#im tired. i want to live somewhere cleaner

[missazura]

man i keep dissociating in the "having visual flashes of another place entirely" way and its incredibly disorienting. i know its bc i hate the place where i am right now and i don't have the means to escape, its incredibly troubling regardless.

[themstroll]

haven't been fishing for a while n wanted to get my thoughts about it out somewhere. i think fishing is foremost about life. my family has fished the same public lake for over 50 years. for most of these years it was toxic and shitty and the running joke is that no one caught anything until i was born. eventually the rains came and the lake got better, cleaner. the beer bottles and cig butts and every other goddamn piece of trash was cleaned up (at least for a little while) and the fish started biting. the lake was manmade and underneath it is an 18th century village. sometimes i think about the fish who now live in that village, swimming through foundations and passing over places full of memory. fishing is about life because you cannot take a single thing out of the system. i caught the largest bass i've ever seen in that shitty lake and the thought of taking her out was horrifying. why do that? she's living here too. she's eating and hiding in weeds and watching raindrops dance on the surface of the water. why take her from her home?

i fish and my dad claps me on the back and we are both men sitting on rocks and enjoying nature!!! im so fucking tired but fishing is about living because i say it is n i have more to say but goodbye

[tuanhood]

hypnotic | part one

paring: vampire!im jaebeom x reader

genre: angst, eventual smut (part two), vampire au

warnings: language, cringey vampire cliches i’m sure

word count: 9,800+

summary: jaebeom has been waiting 200 years to find his mate - the one who can break his trance and isn’t affected by his hypnotic abilities. You don’t seem to be that person, but he just can’t seem to get you out of his mind… why? 

a/n: hello guys! so i originally had this planned to post tomorrow (the 30th) but it was so long i decided to split it up and post one part today and the other part on the 31st! This first part is mostly Jaebeom and not a lot of Y/N but SO BE IT. This is also my first time writing in the genre of vampire/fantasy loL so please forgive me because it’ll probably be cringe and not make sense. if that’s the case lol drop me a message!! also vampire jaebeom was requested FOREVER ago. so here it is practically 3 decades later. and i attempted to make a banner. if someone can make me a better one it’s v much WELCOME.

part two

Knock Knock Knock 

He wished he could just pretend like he was asleep. He wished he could use that as an excuse to not answer the door, but based on the very strong feeling he was getting from who was behind it – that wouldn’t work. 

“I know you’re in there! Just answer the damn door Jaebeom!”

Jaebeom rolled his eyes, leave it to Bambam to be at his front door before the day even had a chance to truly begin. Before letting him in, he went through all the possible things or excuses he could use to get out of whatever his younger friend had in mind.

“Is your vintage YSL here or is it still at the dry cleaners?” Bambam asked, pushing past Jaebeom as soon as he has the door partway open.

Gruffly, Jaebeom turned back into his apartment to Bambam already halfway to his bedroom – no doubt to look through his closet, “What are you doing here Bam?” 

“What does it look like? I’m here for the vintage YSL asshole!” 

He’s learned by now that it’s better to let him do his thing – whatever that may mean. So instead of following Bambam, he plopped down onto the same couch he’s had for nearly 15 years. “You know when I first bought that shirt it wasn’t considered vintage!”

Jaebeom waited for a response, but instead, he was met with silence. After a few moments – many of them thinking about how maybe it was time to replace the couch – he felt his “vintage” YSL button-down hit him in the face. 

He groaned; the impact was surely going to create wrinkles in the material he tried to keep in pristine condition. It was ironic since he was often heard making fun of how much Bambam cared about clothes, but Jaebeom liked to keep his things nice. “Bam I just got it back from getting cleaned a couple of days ago.”

“Put it on.” 

The tone of his friend’s voice seemed rather impatient. If he had closed his eyes, Jaebeom would have thought he was talking to Jinyoung or even himself. 

“Why do I need to put it on? It’s 8 in the morning; where are we going?”

“Um excuse me? Did you forget what day it was? Now come on, we’re meeting Jinyoung at that new café down the street in fifteen.”

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, trying to picture the café on the mental map he keeps in his mind, “the one that used to be a video store in the 90s?”

Bambam made his way into the living room, picking up a few glasses that rested on the coffee table Jaebeom’s feet were on top of, and marched over to the small kitchen. Jaebeom has lived in this apartment more years than he’d like to admit, especially because enough time had passed that the neighbors he had were clearly aging and he just stayed 26. The thought of moving somewhere new often enters his mind, but with this place, he just can’t bring it in himself to go quite yet. It’s almost as though something is tying him to this city, this place – like he’s waiting for something.

“Yes, and a speakeasy in the 20s both of which are not important right now because we live in the 21st century Jaebeom. Now come on, Jinyoung’s waiting – that asshole is always early.” 

He heard Bambam mumble something along the lines of known him 100 years, would it kill him to just be on time for once, as he furiously dropped the glasses on the kitchen counter.

“Do I have to go?” 

Bambam paused his motions of putting Jaebeom’s dirty dishes into the sink to stare the older vampire down, “Jaebeom you only turn 200 once.” 

He scoffed in response, “Jesus don’t remind me.”

“We have to make a whole day of it! So please just put the shirt on, because I want you looking presentable,” he stopped in the middle of his sentence, suddenly wiggling his eyebrows, “you never know what could happen.” The final word is drawn out, almost sing-song like and it drives Jaebeom up the wall because he knows exactly what Bambam is referencing.

For Jaebeom and those like Jaebeom, they didn’t consider the day they were born as their birthday, but instead as the day they turned. There was no point in celebrating their birth anymore as they were no longer alive. However, at this point after 200 birthdays, – alive and dead combined - Jaebeom was beginning to believe that there was no point to those either. He always knew being immortal was a curse but day by day that idea was only solidifying itself in his mind.  

Jaebeom let out a gruff breath which only made Bambam look up from the fork he was scrubbing, “Bam I don’t know what you think is going to happen today… but it certainly isn’t that.” 

The “that” he was referencing was one of the main factors that as of late had made him feel like living forever was indeed a waste. It was the thing that was supposed to make him feel “complete.” According to old texts and traditional vampire folklore, he was now walking around half full, but once he met his mate, he would become whole. At first, he didn’t believe the tale. He had gotten by so far without a mate that the idea of him not being complete made him laugh. But watching both Bambam and Jinyoung find their mates – Bambam 70 years ago and Jinyoung 16 years ago – made him finally acknowledge and reflect on the piece of himself he was missing. 

And fuck he was lonely. 

Bambam chuckled at him as if being in on his own personal joke. His friend was strange like that sometimes, “just put the shirt on Jaebeom.” 

By the time he’s had the shirt on and Bambam has somehow convinced him to let him wear his Rolex he got as a gift from his friend Jackson in 1920, Jaebeom feels mentally prepared to leave the house and embark on this dreadful day. The reminder that he has now been around for 200 years and still is not whole.

“Finally,” Jinyoung sighed when Jaebeom and Bambam finally reached the café down the street, “I’ve been waiting 20 minutes.” 

A disgruntled Bambam checks his watch, “well if you don’t want to wait every single time, don’t be so fucking early,” he promptly turned to Jaebeom to share his grief regarding their friend, “you think he would learn after all this time.” 

“Let’s just go order,” Jaebeom shrugged, not caring to be in another disagreement between his longer than life friends.

“Be honest you’re early on purpose just so it gives you something to complain about and a reason to make us feel bad!” 

Jinyoung ignored Bambam’s theory, replying to the oldest, “no need. I already ordered for the three of us. It’s a special day, the birthday boy doesn’t need to pay,” he glanced at Bambam, “you on the other hand…” 

The two new arrivals, flop down into the sofa chairs on either side of Jinyoung, along of them situated to make a half-circle in front of a low coffee table. The three of them had somehow stuck into this… pattern. Years of friendship that contained years of Bambam/Jinyoung squabbles that Jaebeom would often have to mediate. Patterns were nice, but sometimes they would get old – especially after so long. 

As the two of them argue over whether or not Bambam should pay Jinyoung back for a simple iced Americano because Bam swears he got the drinks the last two times, Jaebeom looks over to the counter where the baristas work on – no doubt – the plethora of orders they have. The factor of the café being new has certainly been the cause of the popularity and amount of people in the shop. He can’t help but feel bad for the individuals working on the drinks – three years ago he had been one of them for roughly 18 months and knew that it wasn’t as easy as it appeared to be. 

In retrospect, Jaebeom didn’t have to work. He had so much time to learn and understand what it meant to be financially responsible. Not only that, but he’s literally had hundreds of years to save. Plus, his early investments in companies ended up landing him some pretty substantial and valuable shares. Jaebeom was sitting on quite the pretty penny. 

“Wow your portfolio is remarkable… I’ve never seen one like it,” his latest financial advisor had said to him in complete awe, “I mean an early investor in Amazon? Apple? Mastercard?” 

Jaebeom had laughed nervously, “What can I say? My grandpa had good intuition, I guess.” 

Money aside, he had wanted something to do with his time – hence his barista job. It was fun, but like most things, Jaebeom just grew tired of it and as he watched the girl working the espresso machine let out an exhausted breath, he realized that he wasn’t missing it. 

Jaebeom has become good at studying people. It was something he still wasn’t sure of whether it was a vampire thing or just something he had picked up over time. Watching the girl at the machine, her hair is in a low bun, a few strands falling in front of her face. It’s clear with the way the hair tie is situated, that the hairstyle was once a bit neater, tighter, and sat at the middle or even top of her head. However, the now fallen placement and slight disarray signal how busy she’s been working and how fried she must be feeling. 

He looks to the string bracelet on her wrist, visible from far away enough for Jaebeom to conclude that she must have someone in her life deemed important to wear one of those “friendship” bracelets. He never saw the point, but humans were strange creatures, despite him once being one. 

Jaebeom’s breath hitches when he catches sight of the delicately drawn tattoo on her wrist near the bracelet. It’s of lavender and it immediately reminds him of his mother who had loved exploring the lavender field that had been near his home when he was a child. Despite all the time that has passed since he lost his mother, the pain that aches inside of Jaebeom when he thinks of her isn’t any less. 

His thoughts are interrupted by the call at the coffee bar, “Order for Jinyoung.” 

The call comes from the overworked girl he had been studying and Jaebeom wants more than anything to stand up and retrieve their orders. He finds a weird want to hear what her laugh sounds like. Maybe he could say something or strike up a conversation that would-

“What are you doing?” It takes Jaebeom a moment to notice that he has partially stood up from his chair as if he’s about to go somewhere. Cluelessly, he replied, “going to get the drinks.”

The youngest shook his head, “No way! Birthday boys don’t get their drinks, they don’t lift a finger.” 

He knew Bambam was one to take birthdays seriously, but this was beginning to feel like it was going the extra mile too many. 

“I’ll get it.” 

Jaebeom watched Bambam get up to retrieve the drinks. He expects him to just grab the drinks and return to the table, but instead, Bambam says something to the girl. Arching his neck to the side, he tries to make a clear path to eavesdrop on what’s being said, hearing being one of the benefits of turning. Unfortunately, the café is too loud for him to focus on the conversation and he’s defeated by the fact that he’ll have to stay in the dark.

The girl laughs loudly at something Bambam said and Jaebeom can’t help but feel mixed about it. On one hand, he got his wish – hearing her laugh – but on the other hand, he wasn’t the cause of it. For some reason it makes him bring his clench and unclench his fists which rest on the arms of the sofa chair. Jinyoung takes notice.

Jaebeom quickly looks down at his lap when he senses that Bambam is returning to where they’re sat, not wanting to give away that he had been staring. First, he places Jinyoung’s and his drink on the table, soon turning back around to go back and fetch the last drink – Jaebeom’s. 

When he comes back, Jaebeom looks up to see a large grin spread across the youngest’s face. He has that look again – the one as if he knows a joke Jaebeom doesn’t. 

The latter nodded his head in thanks for getting the drinks as he inspects his green tea on the table. Just as he’s about to pick up the mug, he’s stopped in his tracks by an announcement coming from the coffee bar. 

“Hello everyone! Sorry for the interruption, but I’ve been told that we have a birthday here today,” you said. Giving announcements wasn’t your strong suit, but you figured now that you were an actual owner of something, you were going to get over your shyness. But you didn’t think it was going to be that often that a tall, skinny and pale boy with a Rolex on his wrist would be asking you to get your coffee shop to sing happy birthday for his friend. Even when you were a barista working for someone else no one had made such a request. This was a café after all, not an Applebee’s.

Jaebeom wished more than anything that he could sink into his seat and just disappear. If only that cliché that vampires turned into bats were true, then he could just fly away at a moment’s notice. Leave it to Bambam to torture him like this. It wasn’t intentional of course, but it certainly felt like it to Jaebeom. 

It was especially tragic to him because the girl he had been studying was the one leading the entire café in singing “Happy Birthday.” He did his best to avoid looking at her, feeling like his entire body was heating up in embarrassment even though he couldn't heat up. 

You on the other hand felt a little insulted by the birthday boy’s lack of eye contact. You hadn’t even managed to get a good look at him before you started singing and now it was not possible with the way that he was looking down at the ground, his long hair falling in front of his face, concealing itself to you. It wasn’t difficult to conclude that he felt awkward about a bunch of strangers he had never met singing him happy birthday, you had felt the same whenever your friends tried to ambush you on your birthday… but you at least looked up and acknowledged the presence of the people singing. A tight smile from this guy would even be happily accepted. 

When the song is over and the claps that follow finally subside, he looks up to see the café back at its previous state of normalcy, not a single person looking at him anymore. Jaebeom lets out a sigh of relief. 

“You could at least act like you liked it,” Bambam huffed in annoyance. He wished Jaebeom could appreciate the idea of birthdays like he did. 

“I really didn’t need to be the center of attention today Bam.” 

“But it’s your bir-” Bambam begins to explain, but Jaebeom abruptly cuts him off, not wanting to hear his reasoning for today’s antics, yet again. The day hadn’t even started.

“My birthday, I know. Thanks for reminding me.” 

Jinyoung clears his throat and plays with the spoon that came with his Flat White. Just as Jaebeom is the mediator for Bambam and Jinyoung, sometimes Jinyoung has to be the mediator for Jaebeom and Bambam. Essentially the commonality in the disagreements of their trio friendship is Bambam and currently, Jinyoung feels as though he should route the conversation elsewhere.

“What else is in the cards for tonight then boys?” 

It’s then based on the look on Jaebeom’s face, that Jinyoung thinks that maybe talking about the plans for tonight – on Jaebeom’s birthday – isn’t re-routing the conversation. Especially since it’s Bambam’s whose eyes light up and is the one to reply to him.

“Obviously we’re going out tonight,” Bambam paused and turned to Jaebeom, wagging his finger in the latter’s face, “there’s no way you’re getting out of this. I’m not taking no for an answer this time.”

Jaebeom rolled his eyes and didn’t respond as he knew he didn’t have a choice in the matter. He had rejected Bambam’s invitations to go out consistently for the last 6 months and on his birthday of all days, Bam was going to force him out of the house just as he had done this morning to come to the café.

He looks back to the front counter, his eyes searching for the barista who has now suddenly disappeared. A frown begins to make itself known on his face, feeling a bit disappointed by the fact that she may have left already or gone elsewhere, but soon she’s popping up from behind the counter, no doubt getting something from the cabinets below. Jaebeom feels relief. 

“What did you say to her?” he asked suddenly looking back at Bambam.

He cocked his head to the side, confused, “What did I say to who?” 

“The barista behind the counter.” 

His friend nodded his head slowly, suddenly realizing what Jaebeom means. A smirk appears on his face, “nothing much… Just how it was your birthday and it would be really good if we could all embarrass you by singing about it. She’s not a barista, by the way, she owns the place. Kinda backward thinking there Jae. It’s the 21st century, women can own things now, they can vote.” 

“I know that,” Jaebeom hissed. 

Bambam puts up his hands in defeat, “I’m just making sure.” 

“Don’t you know her?” Jinyoung asked, “isn’t that why we came here?” 

Jaebeom’s interests are perked. It’s not often that the three of them meet new people. It’s not like there’s a huge point to it. The last new person the three of them met was Mark – also a vampire – a bartender at their favorite club in the city, but that was in 2007. 

He waits for Bambam’s explanation as to how he knows this girl and why they came here specifically beside it just being near Jaebeom’s apartment. 

Waving his hand nonchalantly, the Thai boy gives his answer, “I don’t really know her. Minji does. Met her in some kind of class, I think. SoulCycle? Pilates? Zumba? I don’t know. I can’t keep up with her and her activities these days.” 

Minji is Bambam’s mate. He had turned her only a month after they met. 

Jaebeom’s not sure what he would do if he met his mate. He doesn’t know if he would want to subject them to turning and living the same kind of life as him, but he also doesn’t know if he could continue life alone after meeting his mate. If he ever meets them.

“Why the curiosity?” Jinyoung asked, for once finding it hard to remain stone-faced. Even his usual chill, non-revealing demeanor seems to fade away when it appears that his older friend might be attracted to someone. 

Jaebeom simply shrugged, “it’s nothing…” 

“What do you think? Could she be the one?” Bambam asked teasingly, pointing to the girl behind the counter. 

Jinyoung rolled his eyes almost immediately at the younger boy, “if you’re going to keep bothering him about it, don’t make it so obvious idiot.” 

Jaebeom had been alive – or more like undead – for 200 years and more than half of that time he had to listen to this same conversation from his friends over and over again. His patience was wearing thin and 180 years later, he was tired of their pestering. 

He leaned forward slowly and grabbed his green tea off the table, making sure to visibly flinch at the heat of the drink, Bambam, and Jinyoung chuckling at his reaction. Out of the three of them, Jaebeom certainly had the most practice when it came to “putting on a show” for the humans and “acting” the most human. Taking a sip, he looked back at the girl behind the counter. 

The youngest vampire had spent many of their outings and conversations hypothesizing who Jaebeom’s mate could be. Despite being the oldest of the three, Jaebeom was the only one left who still hadn’t found his mate and he was beginning to feel hopeless. Typically, Bambam pointed out any human girl as a candidate – all of them of course ended up not being his mate. Therefore, Jaebeom didn’t pay attention to his picks anymore, but he had to admit… He did get a strange feeling from the girl behind the counter. 

Jaebeom looked to you, hoping to catch your gaze as you quickly made the coffee orders for the few people waiting to the side of the cash register. Just when he was about to give up and focus his attention back on his friends, you tore your concentration away from the drink in your hand and looked up at him from across the cafe. 

Jaebeom focused his gaze deep onto you with his eyes – testing, checking, and trialing your focus. You didn’t look away, instead, you trained your eyes deeply into his and stared at him until finally, it was Jaebeom who broke the contact. 

He shook his head at his friends, disappointed by your inability to break the trance and ultimately confused at the feeling he still got from you despite that. 

Jaebeom took another sip of the tea, “it’s not her.” 

“Did you have to debate that Uber driver on the Twilight franchise?” Jinyoung groaned at Bambam as soon as they’re out of the car. 

The entire twenty-minute ride, he had got into a heated discussion with their driver on how Twilight was not “true” or realistic to most actual vampire folklore. It had been an excruciating thing to listen to. 

“Got to stand up for our kind dude.” 

“Okay, but what happens when she starts asking how you know all these things or why you’re so interested in vampire stuff?” Jinyoung tended to always be right. This wasn’t an exception.

Brushing off his pants, Bambam gives him a nonchalant wave, “chill out man. Everyone loves vampire stuff.” 

“Maybe in 2008,” Jaebeom said just barely loud enough for his friends to hear them. The two of them laughed, Bambam shoving him playfully on the shoulder, “Birthday boy getting funny on us.” 

“I was always funny,” Jaebeom deadpanned. 

“Funny and looking good tonight. Let’s get you laid, shall we?” 

After a day that was jampacked full of various activities planned by his youngest friend, the last thing Jaebeom wanted to do was spend extra energy on trying to get some girl to come home with him tonight. Besides, he wasn’t that guy anymore. 

Jinyoung scoffed, “he doesn’t need to get laid tonight.”

“Yes, he does! Jaebeom how long has it been?” 

This time it’s Jinyoung that shoves Bambam’s shoulder – except it’s not all that playful. 

“Fine don’t answer that, but I’m just saying there will be quite a few girls here that you can have your pick of, despite your plain outfit.” 

Jaebeom looked at the clothes he had changed into when Bambam spared him a sliver of time to go back home to digress and feed his cats. The latter had wanted him to borrow clothes of his, but instead, Jaebeom decided on pulling pieces from his closet that felt more like him, less like Bambam. A plain pair of ripped jeans, an oversized black shirt that he had bought at a shop from his trip to London last year, and his mother’s necklace that often wasn’t missing from its spot around his neck.

Bambam’s earlier critique was that he was dressed too basic and that no girls would bat an eye at him. Girls don’t like plain guys, he had said. The comment makes Jaebeom wonder about you and whether you’d fall under the category of not liking “plain” guys. 

He bites the inside of his cheek. It was probably the eighth time he had made himself do it today. Jaebeom had found his mind often drifting to you throughout the day for some unexplainable reason. During their walk in the park, he wondered if you would take strolls during your breaks from the café or when Bambam forced him to go paint pottery for an hour and a half he thought about what you would paint. It frustrated him because he hadn’t even spoken to you – not a word and yet you were clearly on his mind for one reason or another. It wasn’t even like you were his mate. He had tried to see if you were unaffected by his trance, his hypnotic capabilities, but you had just stared at him completely fixated just as everyone else was. 

Jaebeom was not going to think about you any longer. He was already planning on avoiding your café. 

“We’re on the list,” Bambam tells the bouncer when they arrive at the entrance of the club. He scans the list and motions his head towards the direction of the door to signal to the three of them to go on ahead. There’s a bit of a whine coming from the people waiting in line which admittedly so makes Jaebeom feel a little guilty, but Bambam ensures him it’s fine, “why have a friend who works at a club if we can’t use him for the perks?” 

“Why does he keep bartending again?” As soon as the question is out of Jaebeom’s mouth he realizes it was a stupid thing to ask since the answer is apparent. 

Bambam laughed at him, giving his long – irreplaceable he’d like to remind everyone – leather coat to the person at the front of the club. Jaebeom swears he hears him tell the coat check guy the “proper” way to put it on a hanger. 

“Obviously for the girls Jaebeom.” 

Mark’s mate – Hana had passed on a long time ago. Jaebeom had never got the chance to meet her, only hears about her in passing from some stories that Mark has told the three of them. He hadn’t turned her. Jaebeom’s never asked why. 

“Girls… of course.” 

He can’t help but think about how Mark must feel inside. Although Jaebeom doesn’t know him as well as he knows Bambam and Jinyoung, whenever he’s with the older boy he’s always got a smile on his face. Often quiet, but he’s always got certain energy bouncing off of him that would indeed make him popular with women. However, if what they say about mates is true, would that mean that a piece of Mark was now missing? Did he feel like he was less of a person? Jaebeom felt like that sometimes and he hadn’t even met his mate yet. Mark had his, but now he didn’t. 

“Drinks?” Jinyoung asked the two of them and Jaebeom is partly surprised. Out of the three of them, Bambam was the one who was the most comfortable in a club or even bar setting. He figures that Jinyoung must be using his birthday as an excuse to cut loose and become someone else for the night.

Bambam instantly nodded his head at Jinyoung’s suggestion and Jaebeom finds himself trailing behind the two of them as they make their way over to Mark at the bar who is throwing his head back at something the girl across the bar is saying. Judging on Jaebeom’s intuition – it’s a bit fake and overplayed, but you got to do what you got to do.

“My man!” Bambam yelled over the music, leaning against the counter in a way to make sure he doesn’t get the elbows of his long sleeve turtleneck wet. Mark in response, turned to them and smiled, then routing his attention back to the girl, giving her an apologetic smile. Her half-smile says everything Jaebeom could need to know – this girl would not be going home with Mark after his shift tonight. 

“What can I get you guys tonight,” Mark turned to Jaebeom and the latter can barely make out his sharp canines in the dark club, “birthday boy you want anything special?” 

Before Jaebeom can reply that he wants to be at home, Bambam answers for him.

“Could we maybe get something that’s off the menu?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Mark who gave him a shit-eating grin, knowing immediately what he was talking about. 

“Off the menu” meant Mark’s secret stash of O negative underneath the counter. While alcohol had the same effect on them that it had on the average humans, adding a bit of blood just made a little bit better. Okay… it made it a lot better. 

“Three negronis coming right up,” Mark winked to give a little signal that these would most likely not be as well composed or put together as a negroni, but due to them being in public, he couldn’t necessarily announce a shit ton of alcohol mixed with human blood was going to be served up to them. 

“How has your birthday been Jae?” Mark asked as he was in the middle of placing three glasses onto the countertop in between them.

It was difficult to explain since to Jaebeom it had just been another day except for a little bit more excruciating. The celebration of another year “older” filled him with thoughts of how much time has passed, whether he’s done anything truly important and why he still hasn’t found the person who is meant to complete him… but like he said only a little more excruciating than any other day. 

Jaebeom shrugged in response, “Bam planned a lot and for the most part, it was…” he paused for a moment, wondering if he should say how he felt – numb, lost, and wishing the day would come to an end as if tomorrow won’t bring the same thoughts or problems. But as he looked at his friends who had tried so hard today to make him happy and celebrate, he decided to guard them against the ultimate truth, “for the most part it was fun – really good. I mean besides the singing at the café of course.” He throws in the last part to at least have some kind of believability to his story. 

He notices Mark’s eyebrows lift out of curiosity as his concentration focuses on measuring out each part of the drinks, “An entire café sang you happy birthday? Damn, I don’t think I could ever get through that, so I can only imagine how you feel.” 

“That was Bam’s idea,” Jinyoung muttered. 

Once again, Bambam does his nonchalant waving of the hand, “it wasn’t that bad. I mean okay, maybe it was… But Jaebeom was obsessed with the girl who led it.” 

Jaebeom suddenly feels like he wants to put duct tape over his friend’s mouth. 

“I was not obsessed with her! I don’t even know her!” Jaebeom for some reason felt the need to defend himself, which was probably the worst option. Him getting defensive was usually a tell-tale sign for his friends being right on whatever they were confronting him with. 

Bambam scoffed, bringing gliding his drink across the bar to be directly in front of him once Mark has poured it neatly into the short glass, “I noticed you staring at her before I went to get the drinks. That’s why I asked her to do it in the first place.” 

“So, she doesn’t know Minji?” Jinyoung questioned. 

The youngest takes his first sip and immediately lets out a hissing noise, signaling to Mark that it’s both strong and good. “No, she does, but Jaebeom’s weird staring only made it that much better.” 

Mark pushed the other two glasses towards Jinyoung and Jaebeom, “Was she your…” he drifted off, almost as though he was finding it physically difficult to get the word out. Jaebeom can’t help but feel the want to reach his hand out towards Mark and place it comfortingly on his shoulder, but his group of friends don’t do that. Instead, he saves him the trouble by answering back right away, not forcing him to say it.

“No, she wasn’t.” 

The bartender nodded slowly, suddenly avoiding his gaze from the three familiar boys across the bar from him, “That’s uh… too bad that she wasn’t able to break the trance. Sorry, Jaebeom.” 

He knows that Mark is just trying to be nice, especially when they’re on a subject that he clearly can’t and doesn’t want to talk about, but the attempt to be comforting makes Jaebeom nauseous. 

“Well maybe he’ll find her here tonight,” Jinyoung quipped, placing a hand on Jaebeom’s back. Sometimes the latter swore that his friends treated him he had just found out he had a terminal illness. 

“I sincerely doubt it,” Jaebeom commented gruffly. 

There’s a sound from the other side of the bar from a customer who seems fed up with the conversation being had between the four of them – distracting Mark from serving anyone else. He gives a signal to them to notify them that he’ll be there in a second. “Well… come to me if you guys need more drinks.  It’s on me tonight.” 

“Thanks, man,” Jaebeom tells him honestly because he might need a couple more drinks before he gets to the state of wanting to be in this room.

Mark said a final word of “see you guys later” and heads to the other end of the bar to help customers who have been waiting. Grabbing their drinks, Jaebeom, Jinyoung, and Bambam turn around to depart the bar, to find somewhere to sit for a bit before the drinks truly begin to hit them.  

With his drink in hand, Jaebeom took a sip and reveled in the perfect balance of alcohol to burn his throat and blood to soothe it. The drink was probably the most relaxing part of his day thus far and as he looked out at the crowd, he could already tell that maybe the mixture was going to his head due to his sudden thinking that this place wasn’t all that bad.

Despite not being a club guy, if he were to go out, Jaebeom would always choose this club that Mark works out. To put it simply – it was vampire friendly. With Mark behind the counter and his “secret” supply free-flowing, it became a notoriously known place for vampires in town. If he had to guess, the attendance on an average night was probably evenly split 50/50, humans and vampires.

The humans weren’t aware of the vampires of course – for the most part.

Jaebeom cleared his throat once they’ve found a booth to sit in, “so… Bam what do you know about that girl?” 

Both Jinyoung and Bambam exchange glances before looking back at the birthday boy. The latter tried his best to conceal the smile on his face, “not much… just that she owns the café, knows Minji, and is very single.” 

For some reason, Jaebeom’s stomach does a little flip, but he wishes it wouldn’t. “S-So?” Through his stutter, he tries to remain as confident as possible, but his friends see right through his façade.

Jinyoung leaned forward until his elbows rest on the top of his thighs, “Jaebeom you can be honest with us… Why the sudden fascination with this girl? Are you sure she didn’t break the trance? Just with the way that you’re acting…” Jinyoung drifted off, not bothering to finish his final sentence, but once again looking at Bambam. It makes Jaebeom lean forward in his seat as well. 

“With the way, I’m acting? I’m completely normal. I’m fine. She didn’t break the trance and now I’m just curious about her as curious as anyone would be about someone they meet.” 

There’s the silence between the three of them until Bambam speaks up, “You didn’t meet her though.” 

It dawns on Jaebeom that he didn’t even speak to you and he wonders why does it feel like he did. Why did it feel like he knew you but didn’t at the same time? Why haven’t his mind and body been cooperating with him since this morning at the café? 

Just with the way that you’re acting…

The way he was acting? What did that mean? Was the way he was acting mean something specific? 

He feels like he blinks and thirty minutes go by. And in that past thirty minutes, Jaebeom had somehow managed to drink 6 of Mark’s “negronis.” He felt like his head was beginning to get dizzy. It wasn’t often that Jaebeom found himself drunk on the verge of drunkenness due to alcohol not affecting him as much as humans. To even remotely get to that state, he had to drink a lot and it had to be strong. 

“You feeling it Jaebeom?” Through the darkness and the haze of the alcohol, Jaebeom could barely make out the hint of the smile playing on Jinyoung’s face. He had switched to a glass of wine at some point while Jaebeom was binge drinking which had to be the most Jinyoung thing ever. Who drinks a glass of wine in a dark, sweaty club? 

He’s afraid to answer him verbally which would give his friend an obvious sign of how he was feeling. So instead he just shrugged – as usual. 

“Dude let’s get out there!” The youngest shouted, motioning his hands to the middle of the club, “dance… maybe find you a girl?” 

Jaebeom watched the people pressing up against each other on the dancefloor, moving their bodies, and drinking like their lives depended on it. He wondered if he wanted to be a part of that. Everyone out there was so full of life and vigor… he just wasn’t. He also didn’t know if he was that drunk, but bless Bambam because he didn’t need alcohol to be out there. 

For what feels like the millionth time, his mind drifted to you. Was this your kind of place? Would you come here? If you did would you come alone? With friends? Someone else? You didn’t seem like the type of person who would like this place. You seemed more like him – the observant, calm, inquisitive type who would much rather be at home with a book than at a party. 

Then for a moment, he can picture it. It’s almost like he’s in a trance – an image of you curled up on a couch – his couch – under a large white cable knit blanket fills his mind. Rather than reading, your painting with watercolors – the kind that seems to be in every elementary school classroom – and he hears a voice out of view. His voice.

“Painting really?”  

Jaebeom sees you glance up from your painting to look at him, smiling.

“Looks like I’m gonna have a lot of time on my hands so… might as well get good at something.” 

Jaebeom hears himself laugh, “Okay but watercolors?” 

He feels like he’s going to pass out when he finally hears it – your laugh. 

“Let the artist work Im Jaebeom! She needs to get good enough to live off auction house money once her paintings get sold! Shh!” Despite your words, you smiled and suddenly moved the tools away from you onto the coffee table. You lifted half the blanket off of you and patted the space of the couch beside you, “you know I can’t say no when you give me that face. Come here.”

And just like that, the vision is gone. Jaebeom feels confused because it didn’t feel like a dream or fantasy, but it felt real… it felt like a memory. 

“Hello, Earth to Jaebeom?” 

Right… dancing. Maybe dancing would help him forget whatever game his mind was playing on him.

“Yeah let’s fucking go.” 

Another instance occurs where Jaebeom blinks and everything moves so fast. Suddenly he’s no longer sat at the table with Bambam and Jinyoung, but instead in the middle of that mess on the dancefloor with everyone else. He almost feels like one of them. He almost feels human again. But as soon as that feeling washes over him, it quickly dissipates. 

He knows it must be the drinks doing all the work, because otherwise, he would have never found himself in the middle of all these people, thinking that dancing is a good idea. Dancing had never done anything remotely good for him before, so why now? To help forget? Was it going to help him do that? 

“I swear it’s like he’s not even here.” 

Jaebeom tuned back into the moment, and it’s when he realizes that Jinyoung and Bambam have been trying to get his attention this entire time.

“Sorry I was just- the alcohol you know…” He says it so quietly that he knows his friends won’t be able to hear him over the music and the millions of conversations happening around them. But he thinks that maybe it’s better that way and that it truly doesn’t matter what he says.

Jinyoung comes closer to Jaebeom, until his mouth is right next to his ear, “we were just asking if there’s anyone that you’re interested in.” 

They’re still on this idea? Jaebeom asked himself. 

Even in his drunken state, he didn’t think that finding some random girl to fuck was going to help with the emptiness he’s been feeling lately, but for the first time since getting up and onto the dance floor he takes in the people around him. As depressing as it was to observe, most people were here with someone else. 

It’s then his gaze falls onto a couple that stands far on the left side of the floor, behind where Jinyoung is standing. The two of them have their fronts pressed up against each other, dancing so closely with arms exploring one another’s bodies. The female has her head resting on the male’s shoulder as if she’s too exhausted to keep going, but can’t dare to part with him. It’s like they’re part of each other and any distance would cause them to lose all sense of themselves.

The girl lifts her head off the male’s shoulder and gives him this look that makes Jaebeom’s heart – if it was still beating – ache. She says something to him and he nodded happily in response. Even through the dim lights and large crowd, Jaebeom could see the sharp teeth inside her mouth.

She placed her head back against his shoulder, this time, however, the male had his head angled back, stretching out his neck. The girl moves in closer until her mouth just ghosts over the skin, breathing on it until the boy shuts his eyes awaiting the sting and pleasure that will come next.

Biting down against his flesh, breaking skin, the girl drinks from her partner. Even though he’s at a distance from them, Jaebeom can tell by the look on the man’s face that he’s enjoying being fed on and that it certainly isn’t his first time. 

He feels like his eyes are frozen on the couple. It’s been so long since he fed off someone instead of the stuff that he gets from his connection at the hospital. Jaebeom tries not to think about the way his fingertips tingle and his throat dries up at the thought of drinking from a warm body. The alcohol has only dehydrated him and made him feel even more thirsty – he’s afraid that going back to the bar and asking Mark for a glass of O negative exclusively isn’t going to make that go away. 

After a moment or two, the girl removes her mouth from the boy’s neck and drags her tongue over the spot where she had drawn blood from, ultimately covering the wound and signaling that she was done drinking. 

He thinks of how risky it is to do that at a place like this. Although half of the people around them also take part in the activity of drinking blooding and granted most of them aren’t paying attention to those around them – there are still unsuspecting humans everywhere. If one wrong person were to see then that could be it for this club being a haven for the vampire community in the city and that would probably be… it for vampires in this city in general. 

But who was he kidding? He was being a hypocrite because he’s for sure done the same thing. 

You’ve once again entered his mind. However, this time it isn’t an image, picture, or vision that occupies his thoughts, but instead just the idea of how you would react to who he is, what he really is. Throughout his time that he’s been undead he’s only done the “reveal” to a handful of people and even then, it took him a long time to get there. Well except for one person who ultimately was a mistake and his friends hadn’t hesitated to let him know.

With you, Jaebeom felt that you wouldn’t be the kind of person to judge him instantly based on what he was. You would be shocked of course, maybe even scared, but you wouldn’t let that cloud your judgment. You wouldn’t let yourself reject something just because it was unfamiliar. 

What the fuck was he on about? 

It must be the alcohol doing this to him. He would have to thank Mark for making them strong this time around, but also make a mental note to never let this happen again. Jaebeom was already a deeper thinker, but this was getting out of hand.

There’s a sudden grasp of Jaebeom’s elbow and he feels himself jump at the sudden touch. His eyebrows furrowed when he realized it wasn’t one of his friends considering Bambam and Jinyoung were both dancing over to his right side. 

When he turned around to greet the person who had grabbed him, he was disappointed, surprised, and annoyed all in one. It was the last person he had expected to see her, except not really because it made perfect sense. 

“Jaebeom… hi.” Ara smiled shyly at him, tucking a string of hair behind her ear and slightly looking down at the ground. He wants to groan because he knows she’s doing this because he had once mentioned that he thought it was hot when she looked innocent. He shouldn’t have ever said that.

He’s not sure what to say, because what are you supposed to say to someone you’ve been trying to avoid for the past year and a half? Jaebeom had said everything he had wanted to say to her. 

At one point in his life, he had been stupid. He had been stupid and he had abused the power that had been bestowed upon him since the day he had been turned. Perhaps one would assume that he’d been foolish with his ability just at the start – 100, maybe even 150 years ago. Instead, Jaebeom had gone through a rough patch about a year or two ago. 

The overwhelming pressure of finding his mate had started to get to him again. All he needed was someone, anyone to break the hypnotic trance and that was it. A task that seemed so simple, yet never came. So, Jaebeom had used hypnotism to his advantage, getting as many girls as he could in his bed in the shortest amount of time possible. He wasn’t proud of it and it was something he would constantly regret as long as he was ali- around. 

One of those girls… had been Ara. 

Jaebeom felt relieved when she didn’t wait for him to answer back at her greeting, “How are you? I-It’s your birthday, right? How old are you turning again? 27?” She winked immediately after her question and he wants to roll his eyes.

She was the mistake by the way. The mistake that knew about who he was. 

He doesn’t even remember how it happened, how his secret slipped, or what the circumstances of her finding out was. Part of him thinks he was just horny, thirsty, and weak, but she found out and she… loved it. 

Weirdly enough, Ara loved the idea of him being a vampire and his “lifestyle” which at first Jaebeom didn’t think too much about. He thought okay she’s taking this extremely well… better than anyone else I’ve ever told, but whatever, but then it became strange. 

She was what those in the vampire community call a “vampire fetishizer.”

He coughed awkwardly, his gaze wandering over to Jinyoung and Bambam, hoping they would catch sight of him stuck with Ara and come rescue him. Jaebeom wasn’t that lucky though, not even on his birthday, “Yeah… 27.” 

Jaebeom can’t help but look at her neck. It’s fully on display and it was clear that Ara had come here to find someone to feed on her. He had been the one to show Ara this place before he had been clued into her little… vampire obsession. 

“Well did the birthday boy get everything he wants today?” She smiled and gave Jaebeom those eyes. He feels his cock twitch in his pants and he realizes he has to keep himself in check because he’s not that weak tonight… right? 

His eyes flash to her neck again and Jaebeom feels his throat get even drier. He was so thirsty and he knows Ara would be so willing. 

No Jaebeom… No. 

“I-I uh yeah… you know got- yeah today’s been good,” he stuttered awkwardly, bringing his tongue out to wet his dry lips. Judging on the look on Ara’s face, she’s taken the action the wrong way. 

“You look thirsty Jaebeom… do you want a drink?” 

He knows what she means and Jaebeom swallows hard in an attempt to distract himself, to remind himself that he’s not that thirsty. He doesn’t need it that bad.

“I-I think I am.” 

The words come out faster than his brain can process to stop them and the part of Jaebeom that’s coherent, sharp, and aware wants to punch the weak and drunk Jaebeom in the face. 

Without a word, Ara turned from Jaebeom and began walking to one of the exits at the side of the club. He feels like he’s the one in a trance, mindlessly following her through the people, not even hearing Jinyoung and Bambam calling out to him. The only thing that Jaebeom makes note of as he follows her is Mark’s face behind the bar, giving him a tight smile. It almost stops Jaebeom. Almost. 

When they finally get outside through the exit door, they find themselves in a small alley between the club and a dry cleaner. 

Jaebeom doesn’t even get a moment to think before Ara is pushing him against the wall of the dry cleaner, her hands roaming up and down his body, her lips going to his own. They’re pressed up against each other so closely that he recalls the couple he had watched earlier. He feels sick comparing this moment now to the two of them. 

“Fuck I missed you so much,” Ara sighed seductively into this ear, making Jaebeom’s stomach churn further at her clear longing for him. Well not him, but the vampire part of him.

“Please, I need it,” she mewled. At her words, he almost puts a stop to this whole thing and has to question whether this is the right thing to do. Jaebeom wonders if this is old Jaebeom behavior – the one that just used women and threw them away later like toys, but then he remembers that this is Ara. She’s using him as well. 

It’s almost as though that old, cocky, snide Jaebeom appears out of nowhere as he says his next words and brings himself closer to her neck, “do you really need it?” 

“Yes, Jaebeom I do, please.” Ara already sounds so desperate and he’s barely done anything. He can’t help but smirk at her reaction.

“Then I guess I better give it to you then.” 

He’s about to do it. He’s about to bite down and finally relieve his thirst, his craving, but then he looks to the side of the alley – towards the street. He feels like he’s seeing things again like he’s in the middle of a hallucination or mirage. That thought is pushed away when he locks eyes with you. 

“Don’t mind me,” you placed your hands up in front of yourself, to show him you’re not eavesdropping. Your action frustrated you because it would have been much better to say nothing, but you felt yourself panic. The prolonged eye contact with him while he’s just seconds away from pressing down – bitting down? – on the girl’s next for some reason pushed you into defensive mode. Not to mention his eyes… his eyes were – red? 

The girl hadn’t noticed you; you aren’t even sure if she heard you, but she certainly noticed Jaebeom’s stare fixated on you. When she faces you, she wears an unpleasant sneer, clearly annoyed by your interruption of whatever this was. 

“Can you go?” She said, the agitation in her voice more than apparent. 

Rather than immediately leave the scene, you continued to stare at Jaebeom. It’s difficult to say why you decided to walk this specific way home despite it being so late and dark out, but for some reason, you couldn’t help but be pulled in this direction. You weren’t someone who believed in signs or fate, but it felt so wrong to go any other way tonight. That was another thing, you felt this kink in your neck that practically forced you or taunted you into looking down the alley between this dry cleaners and club. It was yet another thing about today that felt unexplainable to you as you certainly weren’t expecting the birthday boy from the café today to be in a compromising position with some girl. 

After a moment of more uncomfortable staring – something else that had happened at the café today with him – Jaebeom breaks your gaze and looks down at his feet. The eye roll and acrid look on the girl’s face don’t go unnoticed by you. 

You shouldn’t be here. 

“S-Sorry. I’ll just get going then,” you concluded, unsure why you felt an uncomfortable sickness spread throughout the entirety of your body. 

You barely knew this guy – all you really knew was that today was his birthday and that he was friends with Minji’s boyfriend. Basically nothing. Yet now and even earlier back at the café you had felt this weird sensation within yourself. Not even when you looked at him, but just being in the same presence. It had been so hard to focus on making coffee today when he was seated across the room. Every part of your body just wanted to get closer, gravitate towards him. It was fucking weird… and scary. 

The girl nodded as if to signal “yeah about time,” at the announcement of your departure. Jaebeom on the other hand, still had his eyes glued to the ground as if looking at you once again will cause him some kind of pain.

Just as you’re about to continue your trip back home, you stop yourself and look back at the couple in the alley. 

“Happy birthday by the way…” you paused wondering if it would be weird to say his name considering he doesn’t even know yours, but you shove the thought out of your mind, “Jaebeom…”    

Hearing you say his name causes that tingling feeling in his fingertips to come back and his entire mind is sent into a frenzy. He feels too awkward, too shy to look at you again, but a sudden thought washed over him. What if earlier was a mistake? What if you are his mate? With the way he was currently feeling just at you saying his name, the visions he had in the club and the nonstop place you know had in his mind, it was difficult to believe that you weren’t his mate. 

Bambam and Jinyoung had found it difficult to explain to him what it felt like to find your mate, but surely what he felt right now wasn’t normal behavior or feelings. Unless he was a psychopath. 

Tightly shutting his eyes and drawing together all his strength, Jaebeom aims to try once again to see if you can break the hypnotic trance, unaffected by his abilities. However, as soon as he’s finally ready, head turned up to face you – you’re gone. You didn’t wait for him to respond to the happy birthday message. Instead, you simply left not wanting to be a burden or troublesome to whatever it was those two were doing in that alley. 

“Thank fucking god, let’s get back to it,” Ara concluded with a final roll of her eyes, gripping Jaebeom’s shoulders to get him close to her once again. He stares at her neck, but this time he doesn’t feel anything. He no longer feels thirsty and his appetite is gone. 

Jaebeom shrugs her off slightly. The encounter with you has caused him to wake up and realize what a bad idea it would be to do this right now. He hopes that Ara won’t put up a fight – he doesn’t want to have to hypnotize her if he doesn’t need to. 

At his actions, Ara takes a step away in disbelief, as if she actually can’t believe that Jaebeom is changing his mind and no longer wants her, “are you serious?” 

He doesn’t say anything but instead avoids eye contact with her just as he had done for you. 

Snorting, she glared at him, “Fine. Whatever. I don’t fucking care. I can find someone else to feed off of me. Yours never felt that good anyway. Asshole.”

Just like that, she’s out of his life once again and Jaebeom can’t help but feel thankful. He should have never been weak enough to be dragged out by here anyway. He had just been consumed by thoughts of you, alcohol, and the couple on the dancefloor. Then again, not coming out here would have robbed him of the opportunity of seeing you again and finding out that you actually knew his name. 

That’s when it dawned on him. 

Fuck… how much had you seen? What did you see? 

Jaebeom realized that he might have some explaining to do

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Wilfords Demands: Who Do You Belong To?

Summary- 5.2 k. Curtis Everett x Y/N. Written for @mcudarklibrary​ Kink Challenge- April. You’ve been in Curtis care for a few weeks now. He has no hesitation in reminding you who you belong to. Warnings- Dub Con/Non Con situations, punishments treatment, drug and alcohol mentions. 

Chapter One- Just Another Prisoner / Masterlist 

“So Curtis, how are you liking your new girl?” Wilford asked curiously as he flicked some crumbs off his luscious red robe, frowning as he rubbed at what looked like a smudge, under his breath he complained. “Those fucking cleaners never do anything right. Useless the lot of them.” The older man chose to ignore it for now, turning back to Curtis sitting opposite of him, Claude pouring fresh tea into two delicate china mugs. “Isnt she something, as soon as I saw her on camera, I knew you would like her. Yes, shes a bit thin still, but get some meat on her, and she will have all those nice curves to keep you occupied.” 

Curtis nodded his thanks to Claude and reached to take the cup, contemplating what Wilford was talking about, you were rather lovely in your innocence. All Curtis had to still do was look at you a certain way, and your cheeks would turn pink and your glance would look away from him, sometimes a tiny whine would issue, making him grin. “Im liking her quite fine. She was an innocent you know? I was surprised.” Wilford winked over his cup while he added generous amounts of honey comb to his cup, swirling his cup a bit before taking a sip.

“I had hoped she would be, How the fuck I know, pretty little thing like that. I am a bit disappointed she isnt pregnant yet though, but in due time I know. I just get impatient.” 

Curtis kinda shrugged a bit, he never really cared what Wilford did with the kids they made him, but this time it kinda rubbed him the wrong way. He didnt seem to pick up on it, or chose to ignore it, falling into another subject that Wilford used them for. Entertainment for the front enders for a couple months a year, a sport. 

“Also, its about time for the games, and Im putting my goods on you Curtis, Do not disappoint. Once you get in that ring, murder the sons of bitches.” The true purpose of the games, weed out the weak. So far only three of the original group still survived, Curtis was one of them for his brutal approach to all of it. He was a survivalist first, and had no issue getting blood all over in the process.

“Yes I know, trust me, I dont want my ass fucking dead.” Curtis growled out and grew impatient, ready to get back to you. “We done shooting the shit Wilford, or you ready for this months supplies?” 

“God your always so fucking impatient to leave my company.” Wilford rolled his eyes and sighed as if hurt, Curtis just stared at him waiting for him to get on with it. “Okay, my boy... let me know what you want.” 

Curtis wasted no time, filling out his demands and leaving straight afterwards. There was only so much time he could stand being in that mans presence. His spirit uplifted a bit knowing he would be seeing you again. You were still quiet in his presence, trying to remain unnoticed, but he was always aware of your presence unlike any other woman he had ever been with. Sometimes he would draw out conversation from you. But your answers were usually short, clipped, or you shrugged not knowing how to answer. Seeing how you lived in the tail end all your life, there was simply things you didnt know about. That was okay, you would learn about these things soon enough. 

Opening the door and stepping in, you were curled in the seat near the window, a book resting on your knee and gaze out the window watching the speeding landscape. You jumped slightly when Curtis entered and pulled your legs up nervously to watch him. Always so observant his girl was. "You havent seem to gotten to far while I was gone." nearby he sat down some bags of stuff he brought back with him, the items he had asked for from Wilford.

Your fingers trail down the spine and you slide it to the table, shaking you head softly. "Cant concentrate Curtis." Wary was how you were of this man, who stalked around his room till he moved to sit on the edge of the bed nearby. "Hmmm, do you not like it?" How brow arched and a your voice rose in a rush, as you clutched at the book. "No no, t-thank you... Its not that." You didnt want to loose a gift he brought you. Already reading through the few he had, you had gotten bored being unable to leave the small room. Curtis had requested a book for you with Wilford, and as you were finding out, Wilford accommodated Curtis requests typically.

"I was tested again, and still negative... " your voice dropped, admitting to your distraction. At first the news would cause Curtis to curse, drag you back to bed to try again.

So your head dropped, waiting to be yanked onto the mattress, but these past few weeks, he changed. Sometimes your news didn't cause any reaction, he would leave you to what you were doing. You trembled a bit, waiting to see what today would bring.

Curtis isnt sure when it changed for him, that he actually liked this one, it was something more then what was required of him, having any interest in his charge. You, a little tail ender was so innocent in to what he did to you, that he found it endearing. Her little surprised mewls when he taught you some new sense gave him satisfaction. He patted his knee. “Come over here Y/N” 

The tension raised between the two of you when you hesitated, curling your hands together and your face wanted to defy him, he could see the flash in your eyes and the way your breathing flared your nose. Curtis arched a brow daring you to tell him no. Oh would you? He almost wanted you to, that primal part of him loved overpowering you beneath him. You were so defeated when he first got his hands on you, but he felt that you had a bit of fire somewhere still, it just needed to be ignited. 

After a few seconds though you went back to your resigned manner and unfolded your legs approaching him, moving to stand in between his spread thighs. “Dont worry about the negative, it doesnt always happen right away.” His fingers snapped at your pants buttons and slid them down with a jerk, your hand bracing against his shoulder to keep from loosing balance and lifting your feet to loose your pants. He pushed your shirt up. “Get rid of all this to.” 

Lifting your shirt and tossing it aside, that deep blush he admired so much spread down from your face and neck, flaring over your collarbone. His mouth smirked until he lashed his tongue over a nipple, teasing the other with pinching fingertips. “But how long till they get impatient Curtis?” you took a shuddering breath feeling the warmth of his mouth tease you to a peak, rubbing your thighs together as heat pooled faster then you expect it to in your core. “Im ready to be done and go back home.” He growled at this, biting enough for you to yelp, and try to pull away but his legs have you trapped in between them. 

“What makes you think your going back Y/N?” He growled deeply, whipping you around, and pulling you back into his lap with one muscled forearm circled around your waist. “I already told you, you were given to me to use.” your hands were grasping his forearm pressed around your midsection, and you whine softly at his words. “But once Im pregnant you wont want me in your space, why wouldnt they send me back till birth?” 

“Cause, Im keeping you. Open your mouth.” He demanded and grabbed a hold of your jaw, forcing your mouth to open, his other arm loosened around your waist and moved two fingers to your mouth.“suck, get them good and wet Y/N”  his fingers pressed against your tongue and you immediately started to suck on his digits. doing your best to do as he asked. “As I told you a few weeks ago, your issued to me for at least the next few years.” Shifting his legs to hook yours over his knees and spread his legs so your thighs spread apart wide for him, the rush of cooler air hitting your aroused flesh made you moan around his fingers pressing against your tongue. “Your here till your used up or Im tired of you.” His voice, was so final as he yanked his fingers out from your mouth, tracing your bottom lip with one of the drenched fingers. “And then your still not going back there Honey. He wont let you go back home” 

Before you could fully register what Curtis was telling you, he dropped his hand to your cunt, his fingers warm and wet from how you worked them traced your pussy lips, soft under his fingertips, his biting kiss on your neck was a stark contrast, making you attempt to pull away, but he once more clamped his arm around your waist to keep you in place, his long middle digit dipping in between the folds, tease your sensitive flesh. “N-never? even if I was useless to have children?” 

“No, never. Have you ever seen anyone return to the tail end? Your not an exception. Trust me... You could be in a worst place then with me.” Continuing to rub your cunt, circling your aroused bud but never quite touching when he would return to stroking and teasing her entrance with slight dips of his fingers, collecting your arousal to spread. “I am not the only man who does this, and plenty are cruel to there partners.” It was getting harder to focus on Curtis as he started finally touching where you ached, his arm tightening when you would arch and let your head fall back to his shoulder. Pressing his lips to your temple. “Curtis... Its,,,” 

“Feels good right? Most the time it will if Im doing my job right,” Assuring as he let two fingers fill your wet heated entrance, making you open your thighs wider, his own adjusting to help you keep them spread. You were panting, rocking your hips to meet his thrusting digits. If you werent so caught up in the moment, you would have been embarrassed of the squelching sound your wet cunt was making the faster he pumped his fingers. Your walls started to clench around him, and that little firey coil started to tighten in your lower belly. 

“M-most of the time?” You managed to utter, and Curtis chuckled while biting lightly on your earlobe. “Well your a temptation, this tight little body.” His fingers hooked when he said that, come along with me baby. He would stroke your walls to comply with his wishes, fighting against his hold, and you were crying out when you pushed back into his chest, locking and shaking, flooding his hand. “Wouldnt be hard for me to loose control and just fuck you into the mattress” 

Your thighs are trying pushing to close, aching from being stretched open, and fighting through your orgasm. He shoved you forward slightly to undo his pants, and you lean forward to brace your hands against your knees, your head dipping forward to catch your breath. It wasnt long you felt his cock pressing against your back. God you fucking hope he never lost control with you, You could barely handle him now, and everything he did was measured calculated. Curtis did nothing without giving it some thought, you knew this. 

Hands at your hips, lifted your ass enough so he could fit himself into your core, and eased you back, slowly so he inched in, making you stretch around him but it still made you hold your breath till you were full of him, every movement you made, made you groan, his thrusts were quick upward angled jabs, pressing deeper and you still braced your hands while arching your breasts forward, this angle was so fucking full, concentrating was impossible. There was just rushed thrusts and grinding your hips back down. 

Somewhere it registered his cussing against your neck, as his thrusts pressed forward longer in your clenching pussy. “Fuck your so good, just gonna fill you till your dripping with cum.” He grunted against the back of your neck, his fingers digging into your hips and started to move you faster, bouncing you, and you just rode it till he roared and warm jets of his cum started to fill you. Your channel flexed around his cock, milking him for the last of it, and you collapse back against him, covering your face with your hands and giving a soft sob from your second orgasm within a short time. 

Pulling himself from him, he swiped his fingers through your cunt and scooped his cum back into you, making you quiver slightly at the sensation. Curtis gave a possessive nip to your neck, and shifted your legs back to a close. Fuck the muscles ached, all you wanted to do was lay down, the muscles in your thighs screaming with a burn. Curtis tapped your thigh to stand. “Dont be letting that run down your leg Y/N,” You nod and go to stand, your legs shaking enough to look like you might wipe out, Curtis hands shot out and grasped your hips to draw you back and sit on the bed. “Probably need a moment to get your legs back.” 

Tucking himself back in his pants, he let you claim the bed and went to where he had ditched the bags he brought back from Wilfords. You dragged a blanket over your naked body and watched with curiosity as he pulled out some clothing for you, nicer then the stuff youve been wearing. “Whats that for?” you asked curiously. 

Curtis brought the skirt and top over to let you inspect them. “They are for you. There is a entertainment car, and I figured your ready to meet others. I trust you to remember who you belong to” Your eyes brightened at the idea of seeing others, even if they were front enders. “Hows your legs? If you can stand, were going in half an hour.” He took the rest of the bag and turning his back to you, stored away a few books Wilford gave him, a treat for you later if you got to bored and deserved them. Curtis hoped there would come a time where you wanted to please him, not had to please him. 

While he was doing this, you tested yourself, and gathered the clothing to your bare chest. “they are fine... I will go get ready Curtis.” You escaped quickly into the bathroom, easing the door mostly closed. You rubbed your face in the soft long sleeve, it was the softest thing you could remember feeling and when you tugged the clothing on, braiding your hair to sweep straight down your back well past your waist, you couldnt remember feeling this way, like you were being showed off,and you kind of liked it. Stepping out, your clear your throat a bit and Curtis looks up from where he had been reading the spot you left in your books. 

Fuck you look good. Curtis nods his approval, and you nervously pick at the shirt, biting back a grin in your excitement. A warm rush tingles Curtis seeing you so damn happy for the first time since he brought you back a book, and unlocking the door, he held it open for you, beckoning you to step out. Going to step out the door, your hand braced on the door frame as you peeked out, it was empty, which your heart sunk a little and with a gentle ease of Curtis’s hand in the small of your back, you step into the wide looking hallway. He slung his arm around your waist, a steady hold on your hip and in the belt loops of your pants, he led you towards the front, the way you were dragged down to his room. “Now you stay with me Y/N unless I tell you otherwise, understand? Your free to talk to people that are in this car, but remember your place. You are mine, if I find out you are disrespecting what we have going on, or me, you wont like the consequences.” 

“Yes Curtis” you reply, feeling your mouth go dry with nerves and anticipation, would you know anyone there? You hoped so, you were desperate to find out how your friends were in the tail end. You two reached a gate, and your bouncing a bit at his side, the music on the other side is thumping loud and you can see flashes of lights through the cracks. Curtis smiles a bit to himself at how obvious excited you are to get out of the room, but there are rules, and he had to be sure you knew them. Turning you to face him, he grabs your chin and makes you look at him. “Remember what I said, do you understand? do you have any questions before we go in?” 

You nod probably a little harder then you should and you glance at the door once more before back up to him. “Am I allowed to ask about the tail end if I see anyone I know? That wont make you upset with me?” 

Curtis thought about this for a few moments, it wouldnt hurt and you so desperately wanted to know, probably still had your hopes up about one day seeing your friends again. “You can, but dont expect to see anyone from before in there Y/N” His fist thumped against the metal door, and it popped open enough for Curtis to slide through and he took your arm, bringing you through. It wasnt quite as you remembered, but last time you came through, you were being dragged, and didnt exactly have time to admire the setting. This time you did though, and your eyes widened before you. 

People, gyrating all over each other, among the flashing lights above them, it was extremely distracting and made you want to shut your eyes. First the people were laughing and dancing, then they would turn and a clash of teeth and lashing of tongues inhaled one another in open mouth kisses, moving from one person to whoever was closest. You leaned more into Curtis, not wanting to get caught up in the orgy. It was something you didnt enjoy from him, and you knew you wouldnt like it here either. With a push of his hand, Curtis broke past the group, and the car opened up to show more people dancing, some with one another, some off poles placed in what looked like a seating area, people lazing around, high from the kronoles scattered in the sunken seating booths. Curtis led you past these as well until you two were near the other side, and he directed you to sit. “Just wait here, I will be back.” A simple nod was efficient enough for him, and he went to the small bar set up. 

“Kronoles, rum and coke?” The man asked Curtis while he pulled out to glass jars to pour the alcohol into. 

“Just the rum and coke.” Normally Curtis would part take in the kronoles, chase that mindless high that came with it, but not this time with you accompanying him. He would come back another time without you. The rum and coke though, rare treat, doing some calculations about the occasion for the rare indulgence. Wilford had announced it was new years. Collecting the drinks, he came back to where you were half in and out of your seat, curious to your surroundings. Twisting back into your seat, your nose wrinkled as you sniffed your drink, used to only water. “What is it?” 

“Try it and find out.” Was all he said, and you cautiously brought your mouth to the edge, taking a sip. It burned and was sweet at the same time, and you took another sip that stung its way down your throat. The dart of your tongue wasnt missed by Curtis, and his cock twitched at the very notion of how sweet your lips would look stretching around his shaft, your head tipped to meet him with your eyes rolling up to meet him. Fuck... It was gonna have to go on your list of necessary teachings. No it wouldnt benefit what you two were striving for, but it was a damn sweet thought, your mouth sucking him off. To cool off, he to took a bigger swallow then your sip, appreciating the burn as it went down to settle in his gut. 

“what is it?” You repeated and he looked at you and swiped his thumb over your lower lip to dry it off. “Rum and Coke, we only get it once a year, usually its homemade shit or cheap ass beer thats long since gone stale. Its new years though, another year living on the train passed.” 

“Oh! I never heard the announcement.” Your gaze again falls to looking around the room, and you got bolder in your drinking. Soon, your eyes were brighter then usual and there was a flush to your cheeks. Curtis watched you get caught up in it all and he finally leaned over to whisper in your ear. “You can go dance you know, just dont stray far from the table.” He knew others would pick up on your innocence right away, target you for your weakness, typically it was a game. That is until people learned that your were his, and he was never one to share. 

Nervous, you hesitate a moment, and then push up to go up the stairs, and dont wander to far away, but mingle. Soon your drawn into a group of women who were just dancing, and the rush of the alcohol in your system swept you away in the motion. Curtis caught sight of you laughing and swaying your hips, deeming that you were fine. He collected your glasses to go refill them with just straight soda this time, and a pair of steel grey eyes crinkled at the corners, smirking watching Curtis, whom was unaware of the threat. About time he left his girl alone was the mans thoughts, pushing from where he been sitting with a group of friends and his own toy. 

You were unaware of any change happening, until a pair of hands slid along your hips, and hot breath against your neck, a lash of the tongue over your ear, you wouldnt doubt it was anyone other then Curtis so you didnt fight it. You were his after all, and your buzzed state, you couldnt tell that this was a slightly smaller set of hands on your hips, and that the person gyrating behind you certainly wasnt as broad as Curtis. Your time in the tail end, you were used to never having personal space, you simply fell back into the person behind you, getting lost in the tempo and rush of the alcohol.  

When he came back, he glanced through the crowd again as he set the drinks down, and Curtis couldnt fucking believe what the hell he was seeing. You pushing your sweet little ass of yours into Grey of all the fucking people. Quick, he snapped up to the dance floor, and your eyes sprang open to see him pushing people to crash into one another so he could get through, frightened you looked over your shoulder to see someone youve never seen in your life, and you stepped forward to meet Curtis. “Curtis! Im so-” 

“Get on your fucking knees now and wait!” He roared at you and your scrambled to fall at his feet like he told you to, your eyes welling up at your mistake. Curtis stepped around where you knelt, your hands wringing together. 

“Curtis, we were just having fun to.” Grey sighed with disappointment. “I had to see what the fuss was all about. I can see why Wilford got interested in her, she is cute for a cum slut.” 

“What the fuck makes you think you could touch her?” Curtis crowded Grey, who didnt back up but he to crowded back, smirking in Curtis’s pissed off face. 

“Wanted to see if they were as fucking easy as they come. I would have had her sucking cock in a few minutes with how she was grinding her ass into me like some horny bitch. Cant satisfy them Curtis? Why Wilford had to give you a tail ender? Not like they know any better.” 

Curtis didnt even bother with that jab, it was clearly meant to push his buttons. Drawing up to his full height, Grey albeit smaller, was not at all intimidated by Curtis, and leaned in a bit closer, smirking “dont worry Curtis, when I get her, and I will cause the winner takes it all, I will teach her how to properly behave.” You were pushing to a stand to try and explain to the two men, when Curtis caught sight of you “Did I fucking tell you to stand, get back in your place.” 

“But Curtis, it wasnt... “ You try once more, and he has to deal with you defying him, you gave him no choice. Ignoring Grey who watched this all with interest, he stalked forward and fists his hand in your hair, yanking you back to your knees. “What did I tell you?” 

“On my knees” You twist and cry out, your hands going to your hair to try to get him to loosen his grip. 

“Do I want any fucking sass coming from you?” 

“n-no.” You cant help the tears that are rolling down your cheeks and the way your head bows to him. 

Lowering closer to your level, his next words were so low it was hard to hear, but they held deadly promise should you not listen. “Start crawling to the door Y/N” Releasing his hold and shoving you to sprawl back. 

You look at him like he cant be serious, crawl? His face though, was all serious anger storming his blue eyes and you back away from him, the crowd parting to allow you passage. 

“Please Curtis...” 

Nothing, no softening or taking pity on you, you do only thing that you can, and start to pull yourself away on your hands and knees, Curtis watched your heart shaped ass sway back and forth, and then turns back to Grey, whos watching with an amused look. 

“Sure you dont want me to break in your little sweetheart? Ass like that good for alot of things, wouldnt be any trouble at all.” 

Curtis growled lowly “Dont fucking lay a hand on her anymore, shes mine. I have no problem shoving your dick down your throat should you think shes yours to handle.” 

Grey grinned at the challenge. “No, course not. Better not let her out of your sight again.” With that Grey turned back, and hoped back down into the seating area he had been occupying previously, yanking his own girl back in his lap, and slapping her thighs to spread, ready to share her with his current company. Curtis didnt waste any more time with them, and followed where she had crawled away, getting to the door, you were waiting this time, in a subdued position, on your knees, head bowed, palms up, trying not to look embarrassed or scared of it all. Made his cock twitch again, Fucking Christ, bad timing. “Get up” He yanked on your arm and hauled you to a stand. You stumbled, but did it all quietly, averting looking at him. 

It was silent going back to the rooms, and you tried to keep up best you could to his long stride. The train walls kept dipping as if off kilter and you stumbled into Curtis a few times. Finally though you two reach his room again and he gets the door to open, pushing you to fly in first. You stumble and grab a hold of the wall, trying to get everything to stop spinning. 

“Curtis, please I didnt know.” 

He doesnt care, more pissed off then he was before at your attempt for an explanation, he drags you from your grip off the wall and over his knee. “You knew better Y/N, and yet you fucking undermined me.” 

His knee is hard in your stomach, and you could feel him lifting your skirt to pool around your waist. You try to look over your shoulder but he shoves your head back to look at the wall and floor. Struggling, again a waste of your energy, hes holding you pinned over his knee with no more energy then he would give to a mild inconvenience in his day. Yanking down your panties to, he smacked your bottom hard, hard enough to jar you forward in his lap. 

“Dont worry I plan on marking your ass so hard, your not going to be forgetting who you belonged to.” Curtis gives no time to adjust, its one hard spank on one of your cheeks after another, its a fire burning you now, and your crying into his leg, arching once in a while when its a particular had slap, those sharp stinging ones that you swear are going to break your skin. Curtis hand prints popped up in welts, and you sobbed for him to stop. “Pl-please Curtis, I wont do it again. I swear... I thought it was you. “ He growled and started to come to a stop. He reached to take a fistful of hair and jerk your head back so he could see you even at this angle. 

“Who do you listen to?” 

Sobs crack your voice. “You Curtis...” 

“Thats right little one, next time be aware of who the fuck is behind you. Accident or not, if I catch it happening again, it will be worst.” He just as quickly put you in a stand, and stood up himself, gripping your chin so your tear stained face couldnt defy him and look away. “Next time it will be a leather strap and you will bleed for it. Get to bed now.” Dropping his hand and you are quick to move out of his way while he went to take a shower. 

Your ass, burning hot and every step screamed red hot through you, you peel away the clothes that you had been so excited for and folded them into the dresser, getting into an over sized tee that Curtis had given you to wear. Crawling in close to the wall, you lay on your side, waiting for him to come back out. He finished and didnt bother with clothing, snapping off lights as he came, he stretched out on his side, and yanked you over to him, hiking a leg over his hip, there was a unprepared thrust into your core, and you yelp into his chest, pressing your face there till the pain dulled, your breathing coming and going in shallowly as you braced for him to start moving he never did though, his arm just caged you in close. 

“You can sleep like this tonight, full of my cock so you dont forget who the fuck you belong to.” 

You sniffle in the darkness, trying to adjust to the full sensation hes stuffed you with. Now, you were even more homesick for the tail end. 

Tags-  @jtargaryen18 @what-is-your-plan-today @official-and-unstable-satan @p8tn0lish @stardancerluv @princess-evans-addict @patzammit @ozarkthedog​  @that-damn-girl @curtisbbq @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @thatweirdwalangpake @nsfwsebbie​ @imanuglywombat​

[abusedsanderssides]

Rescued

Trigger/content warnings: Past abuse mention, unsympathetic Remus and Deceit, sympathetic Roman, Patton, and Logan, cursing, tying up, injuries, hurt/comfort, ptsd, rescuing from abusive home.

Ship(s): A little bit of Prinxiety at the end.

Characters: Virgil, Roman, Remus, Patton, Logan, and Deceit/Janus (before name reveal).

2014 words

Prompt: Can roman rescue virgil from this drabble

Requested by @im-a-flippen-dinosaur link

A/N: Sorry this took so long! I’ve had a bunch of stuff come up but I hope you like it! <3

- 4/26/21

Roman had just gotten out of the shower and changed into pajamas, feeling clean and refreshed. It was around midnight, so he went to his bed so he could sleep. He pulled back the covers and there lay a white rat with red eyes. Roman almost screamed, slapping his hand over his mouth before he did so he didn't wake anyone up.

He had to think for a second. Why in the Disney was there a rat in his bed? Then he realized. "Oh my god," Roman said out loud to himself, "Fucking Remus!"

Roman quickly snapped his fingers and the rat disappeared, a clean set of sheets now on his bed. Roman grabbed his sword off the wall and stormed out of his room, going to pay a visit to his brother.

Once he entered the Dark Sides' Mindscape he charged towards Remus' room. Roman kicked the door open and it slammed against the wall. Roman scanned the room, seeing Remus on his bed and his eyes latched onto him, not processing the other person in the room.

After a second Roman's eyes darted to what Remus was towering over. It was a small, pale, very skinny, and terrified boy covered head to toe in bruises and cuts. He was wearing a black hoodie and white and black plaid pajama pants with some black eyeliner under his eyes, and boy was he cute.

'Who is this man?' Roman thought. 'I've never seen him a day in my life.' Roman then noticed that the boy was tied up, wrists and ankles bound, rope tying his legs together as he leaned against Remus' headboard.

Roman's thoughts were cut off with his brother saying, "Well hello there. Now is not a great time for our fight so maybe go jack off and then come back. I'll probably be done with him by then." Roman's eyebrows were furrowed in confusion.

Virgil was overwhelmed. First, Remus dragged him out of his room and brought him to his, beating the living shit out of him for no reason. He didn't even do anything wrong! Then, Remus tied him up and threw him on the bed, crawling to hover over him and whisper all the horrible things he was going to do to Virgil in his ear. Then after that, this man dressed in white and red busted down Remus' door holding a sword and boy did he look furious.

What was going on? Was that man here to hurt Virgil too? Or was he here to save him? Virgil hoped and prayed for the latter, locking eyes with the man and sending him pleads and practically telling him his life story with just a look.

And the man looked... concerned? Why did he look concerned? Was he actually going to help Virgil or was he just going to take him and use him the same way Remus and Deceit do?

"What are you doing, Remus? Who is that? What are you doing to him?" The man asked, his voice rising a bit at the end making Virgil visibly flinch.

Remus laughed his manic laugh, huffing out, "This is none of your concern, brother." Wait, the man in white was Remus' brother? Virgil didn't even know he had a brother! Virgil looked back and forth from both men. He struggled against the bonds, causing Remus to snap his head back to him, holding Virgil down in a firm grasp.

The man in white looked furious, and that scared Virgil. Remus cackled, "I'm not saying sorry for the rat, by the way. That was hilarious!" Virgil could visibly see the anger in the man's face and he wondered if steam was going to come out of his ears.

Virgil watched as the man charged towards Remus with his sword, and Virgil flinched, falling off the bed in the process. The two brothers were rolling around on the floor, fighting. Remus had gotten his mourning star out, which Virgil knew from experience hurt, and he heard the metal clashing together.

Virgil spaced out. He wasn't processing what was going on, all the noise blurring together, and his vision got blurry. So Virgil didn't notice when Deceit stormed into the room, Roman quickly knocking them both out, snapping his fingers to tie them up back to back so they couldn't escape.

Roman hadn't noticed that Virgil fell off the bed, so he panicked when the boy was nowhere in sight. Roman rushed to the other side of the bed, seeing Virgil laying on the floor with his eyes shut tight and brows furrowed. Roman snuck towards the man as to not scare him, sitting down quietly. Virgil flinched when Roman's fingers brushed against his leg, attempting to curl in on himself even more.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise," The man spoke, and when Virgil didn't move a muscle he continued, "My name is Prince Roman and I'm here to rescue you. I'm going to take you somewhere safe, but I have to get this rope off first. Can I do that?"

Virgil slowly cracked one eye open, having a better look at the man, Roman, who showed nothing but sympathy on his face. Virgil took a second to think it over, nodding slowly. Roman reached behind Virgil and started to untie the rope.

Once Virgil was untied he muttered out, "Thank you." Roman took a second to try and figure out what he said, as it was barely audible.

He nodded his head, smiling, "You're very welcome, beautiful." Virgil blushed, hiding his face in his bangs. After a few seconds, Roman asked, "Can I pick you up? I need to take you somewhere safe, princess." Virgil nodded his head, flinching when Roman picked him up bridal style. Virgil panicked, quickly wrapping his arms around Roman's neck. Roman giggled, "Hey, it's okay. I'm not going to drop you, promise."

Virgil looked him in the eyes. He could faintly see a few freckles dusting his nose and cheeks, and deep brown eyes looking at him through long lashes. Virgil's heart skipped a beat, feeling honored that he was being held by this stunningly beautiful man.

Roman exited Remus' room, walking towards the door that Virgil wasn't allowed to go through. He didn't want to anyway, Remus told him there were monsters in there that could eat him in one bite. Roman went to open the door and Virgil struggled to escape his hold. "What's wrong?" He asked concern on his face as his hand dropped from the doorknob.

Virgil looked at him, confused. "W-what? T-there's m-monsters in there!" Roman looked taken aback.

He then let out a laugh that made Virgil blush, "What? No, silly. That's where us Light Sides are!" Virgil mouthed the words 'light sides' in confusion. What the fuck were light sides? "Do you not know?" Roman asked and when Virgil shook his head, he grabbed the doorknob again, "Guess I'll just have to show you then."

Roman opened the door and saw stairs behind it, leading up to somewhere. Roman climbed the stairs after closing the door, opening the door at the top of the stairs. Virgil saw that there was a living room, the same as where he lived, just much brighter and cleaner.

Virgil looked around his surroundings, Roman carefully setting him down on the couch. Virgil sunk into it, it was so comfortable! Roman sat down next to him, keeping his distance while still staying close.

Roman then slowly stood up. "Please stay here, I'll be right back. I promise." Virgil nodded, obeying Roman's orders, watching as Roman climbed the stairs.

A few minutes later he returned with two other men, both looking tired and had glasses. One wore a gray cat sweatshirt and pajama pants, the other wearing a black polo, blue tie, and blue jeans. Did he sleep in those?

The man with the cat hoodie widened his eyes when he saw Virgil, hurrying towards him, causing Virgil to curl in on himself and put his hands up in surrender. The man stopped where he was, kneeling down in front of where Virgil sat on the couch. "Hey," He spoke and Virgil immediately relaxed a bit, his voice being very calm. "It's okay, we're not going to hurt you. We're here to help."

"That is correct," The other said, and Virgil knew it must've been the other man as Virgil didn't recognize it as Roman or the one in front of him. Virgil lifted his head up, seeing three looks of concern and empathy. "Are you hurt?"

Virgil shook his head, confused. Why were they being so nice?

"My name is Patton," The man in front of him spoke, "and that's Logan," Patton said, turning towards the man in the tie. Virgil nodded his head, signaling he followed. "What your name, kiddo?"

"Anxiety," Virgil whispered, not trusting them with his real name yet. Patton nodded, reaching out to hold Virgil's hand, causing him to flinch away, shaking in fear.

"Hey, hey," Patton reassured, "I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe here." Virgil loosened up, complying and letting Patton hold his hand. "Oh my goodness you're freezing cold!" Patton exclaimed, careful not to raise his volume. "Do you want a blanket?" Virgil shook his head, not wanting to be a burden to them even though he was freezing.

"Are you hungry?" Logan asked. Virgil shook his head again.

"Tired?" Roman added, and Virgil nodded at that one. 

Virgil was scared. He didn't know who these people were or what was going on, and it didn't help that he was the literal embodiment of anxiety. Virgil mumbled, barely above a whisper, "Please don't take me back." 

Patton's eyes widened and he shook his head frantically, "Oh no, sweetie! Never! You're staying here where you're safe." Virgil let out a breath that he didn't realize he was holding him, slightly nodding his head. He didn't know if he could trust these men but they seemed nicer than Deceit and Remus, and even if they weren't nice people, Virgil didn't plan on going back to them ever in his life.

It was silent for a second before Logan spoke again, "Where would you like to sleep? Currently, as your arrival was a surprise, we cannot offer you your own room. Making you sleep on the couch would be highly rude and unsafe, so that is not an option."

Virgil thought for a second. Patton seemed really nice, but he feared that he might touch him too much as he seemed like a cuddly and affectionate person. Logan seemed cold, and Virgil didn't feel comfortable sleeping with him. So that left Roman. Virgil felt safe with Roman. He did rescue him, after all.

"C-can I sleep with R-Roman?" Virgil muttered out. All three nodded their heads and Virgil sighed contently.

Roman took a step forward, getting Virgil's attention. "Would you like me to carry you, princess?" Virgil blushed at the nickname, nodding his head in agreement. Roman picked him up bridal style, Virgil once again holding onto him. They all said goodnight to each other, agreeing to discuss this more in the morning, and Roman carried him up to his room.

Roman's room had the same layout as Remus's but they were decorated very differently. He has a huge bed with a red comforter, big windows, Disney posters (which Virgil loved), and it looked like a room in a royal castle. Roman set Virgil down on his bed and Virgil immediately relaxed into it, snuggling up against the soft sheets. Roman giggled, a light blush painting his cheeks.

"Let me tuck you in, silly." Roman covered Virgil with the blankets, smiling at the beautiful boy below him. "Would you like me to sleep on the floor?"

Virgil widened his eyes, quickly shaking his head. "No! Please stay." Roman obliged, slipping into bed next to Virgil. Virgil hesitantly curled up in Romans' chest, and big arms wrapped him in a hug.

Virgil felt safe. He felt loved. He felt wanted.

Roman was his hero.

[ifridiot]

1 3 12 19 for fanfic asks

1. favorite fic you wrote this year

oh god this is difficult. Hmm. I have a few, because... I have written over a hundred short stories this year, and I honestly can’t pic just one. Sticking with what I posted on AO3, I am quite pleased with the entirety of the Let Them Eat Flesh series, especially The Widening Gyre and Wretched and Joyful. Delicate was such a monumental effort for me, and I think i could have done better at capturing the emotions it was meant to evoke, but it’s still quite solid and I’m pleased with it. Things Change, My Dear is quite good, if only because of the discussions we’ve had about the AU and the work you’ve done from the foundations I knocked together. I am maliciously fond of Never, if only because of the disgust I’ve received in response to the idea of Frank Castle having, of all things, a gun kink. Of course, Memento Mori, Puncture Repair, and Come Home really laid the ground work for how I wanted to present my takes on these characters.

For fandoms that are not The Punisher, I’m particularly pleased with Protector, because I quite enjoy Nate and Wade calling each other out on their bullshit. Science is Cool was just a lot of fun to write and I absolutely adore seeing people’s reactions to it -- a lot like Memento Mori, honestly. Owned and Jarmed in the Target Jathroom were both supremely enjoyable to write. I loved doing the stupid ass puns in Jarmed, and Owned is of course about War, so what’s not to love? A Green Eyed Demon is... well, it’s just a lot of things I like, okay. Jealousy, pining, Nate knowing Wade way too well... it’s fun and sexy. And of course, the first published fic of the year deserves a mention, because I got to write an old, old love of mine, so Drunken Lament, there you are.

GONNA HAVE TO DO THE REST UNDER A CUT, YOU BASTARD.

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year

Jesus christ. Okay. I’m going to try to be reasonable here. One or two lines from only the Best Fics. Oh who the fuck am I kidding... 

“You smell,” Kakuzu says by way of greeting, “like expensive sake. And self-pity.” 

(from Drunken Lament)

"Fuckin' cunt," he snarls, "you stupid fucking," blood dripping down his face, all over the carpet, all over Wade, and Wade musters half the strength in his body and throws Nate off over his head. His body makes a satisfying thud on the dingy carpet, and Wade launches at him, pins him again, always on the stomach, and this time he bites Nate's neck, leaves uneven pinpoint marks where his teeth have been, not drawing blood though he could, he could so very easily. Nate groans.  

(from Glittering)

It becomes easier to avoid him. Only go over when he needs something, and even then, scurry away at the first sexy sign emanating from the apartment, stop going on missions together unless Nate comes asking him to help out. A man can only jack it so many times behind a dumpster before he starts having unhealthy associations with the smell of hot trash. He can think about getting fucked six ways to Sunday by everyone’s favorite scowling soldier in his own room, thankyouverymuch, and it’s nicer to jerk off where there are clean tissues on hand. 

(from A Green Eyed Demon)

“Would it be easier to come if I were fucking you like you don’t matter?” 

(from A Green Eyed Demon, also fuck that is a Horny Line)

“The jurtains,” he whispers, and Nate gives him a look, which just seems to make him even more pleased with the find. “We need them. Those are what we want. Good eye, honeypie.”

“What the fuck,” Nate says slowly, not sure he wants to know, “are jurtains?”

“Curtains but denim,” Wade replies with utter earnest sincerity. “It’s – don’t give me that face – it’s basic English.” 

(from Jarmed in the Target Jathroom)

Okay so I would basically be copying the whole back half of Jarmed, but... Pretty much all the dialog while Nate’s jerking Wade off is just Good. All the denim puns.

Once, when he’d been another man, a weaker man, he’d loved Wade.

In his own way, he still did; loved him and wanted him safe and kept and all his own. But it was easy to hate him, too; his arrogance and selfishness and constant cries for attention.

But Wade belonged to him now. And in a way, owning him was better than loving him alone had ever been.

(from Owned. I really love how crisply this highlights the difference between War and Nathan.)

When he finally thrusts into the tight, pliant heat of Wade’s body, he focuses on his TK, stripping the scarred flesh from muscle from bone down Wade’s back. Wade moans, smothering the wet tearing sound of the mutilation, his tone dripping with lust and excitement, audibly delighted over the flesh flaying from his body. As it comes free, the blood and tissue is held by telekinetic force all around them, extending out from Wade in a gory fan.

(from Owned. This is just disgusting and I live for it)

“Fuck you,” Wade says pleasantly, and then groans beautifully at the sensation of the raw muscle and nerve of his back being torn open again. “This? This is all for me. If you were really punishing me, I wouldn’t get dick, pun very much intended; you’d leave me all alone for a few more fuckless days, and if you ever thought for a goddamn second about me anymore, maybe you’d figure out why I keep trying to run away so often.”

(from Owned)

It’s all Wade’s fault, he thinks furiously as he digs his fingers in hard enough to feel something crunch, blood welling under his fingers, clutching hard to the skin under his fingers and squeezing until the frustration leaks out between his knuckles. It’s Wade’s fault. Because Wade’s skin feels like it’s burning, always, imprinting on War’s back and hips and thighs as he futilely tries to cling. Because Wade doesn’t say anything he doesn’t mean, doesn’t try to placate him, doesn’t make him feel like any more of a man even when he’s bucking under him and making strangled, incoherent noises like he’s drowning, they’re both drowning, and he can’t get enough air or enough of War. Because when it’s done, and his heart is still stuffed up somewhere in his throat, War knows Wade will beg him to stay for cuddles he hasn’t got time to indulge in, like they’re just two of a kind, two normal people living normal lives together.

(From Owned. Love that War still has so much complex emotion)

Bearded Nate isn’t just taller, his version of the TO is cleaner, somehow, sinking in a smooth line under his flesh, swallowing his arm and dancing down his side, his hip, his leg. Short!Nate is more organic looking, very nice with the scars and the proud flesh and the jagged lines of metal bursting from under his skin. He’s got a thick vein of TO running up his dick, and Wade’s mouth waters at the sight, his brain going hazy at the thought of getting that inside him. As soon as possible, yes please.

(from Science is Cool)

Laughter bubbles up out of him like the kind of vomit you get after drinking too much soda too quickly, frothy and jagged. 

(from Science is Cool. Such a Wade line

“Is curiosity really going to kill the Cable?” He asks, closing his eyes again. He’s very tired uddenly. He liked not remembering. He wants to get back to that. “Bodyslide outta here. Your Wade is in another castle. This is not the Wade you’re looking for. Good fuck though, thanks for that.”

“Wade.”

“War is coming. That’s what you go by here. So get the fuck out. Please.”

(from Science is Cool. I know this is a spoiler for the whole fic, but god i love this line)

The more they start to work together, once things get rolling, the harder it is to find his disgust for this man, this man who ruined lives trying to do the right thing. The sickest part, to Frank at least, is that one day he’s thinking about that, about how David ruined so much just trying to do the right thing, and realizes he’s proud of David. David did what a lot of people would have refused to do, David took initiative, David tried his damnedest to do right. And it had destroyed everything, there had been no justice, no grand revelation of corruption.

(from Come Home)

He watches Frank like he knows the kind of pain he’s in and wants to spare him and when he realizes that, he responds the same way he always had when he’d caught Maria with that look on her face. He forces himself to act more put together, forces himself to get over the bullshit. Because Maria hadn’t deserved the concern he’d tormented her with, and maybe David didn’t either.

(from Come Home)

They’re drinking one night when David leans over and kisses him. Frank makes a point to never have more than a couple fingers of anything harder than beer, but David gets white girl wasted when he’s upset.

(from Come Home. The phrase ‘white girl wasted’ makes this)

It’s some time later that Sarah kisses him. Between the two of them, the Liebermans are going to give him some kind of fucking complex.

(from Come Home. GOD, POOR FRANK LMAO)

I can’t take it if you go, David is saying, though he’s beyond words. I will die, if you die.

He wants to tell him how wrong he is. He knows from experience. It might feel like you’re dead for a while, and you might wish you were dead for even longer, but the loss wouldn’t kill you. That was the cruelest part of it.

(from, you guessed it, Come Home. Im sorry)

Frank watches David disappear into his house and drives away before anyone else can come out and try convincing him to stay. It’s a bittersweet parting – David deserves to go home to his family. Frank’s not sure what he deserves, but he’s starting to think maybe this unending loneliness isn’t it.

(from Come Home. The good news is, that’s the end of the fic.)

(the bad news is, now it’s time for Puncture Repair)

Sarah missed Pete, maybe. Missed someone who’d snuck in, like a thief, to get close to her, to have something to hold over her husband. Who had offered comfort in a hard time. Somehow she’s missing the part where Frank could have gotten her husband killed for real. She’s missing the part where Frank’s blood brother had abducted and could have murdered her and her son. She’s missing the part where Pete was an act (until he wasn’t) and hadn’t ever been meant to mean anything to her.

If he’s honest with himself – and he’s trying to be that, more often now – he’s terrified of seeing her again, of seeing her realize how bad an idea it is for him to be around them. Because Sarah is smart, Sarah is brave and determined and wants to keep her family safe. She’s not like David, too close to see the danger.

(from Puncture Repair. Love Frank being terrified of Sarah hating him, acknowledging that she has cause to.)

And maybe that’s the right thing to do. Maybe hurting David now will help the dumbass get over this. Because Frank loves him, and he knows what his love does to people. He sees it every time he tries to sleep. He can’t stand the idea of seeing it happen again, here, in waking.

But when has he ever done the right thing where David is concerned? David had given so much to Frank; his trust, his affection, his fucking blood, pumping through Frank’s veins. Frank takes and takes because he doesn’t know how to stop. He’s greedy for what David offers, for the chance to spend some time being alive after so long of being dead.

(from Puncture Repair)

When David’s hand comes to rest, gently, on his arm, his whole body tenses up, reflex curling his fists as he snaps his head toward David, face an angry mask, warning. David doesn’t even flinch. He looks concerned, though. Not afraid – David’s not afraid of Frank because while David might be a certifiable genius, he’s still an idiot. Frank could kill him in fifteen ways without breaking a sweat, and David knows that.

His hand strokes over Frank’s arm, and Frank holds his breath. Lets it out. Breathes again.

He’s working on a lot of things. Sometimes, it even seems like he’s getting better.

(from Puncture Repair)

“It’s called a spare room, Frank,” David says, patiently and patronizing at the same time, forcing the air in the room to lighten with his stab at humor. Frank’s lip twitches. “Some even call it a ‘guest room’. Guests are people you invite into your house to –”

“I know what guests are, asshole.”

“Well, I just wonder, you know, since you act like you were raised outdoors.”

(from Puncture Repair)

He needs to leave. He should leave. He stands and glares at David instead, feet planted, hands curled. It’s like being back in the power station basement, when he had no where else to be. Part of him knows he can go at anytime, the rest of him is stripping gears in a war over whether he needs to destroy this thing happening between him and David before it gets David hurt.

(from Puncture Repair)

“You ever get tired of punishing yourself, Frank?”

David’s voice is so gentle and so tired, laced with a bitterness that is so familiar. Frank is used to people giving up on arguing with him. He knows what it sounds like.

“No,” He says sharply, because it’s easier to deny than acknowledge that there’s even a chance that David’s got him figured out.

“Now who’s lying?”

(from Puncture Repair)

“You gonna hit me, Frank?” David asks. Frank just pushes him harder against the wall, face twisted in a snarl. David smiles very gently, as if, up close, he’s seeing something too. Frank really does flinch when fingers stroke over his cheek, David reaching up to gently frame his face in his hands. “See, I don’t think you are.”

“You don’t know me, David, you think you do, but you don’t know –”

David drags him in, and Frank lets himself be dragged. The kiss is hot and inevitable and somehow furious. David hums, the sound surprised but accepting when Frank bites at his mouth. His death grip on David’s shirt relaxes, until his hands are just resting over David’s chest, holding him to the wall as David steals his breath. His eyes are blue, so blue; Frank could never look in those eyes and imagine he was with anyone else. No one had eyes like that.

(from Puncture Repair. Damn, David)

David deserves better. Frank still doesn’t know what he deserves.

(from Puncture Repair. Frank, stop being a jackass please)

“You never shut up. You tellin’ me this is all I gotta do to make you quiet?”

A little whine, indignant, helpless, and Frank chuckles. “You still think about me suckin’ you off, David?” He asks quietly, moving his hand to pull, carefully, at the button of the fly. The zipper, when he jerks it down, sounds loud in the quiet room. “What was it again? Rough, behind a dumpster? Real romantic imagery, there.”

David’s dick is hot and hard in his hand when he shoves his way past the waistband of his underwear, gripping him firmly. Fingers clutch back to his shoulder, David’s hips twitching into his touch. He leans in, so he’s talking against David’s hair, feeling the softness of those curls as he mutters in David’s ear. “What’s it gonna be, huh? There’s no dumpster, but I know you got a vivid imagination.”

(from Puncture Repair. :Eyes Emoji: amirite?)

“Lemme do this for you, Frank,” David says softly, and he’s begging, quiet and restrained but it’s still begging, pleading to be allowed to touch him. “You’re always giving for me. You never take. It’s not right. Lemme do this.”

(from Puncture Repair. Love this throwback/contradiction to Frank’s obsessive thoughts over how he’s always taking from David.)

David stands at the top of the steps, looking out at the street like he’s waiting for something he knows isn’t coming. He’s slouched more than usual, one arm wrapped around himself, half a hug, and the other held at his side, something glinting in his hand. Frank wonders if he’s drunk, and watches him turn back towards the door and decides both yes, he is, and also that he’s not too drunk. And the ridiculous urge to get out of the van passes when David turns away and opens the door, tossing back the end of whatever’s in his glass as he crosses the threshold. Frank turns the engine back on and pulls away before it can come back.

(from Memento Mori)

If asked why, Frank would never in a million years be able to answer. It’s like asking a half drowned man, why breathe when he’s offered fresh air – because it’s a need. Because he had to. He had to step in closer, bringing his hands up to brush away those tears. And when David surges against him, kissing him? He had to wrap his arms around that shivering frame, had to kiss back.

(from Memento Mori)

Frank remembers Maria touching him much the same way when he’d first come home, and god, that hurts. Hurts his heart, but maybe not as bad as it should, and he doesn’t know if that means he’s healing or not. He doesn’t even know anymore if healing is a good thing – without the pain, he’s not sure he knows how to define himself anymore.

(from Memento Mori)

What they end up doing on the floor, which is hard and cold and not exactly the ideal place, is sloppy and needy and rough. It’s months of pent up frustration, it’s finally allowing something that both had wanted and neither had dared address. Its fast and dirty and satisfying, David’s breath on Frank’s neck rabbit-quick and sharp as they grind together, shirtless, their pants hitched low. Frank thinks he’s got the feel of the hardwood against his back memorized, the way it digs and drags with every thrust and roll of David’s hips.

(from Memento Mori)

He’s thinking about wants and how they creep up on you. He’s thinking about needs, what each person in the world needs to survive, and if affection – not love, not desire, but honest affection – is one of those needs. He’s thinking about his children, dead and buried, and sleeping upstairs.

(from Memento Mori)

By some miracle the kids actually obey, letting Frank loose and running off to go chatter at David a million questions – When had Frank gotten there, where had he come from, was he staying, how long was he staying –before the tears rise in Frank’s eyes. He’s shoving them away with the heels of his hands, trying to play it off as rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, but when Sarah envelops him in a hug of her own, he knows she knows. She holds his face against her shoulder, curled over him as he sits, and combs her fingers through his hair.

(from Memento Mori)

That’s how he ends up with a fully furnished house – not just a couch and a bed to sleep on, but a table to eat at, an easy chair David likes to lay across the arms of rather than recline in normally, a coffee table he puts his feet on and Sarah, when she catches him, slaps him on the shin to make him stop, despite it being his.

(from Memento Mori. I know this is a dumb bit, but like... domesticity...)

That’s all the justification Frank needs to bring her home, and then – well would you look at that. The house, it’s… well. With Molly to come back to and a bed to sleep in, a kitchen he feels obligated to keep stocked with food because why else should he be paying for the electricity to power the fridge, a living room he entertains David’s family in sometimes – all the sudden, it’s not just a house. It’s home.

He has a home.

He blames David for that. Blaming is easier than thanking.

(from Memento Mori)

Home is three blocks away, with his dog and his own bed, but sometimes home is here, too.

(from Memento Mori)

When he’s home, though, he’s known. He is Frank, just Frank, and he is loved. He loves in return, and god – god but it’s good. It’s about the living, it’s about the living.

(from Memento Mori)

He doesn’t say he loves them, but he shows it in everything he does. He’s working up to it, working up to externalizing the things he feels so deeply. This is his family, and he won’t let anything happen to them this time. He has a second chance and he will do it right this time.

(from Memento Mori, also WHY DID I DO THIS)

Something crashes in the kitchen and the laughter cuts off as everyone turns to look at Sarah. Frank meets her eyes as her skin darkens and breaks. He’s on his feet and she’s crumbling, blowing apart in the barest breeze. Leo screams, and Frank’s head snaps back to the table, away from the horror of Sarah turning to dust, to look at his little girl and see – “no, no, no” – her skin going dull, her outstretched hand crumbling to ash as she reaches for – “no, no, no” – David, who sits in stunned shock, looking at his own crumbling hands and then up at Frank, those piercing eyes pleading in a way they never had before, and he breathes the softest curse, almost a laugh, before his face is gone and Frank looks across the table and there’s Zach – “no, no, no, wait, no” with his hands pressed flat to the table, all eyes as he watches, helpless, alone in the way the solemn child often seems to be, and slowly falls apart.

(from Memento Mori)

When he opens his eyes, he’s alone. Some trick of the breeze stirs the ashy dust in the air, drawing it toward him so his dark clothes are filmed with a fine coating of it, so he’s breathing – he gags and covers his mouth and nose, struggling.

The dust – the dust which is his family – is so thick now, floating aimless in the air, directionless as the breeze from the open door settles again. There are piles around the table and on the kitchen floor, piles of dust that he can identify by location but by no other factor as his – “oh god.”

(from Memento Mori)

When he feels a cold, wet something press against his ankle he jumps, startled, whipping around to find the threat, something – but it’s only Molly. Molly, looking scared, shivering, but whole. Molly is still here and he clings to that as he goes through the process of finding her leash, putting it on her. They need to leave the house. He can’t be here, he can’t keep – the dust is in the air, the dust is them and he can’t hold his breath so he’s breathing –

(from Memento Mori)

Memento mori, he hears David explain to him, deep in his head, in his memory. You will die.

Except it’s never him that dies.

For the living, it was for the living, the living.

Someone has done something monumentally stupid, and whether it was intentional or not, they’ve hurt his family. They’ve taken from him.

For the living, memento mori

He pulls out his phone, the very same one David left for him so long ago now, and he calls Curt. There is no answer, and his fingers leave dusty prints where the brush the numbers. He chokes out something approximate to ‘Call me ASAP please’, but he doesn’t think Curtis is in a way to make phone calls.

(from Memento Mori)

Well, Frank knows monsters, and he knows they can die.

Memento mori.

He knows he can put them down.

You will die.

He can only hope.

(from Memento Mori)

“Here in public?” David intones, thoughtful and pleasant, miles away from his old habitual nervousness. “Think about all the attention we’d get. You wanna get Pete in the papers? Maybe someone with a camera phone and a steady hand get you up on YouTube; Brave Man Fights Off Would-Be Gunman. The text doesn’t point out your pretty necklace, but everyone sees it. Everyone knows, and when the smart ones watch, they recognize the way you move. Is that how you wanna get back in the public eye, Frank,” David murmurs, smug and calm, gun pressed steadily against his spine, “everybody wondering who’s bitch you are?”

(From Never)

He thinks about the bullet tearing through, shattering everything in its path. This close, it’d be a horrific mess. Almost certain death.

His cock is hard against the sheets, and what that says about him, he doesn’t want to examine much.

(from Never. I fuckin love how fucked up Frank is)

David hasn’t known any touch but his own in almost a year. The little bit of contact he’d gotten from Frank up to now had been accompanied by pain. No wonder he’s trembling. No wonder his hands are white-knuckled fists on his knees.

(from Things Change, My Dear)

When David touches his wing, just the trace of fingers over the upper curve, he flinches away. It’s almost the same, sharp denial he’d shown Karen, and he feels his breath catch in his chest. The was a new war inside him; what he thought he deserved versus what he knew he needed. But ultimately, it was a glance over his shoulder, the sight of David’s face, so sad and so alone and so willing to just accept that Frank wouldn’t allow this after all, that makes him steady himself on his feet and lower his wings, slow and deliberate.

(from Things Change, My Dear)

A kiss is communication. It can say different things. This kiss is soft and questioning, not quite chaste. It says I’m hungry, it says I can wait. It is a promise, and a dare, and an assurance. David never takes more than is offered; David can be a selfish little shit, but he respects boundaries.

So Frank pushes his wings open, a sudden show of force that knocks David back, so his own wings flutter, just barely keeping himself on his feet. Frank turns on David, rounds on him with his wings raised, posturing without meaning to. Later, David will describe to him the way he looks in that moment, his face set, his wings aloft, stepping toward David ‘like the wrath of God’, and he’ll say that, his tone torn between amusement and awe, and Frank will have no choice but to punch his shoulder call him, affectionately, a jackass.

(from Things Change, My Dear)

Frank thinks about pulling away, and all the ways a man can do that. He thinks about loneliness so vast and dark that you were blinded by it. He thinks about the softness of a man and all the ways he could be hurt, all the ways it does and doesn’t show. Eyes so blue they can’t be real, glistening with tears, shining with fury, bright on him with delight.

At some point, he falls asleep too, and that’s better.

(from Things Change, My Dear)

You know what, i’m done, thats all i have in me. next question blease

12. favorite character to write about this year

Frank Castle, David Lieberman, or Wade Wilson. Had fun with all of ‘em.

19. any new fics to start next year

hmm, i don’t really think that far ahead. I plan to finish the last two Important, Main Plot stories for Let Them Eat Flesh before New Years. I have an idea rolling around for more Cablepool/Liebercaste crack and yes you read that correctly, so maybe that.

[darknessdancing]

Whirlwind Chapter Two

Hey y’all! I am finally getting chapter two up. Sorry it has taken so long. I am v forgetful and lazy! I really hope you guys like this. I am really excited for this fic and just writing it makes me happy so i hope reading it makes you guys happy! enjoy!!

warnings: kinda angsty, warning, mentions of slutting around (im looking at you xiu) smut/mentions of smut

“I know, I know. I’m so sorry love, I really did want today to be an us day, but you and I both know this can’t be ignored baby,” You cooed apologetically to Suho. Your arms were around his waist and you were standing on your tiptoes to rest your chin on his shoulder. You nuzzled the side of his face with your nose.

“I know, I know… I just wish it wasn’t this way. I was really looking forward to a day with just the two of us. It has been so long since we have had one of those,” He sighed.

“I understand,” You said sighing as well, “I love you, Junmyeon.”

He smiled at the use of his real name and turned around pulling you into his warm, welcoming arms.

“I love you too, Y/N,” He kissed you, “So much.”

You smiled brightly at him and kissed him deeply.

“As much as I love a good kiss, since it's not me, we gotta go,” Baekhyun said. Suho glared at him and bared his teeth, something Baekhyun took as a sign to leave. You giggled and shook your head.

“Come on, Daddy, let's go,” you coaxed, smacking his ass as you walked out the door.

“One more,” he said pulling you back against him, spinning you around. He kissed you lovingly.

“Alright, alright. Now we go,” You said kissing his cheek and finally walking out. You got into the main living room of the house where all of the boys were now standing.

“Alright is everyone clear on what to do? Get in get out. Should be a pretty cut and dry “steal back our drugs” type of show,” you told them while placing a gun in it’s holster on your outer thigh, beneath the holster for throwing knives. To say you were armed and dangerous was an understatement. The boys were all armed in similar fashion, each carrying more than enough protection. A symphony of ‘yes’ filled your ears, followed by the sound of soles hitting wooden flooring as everyone quietly filed to the side door.

“It’s been ages since you’ve gone on a retaliation with us, Whirlwind,” Chen teased after matching your pace, “You’re so hidden sometimes, I forget that you’re even handy with that pistol. I’d be lying if I hadn’t lost faith for a while.”

For a moment, you smiled fondly to yourself at the familiar nickname. You let it linger for a bit, even as you stepped out into the brisk air of your large garage. With Baekhyun’s head blocking your view, you could still see the shiny rims of all ten sports cars and two vans.

“I can always blow your brains out as a reminder, if that’s really what you need,” you joked casually, “And if this is what you consider a retaliation, maybe I should be losing faith in you.”

He only rolled his eyes in a playful manner in response to the small jab.

The conversation was broken up by Sehun shouting that the back of the white van was open to whoever was sitting in the large space, and that he was driving this time. You laughed and got into the driver’s seat of the black Lamborgini. You drove off, the boys following closely behind.

Your mind began to drift as you drove to the mansion of Girl’s Generation, one of your biggest enemies in this world. You couldn’t find a speck of remorse in yourself, but the constant feuding grew so tiring after a while. Now, it felt as though you were only battling so you wouldn’t have the burden of admitting to a loss. Your team only ever made an effort to strike at them when it was warranted, such as right now.

They had apparently felt threatened enough by your drug business, they wanted to steal your product and sell it as their own. Luckily, you had contacts and ways of knowing things like these.

You parked your car a few blocks from the house and went to where the boys had parked their van. After crawling through the seemingly endless brush and trees that concealed the battered heap of metal, you got in and started to run over the plan with them one final time.

Baekhyun and Chanyeol were to monitor the security cameras, while Chen and Kai part ways to find where the drugs were being kept. Sehun and Kyungsoo agreed to eliminate any human threats on their way to their to-be-informed destination, and Xiumin was making sure the leaders were being kept busy, through other means of distraction. Earlier, you had made jokes of him being a prostitute for the time being, to which he only scowled.

Opposing teams or not, Kim Taeyeon and Jessica Jung had expressed quite the interest in the man, which he had offered to take advantage of, just this once.

“Of course,” he had said earlier, “I’d do it for the sake of the group, but leave it to me to be caught up fucking two dumb bitches while the real action plays out.”

You and Suho were the cleaners, the backup plan; the ones who---if something went wrong---entered and fixed the problem. You hadn’t been big on being so useless, but Kyungsoo and Xiumin had thought it best to keep the leaders away from harm in case something were to happen to them.

Directly after helping Chen and Kai to swipe all the heroin and cocaine, Kyungsoo and Sehun were to set the house ablaze; it was highly probable that something harmful may happen to anyone who fails to escape in time.

The house was surrounded by a large, electrified, black iron fence. From the comfort of the van, you watched as Xiumin simply walked up to it and pushed his finger down onto the intercom button. He spoke a greeting into the mic, followed by the fence pushing itself open.

Whereas everyone else wasn’t as welcome in the large mansion, you were forced to wait around ten minutes before approaching the fence. Within those ten minutes, Baekhyun and Chanyeol had worked together to disable the security cameras positioned atop it, making it far easier to break in.

Donning a pair of thick protective gloves and handling a pair of wire cutters, Chen easily disabled it and allowed everyone to hop over the structure.

With a swift hand motion, you coaxed Kyungsoo and Sehun to rid the team of the guards positioned in the lawn. While they crept behind massive statues and thick trees, the remainder of your group crouched in some bushes, hidden from the world.

After the signal was given that the guards were finished off, you all stealthily moved into the house. From the corners of your eyes, you could see the splattered blood of the two women who laid by the entrance. It was likely that they hadn’t felt a thing when the knife hit their throats; they had been knocked out prior.

Some of the men entered the building through side doors and some used windows. You and Suho moved cautiously moved into the living room, the area that would quickly give you access to all the others and their positions. With a bit of difficulty, you managed to close the door without any creaking sounds.

“Remember when you almost dated a Girls Gen girl?” You whispered to him quietly. Even in the darkness you saw him flinch in remembrance. You chuckled softly in response.

“Chen and Kai, it should be in a room on the third floor,” Baekhyun’s voice floated lowly through your earpiece, “Off to the left somewhere… maybe the fifth door along the hallway.”

“You and I can fuck right here, you know,” You suggested, disregarding the speech that didn’t involve either of you, “I think that’d surely make Yuri regret ever rejecting you.”

The most barely audible groan came, and you could just picture Suho biting his lip to keep from exposing your presence to the home’s residents.

“As hard as it is not to entertain your vengeful wishes, I'd rather not risk getting caught with my pants down and my cock out, Princess.”

“Found it,” came Kai’s preoccupied mumble in your ear. You heard clicking as they tried to open what sounded like a safe.

“The one time you find your self restraint...” You trailed off in a quiet, teasing tone.

“Okay,” Chanyeol interrupted through the earpiece, “Xiumin’s tracker is lighting up on the other side of the house, by the hedge statue things and back a few feet. It’s, uhhhh, moving rapidly right now, so you have until it comes to a stop to drop everything from the window. Baekhyun and I will handle everything else.”

“I’m sending Chen and Kai out as soon as possible, out through one of the side doors to help you out,” came Kyungsoo’s gruff reply, “Just let me know when Xiumin is safely out.”

For thirty quiet minutes that trickled past like grains of sand falling to the bottom of an hourglass, you sat with Suho and waited.

Nothing that was of concern to you popped up until three minutes after Xiumin had walked past you and out the front door. It had sounded like he was zipping up his jeans as he walked.

None of the women followed after him, as they were probably focused on washing themselves up.

After three minutes, you began to smell the thick clouds of smoke that had drifted down to the living room. For security, you did your best to spot Suho through the pitch darkness. The moment you’d gotten clarity that Kyungsoo and Sehun were out of the house, you two would be sprinting to safety.

“Discovered!” Chen yelled. You and Suho looked at each other and ran up the stairs to where they were.

You crouched at the entrance of the room where you could here the fight going on. Suho was crouched opposite of you, his gun loaded and cocked. You started counting backwards from three on your fingers. On one you both stood in the doorway and started shooting the men who were cornering two of your boys.

“I want everyone else to go back to the van right now,” You commanded into your earpiece.

“Yes ma’am,” They all said.

“Here’s our plan, take out whoever comes near and get back to the plan. No splitting up. Let’s go,” You said running out the door. Suddenly alarms started blaring throughout the whole house.You groaned and covered your ears.

“Someone triggered the security system,” you heard Baek say through the earpiece.

You started running through the house but metal doors were starting to slide into place. You cursed and lead the boys through more hallways being met with dead ends. You all finally found a doorway into a room with multiple windows, but the metal door was slowly sliding into place and the shouts of the Girl’s Gen men neared. You pushed Kai and Chen under and went to go push Suho.

“There’s only enough room left for one more person; you’re going,” He said pushing you. The shouting came nearer.

“No, Suho, I am not leav---” You were interrupted as he shoved you to the ground and under the door. The yells were on you and Suho. You screamed to tell Suho to dive under, but you knew there was no way he’d fit.

“I love you,” You heard him say as you watched the men surround him and tase him, bringing him to his knees in pain. You screamed out his name and fought against the door. Kai and Chen pulled you back from the door. Chen opened the window as Kai struggled to pick you up. You all escaped out the window and made it back to the van.

The atmosphere hung full-cloud heavy and pin-drop silent as everyone else present came to the shocking realization that Suho hadn’t made it out.

A deafening clatter broke the quiet into a million pieces within the three seconds it took your closed fist to come into contact with the vehicle’s cool metal and the sharp pain to set into your knuckles.

But you didn’t want to stop. As Sehun pushed his foot down onto the gas pedal and sped off, all you wanted to do was pulverize the van until your skin blossoms a blotchy plum color.

A cry left your lips. And another. And a third, until it was difficult to hear the shocked chatter that had begun to swarm around you.

“Baby,” Chanyeol started hesitantly. Your temper was like a hot iron---to be used with caution and to avoid direct contact with, “Junmyeon’s strong. He’ll hold his own.”

You didn’t feel like the iron. You felt like the burn. The use of Suho’s birth-given name was meant to sooth your visible pain, but all it did was turn the faucet to a steady stream of bitter tears.

“Oh, fuck off,” you dismissed him in a quiet mutter.

Truly, you wished you were more skilled in concealing such lethal feelings. Having seven---and occasionally eight, whenever Sehun worriedly glances through the rearview mirror---men watch you cry isn’t any fun. You think it makes you look weak, like a joke.

An arm wrapped around your shoulders. With your eyes squeezed shut so painfully tight, you could only guess which lover it was. You were too focused on dismissing the little outburst that you didn’t even attempt to. From the foresty cologne alone, you knew it was D.O. Everyone else wore less comforting fragrances; things that slightly assaulted your sense of smell.

He said nothing, but it didn’t feel as frightened as the silence everyone else gave. Everyone silent was breathing dreadfully slowly, cautiously even, like they were waiting for an explosion. D.O, however, kept his breathing at a calm, steady pace.

This was what you loved about him. He never participated in the nervous blocks of quiet, for he was already so peacefully. You both don’t need many words for your relationship to remain strong. He was a rock regardless of his infrequent speech.

“Try and go to sleep,” he murmured over the low whispers everyone else had faded into, “We’ll have planning to do later; you need to be rested enough.”

Though he only spoke of a meeting to plan things, you were certain it was about the best strategy to get Suho back.

You drifted off with that thought in mind, keeping close that single bit of comfort it provided.

[anothervldthingiemabibbie]

A Sixpence Song

Chapter 3: Ink

@klangst-week

Keith writes poems in a notebook, a hobby that he rarely partakes in. It’s strange imagining a brooding, dark-haired teen writing poems about flowers and feelings, but then again…

“I thought you could’ve been something great, but I guess you’re just a dropout.”

“It’s such a shame to see a young man throw his life away like that, without rational thought.”

“Oh what do you know, dropout?”

“You threw away your chance to be something good in this world, you know that? Threw it away on the hope for a dead man.”

“We can’t let him stay, he’s Galran! Who knows what he’ll do!”

“My family is gone because of his kind, my entire planet! All my people! I will not let one of them on my ship, as a Paladin!”

“We were supposed to be fighting Galrans. Isn’t that what we’ve been doing? What do we do now?”

Maybe it’s not difficult to imagine him doing that after all.

Keith’s personal hell is silence.

You wouldn’t think this from a boy who’d lived alone for a long time in the middle of nowhere, but there are many things that are unexpected about Keith.

But the desert isn’t nearly quite as empty as people would expect. There’s lizards that scuttle on the walls at night, distant barks and howls of wild dogs and coyotes on the wind. Owls hoot in the evening and raptors screech in the mornings. And on the rare days when even those are all silent, there’s the cheap shitty radio at the top of the metal drawer, tuned only to one of the few channels available to him.

It was country or static, so he took country.

But now, he didn’t even have the annoying twanging of guitars or gruff voices singing about beer, girls and trucks to comfort him. There’s nothing here but endless darkness and silence, a crushing quiet that sucks any hope out of him. There’s nothing for him here but him and his own head, and a million questions that he can’t answer, doesn’t want to answer, that tear and rip at the edges of his mind, like an itch that he can’t scratch.

Distractions come in the form of sinking into memories, good and bad, any one that is clear. He’s in his first flight class, riding the adrenaline high of piloting the shaking, bouncing flight simulator, stepping out with pride in his chest and one of the highest scores seen ever in the Garrison. He’s thirteen on his first bike, zooming down the street whooping to school, right before he hits a rock and skids nearly a yard on the pavement (there’s still a long, striped scar on his leg from that incident). He’s watching T.V, some documentary on Mothman, mumbling a goodbye as his dad leaves on an ‘errand’. The last time he’d ever see him again.

He bounces back to happier memories, though those are limited. Learning martial arts from Youtube videos and practicing his roundhouse kick in the dormitory alone, while everyone else was out to dinner. Feeling a sense of grim satisfaction in the next memory, when he knocked the front teeth out of that asshole kid who called him a ‘no good sonafabitch bastard fag’ and his bale gray shoes were stained red. A sensation of mild irritation when Iverson chewed him out for it, put him in detention where he was alone, save for the other kid.

The other kid, of course, was Lance. Sitting in the front corner by the door, tapping and doodling on the desk with his pencil. Keith sat on the opposite side, fidgeting awkwardly with the pen he’d ‘borrowed’ from Iverson’s desk earlier, taking it apart and putting it together again. Over and over, cap, spring, ink cartridge, nib, metal ring, outer case. Outer case, metal ring, nib, ink cartridge, spring, cap.

Tap, tap, tap. Goes Lance’s pencil. Keith glances up, and stares. No smile now, instead a rare look of patient serenity. No sign of anger, disappointment, sadness at his situation, but instead an aura of calm. If not for the slow blinks, long fluttering lashes that are the woman’s envy, he could be sleeping.

Snap. Keith had accidentally broke the ink cartridge while putting it back in, and now black ink gushed out over the desk, staining his hands, seeping into the cracks of the white linoleum floor. The teacher in charge, a tired, white matron with severe eyes and a hooked nose, glances up at the noise, sighs angrily, and motions towards the bottle of cleaner and paper towels by the window.

Lance snickers softly on the other end of the room, and Keith feels his neck flush with embarrassment and anger. Accompanied, for some reason, by a strain of pleasure.

For once, he made Lance laugh, not the other way around. And Lance didn’t even know him, earning a bittersweet victory.

As he mops up the chemical-smelling liquid up the floor, the tap-tap-tapping ensues, except now it’s not a simple monotonous pattern. It’s seemingly erratic, short clips there, pauses here, and occasionally he would still his hand and go completely still, as if listening, before continuing his tapping.

Morse. Keith realizes, and he nearly wants to laugh. He’s talking in Morse, probably to one of his friends by the door. And sure enough, when he looks up at the door, there’s that big dude Hunk, the kid that you couldn’t hate for the life of you and almost always had to accept hugs from-most of the time you didn’t have a choice anyway, the guy had arms like a bear. His hand raps out of sight, on the doorframe, a quiet muted series of thumps that took a keen ear to hear.

Keith watches as Lance listens intently, grins devilishly, and taps back a response. A laugh bubbles in his stomach; for a kid who was made of movement and was hardly still, here he was, able to learn Morse to talk to a friend through the door.

He starts wiping down the desk, scrubbing the ink off. In the few moments since it’s release, it was already sticky and hardening, and took a considerable amount of force to remove it. As he moves his hand in circular movements, he listens to the conversation.

Im so b-o-r-e-d Lance even took the time to add a second’s pause between letters, for emphasis. You had to admit, one had to admire the dedication to dramatic flair.

Cant do much for you there. Is Hunk’s faint reply. Movie night?

Uh hell yeah Jeez, he even took the time to communicate seemingly trivial thoughts. And for some reason, this makes him seem all the more likeable. He’s human, and he communicates this in stupid dorky ways. Pop the corn!

Hunk rolls his eyes. Hows detention

Eh not that bad just me here. He stops for a moment. Oh yeah me and keith

Hunk blinks in surprise. You mean top of class keith?

Only one keith i know dude Lance smirks. Man hes even more emo up close

I wouldnt say that fifteen feet away is close lance but whatever you say

Hunk seriously though hes so weird Keith’s blood seem to chill as he translates this. Like he just spilled ink everywhere and i think hes staring at me

All the teachers expect more out of him thatd turn me a little weird too tbh

Yeah but like hes so weird A brief moment of quiet where he contemplates for a choice of words, and during which Keith increases his attempts, lemony smell of the cleaner stinging his nose as he squeaks the towel against the table. Like what the hell is up with the haircut? And hes so quiet

Keith doesn’t catch Hunk’s response, but he does hear Lance’s, despite his attempts to drown it out. And he hardly talks to anyone. It’s like he has no friends

Pause for Hunk. Yeah but seriously hes sorta creepy Pause for Hunk. That wouldnt be surprising Pause for Hunk. He always one upping me and it pisses me off. Its bad enough that im barely scraping by but then here comes mr hotshot and suddenly hes teachers shining example. Its all keith this keith that and im sick of it. Everytime iverson says his name i want to barf

By now Keith was struggling not to shake. It was like being stabbed, except remembering a mishap he had a long time ago with a knife, stab wounds hurt less. When using a sharp enough knife, all you remember about it is that it's cold and everything's dizzy. Now, it felt like the air was a thousand times colder than a knife accident in the warm spring sunlight, and his head reeled violently. The desk, despite having been cleared away of ink several minutes ago, was still suffering Keith’s violent scrubbing.

“Keith. Keith Kogane!”

He blinks; the teacher is calling his name. “Yes?”

“You may go.” And with her final words, and he releases his hold on the world, watching it dissolve back into the eternal inky darkness. Lance, Hunk, and the teacher pay no mind as they vanish into specks of light that are quickly swallowed by the shadows.

Of all the memories he could have chosen to relive, it was that one. The one that haunts his dreams and tugs on his brain. But he needed it for the pain, the pain was what reminded him that he was still human, he was alive, he was real. He was still Keith Kogane, ingrate, dropout, excelled student, future fighter pilot, top of the class. Still Keith Kogane, Red Lion Paladin, tired sixteen year old, stupid teen with a crush on a boy, listened to country music. Still here. Still alive. Still real.

He chooses a nicer memory this time, one that’s soft and gentle. A lullaby he picked up somewhere, accompanied by soft guitar and warmth. His eyes are closed in this one, all fuzzy splotches of pink behind his eyelids, and he welcomes the feeling.

He doesn’t go back to the inky darkness for a long time.

[set-phasers-to-whump]

whumptober day 7

prompt: isolation

whumpee: aidan waite

fandom: being human (US)

quick disclaimer:  this is horribly ooc bc i havent seen the show in utter ages since its not on netflix anymore and i am well aware that it sucks and im sorry but i have to post something so heres this utter garbage heap of not-even-whump. i promise i hate it just as much as you do.

Aidan Waite wasn’t a good person. He wasn’t even a person, actually. And he had done far too many bad things in his long life to be considered ‘good.’ So he was a bad vampire. No matter how hard he tried not to, it seemed like he always relapsed into drinking directly from people. No good person hurts other people. Ergo, he was bad.

He had been hanging out with Bishop and one thing had led to another, and here he was, feeling dirty with live blood. He kept telling himself that he couldn’t keep doing this, but he never seemed to be able to resist. He returned home around five in the morning, ashamed and slightly drunk.

He was tired of this, the constant pull to just grab someone and drain them. He found himself wondering what he could do, and finally came up with an idea. He could lock himself up, isolate himself from the world, somewhere where he wouldn’t be able to find any humans to drink-a sort of detox. He could bring blood bags from the hospital and stay for maybe a week, and see what that did.

It wasn’t a perfect plan-where would he go, for one thing. The woods? Some abandoned house on the outskirts of the city? He couldn’t just lock himself up in his room-his housemates wouldn’t much care if the door was locked or not, they had ways around it. He couldn’t let them interfere, couldn’t let them know what he was doing. He doubted they’d approve, and they’d try to find him. He needed to do this, just to see if it would work.

And work it did. Aidan had found himself an abandoned cabin in the woods, and had even gone a step further and locked himself in its basement. He had known he would easily be able to break the lock if he wanted to, so he had bought himself some handcuffs which he was pretty sure would be able to hold him, and had cuffed himself to an old iron bed frame he’d discovered in the basement when he was exploring the cabin. His plan was to bring his phone and call Josh after a week and ask him to come unlock the door. He had a power block, plenty of blood bags, and a few books to keep himself busy. 

The first two days went pretty well, he thought. Josh had called him, but he had explained that he’d been called out of town unexpectedly and would probably be back within the week. Aidan was pretty sure that Josh hadn’t believed that for a second, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He had drank a few of his blood bags and had read one of his books and started on a second. He was bored, sure, but it was only five more days.

The next two days passed slowly and agonisingly. Aidan’s eyes began to hurt from all the reading, and he didn’t want to use his phone in case he accidentally drained all the battery from his power block and ended up trapped. He tried to sleep, but the basement was cold and damp and he hadn’t thought to bring a blanket. A detox wasn’t supposed to be comfortable, he had thought. 

By the fifth morning, he was ready to leave, but he had promised himself he’d stay a week. He hadn’t really thought this through, he realised. Of course in here he was perfectly able to resist the temptation to drink people, but there weren’t any people around! All this was doing was making him miserable. But he had made it this far, he couldn’t give up now.

So he suffered through a fifth day in the mouldy and uncomfortable basement. His limbs had grown used to not having many places to go, and now everything just sort of ached. He wondered if he’d be able to stand up when the week was up, or if he’d just fall right over.

The sixth day passed in an even worse manner-it began to rain at around four in the morning and didn’t let up until late afternoon. The cabin, being in such a state of disrepair, was far from watertight, and the basement became even more damp, and the mildewy smell only got worse. 

So to sum things up, he was cold and wet and beginning to be affected by the mould, not to mention he was lonely and bored out of his mind. He couldn’t sleep that night at all, and sure, he didn’t necessarily need to, but he wanted to, more than anything. But there was about half an inch of water on the ground and his wrists had begun to ache in their restraints. At least he wasn’t hungry. At least he only had one more day.

Finally, finally, his last day in the cabin arrived. He had actually done it! He spent his day lost in thought, planning out how to better tackle his issue, seeing as this solution had not been the most useful. He did manage to sleep that night-most of the water had leaked out to somewhere else, and although the ground smelled even worse than it had before the rain, he was too tired to notice. 

At last it was the dawn of the eighth day-he had made it through an entire week. He grabbed his phone, which he had managed to keep dry and charged throughout the week. His hands shook a little as he called Josh-what exactly that was from, he wasn’t sure. 

Josh didn’t pick up. He didn’t really know who else to call, so he kept trying-Josh did have work today, he supposed. Maybe he was just busy.

But he didn’t pick up all day. He had Bishop’s number, but calling him might defeat the entire purpose of this terribly planned endeavour. 

Aidan resigned himself to spending another night in the basement. And then another. He had started to worry after his fourth call to Josh, and he was now absolutely panicked-but his handcuffs were doing their job far too well, and he was completely stuck, with the key thrown across the room and the bed frame absolutely refusing to move. He was going to have to call Bishop. He put it off for as long as he could-he was really not looking forward to having to explain himself. 

And then he was saved by the bell, or rather the call-Josh’s number flashed across his screen at last!

“Aidan?”

“Why haven’t you picked up? Did something happen?”

“Yeah, my phone broke, I just got it back today. Where are you? I thought you said you’d be back within a week.”

“I’m...in the woods. In an old cabin.”

“What? Why?”

“I was just trying something...I’ve been here for, like, ten days. I can’t even feel my legs anymore.”

“Where exactly in the woods are you?”

Aidan gave Josh the best directions he could, and Josh promised he’d be there as quick as possible.

After what seemed like an eternity, even compared to the endless days he’d spent alone, Aidan finally heard a door open above him.

“Aidan? You in here?”

“Josh! I’m in the basement!”

He heard Josh’s footsteps on the stairs, and finally, the door creaked open.

“Aidan...you look awful. Why are you even here?”

“I was trying something...a detox, I guess.”

“Did it work?”

“I realised a few days in it wasn’t going to be able to do much of anything.”

“Why didn’t you call me then?”

“I thought maybe it could still work, I couldn’t just give up.”

“You’ve been here for ten days! Where’s the key to these cuffs?”

Aidan motioned to the corner where he’d thrown it. “Man, you really made sure you couldn’t get out, huh?” Josh said. 

Aidan didn’t reply. Josh came over to him with the key and unlocked the handcuffs. Finally, he could move his limbs again! Aidan immediately tried to stand up, but his legs were having none of it, and he promptly toppled into Josh, who barely managed to catch him. 

“Let’s get out of here and you can walk around outside,” Josh suggested. “There’s mould everywhere in here, I can’t believe you’ve been breathing this for ten days.”

“I’m not alive, Josh.”

“Still.”

They made their way upstairs (well, mostly Josh made their way upstairs. Aidan’s legs still weren’t cooperating) and out of the cabin. The fresh air felt so nice and clean after so long spent breathing stale, mouldy air. 

It didn’t take too long for Aidan’s legs to work again, and soon after that, Josh was pushing him into his car and driving them home. 

“Aidan!” Sally came hurrying to the door to greet him. “Where the hell have you been?” 

Aidan explained his plan to her and Josh as they looked at him in bewilderment. 

“Why would you think that was a good idea?”

“I didn’t fully think it through, okay?”

“Clearly.”

“You’re filthy, how about you go take a shower and I’ll make some dinner,” Josh suggested. 

“I’ll find us a movie to watch,” Sally offered. “Only fair I get to choose since I don’t get to eat,” she added. 

Eventually, they were rejoined by a much cleaner Aidan, wearing a thick sweatshirt and pajama pants-it felt so nice to be warm again. He and Josh brought their dinners to the couch, and the three of them settled in for a movie. 

Aidan hadn’t really registered how much he’d missed simple human-well, not exactly human-contact until now. Josh was warm against him, and even if he couldn’t actually touch Sally, her presence was solid (for a ghost) and real. He stretched his legs out onto the coffee table in front of him and leaned his head against Josh’s shoulder. He wanted to swear to himself that he’d never do anything stupid like that again, but he knew he probably would. He’d just have to hope his friends would be there for him again.

im so sorry if you read this i know its bad but by the time i realised how bad it was i was too far into writing it to start over

[bicrsacks-archived]

✩ Zianni (Bc I'm really trash?)

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? zacharie, honestly. Who threatens to leave but never actually does? neither of them; they’re too attached to do that. gianni is very calm and level-headed about this sort of stuff and zac doesn’t jsut give up on things.Who actually keeps their word and leaves? neither ok byeWho trashes the house? ... neither again.Do either of them get physical? nope, not at all.How often do they argue/disagree? very very rarely; gianni and zac have this silent harmony where things just fly under the radar or they deal with things calmly.Who is the first to apologise? if there ever is a real argument, gianni most definitely grows up and apologizes first.

Sex:

Who is on top? gianni, of course, hands down.Who is on the bottom? zacharie, his cute twink self is a power bottom. Who has the strangest desires? i honestly want to say that, for once, zac is well-matched in his strangeness with gianni.Any kinks? total power exchange, orgasm denial/control, begging, roughness in general (read: hair-pulling, bruising zac up a little)Who’s dominant in bed? gianni is, but he lets zac thinks he’s in control at first.Is head ever in the equation? of course it is.If so, who is better at performing it? lets be honest it’s probably very well-matched here. i feel like zac is just more likely to give gianni head than the other way around.Ever had sex in public? i’m sure they have at some pointWho moans the most? zac is a loud guy.Who leaves the most marks? hm, both. Who screams the loudest? zacharie.Who is the more experienced of the two? both are evenly matched in this respect.Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? both. gianni loves fucking zac rough just because he can’t get over how into it he is but there’s something so nice about making love to him tbh. like it’s both. depends on the mood.Rough or soft? i think they both have a serious inclination towards roughness. zac just deals with stress so often and having to order his employees around that there’s just a special thrill in letting go and getting manhandled a little.How long do they usually last? stamina is their middle nameIs protection used? no. a lot like zaise, they both got tested (bc lets be honest, theyre way more careful than zaise in general) and once they were in the clear, they just don’t bother with a condom.Does it ever get boring? lmfao noWhere is the strangest place they’d have sex? does Zac’s office count? i mean come on who pictures the big bad ceo of a company bent over his own desk moaning to get fucked?

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? eventually down the line, they choose to have a child.If so, how many children do your muses want/have? i can see them having 1 to 2. chanel definitely would surrogate for them for one or both children.Who is the favorite parent? i’m sure they both dote on their children equally and are both favoritesWho is the authoritative parent? for once i think both parents would be just as strict.Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? hm... neither.Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? neither, again.Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? both !!Who goes to parent teacher interviews? both!!!!!Who changes the diapers? bOTH!!!!!!!!Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? B O T HWho spends the most time with the children? both wtf Who packs their lunch boxes? zac, bc he loves food.Who gives their children ‘the talk’? ... gianni i’m sure.Who cleans up after the kids? both.Who worries the most? zac, tbh.Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? ZAC.

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? zac, omg... my little cuddle beanWho is the little spoon? zac, can’t tell me otherwiseWho gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? zac, again. Who struggles to keep their hands to themself? i’d say zac but gianni is just so in love w zac that touching him is his favorite thing to doHow long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? im sure quite some time.Who gives the most kisses? gianni just absently kisses zac all over.What is their favourite non-sexual activity? snuggling ok zac needs the intimacy. and all gianni wants to do is scoop him up and take care of him.Where is their favourite place to cuddle? cuddled up in bed or on the couchWho is more likely to playfully grope the other? gianni tbhHow often do they get time to themselves? between their jobs i’m sure they’re so busy but they make that time actively for each other

Sleeping:

Who snores? gianni i’m sure snores a bitIf both do, who snores the loudest? gianni but he’s not terribly loud.Do they share a bed or sleep separately? share a bed ofcIf they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? cuddled up together, gianni loves holding him.Who talks in their sleep? neither.What do they wear to bed? both are either naked or just in their boxersAre either of your muses insomniacs? zac is a bit of an insomniac bc he doesn’t really... sleep muchCan sleeping pills be found by the bedside? zac stays away from pills of all sorts really.Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? wrapped up in each other totallyWho wakes up with bed hair? gianni, i’m sureWho wakes up first? zacharie alwaysWho prepares breakfast in bed for the other? zac, okay !!! just surprise his man with breakfast in bedWhat is their favourite sleeping position? spooning or with zac halfway on top of himWho hogs the sheets? neither.Do they set an alarm each night? yes they both do tbhCan a television be found in their bedroom? yes zac has a huge flat screen.Who has nightmares? i’m not entirely sure tbh? both?Who has ridiculous dreams? neither.Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? neither they’re always tucked up and curled into each otherWho makes the bed? zac, i’m sure. gianni if zac has to leave early What time is bed time? depends on how busy they are im sureAny routines/rituals before bed? nah unless you count rough sex to tire zac outWho’s the grumpiest when they wake up? zac is a grump

Work:

Who is the busiest? both are very busy but I’ll go and say Zac is a bit more soWho rakes in the highest income? Zac, by muggle standards. Gianni comes from a very well-off magical family, and he works a very high-paying job in the Ministry.Are any of your muses unemployed? Nope!Who takes the most sick days? Neither, they’re both serious workers.Who is more likely to turn up late to work? Neither I’m sure... unless they get distractedWho sucks up to their boss? Neither. What are their jobs? Gianni works for the British Ministry of Magic while Zac is a CEOWho stresses the most? zac is a bit more stressed by natureDo your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? gianni is honestly neutral about his job, but zac loves what he doesAre your muses financially stable? yes ofc.

Home:

Who does the washing? bothWho takes out the trash? bothWho does the ironing? bothWho does the cooking? zacharie ofcWho is more likely to burn the house down just trying? im sure gianni just because he doesn’t understand muggle kitchens; poor guy can’t figure out how the stove or microwaves work.Who is messier? neitherWho leaves the toilet roll empty? neither, manWho leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? neither !!Who forgets to flush the toilet? NEITHERWho is the prankster around the house? zac is slightly less serious but i wouldn’t say he’s goofy enough to prankWho loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? neither, man these two are like the most stable, calm, and stoic couple you’ll meet.Who mows the lawn? zac’s house keeping employeesWho answers the telephone? zac, gianni still has a hard time with technology.Who does the vacuuming? zac, read above. vacuum cleaners give gianni a heart attackWho does the groceries? both!Who takes the longest to shower? both [eye emoji]Who spends the most time in the bathroom? zac because grooming

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? not at all honestlyHow many cars do they own? zac has a billion cars, gianni has none because e doesn’t drive.Do they own their home or do they rent? yes they do indeed own it, they moved into a new mansion together.Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? not necessarily countryside but not the coast eitherDo they live in the city or in the country? close to the city.Do they enjoy their surroundings? yes! gianni likes it secluded but its close enough to the city for zac.What’s their song? i haven’t decide dyet come back in 3 business daysWhat do they do when they’re away from each other? gianni goes through the trouble of texting to talk to zac because he misses him. but they keep to themselves,. busy themselves with work until they’re together againWhere did they first meet? through chanel at durmstrangHow did they first meet? they just met through chanel as she grew up with gianni and just introduced the two. zianni were jsut fwb at first but then that became more after they graduated and reconnectedWho spends the most money when out shopping? i want to say it’s zacWho’s more likely to flash their assets? zac.Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? ... neither i would thinkAny mental issues? zac has a lot of internalized issues about being abandoned and whatnot.Who’s terrified of bugs? neitherWho kills the spiders around the house? bothTheir favourite place? just being in bed because they’re lowkey introvertsWho pays the bills? both together but lbh most of the muggle money comes from zac.Do they have any fears for their future? not really i wouldn’t say soWho’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? both are i’m sure; gianni is a very traditional gentleman like thatWho uses up all of the hot water? both.Who’s the tallest? they’re the same height.Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? gianni joins zac alwaysWho wanders around in their underwear? zac, more than likely.Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? neither kjdfngjkngWhat do they tease each other about? gianni constantly teases zac for being a delicate little thing that bruises easily.Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? .. neither i’m sure. gianni is very understated and subtle, dressing in neutral colors and that complements zac’s all black wardrobeDo they have mutual friends? chanel and blaise, yes!Who crushed first? hm, i think gianni just a little more than zac just bc zac was in denialAny alcohol or substance related problems? zac has an alcohol problemWho is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? zacWho swears the most? zac again