, don’t be shy. Anytime. Even if my light isn’t on.”

Silas heaved his shoulders. And, as a matter of fact, immediately regretted it, pain rippling down the lines of his staples. “I won’t wake you up if you’re sleeping. Not if you don’t sleep very much.”

Wren laughed softly. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I do,” Silas said. “You’re very small.”

Wren laughed again. His small hand brushed his arm as Silas left his room. “Goodnight, Silas.”

Silas smiled, crooked. It felt weirder on his face now that he kind of knew what it looked like. “Goodnight, Wren.”

He closed the door behind him. All the blood had dried on the surface, and it looked like a crime scene.

A problem for the morning.

[minghzi]

That moment you realized, you still had something to lose. Something important enough that, if it happened again because they wanted to protect you, you could never forgive yourself. 

 But you're both still alive. You've never felt so weak. And so does he.

[nhothicket]

Art I did for a fic I just posted ^v^

Based on Rusalka, Rusalka / Wild Rushes by The Decemberists.

[blitzd-sadgirl19]

I worry about my best friend. I worry that my ignorance induced anxiety is right and that she's not being treated how she deserves. I worry that I tried too hard to be her friend and, in turn, pushed her away. I worry and I feel like that's all I do when I think about her is worry. Worry if she's okay, worry that she hates me because I can't tell anymore; you should've seen how much I glowed calling you my best friend. I had this light in my eyes because you were the family that I chose that chose me back.

I miss you so much my heart strings snap when a memory of you plays with them. I love you so much it hurts.

That's the fucking problem. I love you so much that it fucking HURTS. You keep hurting me and I make excuses and i keep putting you before me saying that you need it more you need it more and why the fuck was it so hard to just love me plainly like i did you?

[creepyeyesandfrogs]

every few months the venom brain worms come fuck me up again and every single time i go "ohh let me get up to date with the comics again!" and every time i get psychic damage from it

[foxstens]

leaving comments on fics feels good :')

but i also worry if they're adequate :'(

[nyarlylicious]

It's best boy's birthday in a few days, so I thought I'd do something special following up to it; I have a lot of sketches, drawings, doodles, and unfinished works--entirely Ovan centered--that I have had sitting in my ipad that I just never posted. I don't usually like to upload unfinished works or sketches but I'd like to start getting into the habit of it. Otherwise, they sit on my tablets and rot, and some of them are neat to look back on. Creative processes are fun to see!

Some of them are months old, others just don't have a date to really say how recent they were. Anyway, enjoy the light blog spam in the next few days as I gather all of these up and just dump them here.