#stupid(withlove)

[kindagar]

he's stupiddd

on the topic of different unrelated aquatic mammals wasn't there also one marsupial that became aquatic and is notable as the ONLY semiaquatic marsupial?

somehow it gets past the whole "babies might drown in the pouch" issue

yeah, the yapok! it's native to mexico and central america, and it's the result of the north american branch of opossums trying to make an otter and mostly succeeding :)

there are many many MANY partially-aquatic mammals out there, but only a few totally-aquatic marine mammals.

[hurting-fictional-people]

Betrayal Story - Part 6

Hii look at what I finally finished! sorry for taking so long to post this guys, I don't even have an explanation lol... I have something else already half written for the boys so hopefully I won't take so long to update the story again 🙃 anyways, I hope y'all like it <3

tagging @thelazywitchphotographer @swift-perseides @whump-it-like-its-hot @sunflower1000 @msrandonstuff @fromtheo-withlove @boxofsilence @lionhxartx @sometouchofmadness @paleassprince @livingforthewhump @1becky1 @shameful-indulgence @whatwhumpcomments @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams @starnight-whump @writingbackwards @noodlesandkareokee @mylifeisonthebookshelf @nightwhumpee

CW: forced sedation, manhandling, drugged whumpee, needle mention, aftermath of branding/burning

Part 1 here, continued from here

-

Liam can’t move. Every time he does, his arms do too and the mere brush of burned skin against pristine bandages is enough to get him on the verge of tears.

The room he’s kept in is too barren, too small to provide any kind of distraction from the constant pulse of pain – too much and never abating. No one listens or cares when he begs for medication, for anything to ease the agony. The doctor comes in to see him, give him antibiotics and check if there’s no infection, but barely looks at Liam when he whimpers under gloved hands.

The first time he takes a glance at the twisted skin underneath the wound dressing, a breathy, hysterical laugh slips out, quickly followed by a silent gasp as Chase’s initials weigh on his arms. He was always his, in the end, wasn’t he? Even after being betrayed and stabbed and kidnapped, he could never get the agent off his mind. Now he’ll be on Liam’s body as well.

It takes all of his willpower not to rip the dressings off once the doctor and nurses leave, just to stare at the hideous thing his arms are now.

But in the silent room, with nothing to do but think and despair, Liam can’t stop looking at the bandages.

He doesn’t know how long he spends staring at it – at the white itchy gauze, and the burns that hurt underneath it. At the C and the R he knows are forever burned on his skin. Like fucking cattle, marked with his owner’s name. Like the stupid boy who thought he could give his heart away to the beautiful, mysterious man that smiled at him. If nothing else, it is a good reminder of how big of a fool Liam is. If he lives long enough for it to be useful, that is. If Jonah doesn’t decide he’s had enough of Liam soon.

Horror floods him at the thought, and when his heart speeds up, Liam can’t hold it any longer. He pulls off the bandages in one swift movement, holding his breath when a wave of fire licks his arms. It doesn’t stop him from ripping out the second bandage though.

His hands tremble on his lap as Liam stares at the skin above his wrists, red with blood and raw skin disfigured into letters. It looks just as ugly as it feels.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until a tear drips on his thigh. And then another and one more, until he’s openly sobbing, chest heaving and stomach twisting.

Lost in tears and the sight of burned skin that sinks into his heart and burns everything there too, Liam only realizes there are people in the room when a hand grabs his forearm.

“What did you do? I just bandaged that,” the nurse complains.

This time, this one time, he moves. Liam yanks his arm away from their grasp and stumbles out of the bed, away from the nurse that stares at him with wide eyes and a startled frown.

“D-d-don’t touch me,” he hisses, holding his hands as close to his chest as he can, and hissing again when sore skin rubs against his shirt. “Stay the fuck away!”

But instead of moving back or so much as talking to him, the nurse calls for the guards and starts walking in his direction.

Liam takes a step backward and presses his back against the wall, wild eyes searching for an escape, a weapon, anything, but salvation is nowhere near. “Please, don’t. Leave me alone.”

When the guards open the door and enter the room, Liam slides to the ground, as small as he can make himself, elbows on his knees, arms protecting his head.

“Get off!” he screams when hands grab at him, and thrashes in the hold. His foot connects with soft flesh, his knee with someone’s chin, but there are too many men. Too many hands for too little strength, no matter how desperately Liam fights.

They drag him through the floor as Liam writhes with every last bit of stamina he has, panic driving him to fight like he wishes he could every time he’s hurt.

A different kind of pain blooms as he squirms uselessly in unforgiving grips – one deeper, familiar, warmer. Liam still doesn’t stop.

“Fuck, he reopened the stab wound,” someone shouts over the cacophony of pain and panicked struggling. “Hold him down, now!”

Liam is pushed to the floor, and when someone squeezes both his arms to keep him there, right over the exposed burns, the world turns red, and a scream tears its way out of his throat.

“No, no, no, get off!” he sobs, kicking out even when a needle sinks into his arm. “n-n-nggh off, get, get o-off,” he tries again, but the world is already slipping through his fingers. He kicks out and thrashes as best as he can, but it isn’t enough. There are stronger bodies over him and the movement is barely there at all.

As much as Liam tries to keep his eyes open, they weigh too heavy, the drugs stronger than he is.

What isn’t?

Liam’s body relaxes against his will, slumps under harsh hands and angry stares, and all he can do is whimper when they drag his limp body to the bed.

-

Chase moves through life like a ghost, only a shell of helplessness and worry, and for the first time, his team notices. He hasn’t slept in days, not with Liam’s face twisted in agony ready to wake him up each time he closes his eyes. Has barely eaten, no appetite left when all he can think about is the boy he loves being hurt on his account.

How can he be free when Liam is locked up? How can he be the one who isn’t hurting when he is the only one who ever deserved it?

“Come on, I know that there’s something wrong,” Zoey says, crossing her arms.

If he could simply flee, he would, but with the hacker standing right in front of him, Chase knows it isn’t worth it. Even if he did leave, she wouldn’t stop trying to get the truth out of him. So Chase sighs and looks down at the blond woman who looks ready to commit murder.

“We all know it. You look like shit. What’s going on?”

It takes all of his strength to plaster a smirk on his lips and lean against the wall with a casual tilt of his head. “You guys worry too much. I’m fine, Zo. Probably could do with a little more sleep, but who couldn’t?”

As convincing as he hopes he sounds, Zoey doesn’t seem at all impressed by his acting. If anything, her frown deepens. “I know you, Chase. And you know me, so you know you can trust me. You look even worse than you did after that mission with the newspaper boy.”

Newspaper boy. If that was all Liam meant for him, maybe Chase’s heart wouldn’t be this tattered.

“Zoey. I am okay, I p– I promise.”

I never lied to you, he had said to Liam as he bled out in Chase’s arms. I betrayed you, yes, but not once did I lie. Stay alive and I’ll prove it to you.

But that was just another lie, wasn’t it? Liam is as alive as ever, and all Chase’s done is cause him more pain than any of them ever imagined possible. All he’s proven is his failure to keep Liam safe.

What is another lie when he’s already filled with them? Maybe that’s all he was always meant to be, all he will ever be – a betrayer. A traitor. A liar.

With a casual shrug that makes his stomach twist, Chase sidesteps his teammate. Before he can move farther away though, she grabs his arm and pulls him back.

“You are good at lying, but I can see the way your eyes have gone dull. I’m not going to force you to say it, but when you get tired of pretending to be fine, I’ll be here. Okay?” When Chase doesn’t answer, she takes a deep breath and nods. Zoey leaves him standing there, feeling dirty and raw, something stirring inside his chest and begging him to tell her everything.

Chase opens his mouth, the truth one breath away, and takes a step towards Zoey’s back. And then his phone buzzes, and reality comes crashing back as he looks at the screen and she disappears down the corridor.

Wanna see him?

It’s the first message he’s gotten from Jonah in days, and Chase holds his breath and freezes for a second at the words.

He’s rushing to his car even before his mind has caught up with his legs.

He’s standing in front of Jonah’s building in a matter of minutes, heart racing but mind weirdly quiet. Static silence, fear building up.

Jonah waits for him in the lobby this time, leaning against the open door of the elevator with a smile on his lips.

“Chase! Long time no see.”

“Where is he?”

“Straight to the point, huh. Boring as ever,” Jonah rolls his eyes. “I was feeling generous today, thought you might want to say hello. I’m not sure our dear boy will answer you, but you can try for yourself I guess.”

“What the fuck did you do?” Chase hisses as Jonah nods for him to get inside and presses the button.

“Nothing bad. He was just fussing about the pain, so my nurses gave him have a little something to relax.”

Chase steps into the elevator, two guards close behind, and fears he’ll shatter his jaw from how hard he’s clenching it.

“He also doesn’t really like his new… adornments, I don’t think. Ripped the bandages earlier today, wet the whole bed with tears.”

Jonah’s voice is light as he says it, the tone one would use to talk about something meaningless, something that doesn’t make Chase sink his nails into his palms and hold his breath. The man’s eyes are the telltale, shining with dark glee, and Chase can see the way Jonah follows his every movement like a predator, reveling at the little cracks in his unruffled façade.

“So when I offered him something to calm down, he didn’t even think before accepting,” he continues.

The doors slide open before any of them can say anything else. A small mercy.

The walk to Liam’s room is as quick as it is infinite. They stop in front of the door so incredibly soon, yet so painfully late.

“Be nice to him, I think he’s going through a phase,” Jonah chuckles as he nods for one of his men to unlock the door. “And don’t forget that this is your fault, dear.”

He barely realizes he’s entered the room until the lock clicks behind him. And then Chase’s eyes find Liam, and the world stops on its tracks, just like it always does when they are in the same room together.

He’s lying on his back, arms open and hands hanging off the bed, bandages covering the skin from Liam’s elbows to his wrists. His eyes are open, but unfocused, slow blinks that lead to nowhere even when Chase takes the first step towards him. His chest rises and falls slowly, rhythmically, a shallow blow of air through parted lips, and despite everything, Chase is happy that Liam isn’t in pain.

It is only when he stops beside the bed that Liam’s head lolls on the pillow, a sunflower looking for the sun even though no real light can reach him here. Still, he looks, and half-lidded eyes roam around the room before finally stopping on Chase’s face.

“Hey,” Chase says, curling one hand into a fist while the other clutches the edge of the bed.

“Mmgh,” Liam slurs with a shuddering breath and a crease on his forehead before trying again. “I, mm, I’m not, n-uh not feeling… well.”

“How can I help?” Chase’s voice is hoarse and low, pained, but Liam hears it. He hears it and he whimpers, shaking his head no.

Make it stop, his mouth forms, but doesn’t voice.

I can’t, Chase wants to scream, I’d give anything to make it all stop but I can’t. Instead, he softens his voice and tries to smile. “What if I do something to distract you? I… I was told you are under some strong drugs.”

Green eyes blink at him, and Chase is happy there are only the two of them in the room. He might actually lose it and punch Jonah square in the face if the man was here.

“How about I tell you a story? You’ve always liked them.”

Liam swallows, eyes darting around the room again, and even though Chase knows he isn’t listening, not really, he sits on the edge of the bed and starts talking.

“It’s about a boy who thought he could change the world, but instead changed the person who was sent to stop him.”

“Sou-sounds like a shit story,” Liam mumbles.

“Depends on how you look at it. Or who’s the one telling it, I guess.”

There’s a pause, and Liam sighs softly before talking again.

“Are you… are, are you really… here?”

The words slam into his chest, shattering anything left in there, and though Chase holds himself firmly still and keeps his face carefully free from anything but tenderness, something collapses inside of him. Maybe it’s his heart. It feels like it, and he wants to cry, to grab Liam and leave, but he can’t, and Liam strains to focus on his eyes, so Chase smiles like there isn’t burning agony rippling through him.

“Do you want me to be?”

“I, I don’t, I don’t know.” It is only a murmur, but Chase knows he’ll hear its echo in his nightmares for a long time – the uncertainty, the fear, the sadness. The helplessness.

I’m here. I would be here forever if I could.

But the words are only that – words. He can’t be here forever, nor erase all the pain he’s caused and continues to cause. So Chase picks up the pieces of his heart and pretends it doesn’t hurt to smirk and brush Liam’s hair away from his forehead like he used to do so long ago.

If he can’t take Liam away from this nightmare, the least he can do is pretend it is a dream.

“Then you should stop dreaming about me.”

“Ca-can’t,” Liam frowns, staring at the hand Chase just touched him with. “Will, will you leave? Again?”

“Only if you want me to.”

Liam looks up again, and something is missing in those eyes. A spark of life that was still there the last time they saw each other, but isn’t now. As Chase searches for the hope he always loved in the depths of Liam’s gaze, what he finds instead is sadness.

“Don’t go,” Liam breathes. “I, I, my h-head, it it it feels weird, Chase.”

“I know, love,” Chase says calmly, nothing of the wild desperation that rages inside of him seeping through the words. Not when Liam is this lost, this vulnerable. Not when it is the first time he has called Chase by his name after the betrayal. “It’ll pass.”

“I’m scared,” he murmurs, shifting on the bed. “But, I, I don’t remember… why.”

“You are okay, Liam. I promise. You’ll be okay.”

Liam closes his eyes and shakes his head, and when he speaks, his voice is only a whisper, gone even before he finishes. “I don’t believe you.”

Chase bites on his lip and creases his forehead, but none of it shows when he takes Liam’s hand in his own and gives it a little squeeze.

“I know. That’s okay too.”

But Liam isn’t there anymore to hear it. His body sags on the bed, taken away by the drugs, and Chase is left alone in Liam’s cell, watching the boy he’d kill and die for fall asleep. As he does, all Chase can think about is that he needs to get Liam out of here. Somehow, he needs to get him away, no matter the cost of it.

An hour goes by, and though it is one of the worst hours of Chase’s life, is it the first time he doesn’t feel like a part of his heart is bleeding in days. Not when he can see the bleeding part right in front of him.

He wants to wake Liam up, to hear his voice while he can, before he’s forced to leave again. But there’s peace on his face as he sleeps, and Chase can’t take him back to reality when he looks like he used to, like he could wake up at any moment and kiss Chase with a smile.

And then the door opens, and the memories vanish as Chase reluctantly gets up. As soon as he does though, Liam stirs on the bed, frail hand reaching out and grabbing Chase’s wrist before he can move away.

“You promised me… a… um, a story.”

Liam’s eyes open for a moment before closing again, but he doesn’t let go. Chase shoots one look at the guards waiting by the door and knows that nothing good will happen if he waits. He has to play nice if he wants to get Liam out.

Chase looks down at Liam again, and when he finds half-lidded eyes struggling to stay open, he can’t stop his voice from breaking mid-sentence.

“It’ll have to stay for another time, okay? I’ll see you soon, love.”

Liam’s eyes flutter back closed with a soft sigh. His voice is soft as the tears that sting Chase’s eyes when he speaks. “You al–, you always leave in real life too.”

Chase can’t find an answer before he is dragged out of the room by a firm grip he knows better than to fight. He yanks his arm away as soon as the door locks him and Liam on different sides, and hears the words rattling around his head while he is lead to sit in Jonah’s office to hear what the man wants next. All the way back to his house.

He doesn’t think when he calls Zoey. All he hears is Liam.

All he can see is Liam’s lost gaze, the life fading out of his eyes. All he knows is that if he lets him in Jonah’s claws one more second without doing anything, he might actually, truly, crumble down until he can’t pull himself back up.

He is sitting on his couch, hands over his face and elbows on his knees just like they have been since he got home, when his friend opens the door.

“Oh, Chase,” she breathes as soon as she sees his face and sits beside him. “What happened?”

He doesn’t get to crumble down. Not when it’s Liam the one being hurt. The one branded and tortured and kidnapped and betrayed. Still, when Zoey’s gentle arms wrap around him, he hugs her back.

“It’s Liam,” he says, fighting to get the words out through his heaving breaths, trying to force his mind to put them together long enough for someone else to know it too because he can’t do this on his own. He thought he could, he thought he was enough, but he isn’t and he needs to get Liam out, no matter what, no matter how, he has to, he has to before the light goes out in that beautiful green gaze. “He, I, he’s caught and it’s my fault and I thought I could keep him safe but I can’t and now–“

“Chase, breathe,” she commands, and he answers. It’s all he knows how to do, isn’t it? Answer orders. Look at what happens when he’s left on his own. “Let’s start from the begging.”

So Chase does.

(next)

[creweemmaeec11]

Avoiding Love: Epilogue

Guys this is so soft. I may have beaten kind touch in softness without crossing into that cliche over the top cringey cute. How do I do this

Part one Part two

The villain was having a hard time believing just what was happening right now.

He was laid back on the couch of a motel room, lights off late at night, some crappy movie playing on the small low res tv in front of him that he was barely paying attention to.

It would have been a fairly normal thing if not for the hero contently snuggled into his chest, sound asleep on top of him.

If this was a dream, he did *not* want to wake up any time soon.

But it wasn't a dream, this was real life. Feelings bubbled up in his chest as he looked down, movie long forgotten about. The hero was sound asleep, relaxed and snuggled in just about as close as he could get to the villain, having made some comment about it being punishment for avoiding him for 4 days.

If that was the case the villain might just have to do it more often.

It had been hours, and he could still feel the slight tingle of where the hero's lips had kissed his cheek.

He caught himself smiling again.

Gods. This creature in his lap had him so wrapped around his finger it was stupid.

The villain couldn't bring himself to mind.

"You're staring again,"

The sudden voice snapped the villain back to reality only to see two eyes sleepily peering up at him.

How long had the hero been awake?

The villain's face immediately took on a red hue.

How long had he been staring?

"I wasn't! I- wait- again?" The villain sputtered.

The hero on top of him giggled, and the sound immediately made the villain feel warm and floaty inside. The hero's face when they laughed while half asleep had to be one of the cutest sights the villain had ever seen. He felt his heart rate pick up again when he remembered what said hero had said earlier.

This hero could play him like a violin without even trying. He had it so bad it was ridiculous. He would have even called it pathetic if not for the fact he wouldn't change it for the world. Not if it meant losing this.

"Yes, again," the hero replied, before yawning mid-sentence and snuggling in even closer, "you were doing it for most of the movie too,"

The villain blushed even more. He was fairly certain the hero would be able to feel how flustered he was even from where he was snuggled against his chest.

"Sorry..." the villain muttered, shifting slightly.

"I don't mind" the hero replied, "I'm just wondering what you're looking at,"

"Nothing. I'm just... staring off into space,"

"For a villain, you're a terrible liar," the hero replied, idly drawing circles on the villain's chest with his finger, which caused goosebumps to rise. The villain could hear the amusement in his voice.

The villain wasn't sure what to say.

"I think it's pretty cute," the hero continued, yawning yet again, "That your staring and don't even realize it,"

The villain shrugged, pathetically tongue-tied and unable to come up with an excuse.

The hero shifted, getting more comfortable before snuggling even closer, "you're so warm,"

The hero glanced up when he still didn't get a response, only to see the villain pointedly looking away from him. The hero giggled again, poking the villain's stomach gently, "Sunshine, you don't need to stop looking at me,"

The nickname alone made the villain's gaze snap back to the hero laying on top of him.

"I was just wondering why, I didn't mean for you to stop," he explained with a small smile.

"You'd laugh," the villain muttered, trying not to shift nervously and disturb the hero who was still practically half asleep.

"I would never," the hero replied more seriously, "If I ever did, it would be fondly, certainly not mockingly. I promise,"

The villain huffed. This was unfair. He couldn't say no to the two puppy dog eyes looking up at him now. He never could.

"I'm just trying to convince myself this is real," the villain admitted under his breath, "because it feels like a dream,"

He couldn't meet the hero's eyes while he spoke, but when he didn't immediately get a response, the villain dared a glance.

The hero was looking up at him with a big yet soft, genuine smile. He reached down, grabbing the villains hand with his own, pulling it in closer and subsequently pulling the villain's arm around him.

"This is real," The hero reassured, intertwining their fingers, "don't worry"

"I just... never thought I'd ever get to hear you say it,"

"Say what?" The hero asked in confusion.

The villain opened his mouth to reply, but stopped, blushing, like the words were caught in his throat. He bit his lip.

But the hero caught on quickly, a small smirk growing on his face.

"Ohhh,"

The villain glanced at him, before looking away again, cheeks darkening.

"I could always say it again you know, if you'd like," the hero offered, failing to hide the amusement in his voice.

The hero smiled as he felt the villain go statue still underneath him. He turned his face downwards, resting the side of his head against the villain's chest. Gently, he examined the villain's hand in his, tracing over the different scars lightly.

"I love you," the hero whispered quietly. Even he was too shy to say it while looking at the other.

In his ear, he could immediately hear the sound of the villain's heart rate pick up, suddenly thumping like a jackrabbit through the snow.

The hero immediately giggled in delight, which didn't help the pounding in his ear slow down any.

He went to say something, most likely a tease of some kind but was cut off by a large yawn, causing the villain above him to chuckle.

"You should go back to sleep darling, you can barely keep your eyes open,"

The villain felt slightly guilty, avoiding the hero for 4 days was probably part of the reason he was so tired.

"It's okay, I'm not- *yawn* - that sleepy..." the hero replied, despite clearly losing the battle to stay awake.

The villain just shook his head and scooped the hero up in his arms as he stood up.

"Wha-"

"Just moving you to bed,"

After laying the barely conscious hero down, he threw the blankets over him. Right as he went to pull away and head to his own bed, he felt something grab onto his hand.

The hero was looking up at him with a mixed expression of pleading, sad, and almost slightly betrayed.

The villain gave a defeated laugh.

Puppy eyes were so cheating.

"Move over,"

The hero's eyes lit up.

He barely got a chance to settle down under the covers before the hero was reattached to his chest snugly. The villain just idly began combing through the hero's hair.

They lay in content silence for a minute, before a barely audible mutter caught the villain's attention.

"I really don't mind you know,"

"Mind what?" The villain asked in confusion, staring at the ceiling above.

"The staring," the hero replied, voice barely discernible from where he was mumbling, barely conscious on the villain's chest, yet still somehow managing to snuggle even closer, "makes me feel safe,"

The villain looked down in shock, only to find the hero had finally waved the white flag and lost the battle of staying awake, now sound asleep.

The villain doubted the hero would even remember any of this conversation in the morning.

He was kind of banking on it because he would never live it down otherwise.

One way or another though, he was sure of two things.

One, he was in love.

And two, he was *definitely* sending supervillain a fruit basket after this.

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[froggywhumpy]

Punishment

- - -

>:)!!! finally some whump!!!! I thought this chapter was a bit longer than my others, but I checked the word count and- no. It’s not. I hope people enjoy the shorter style because all of my stories are kinda like that. I think this chapter is pretty good, too!! Enjoy our poor baby Ezra learning the consequences for his actions >:)

- - -

Tagging: @milk-carton-whump @whatwasmyprevioususername @myst-in-the-mirror @happy-whumper @abitefullofwhump @starnight-whump @cowboy-anon @whumpasaurus101 @fromtheo-withlove

- - -

CW: Whipping, knife mention, yelling, swearing, fear of heights, Drew is really mean and Damion is sadistic

- - -

Ezra had never been more terrified in his life than he had when Drew told Damion what he had done.

Drew’s brother was older, and stronger too. Drew- well, he was horrifying, but at least Ezra knew him. With Damion, Ezra never knew whether he would act calmly, or if he would snap his arm off.

However, when Drew told his brother that Ezra had made a call, Ezra knew he was in trouble.

“You’d think he’d have a bit of common fucking sense.” The older man snapped, closing the distance between himself and Ezra in but a second.

Ezra pressed himself further into the corner, trembling like a child. “Please- I’m sor-sorry, I swear, I swear, I’ll never do it again, please, don’t- please-“ Ezra dissolved into frantic pleading, begging as if his life depended on it.

“You didn’t think you’d get off the hook without any punishment, did you? In fact, I think you need to be taught a lesson.” Damion sneered.

Ezra shook his head. “No, no no no, no- please, please don’t-“ he looked up at Drew, desperation clear in his eyes.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Ezra’s stomach dropped. “What?”

“Oh, wow. You’re so fucking stupid.” Damion grabbed Ezra’s wrist, yanking him harshly to his feet, eliciting surprised cry from the boy. “It’s really adorable how you still think he’s on your side, though.”

“Please, please please please-!!!“ Ezra continued to beg, his voice raising as Damion pulled him out of the living room, and down the hallway.

His pleas were completely ignored. Ezra was dragged down the hall, shaking as Damion opened the door at the end of the hallway.

The room Damion had brought him to wasn’t particularly terrifying by itself. It was somewhat small, and while the walls were covered in windows, the mountains weren’t visible, to Ezra’s relief. In the center of the room was a metal pole going all the way from the wooden floor to the ceiling. Against one of the walls was a long metal cabinet, running over a significant portion of the wall. Other than that, the room was empty.

Damion shoved him over to Drew, who had entered the room behind them. Petrified, Ezra whimpered as Drew brought him over to the pole in the center of the room. A moment later, Damion handed his brother a roll of rope, which Drew used to tie Ezra’s hands together, tying them to the pole over his head.

“I’ll never- never do it again, please, just don’t hurt me.” Ezra sniffed, his tears barely kept at bay.

“It’s far too late for that, love.” Drew’s frown deepened as he tied Ezra to the pole by his waist as well.

“Please, please please please- I’ll never ever do that again, I’ll- I’ll never ever..” Ezra rambled on, only somewhat coherent by this point. His pleas were ignored yet again, as Drew and Damion went over to the cabinet and began looking through it.

“Look over here.” Drew ordered. In Damion’s hands were two weapons; a knife, and a coiled whip. Ezra’s eyes widened. “Which one do you choose?”

Ezra shook his head. He didn’t want to choose- which one would hurt less? Ezra had never been whipped before. Just the thought of that being used on him sent chills down his spine. Defeatedly, he hung his head in resignation.

“The knife.”

“Great!” Drew grinned, taking the knife from Damion and approaching Ezra. Ezra squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for pain as Drew raised the knife towards him, but it never came. Instead, he felt cool air crawl across his exposed skin as Drew cut the shirt he was wearing off of his body. Ezra watched, not daring to move an inch.

Once Drew was finished, Ezra again prepared himself for the pain he was sure was coming- but after a moment of silence, he realized Drew had put the knife away, and had backed away from him.

Ezra stared at him for a moment, confused, before he saw Damion uncoil the whip.

“Wait- wait, I didn’t- I didn’t choose that one!!” The desperation was plain in his quivering voice.

“Life’s full of disappointments, isn’t it?” Damion laughed.

“That’s not f-fair!! Please, you can’t, you can-“

The next thing Ezra knew, the whip was brought down upon his bare chest, his skin instantly splitting the skin open. Ezra screamed in agony- The pain far exceeded Ezra’s expectations. He never even imagined it would hurt like this.

“Oh, stop screaming. And you might want to hold your head up, unless you want me to hit your face.” Damion began to smile, barely even audible over Ezra’s torment.

“Stop, stop, I can’t!!” Ezra sobbed. “I can’t, I can’t do anymore!!”

“Yes, you can.” Drew glared at Ezra, speaking with disdain. “And you will. I think ten lashes will be enough for you to have learned your lesson.”

“Ten?” His eyes widened further. “I can’t do ten, Drew!!”

“I guess you should’ve thought about the consequences before you disobeyed my direct orders, then.” He snapped.

Defeated, Ezra listened to Damion’s advice, holding his head up as he braced again for the incoming pain. He felt nauseous at the very thought of having to endure ten lashes.

The second hit was just as painful, if not worse, than the first strike. An anguished cry escaped his lips, blood now dribbling from his open wounds.

When Ezra heard the third crack of the whip, he was already anticipating the pain that would come soon after- that didn’t mean he didn’t still scream out in excruciating pain as the whip struck him. The phone call wasn’t even worth this. Jason would never find him. Trying to contact him was pointless. Ezra wondered if trying to escape was pointless, too.

Ezra didn’t have much time to contemplate that, as before he knew it, the whip was brought down on him again. Every time, he thought he knew what it would feel like to be struck by the whip, and every single time, he underestimated the pain.

By the time the whip cracked for the tenth time, Ezra’s world seemed to spin, distorted by pain and blurred by his tears. His body was completely limp against the ropes, and if it weren’t for them, he would’ve collapsed a while ago. Much to his relief, none of the lashes had landed on his face. Ezra was grateful for that much.

“No more,” The boy whimpered as Drew approached him yet again. “Please, Drew, I can’t do anymore.”

“There won’t be any more.” Drew sighed, still frustrated. “No more whipping. But your punishment isn’t over yet, so don’t get too comfortable.” Drew removed the ropes from his around his waist, and then his wrists.

Ezra collapsed, and he would’ve fallen to the ground if Drew hadn’t caught him. He let out a cry of pain; every tiny movement hurt.

“I’m tired, no more punish- punishment, please.” He whined.

“You deserve it.” Ezra never would’ve believed these words could’ve been spoken by his previous lover. Each word felt like a knife cutting through him. He had never felt betrayed like this ever before. Nobody could deserve this- Drew didn’t really think that, did he?

Ezra was dragged from the torture room, writhing in pain as he was lead upstairs. Ezra’s head was spinning. He was brought into a clean room. Ezra was able to make out a desk, bookshelves, a door to a balcony- oh gods, Drew was taking him onto the balcony.

“No- no, no, no, no, Drew, don’t!!” Ezra screamed, his desperation neglected as he was pulled out onto the rickety wooden balcony.

If Ezra thought the floor was moving when he was inside, it was nothing compared to how he felt on the balcony. Lightheaded didn’t even begin to describe how he felt as he stood on the poorly made platform, overlooking a 1,000 foot? 2,000 foot? drop.

Ezra was forced to his knees- he shrieked, terrified of getting closer to the cliff face, even if the difference was only a few feet. Drew pulled out a pair of handcuffs, cuffing Ezra’s hands around the wooden railing of the balcony.

Ezra gaped at Drew, petrified that movement of any sort would cause the balcony to just break. Drew didn’t seem worried in the slightest. “Now, you’re gonna stay out here until you can tell me why what you did was wrong. Understood?”

“I know why, I know why, you can- take me in now, I know-!!”

Ezra’s begging was abruptly cut off, Drew’s hand cracking against his face as he slapped him. “None of that. Shut up and take your punishment like a good boy.”

Without another word, Drew walked off of the balcony, taking time to lock the balcony doors and draw the curtains, leaving him absolutely and completely alone.

Ezra cried. He couldn’t take it any longer. This time he would die, he was absolutely and positively sure of it.

[strigwrites]

🐱 - A time they found a stray animal

(Art source)(As told by @fromtheburn-withlove)

The caravan moved at an easy pace through the white crunch of the desert, and after even twenty malms on the march, that sort of lackadaisical stroll might have been a blessing, but we were hundreds away from any kind of reprieve in a jagged scar filled with sand and savage wildlife. At that point, just call it what it is: a death march.

We lost a few guys back at the dig site—no, let me rephrase that. We lost most of our guys at the dig site, and we had orders to return our finds to base camp on a strict deadline that was, as most tend to be, completely impervious to the reality of human limitations. So with three-quarters of the crew missing, we couldn’t afford to burn daylight and took off before any of us could truly process the sight and sound of our comrades being rended to shreds in the million-fanged mouths of sandworms who refused to die out of sheer spite. Needless to say it was a quiet trip.

It was a flinching movement out of the corner of my eye that caused me to stop and scramble for my weapon. Those who marched outside the wagons to conserve space saw my movement and mirrored it on impulse; we were prey and we knew it, a vulnerable line of famished and fatigued men and women who couldn’t afford to think beyond the next step, just one foot in front of the other in that bone-dry purgatory. You could feel the hackles rise as we waited for the sudden explosion of sand that heralded the arrival of another burrowing foe and prayed it would happen under some other poor bastard first.

I held my breath and waited, and then I saw it again—a flutter that I pointed my gun at and almost nearly pulled the trigger for when I caught a glimpse at something unusual. Fur. I was the brave and stupid bastard that stepped out of line to approach the movement, curiosity overtaking my better senses (or perhaps I was delirious from the sun) until I could prod the barrel of my rifle into the sand, nearly leaping out of my skin when it met with the fleshy yield of a very-much-alive body. I stepped forward as the others surely cowered and waited for me to be eaten alive in sacrifice for my indulgence, and I fell to one knee. With gloved hands, I gingerly probed and dug until the near-lifeless body of a desert hare greeted my sight.

“Well, hello there,” I rasped from beneath my scarf, staring down at the marble eye that rolled back at me, its body twitching with the occasional electric jolt of fright. “You’re a rare bird out here, little man. Surprised you haven’t been eaten.”

“What is it, Kat?” a voice called behind me.

“We’ve got ourselves a bunny rabbit.”

“That’s funny.”

“I’m not joking. Come have a look for yourself.”

Much to my surprise, the caravan came to a shuddering halt and the others gathered around. Under normal circumstances, they’d be barking at me to keep moving, but my proclamation changed the mood as suspicion melted into piqued interest. In truth, this was the kind of novelty we never got. We were all starved for something good and uncomplicated. We were so hungry for something that was not imminently threatening, something we could trust not to hurt us or deceive us.

“Well, ain’t he a handsome boy?” a man called out with his hands on his hips. I dare say he even smiled a little.

One woman stooped and offered out her waterskin; I removed my gloves and dipped my fingers in the opening, drip-feeding this parched, sun-baked rabbit back to life for damn near a half an hour while others sat around and watched and waited, touching its fur like a relic. Before you knew it, they were telling stories of pets they left back home, furred or not, and how much they’d adored them.

In the end, our little friend was tucked into my jacket and came along for the ride. I could feel his little nose moving against my ear, sniffing into my hair as he returned to life with each nibble of dried rations we sacrificed in service of this unexpected token of hope. That night when we made camp, it felt like the winds were finally at our back. In the morning, he was gone.

[pinartindia-blog]

If a friendship last more than seven years, it lasts a life time. . Tag your bff's . Gift your bff a token of crazy, stupid times spent together through the growing years.(we customize a special card for your bff) #bff #badge . Shop on www.pinart.co.in . #handmade #withlove #badges #pins #pin #lapelpin #badge #bff #bestfriends ##metallic #magnet #pinart #badge #pinartindia https://www.instagram.com/p/BvondpEnUK2/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=h088j038rygb

[doctorlavant]

#same #red #white #silver but with #teardrop #shape and #stupid #glitter dammit! 😲🤔👍🏽 #earring #earrings #earswag #earringswag #eardope #earringporn #earringgame #earringgamestrong #earringgameonpoint #earringgameonfleek #earjoints #earmagic #earspliffs #earringstagram #earringwhore #earringsofinstagram #earringsofig #instaearrings #handmade #withlove #byme #doctorlavant (at The Lavant Compound)

[hurting-fictional-people]

Betrayal Story - part 5

This is it guys, this is why the characters got names! I hope y’all like it <3  

CW: branding, burning, forced to watch, emeto (pretty brief and only at the end), whumpee restrained to a table, nonsexual noncon touch, hurt no confort again but that will change eventually I promise lol

tagging  @thelazywitchphotographer @swift-perseides @whump-it-like-its-hot  @sunflower1000  @msrandonstuff @fromtheo-withlove  @boxofsilence  @lionhxartx @sometouchofmadness @paleassprince @livingforthewhump (let me know if you ever want me to stop or start tagging you ♡)

Part one is here, continued from here

-

Fire is strangely beautiful, Liam thinks, watching it flicker and dance in the hearth. A kind of painful beauty that hurts to see, the idea of touching it enough for gooseflesh to rise, but pretty nonetheless. 

He wishes he could be like fire. Not because of its beauty, but because it produces no shadow. No darkness comes from the flames, only light. And pain, when touched without notice. If he could be like that, only light and self-defense, maybe all of this wouldn’t hurt so much. Chase’s leaving, the dread of what each of his breaths might bring as time passes, the plummeting of his stomach every time he hears footsteps outside his room’s door. 

The flames crackle, and Liam wonders why it is he can’t shake the fear off, as he remembers the guards bursting into his room and pulling him out of bed, leading him outside as Liam pretended each step didn’t make him want to scream. That was minutes ago, and yet the fear still drums in tandem with his heart, pulsating turmoil into his bloodstream. Why feel fear when all it does is make things worse? Wouldn’t it be easier if he could just be at peace in those moments between pain, before it comes? But instead, his mind or his body or his soul decides to fill him with dread – only another layer of horror he cannot avoid.

Jonah was waiting for him when they brought Liam inside a weirdly cozy living room, leaning against the fireplace and watching Liam’s uncertain footsteps as he was pushed down to lie on a steel table placed in the middle of the room. Eyes glued to him as Liam was restrained until he could no longer move. His gaze went straight to the fireplace and stayed there since, watching the flames as memories of electricity, lighting up his every nerve until he nearly lost his voice to screaming, flashed before his eyes. The memory is still fresh enough to freeze him into not resisting. What a pitiful sight he must be.

“Hello there,” Jonah smiles, taking casual steps towards him and stopping by his side to watch from above, hands in his pockets as if having someone tied to a table in his living room is nothing out of the ordinary. “How are you today, Liam? Has your voice returned after our last encounter?”

He lifts his gaze to find the man’s eyes blinking innocently at him.

“You are sick,” Liam rasps out, shaky and small, but the words are there. He might be restrained and scared, but he is not broken. He isn’t. Right?

“That’s a yes, then. Very good, I like to hear you,” scream – he doesn’t even have to finish the sentence for the word to be heard. Liam feels sick. “Now let’s call our mutual friend, shall we?”

Liam narrows his eyes as Jonah types something on his phone. He can’t be talking about– 

“Chase!” Jonah says to the camera Liam only now notices a few paces away, held by another one of Jonah’s men. He tries to hear more, but Jonah comes so close to the camera and talks in such a low voice that all he grasps and holds on to is the name. 

Jaw clenched and stomach churning, Liam stares at the ceiling, letting the wave of bitter rage break against him without resistance. It wins the battle against fear for one moment, and that’s enough for him to seize it with every last bit of willpower. It is better to be angry than frightened, and he’s had enough of the latter for a lifetime.

The frantic beat of his heart turns into aching memories of Chase’s lies, promises of love he never intended to keep, each word meant to trick Liam into being a fool. Twice. Once months ago, then again when he genuinely, stupidly, hoped Chase would pick him instead of a job. Fucking ludicrous. 

But bitterness can only do so much to keep fear at bay, and when Jonah’s voice reaches his ears again, not even a minute later, it comes crashing back and flooding his veins with pointless adrenaline.

“He was a very good boy if you want to know. Just stood there, still and obedient as we buckled in the restraints,” he says to the camera, stopping beside Liam once more, placing a hand on his head. “Say hi to Chase, Liam boy.”

“Fuck you,” he spits. Fuck both of you, he means to complete, but Jonah’s hand is already closing on his hair, drawing out a pathetic little whimper from his lips.

“Language, Liam.”

He closes his eyes and waits for the hand to let go. It’s all he can do. Still, his hands twitch uselessly by his side, palms turned to the ceiling closing in fists, knuckles scraping against cold steel.

“I guess this is a lesson for both of you, then. For Chase to not be a prick and for you to behave better, my pretty plaything.”

Eyes snapping open, he glares up at Jonah, feeling indignation bubble up inside of him.

Jonah doesn’t even see it. He is too busy looking at his phone with an unamused expression before handing it to one of the guards. 

Is he talking to Chase? Is Chase delighting in seeing Liam like this, helpless and scared?

The part of him that refuses to give up entirely shakes its head, remembers gentle touches and tender gazes that couldn’t possibly have been faked. The other part, the one that grows each day he spends in this hell, purses its lips and scoffs at his naiveness. If Chase cared, he wouldn’t have left him here. 

“You know, if it wasn’t for Chase, this wouldn’t be happening,” Jonah says, painful grip turning into deceivingly soft fingers that run through Liam’s hair in mock sympathy. “He knew what I’d do if he pissed me off. So here we are again. It is always him, isn’t it Liam? It doesn’t matter how far Chase goes, he’s always the one causing you hurt.”

He tries to fight it. Of all the things he’s been put through, he fights the tears that prick his eyes. And just like everything else, he loses. They fall in warm drops down his temples as he turns his head, looks away into the fire again. No shadows there, nothing like the darkness seeping through the cracks of his heart, tainting his soul.

“Now for the fun part,” Jonah declares, sauntering to the fireplace, crouching down in front of it. Something entirely too close to panic pools in Liam’s stomach as he gets back up, holding two iron rods he’d dismissed as fire pokers. As Jonah approaches him, he can see with disturbing clarity how wrong he’d been – the rods’ bright-orange tips shine in intricate shapes. Letter shapes.

“J-Jonah,” he breathes, more sob than word, “please, please don’t.”

Jonah smiles at him, and without saying a word hands one of the brands to a guard before placing himself beside Liam’s exposed arm.

He tries to breathe, beg, say something, but every rational thought disappears as Liam follows the blazing hot shapes with wide eyes, gasping for air that refuses to fill his lungs.

He is almost there, the please I’ll do anything hanging from the tip of his tongue when the branding iron is lowered onto the delicate skin above his wrist. 

Burn could never describe the pain that steals every last bit of himself Liam tries to hold on to. Fire sinks into his skin, into muscle and bones until it reaches whatever lies within, and destroys everything in its path. He screams, cries and wails senseless pleads, but nothing passes through the ocean of agony he’s drowned in. 

He barely notices when the brand is pulled away.

He does when the second one is pressed onto his other arm though. 

Liam writhes and sobs, but there’s no escape, no mercy to be begged for. Only pain to feel, nothing, no one else but pain and pain and pain that swallows and dissolves the world into searing flames that hold nothing of whatever beauty he thought he saw.

-

You know, what really makes me mad isn’t even your fucking stupid idea of keeping things from me. It’s the shit job you did deleting those files. Who do you think I am, Chase?

That was all that waited for Chase when his phone buzzed, along with a link to a live stream instead of a video. No recording this time, no certainty that at least while Chase watches, Liam isn’t in pain anymore. 

“Chase. I see you’re faster now. Pity you’re no smarter,” Jonah sighed as soon as he clicked on the link. “But I won’t go into how fucking idiotic it was of you to delete half the information I asked you to get me,” he hissed, low and angry enough for Chase to feel the words as bugs crawling along his skin, up and down, circling his throat, ready to squeeze. “What’s happening here today is entirely on you. I hope you see and hear and remember every bit of it, sweetheart.”

He felt like screaming when Jonah closed his hand in Liam’s hair and made him yelp. The impulse to clench his fist until it shattered the phone was strong enough for Chase to connect the live stream to the television in his living room and bite on his lip when the image expanded and Liam’s terror became so painfully obvious.

One minute later, Chase nearly threw the phone at the wall when he called the man and Jonah simply looked down at his muted cell phone on the other side of the screen and handed it to someone else.

“You know, if it wasn’t for Chase, this wouldn’t be happening,” Jonah said, and Chase seethed, half anger and half guilt boiling inside of him. “He knew what I’d do if he pissed me off. So here we are again. It is always him, isn’t it Liam? It doesn’t matter how far Chase goes, he’s always the one causing you hurt.”

Chase dropped the phone in time to avoid crushing it, but the desk chair didn’t escape his rage. Its broken pieces fell on the other side of the room, doing nothing to soothe the horror building up in his stomach.

And then Jonah grabbed the branding iron, and Chase’s heart missed a beat at the sight, eyes widening in tandem with Liam’s.

“J-Jonah,” Liam choked out, “please, please don’t.”

“Jonah,” Chase said too, unable to hold it in just like anything else in his life, even if he knew he was the only one listening. There was never such a thing as restraint when it came to Liam. If only Chase had seen it sooner. “No–“

When the iron descended on that soft, silky, perfect skin above the restraint circling Liam’s wrist, Chase fell on his couch, legs too weak to hold his weight. 

Liam screamed, loud and raw and utterly hopeless, back trying to arch and being pulled back down by too tight restraints before it even left the table. His body spasmed, trying to escape the blaze, but there was nowhere to go, and it took only a moment for the despair to turn into sobs and tears.

It didn’t last more than a few seconds, but those would star Chase’s nightmares forever. Jonah pulled the iron off Liam’s now bright red skin, and Chase couldn’t bear to look at the letter-shaped burn. He also couldn’t help it. 

When Jonah exchanged the used iron with the second one, Chase felt bile rise in the back of his throat. “Please, p-please, please,” Liam begged, so little Chase barely heard it, so dazed he didn’t think Liam did either. 

He echoed it though.

“No, please don’t.”

But no one heard him, and the second branding iron was pressed to the inside of Liam’s other arm, and his mouth opened in a silent scream Chase heard nonetheless.

By the time the second one is pulled away, Chase is kneeling on the floor, hands covering his mouth and tears threatening to overflow.

It is nothing compared to Liam, though. His mouth hangs open even as the iron stops touching skin, and soft sobs wrack his slim body as his glassy eyes leak a constant stream of tears into his hair.

Chase doesn’t even move when Jonah’s voice leaves the speakers again.

“So? Do you like it?” he asks, a manic grin stretched across his lips as he points to Liam and the camera walks toward him. 

It focuses on his face first. Sweat, tears, pure agony written all over it. His eyes lay open and unfocused, lost to the pain. The image slides down to his heaving chest, restrained arms, until it stops above both his wrists.

Chase turns to the side and vomits at the sight. 

Two bright red burns mar the perfect skin he had once worshipped with lips and tongue and feather-light touches that never felt like enough. 

Jonah chuckles, and the live stream ends in that ghastly image of two letters forever engraved on Liam’s skin. Flourished and elegant, a C stands out on his right arm and an R on the left one. His initials. Chase Raymond. 

Chase pukes again, and then curls up on the floor and weeps.

(next)

[hurting-fictional-people]

Betrayal Story - Stargazing

Tonight I bring y’all pure unabashed future fluff. I don’t think I’ve ever written something this soft before. I’d say it’s disgustingly soft, but the boys really needed some comf :’) we’ll be back to our programmed whump content in the next part lol

tagging  @thelazywitchphotographer @swift-perseides @whump-it-like-its-hot  @sunflower1000  @msrandonstuff @fromtheo-withlove  @boxofsilence  @lionhxartx  @sometouchofmadness  @paleassprince  @livingforthewhump @1becky1  @shameful-indulgence  @whatwhumpcomments @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams

(story starts here)

This is set many months after Liam is rescued, and after he forgives Chase for the betrayal. So, like, MANY months from where the story is now.

-

“I’m lost,” Liam whispers to the stars. The grass field in front of the cottage he and Chase rented or, more truthfully, stole for a few weeks, would be in complete darkness if it wasn’t for the tiny spots shining above him. There’s only the moon out here to listen and keep him company as Liam lets his eyes wander from star to star. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who I am anymore.”

He doesn’t fight the tears that slip down from the corners of his eyes and disappear into his hair. Just lets them go, along with everything he used to be and doesn’t know where to find anymore.

“I do,” comes the voice from behind. 

Liam flinches even before he has the chance to recognize Chase’s quiet tone. His cheeks tinge red, embarrassment gnawing at his insides.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” he says softly, watching from the ground as Chase lies down next to him.

“Sorry. I thought you might want the company.”

His heart is still pounding from the scare, but Liam has learned that he can never tell Chase no when he is being this open, so weirdly vulnerable, so different from the mysterious man he once was. Liam nods and looks back up.

“Did you know that the constellation right there is called Tiny Fairy?”

Liam turns his head to the side and frowns at Chase. “No, it isn’t. There’s no constellation called that.”

“Of course there is,” he says calmly, pointing a finger to the sky. “There are the wings, and right there the arms. See?”

Liam squints, but the stars, as usual, just look like stars. “I can’t see it, but okay, if you’re saying it then I believe you.”

Chase’s head snaps to the side, something akin to surprise in his gaze, the tug of a sad smile on his lips. “I’m not being serious. There’s no Tiny Fairy constellation. There could be, though, it really looks like it.”

Liam snorts and rolls his eyes. Fitting. 

“Liam.” He shoots Chase a side glance. “Whoever you are now, whoever you’ve become after the hell you went through, is still someone worthy of love. Someone I’ll always admire and care about, no matter how much you change. You know that, right?”

His voice is light, as silky as his fingers once were against Liam’s skin. Still, somehow, it makes his heart weigh heavy inside of him.

“What if I don’t love me anymore?”

“I can love you for us both until you find yourself again,” Chase whispers.

Liam doesn’t smile, but something in his chest becomes a little lighter. There’s still hurt there, pushing and pulling and aching, but Chase’s words are a fresh breeze on a hot day. Blows away the heat, brings in a new breath of air even though they both know it won’t last. It’s only a breeze after all.

Still, Liam enjoys it while he can, and under the night sky with no one there but the two of them, he silently reaches out a hand to touch Chase’s fingers, fingertips only grazing his skin, but enough for his heart to race for the right reasons this time. He doesn’t have to look to the side to know Chase is holding his breath. He is too.

They move at the same time to entwine their fingers, and in tandem with them, a shooting star crosses the sky.

Liam makes his wish and tries not to look at Chase as he does.

The grass under his body flutters in the night wind, crickets chirp, and Liam pretends that this is all there is. That this is the whole world. That there’s no one out there hunting him, just waiting for him to slip up. This is his whole world, and all it is made of is Chase and the night.

“What did you wish for?” Chase asks after a while.

“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

Chase laughs, and the sound fills one of the many little holes in Liam’s heart. 

“What did you wish for?” Liam asks.

“What about the ‘if I tell you it won’t come true’?”

He smiles, and for once in a long time, the stretching of his lips feels true. Right. He smiles wider.

“You are beautiful,” Chase says, just like one would whisper a prayer. Despite every scar telling a different story, Liam believes him. There’s no way to doubt when Chase looks at him like that, like he is his whole world too.

“Can I–“, Liam stops, takes a deep breath, and shakes his head. “Never mind.”

“Can you what?” Chase squeezes his hand, a slight crease in his forehead at the uncertainty in Liam’s face. “Tell me.”

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers. It is nervous and small and hesitant and feels so infinitely stupid once it leaves his mouth.

They haven’t touched each other like that since the time when Liam thought Chase was a journalist. Even though sparks still dance over Liam’s skin every time their bodies come close, it never lasts. They always pull away. Liam, because sometimes the thought of being touched without notice feels too much like being back with Jonah. Chase, probably because Liam is so broken he’s become all but a burden now. 

Why would he think that Chase’d want to kiss him now? Holding hands doesn’t mean that they are back to what they once were, not after all that happened. Not after he’s been ruined, scarred, broken. 

What a stupid fucking idea, why did he–

“Are you sure?”

Liam stares at Chase, blinking surprised eyes at the hope on his face.

“I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to, or aren’t ready for,” Chase says, sounding as worried as Liam was a moment ago. “Are you–“

He raises himself up on one elbow and leans over Chase. Before he can finish the sentence, Liam smiles and presses his lips against Chase’s.

The kiss is something made out of tenderness and longing, sprinkled with stardust. It is soft, as soft as the hands they bury in each other’s hair, the one Chase wraps around his waist to keep Liam there. 

When it ends, it is only so Chase can whisper “This was my wish. This, right here,” before kissing him again.

Liam smiles against his lips, and as the kiss deepens, he doesn’t tell Chase that this is what he wished for too.

[pinartindia-blog]

If a friendship last more than seven years, it lasts a life time. . Tag your bff's . Gift your bff a token of crazy, stupid times spent together through the growing years.(we customize a special card for your bff) #bff #badge . Shop on www.pinart.co.in . #handmade #withlove #badges #pins #pin #lapelpin #badge #metallic #magnet #pinart #badge #pinartindia https://www.instagram.com/p/BvonPp8nA4M/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1r56sq12d9hq4