#the guy was unresponsive and his wife was screaming his name while me and a bunch of people in tacky Christmas sweaters tried to help

[angeltannis]

Of course a patient would code in the waiting room on silly sweater day

[ask-marios-apprentice]

Daze

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Before we begin. I would like to say something about SML. This post is meant to be a follow-up to last year's post. Goodman.

While I have decided not to feature SML content due to controversy. I'm willing to make an exception in this case for storytelling reasons

Due to Garth having a story and abilities tied to the character of Mr Goodman. I will be featuring him in today's post. I hope you understand.

I might find a workaround or go back and change this post in the future. I hope you will forgive me.

Now on to the post.

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I was at diagnostics. today. I just needed a check-up, nothing bad was happening.

I was in the waiting room, sitting next to a poplin businessman. He was going on about...Something unsavory.

So I decided to speak up. I spoke to them about how if they continue to do bad things [I want to give this individual privacy] maybe bad stuff will happen.

I spoke in a tone that was a bit sorrowful but firm, maybe a little bit angry.

The odd thing was. After I spoke to them, they were in a sort of paralyzed state. Kind of in a daze.

...

this is the third time this has happened.

First with Goodman, Second with the Kongs and Kremlings, and now this guy.

But back to the story. The businessman was called into the doctor's office. But had to be helped since they were generally unresponsive.

I started to worry.

I decided to stay after my check-up.

The businessman was alright. At least once he snapped out of his daze I mean. The doctors actually wanted to talk to me.

They said that there was a sort of... well. i don't know how to describe it other than a hallucination. The Man was screaming about being tormented by a vision covered in a weird viscous shadow. No like the shadow lung. But something like that.

To describe the hallucinations, (he gave me liberty to say what they were), a bonfire made of personal belongings on my left, and his... ex-wife (it depends on how you want to look at it.)

...

I think I showed him a vision of the future. Or at least a vision of what is yet to come.

i wanted to get some more info. But he was still shaken up.

The next best thing for me to do was to talk to the previously dazed.

I went to Peach to see if she could help me out.

I wanted to know more about the Kongs And Kremlings.

In general I seem to be unusual terms with most Kongs in the species sense and friends and allies to some Kremlings (I still got an occasional parcel with some doubloons from Captain Skurvy and his crew.)

But I figured I should ask someone. Peach has contacted these two groups for political reasons. I figured in the name of ... I don't really know. She could maybe help out.

Peach put them on a conference call and I used a text message in order to ask questions.

The skinny is that they sort of Saw a vision. At least a few of the kremlings and Kongs did I mean.

Country War K

That's the only way they could describe it. It's a bit strange.

Peach said some stuff afterwards that could maybe help with this ability.

She brought up how when she was trying to master her magic. It's best to try and pinpoint what happens where.

Even if it's not magic that I'm doing. I think it's a good piece of advice.

I decided I need to make one last stop before I try and know anything else.

Goodman

Mr Goodman

I haven't really seen Mr Goodman since last year. I visited his Tower in order to deliver a stuffed mushroom but that was about it.

I managed to schedule an appointment.

In betwixt a number of investors businessmen ( including the one I met earlier), hired muscle, and miscellaneous people. I was definitely the odd man out there.

I managed to get to see Goodman.

He actually seemed to be a bit better than he was when I last saw him.

He wasn't asked threatening or rude. But he definitely was still lacking a bit of empathy.

Mr Goodman had apparently took in time to try and become a bit of a better person. Obviously he still has a ways to go considering he still owns a fortune 500 company that is willing to ruin your credit score at a buttons press. But at least it's only happening to people who are not exactly great themselves.

I mean I'd rather it not happen to anyone. But still.

I actually don't think he remembered that much of what happened last year when I confronted him.

Oh he mainly remembered was a weird vision of him being strung up by his boots while people burned his money with torches that were paid for by the money that wasn't burnt.

But I don't know if he actually remembered the dialogue that I said.

In short the basic stuff that I know about this weird ability that I might have is:

1. I can talk to people that are bad.

2.It puts them in a daze

3. They see weird visions of bad stuff happening.

I need some time to think about this

Garth signing off.

[curse-of-the-dark-emerald]

Curse of the Dark Emerald, chapter 3.

Back at Green Hill, Tom tossed a few times in his bed, trying so hard to get to sleep. But everything he tried, he couldn’t shut off his brain. He glanced at Maddie, her back facing the opposite of his gaze, she didn’t seem to be bothered or notice his restlessness.

He gave up trying to ignore the growing worry for Sonic. Tom pushes the blanket away and stands up slowly, making sure not to disturb his wife.

“I’m overthinking, I’m overthinking…”

Tom left his room and went to the ladder and stairway to the attic, and stood on the spot, deciding if checking on him was really a good idea this late in the night. He scratches his hair nervously and it thought, it was now or never. Tom was inches off from touching the floorboards, but stopped.

Tom shook his head and sighs heavily “I’m such a worry-wart.”

Tom gets back in his room and glances at the alarm clock on his nightstand; reading 2:32 am. He needed to be up in 4 hours for work, and this wasn’t helping him. Tom gets back in bed and just after a few minutes, he finally goes into slumber.

…

Sonic awoke and jolted his body up, eyes flashing to ocean blue for a moment and froze.

“Where-? I was..”

Immediately, confusion settled in and he sluggishly stood up, and made a run for it, only to be hit face-first into a wall of glass. “Ack!!”

Taking a moment to actually scan his surroundings, he saw a new opening, Sonic made another leap and ran to escape, only to have the same result. He continued to ram himself  into the walls though he knew it wasn’t working, each time it put his body in pain, each time he cried and yelled at every hit.

“Hey!! Anyone there?!”

Sonic’s heart began to throb and race against his chest, his eyes frantically looking for a way out, he jumped the highest he possibly could, reaching under 15 feet but it was still too high to climb or reach. Sonic grit his teeth and more panic took over. He pounded his hands on the glass, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to not be afraid, and the one person who could be responsible for all this…

“You’re awake?”

A voice on speaker somewhere within this glass prison crackles, Sonic looks up, a man with somewhat dark skin, a short beard, and gentle smile stares back.

“Good to see you’re still alive, what was your name again? Sonic?”

Sonic only glares at the man, teeth grinding, “Who are you?”

“I’m Agent Stone, close assistant to someone you...should already know.” Stone nods his head at Sonic, in a pleasant demeanor.

“Yeah, I pieced that together, right before you knocked me out.” Sonic’s voice turns sharp and cold at him.

“Don’t worry about my boss, he’s not actually here at the moment.” Stone gestured with his hand, “You’ll just be with me for now.”

“You think I’m gonna just sit in your little fish aquarium, and you what? Drown me?” Sonic retorts, keeping one brow raised at Stone.

“Jeez, someone’s a little morbid.” Stone panned, and shook his head. “No, Sonic. I wouldn’t do that. I’m not that...you know..” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Anyways, my mission is half finished; you were pretty easy to catch as long as I wasn’t seen by you. And might as well tell you why you’re here: Your purpose is to simply charge power to my bosses machines. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Sonic caught a glimpse of something in Stone’s expression, was it doubt, or fear? He didn’t sound all that convinced to himself. Sonic noticed that he didn’t have the Rings with him or the Emerald anymore, creating a painful knot in his stomach.

“Damn it..”

Bzzt -”Hurry up, Stone, or else I’ll finish you off first.”-

Stone flinched and hastily started pushing buttons. Sonic’s ears twitch at the voice from the speaker, he knew that voice and confirmed it,

“It IS Eggman. But where??” He tried to look for his enemy, but saw him nowhere.

Sounds of whirring and machinery became louder, making the glass tube he was contained in to vibrate. Sonic knew he was in serious trouble, he desperately looked for a way out. Cursing at himself that he should’ve been more careful in the first place…Stone was concentrated on the dash in front of him, jumpstarting the necessary power and programs to begin whatever it was Sonic feared he was going to do. After a few more moments, Stone grins.

“Finished that. You ready, Sonic?”

Sonic glares at him again.

“Good enough.”

Stone holds up a bright, green object in his hand, “I assume you already know what this thing is?”

Sonic’s eyes went wide and gasped. “The...Chaos Emerald?”

“Sure, if that's what you wanna call it.” Stone shrugged, and left his spot.

Sonic’s weary gaze never left following the accomplice of his enemy, as he carried the Emerald.

“I ran a small test on this object, it has a lot of radioactive-like energy, but not toxic in any shape or form so I can touch it, it seems. You, and it should be enough to complete the procedures.”

He climbed on an upper catwalk that Sonic could see enough to watch him. Stone opened a metal door to a new chamber with a wide window; and set the Emerald in the center of the chamber on top of a flat surfaced support beam. Stone quickly returns to his original post.

“I’m not afraid of you.” Sonic spat sharply.

“Oh, I know.” Agent makes a brief smile at him while he glances at Sonic, then focuses back on the control panel.

“Don't worry, I’ll make it quick. I honestly am impressed with how brave you are. If this goes smoothly, you might live.”

What’s with this guy? He’s definitely not like Eggman, so he’s kind of nice..?

Sonic blinks rapidly, trying to not fall for this man’s showcase of kindness and complements.

“Yet, I’m here, because I was so stupid.” Sonic’s voice trembles, it was low enough for Stone to not hear it.

“Initiating power-point.”

A cool, robotic voice echoed throughout, Sonic looks at Stone for any changes, or any chance this man might change his mind and let him go, but he could tell Stone was now avoiding any eye contact. Sonic’s head dipped down. He sat on his knees, his soft ears drooping downward.

“Powering at 20%...”

“I’m so stupid…”

The machines began to point lasers at the Chaos Emerald in the other room, a metal prong touches the top of it, getting ready to extract and connect it to the machines Stone desired to make stronger for his Master.

“Powering at 50%”

“I’ll never see them again.”

Sonic closed his eyes, head still down looking like a wounded puppy. He’d forgotten at the moment where he was and what was about to happen. His thoughts went to Tom and Maddie, missing their smiles. Their laughter, their hugs.

“Powering at 75%..”

“I HATE myself…” Sonic makes a guttural growl in his throat.

In the chamber with the Chaos Emerald...the vibrant green color in it’s center fades briefly to a darker shade of emerald green. Then for a second, to a grayish black. And back to it’s normal green. Sparks of its energy popped in the air, making the window nearby actually crack from the inside.

“90%”

Stone only saw for a second Sonic unresponsive with his head bent down. He wished he didn’t. His own chest tightened with what he tried to hold back: guilt. He pushed the turmoil away to finish what he started, placing his hand on the trigger to start the extraction.

“93%”

Sonic knew he was going to die. In what he felt would be his final moments, his mind flashes countless images of his guardians. Every moment he spent with them was the happiest he had ever felt. He would have given anything to be with them again, talk to them..let them know he was leaving for good. That bare minimum of time he wished he could have, would never come to be.

“I hate myself…” A single tear rolled down Sonic’s cheek.

The Chaos Emeralds hue began to fade….

“Power, complete.”

Stone pulls the trigger. Sparks of white electricity light up at the top of the holding chamber to Sonic’s prison and they plunged downwards through the glass.

Sonic let out a blood curdling scream. He lurches his body up, seizing from the pain caused by the machines.

“UUUAAAAGGHH!!”

Stone watched the monitor closely,  scanning the amount of power being taken away from the Chaos Emerald and from Sonic simultaneously. A digital scale on the monitors revealed a blue colored energy leaving Sonic’s small body, and from the Chaos Emerald, it’s own separate energy was, he saw, destabilizing. Stone hoped it wouldn’t overflow too much.

Sonic slumps over and then falls to the floor, letting his arms support him up. He grit his teeth so hard he thought his jaw was going to break. The Emerald loses all traces of its green color and begins to morph out wisps of black smoke, becoming dark.

Suddenly, something was happening.

Stone finally looked at Sonic and his eyes grew large at what he began to witness…

Still screaming in agony, Sonic glared at Stone with the most enraged and angry scowl.  He put his hands on his head, shaking uncontrollably, while his muscles and body throbbed and wriggled.. Sonic’s teeth began to enlarge into sharp, longer fangs, his sky blue fur darkens to navy. His gloves rip and become torn apart revealing elongating claws at his fingertips and tufts of long, white fur breaks through the skin of both his wrists. The rest of his entire body shifts into a bigger build and height. Sonic’s sneakers were still intact, but metal spikes poked out from it’s material. His once neatly, smooth quills began to grow longer, with coarse, white fading tips at the end. Still shaking from the pain, Sonic let out a ferocious roar.

“I’LL KILL YOU!”

Stone realizes he was not safe anymore and makes a run for it.

Sonic has had enough, and with his sheer strength alone, breaks his prison of glass walls into thousands of pieces, shattering the entire tube. He jumps out, hand outreaching for his enemy, wanting to tear out his throat. Sonic looks everywhere for Stone, wanting his blood. This new desire didn’t make him question what he was thinking, he wanted to kill and slice something, no matter what it was.

Briefly coming to his senses, he growled in annoyance and went to the other room with the Chaos Emerald, he smashed the window from outside, and furiously grabbed it back in his possession. Along the way, his eyes spotted his pouch of Rings sitting close to where Stone had been standing before.

“You’re lucky Stone. Maybe next time you catch me, you won't be.” Sonic sneers to himself, his green eyes narrowed into slits.

Sonic jumps high and breaks through the metal enclosed ceiling, finally free. He roared again, letting out his anger and fear from being captured. The now full moon shone and bathed him in its light, revealing the new beastly shape in its wake. Sonic lands and runs, noticing he wasn’t going as fast like he usually does, but pushes that aside. Still angered and hurt by what had become of him, he howled like a lone wolf in the night. None of this made him question it; to him it felt natural and as if he was like this his whole life. The Sonic he had always known as himself was swallowed aside. After calming down just a little, Sonic had stopped running and walked at a regular pace. His mind was in a daze and then he remembered what was most important:

He held the blackened Chaos Emerald above his head, a fascination washed over him, it’s current presence was an entirely different entity. But he was happy it wasn’t in his enemy’s hands. Sonic holds it tightly and in the other hand he opened the pouch for his Rings and takes one,

“I have to..to get home-“

An explosion to his right side blows dirt on him and he jumped, scared out of his skin. Sonic growls, his anger returns again and a white, egg shaped robot hovering above him. Several were along with the one that made the first explosion.

“UGH!!! Leave me ALONE!!”

More of the robots fired at different times and Sonic evades every one, tired of being reminded and chased by the one who has tried and failed to kill him he leaps into the air, grabs the nearest bot and squeezes it into his chest, crushing it to pieces. Not wanting to prolong this stupid fiasco, Sonic makes a run for it, the bots follow and continue to fire at him mercilessly. Sonic tosses the golden ring that he depended on to save himself, his expression desperate to survive.

The ring opens, on the other side was the one place he called his home and jumped in; but a robot had managed to land a strike on his back, before cutting off the rest of the fleet. Sonic lands on his chest.

“Ugh…” Sonic winced at the new injury he was slapped with. He weakly sees the house just before him.

“Tom..!” He cried in a broken voice.

He needed to see his best friend. He needed to get to him. But, the cruelty of the long night had taken a toll on his strength; and Sonic had given up trying to stand up.

He wasn’t far from the patio of the house; the front door opened and Tom closed it behind him. He turns to see a patch of blue fur, it was Sonic lying on the ground, he froze in horror and drops his car keys. 

“S-Sonic!?”

“Donut lord..” Sonic called Tom's nickname, he felt a little sense of relief to see him.

“What happened?! What-“ Tom pauses and finally sees what had become of Sonic, he was almost unrecognizable; the fur, claws, and teeth gave it all away, his arms and back were almost covered in blood from cuts and little pieces of glass sparkled faintly on his messy fur.

“What happened to you?” Tom breathes out a scared, and shaky voice.

Sonic was too weak to answer, and he finally passed out. Tom turned him over on his back, listening for his heart beat, and it was moderately beating, to his hopes. The sun begins to rise and it’s light crept onto Sonics hand and on Tom, welcoming the new morning. Sonic’s body spits out purple wisps of an unknown energy to Tom, engulfing the hedgehog until it vanishes, and Sonic's appearance returns to his normal blue fur.

Tom turns in different directions to see if anything was watching him and he picks up Sonic, and carries him into the house to treat his wounds. 

[sylvanfreckles]

I Think I Need a Doctor (Whumptober 2020)

No, *you're* using Whumptober as a chance to try out all the AU fanfics you've thought of!

Summary: September 28, 2006. A pagan god’s attempt to erase Castiel’s existence may just give the angel a chance to save them all.

* * *

“I can't get him back...”

“Vitals are dropping...”

“Wife was DOA...”

“How's the kid? She okay?”

“Dammit. Call it.”

“Time of death...”

Castiel sucked in a breath and sat upright, dislodging the doctor that had recently been trying to restart his heart. One of the nurses screamed, the machines around him beeped crazily. There were tubes in his mouth and arms and he tugged at them despite the hands holding him down.

Where was he? When was he? The last thing he remembered was a cave...the light of torches...a man with three face staring down at him.

You will be unmade this way.

He twisted away from the hands that were trying to restrain him, snapping off cables and wires and tubes. He had to think, to process. It wasn't 2020 anymore, he could tell by the feel of the world around him.

“Mr. Novak, please, you've been in an accident,” a man in a surgeon's mask was talking to him, trying to push him back down. “Please, you have to calm down and let us take care of you.”

Castiel stared at him and the others in the room. “What...date?” His voice was hoarse and raspy from the tubes he'd pulled out (now he remembered...Dean talked about it...always cough when they pull the tube out).

“You want to know the date?” one of the nurses asked. She was trying to straighten out the wires still attached to his chest. “It's September...September 28.”

“What year?” he demanded.

She blinked at him, puzzled, as the doctor finally managed to wrap a blood pressure cuff around Castiel's arm. “It's 2006.”

* * *

The light from the torches was dancing off the glyph drawn onto the floor of the cave. Norn stared down at his work with a satisfied air, then turned to face the angel he'd bound to the stone.

“We cannot touch the hunters,” Norn explained. “They are tied too closely to fate. But you, young one. Your bounds are not as tight.”

Castiel struggled against the ropes, but the knots were too tight. “You're going to kill me?” he demanded.

“Kill? No. You will be unmade.” Norn knelt down to touch the center of the glyph. He'd painted the innermost circle of characters in Castiel's blood, and now the lines were beginning to glow under his hand. “I can remove one small player, before one critical moment, and your fate will deviate.”

Norn looked up, his eyes as fathomless as the broad expanse of the stars. “Another will take your place, and the story will change. Perhaps the ending will be better, perhaps it will be worse. This is all I can do.”

The power flared.

Castiel fell backward.

* * *

“Mr Novak!”

Castiel pushed his way through the hospital staff. He didn't need their poking and prodding. Somehow he had been pulled back in time and stuffed into the body of his host, long before Jimmy would have ever heard his voice. He couldn't explain it—there was no soul in this body, no occupant to invite him in. Just an empty vessel.

He couldn't worry about that now. If Norn, the Norse god (or, rather, three-fold aspect) of time learned that this had happened, he might move through time himself to eliminate the Winchesters directly.

Castiel narrowed his focus, finding the bright flare of two souls he hadn't seen in a very long time. Sam and Dean. Before he'd hidden them from heaven, before either of them had gone to hell, when their souls were bright and pure and whole. Unfortunately it seemed he had been moved through time as himself, rather than regressing through it, so he did not have the sames powers from 2006.

No wings. But he could run.

There was shouting behind him, swearing. Calls for security, for assistance. On he ran, focusing on the souls of the brothers he knew so well.

He found Sam easily. Even fourteen years ago the man still stood head and shoulders above the others. He was leaning in a doorway, distress obvious in every line of his body. Castiel slowed to a stop, resting a hand on the young man's arm. “Sam?”

Sam twisted to look down at him, tears running down his face. “Bad time,” he gasped out, turning back to stare into the room. Castiel turned to stare with him and froze in horror.

Dean was on the bed, more doctors (how many did this hospital have?) working around him. But beyond that, Castiel could see into the spiritual plane. Dean's spirit was there, fighting the shadow of a reaper.

He knew what this was. This was the day Heaven set their final plan into motion. This was the day John Winchester would sacrifice himself for his son, setting off a chain of events that would culminate in Sam opening the seal to the Cage. The Apocalypse. The end of times.

Without another thought Castiel surged forward. He forced his way in between the doctors, using brute strength to reach Dean's side even as they tried to stop him. The reaper twisted to stare at him, Tessa's mind calling out to his.

Castiel?

“I'm here,” he growled and finally rested his hand on Dean's forehead. Whatever strength he had, whatever healing could muster, he channeled it all into his friend's body. Dean jerked beneath him, buckling up on the bed with a gasp of breath, and the doctors were swarming around him again. Castiel waiting until Dean's eyes—dazed but clear—finally met his...then he collapsed backward, darkness rushing in on him.

* * *

“They said his name's Jimmy Novak,” Sam said. Dean was leaning in the doorway, watching the guy who'd gone all 'touched by an angel' on him not half an hour ago as he slept off a raging fever. “He and his family arrived early this morning. Car accident.”

“His family?” Dean asked. The guy looked a little familiar, sure, but Dean couldn't quite explain why.

“Ah, let's see...yeah, wife didn't make it. He has a daughter, they're not sure about her either.”

“You said he came running to my room?”

“Yeah,” Sam closed his notebook and tucked it into his back pocket. “How do you feel?”

Dean shrugged. “Fine, I guess. Like nothing happened.” The doctors couldn't explain it. He'd come in unresponsive, between the car accident and the wounds inflicted by the yellow-eyed demon. Then this Jimmy guy had touched him and it was all gone. No bumps, no scratches...his old scars were gone, too. “Where's Dad?”

“He's talking to Bobby. Checking lore on the Colt, I think.”

He nodded. Dad had stopped by to say a few words, though he was pretty sure the older man was feeling ashamed for getting possessed by yellow-eyes. He'd probably take off again before too long, bury himself in a hunt or a bottle until the feelings went away.

After a moment of indecision Dean pushed himself off the doorway and made his way into Jimmy's room. The dude was restless, dark hair matted on his forehead, talking to himself in some weird language while he thrashed around on the bed.

Dean stared down at him, arms folded. The guy didn't look like much. Smaller than Dean, built like an accountant. Exactly the kind of guy who had a corporate job and 2.5 kids, not some kind of mystical faith healer who showed up when you were coding out.

Jimmy stilled, turning toward Dean, and opened his eyes. The guy liked to stare, that was for sure. The first thing Dean remembered after waking up was this guy staring at him. “I guess I owe you a thank-you,” Dean finally said.

The other man relaxed, still staring at him. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean frowned. They weren't using those names here. “How did you know that?”

Jimmy sighed and brought one hand up to rub across his eyes. “There is much I need to tell you, Dean Winchester.”

Okay, that was creepy. Maybe Sam had let his first name slip, but not the Winchester part. “Who are you?”

The man lowered his hand and stared at Dean again. “My name is Castiel.”

Okay...that was a little creepier. Sammy had said this guy was Jimmy Novak...the patient information on the door said he was Jimmy Novak. “All right,” Dean said, shifting around to rest both hands on the rail at the side of the bed. “Maybe I should be asking what are you?”

For some reason, that brought a hint of a smile to Jimmy's—to Castiel's face. “I'm an angel of the lord.”

[turning-dreams-into-chaos]

Lost Without Her: Against the World

*Not My Gif*

Summary: It’s been 5 years since half the world was snapped away, 6 months since her mom, Natasha sacrificed herself and the world came back, but how does she handle it after her world flips upside down?

Post Date: 12-10-19

Paring: Peter Parker x Romanoff!Reader

Word Count: 3K

~Lost Without Her Master~

~Master~

Previously...

“We’ll see you around Y/N.” Peter said as you averted your gaze, knowing if you had your way, they wouldn’t see you again. Ever.

“Bye Pete. Bye Clint.” They left without another word and you were left in silence, staring at the front door to your shop as you realize how much you’ve thrown away. You pushed away the team, you moved across the world because you couldn’t handle the world without your mom, you began killing people, and you pushed Peter and Clint away when all they wanted to do was save you.

You broke yourself.

You pulled yourself away from looking at the door, your eyes immediately going straight to your info wall. You needed something, a win, just something to take your mind off Peter and Clint. It took you all of 5 minutes to find the perfect target and within the next couple hours leading up to nightfall, you were prepared, grabbing your gun and knife and heading out of the store to where your next target lived.

His house looked normal, 2 stories, white picket fence, 2 cars parked out front. You parked down the street to make sure no one saw and snuck around the side of the house. Peering in through the window, a man stood in the kitchen drinking a glass of water as you unlocked the window, sliding it open with minimal effort and entering the house. You remained silent, staying in the barely lit living room as he finished up, walking right into the room you were in. He wasn’t looking until he was a few feet in front of you, nearly jumping out of his skin.

“Who the hell are you?” he yelled out as he looked around for something to defend himself. You pulled out your knife, the metal catching the light turned on in the corner as his eyes widened. He started stammering as you took a step towards him. “Please! Have Mercy!”

“Mercy?” You barked out, making him taken back by your voice but not at all less scared. Much different than most you’ve killed. You followed another step, the man taking equal numbers back until he tripped, falling to his knees. “What about the women you sold, the kids you kidnapped, the people YOU killed? Where’s their mercy?”

You brought the knife up to his neck, coming around behind him as you pulled his head back. “W-What? I d-didn’t, I-I ..Please.” He pleaded as you rolled your eyes.

“Goodbye.”

You were about to do it, drag your knife along his throat before light thumping came down the stairs. “Daddy?”

“Sweetheart! Don’t come down!” You dropped the knife, moving away from the man as you looked towards the noise, seeing a young girl rub her eyes as she looked between you and the man she had called her dad. Your lip trembled as she come closer and you hid your knife behind your back.

“Daddy? Who’s that?” She asked as you looked down to the floor, eying her every once in a while.

“Ana, sweetie. Go back upstairs.” He pled as the girl smiled, nodding her head and following directions. You pointed the weapon towards him, narrowing your eyes.

“You have a daughter?”

“Yes. She’s 6. And a son, John. H-He’s only 2.” He stuttered.

Your jaw dropped. “You have... kids?” Your knife fell to your side, watching the man cower in front of you. His eyes were wide as he plead for you to let him go. You took a step back from him, looking around the newly lit room as your heart plummeted in your chest. It looked like a normal house, toys strewn across the floor, scribbled drawings laying on the dining room table and pictures placed on the walls in front of you of a family, husband and wife along with their 2 children. Turning back to the man, he seemed to be able to breathe more, now drawing in breaths slowly as he kept his eyes on you. “Who are you?” You asked him as he just stared at you. You tightened the grip on your knife, bringing it up to his neck and pressing it slightly. “I said, who-“

“My name is Rick Harold, I-I’m a lawyer a-and I don’t want to die!” He screamed as he clasped his eyes closed, tears falling from his redden eyes as you quickly removed your knife, finding your escape as a woman’s footsteps pounded down the stairs.

“Rick?” She yelled down as the man opened his eyes, about to tell his wife not to come down before seeing you were gone. You watched from outside the window as she jumped into her awaiting husbands’ arms and he held her, slightly trembling as their daughter, Ana, joined them, holding John in her tiny arms. Rick knelt, handing John off to his wife as he picked up his daughter, kissing her head and cradling him in his arms.

You couldn’t watch any more. This wasn’t the man you thought he was when you came into his house to kill him. He wasn’t part of any gang, he had a family, a life, and you almost took him from them. You hopped on your bike, riding back to the store in the darkness of the night. You expected the Harold’s to call the police or something, but you didn’t hear anything, and the guilt just pooled in your gut. You pulled over on the side of the road, driving became hard with your head pounding and trying to figure out what was happening.

It was wrong. The info you had was wrong. He wasn’t the guy you were after and all your information was wrong. You took off your jacket, throwing it on the ground as you collapsed on your bike. Trying to keep yourself from crying. You only allowed yourself a few minutes to get through the emotions before you picked up your jacket and drove the rest of the way to your place.

You stared down Rick’s picture on the wall, his name right beside it but the crimes next to them were not his and within a second you were tearing it off the wall, the paper shredding into pieces before you could even stop yourself.

Then you did it again. And again. And again, until the wall was bare, and scraps of paper lined your feet. You felt empty, your fears and worries about whether the others were innocent long defeated as their pictures now held residence on your floor. The darkness was comforting to you as you turned to the store and fell onto the couch, closing your eyes to sleep away this day.

But when you landed onto the dilapidated couch, something flew out from under your body and got trapped by your arm against the cushion. Groaning a little, you pushed yourself up to sit on the couch, grabbing the paper before it fell on the floor. It was hard to see in the dark, but you knew it was a photograph and it wasn’t one of your scraped ones.

It was of your mom and you a couple years before the snap at a restaurant, her arms wrapped around your neck and kissing your head much like Rick had done to Ana earlier. It was almost as if your tears were on autopilot as they fell onto the picture landing on your smiling cheeks and your moms head before sliding to the ground.

You couldn’t breathe as you tried to grasp a breath over and over again, letting the picture fly to the floor, your knees soon following after as you held yourself, pulling your head into your knees as you screamed.

---

“Bye Pete. Bye Clint.”

Peters head spun as he turned around and left the building, left you, with Clint following behind soon after.

“You’re just going to leave her? Really Parker?” Clint called after the boy who didn’t even look back to him.

“Of course not.” Peter shrugs before swinging up into the sky, landing on a building down the block as Clint watches. He sighed, scouting around him before making his way to the building. Peter’s eyes were locked on your store as Clint walked up behind him. Clint stared at Peter, slightly out of breath from all the stairs as he took a seat on the edge of roof next to Peter. Peter gave the man a quick grin before turning back to you.

“So, what’s the plan?” Clint asked after a while of sitting in silence. Peter didn’t answer as he watched you leave, heading down the street before your lights disappeared. Peter turned to Clint, pulling out his wallet before Clint could stop him. “Hey!” Clint grabbed the wallet out of Peter’s hands and shook his head.

Peter just sighed, sticking his hand out. “Just trust me.” He told Clint who, some what reluctantly, handed his wallet to Peter. Peter thumbed through the worn-down leather before coming across what he wanted. He took out the picture of you and Nat that Clint kept in there throughout the years. Peter’s eyes softened as he looked at you and your mom. “She just needs a jump start.” Peter whispered as he stood up, getting ready to swing off the roof.

“Are you sure this a good idea?” Clint asked him as Peter took a second to consider his actions but ultimately, he shrugged.

“What could go wrong?” He said before swinging off the rooftop and putting the photo on the couch where you could see it.

---

“That could go wrong.” Clint pointed out as they both watched you hold yourself, your face turning red as your eyes welded shut. Peter was on his feet in an instant, getting to your side as fast as he could. He pulled your unresponsive body against his chest, cradling your head in the crook of his neck. He smoothed the hair in your face, shushing in your ear as you rocked with him. Peter knew at that moment he messed up in giving you the picture because seeing you like this was not how he wanted this to turn out. Your cries died down to mere whimpers now, but you hadn’t opened your eyes, pressing yourself more into Peter’s warmth.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Y/N.” He whispered into your ear repeatedly as Clint finally entered the building, seeing the young girl he knew break down in her best friend’s arms. He didn’t know what to do but the moment he saw Peter press a soft kiss to your forehead, he knew you were in good hands. The picture discarded on the floor caught his attention as he slowly made his way over to it, picking it up and running the pad of his thumb across the front. You let out a rather loud sob as Clint turned in time to see Peter cup your face, wiping the tears from your cheek with his fingers before picking you up.

“Where are you going?” Clint asked as Peter adjusted his hold on you, one arm under your knees and the other supporting your back as he tucked your head into his chest. Peter glanced down at you before looking out the window.

“To get some air.” He whispered back before making his way up to the roof. He sat you both away from the edge, in case your reaction to being outside wasn’t what he expected but to his luck, you didn’t react much more than taking a deep breath, sighing against the sharp air around you. You finally let your eyes open, red and puffy from everything, but Peter saw the Y/E/C in them. You pushed yourself to the ledge, throwing your legs over as you stared out into the city.

Peter swallowed back his fear, “I’m sorry.” He tried to muster out of his mouth but instead of an apology, all that came out was almost a squeak as Peter bit back his own sob. “I’m sorry.” He repeated, only this time the words managed to come out. You didn’t move as he watched you, your eyes unwavering from its spot in the distance. Sighing, Peter crawled over to join you, letting his legs dangle as he kicked against the building.

“I never knew my dad.” You finally spoke, shocking Peter by the topic as he gave you his attention, eyes wet and wide as they focused on you. “It’s been me and my mom for as long as I could remember. Not having her with me is like… not having one of my arms. She’s a part of me.” You looked at Peter, a few tears released from your eyes that Peter instinctively brought his hand up to wipe away. “She was a big part of me.”

Peter nodded his head. “I know how you feel. With my parents, Uncle Ben, then Mr. Stark. It feels like it’s you against the world, just trying to figure out why these things happen, but you can’t. They just happen.” You didn’t realize until Peter had stopped talking that you reached over to grab his hand to comfort him, but when you did realize, you didn’t make any move to let go. In fact, you scooted closer to Peter and leant your head onto his shoulder, the rising of his shoulders with each breath creating a steady rhythm as you let your eyes close.

“I can’t go back Peter. The world doesn’t need my saving.” You whispered as Peter looked down at you resting on his shoulder. Your hair had fallen into your face, sticking to wet tears as you pulled them away. “It’s got you guys.”

“No.” Peter almost yelled as he moved his position to look at you, making you almost fall over before catching yourself. “I need you Y/N. I need you.” His voice crack as he pointed to himself, fingers digging into his chest as if it was the only thing keeping his heart in place. “I... I can’t lose you again Y/N. I really can’t.” His voice cracked as he stared into your eyes, meeting his dark brown ones.

Your next decision wasn’t a planned one. It was something decided strictly on this moment.

Here and now.

You slowly leaned into Peter, the whispers of the air being the only sound in your ears as Peter leaned in as well. He felt like a ghost on your lips for the longest time possible as your lips brushed against each other before you finally closed the distance. Your brain went fuzzy before Peter deepened the kiss, igniting the fire in your brain as you pulled away to catch your breath. Peter was panting as he looked down at you, your eyes darkening with desire as he moved from the edge of building, pulling you with him as you landed in his lap, your legs landing on either side of his and your mouth hitting his quicker than you could say Spider-Man. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against his body as his tongue darted against your bottom lip, his hand coming up to your chin and deepening the kiss in one swift move. You grabbed his chest, the tension between you and him increasing as you tugged his chest up and over his head, yours soon coming after. Peter paused, taking a second to admire your body clad in jeans and bra before you started to unbutton your pants, almost pulling them down before you closed your eyes and stopped.

“I-I can’t.” you admitted, your fragile voice making Peter aware of the situation you both were in. You looked down at him, biting your bottom lip to mask the tingle Peter left as you steady your heavily uneven breathing. Peter didn’t say anything as he nodded his head, his cheeks slightly blushed as you moved off him, sitting down next to him. Everything happened too fast. It was all too fast. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Peter assured you. He didn’t know what happen. He’d never done something like that before, getting as far as that with anyone. And never did he think that it would be you. He reached over and grabbed your hand, staying silent as you squeezed it. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“The men. Who were they?” you turned to him, furrowing your brows a little as Peter clarified. “The ones you… killed.”

You took a deep breath, nodding your head and licking your now chapped lips. “They weren’t good people. They kidnapped children from families, abducted women for sex trafficking, and killed anyone who got in their way. I caught wind of it a few months ago and next thing I know. I’m here.” Peter couldn’t help but smile and laugh a little at this which just made you stare at him in wonder. “Why is that funny?”

“It’s not. It’s just… you said the world didn’t need your saving, and yet here you are, still saving it.” You frowned, looking at your connecting fingers.

“I almost messed up tonight.” You told him. “I went after a man, I didn’t do much research on, mixed up a bunch of shit, and almost killed someone in the same position of the ones I tried to protect. If his daughter hadn’t came down the stairs, I would’ve ruined a family.”

“But you didn’t.” He pulled your chin to make you look at him, seeing the water pool at the bottom of your eyes. “You didn’t.”

“But I could have. I might’ve to someone else. Who knows what I’ve done.” You put your head back on his shoulder, crossing your legs and letting your and Peters hand lay in your lap as his head rested on yours until daylight.

You thought about everything last night when you sat with Peter, his fingers constantly rubbing your skin as the sun passed across the horizon. “Peter.” You whispered as Peter hummed, coming awake after dozing off. “Peter.” You nudged him, watching as he spurred awake before looking at you, his mouth turning up into a smile when he looked at you.

“Hey.” He yawned and let go of your hand to stretch his arms out.

“Peter.” You repeated once again as he looked towards you, his eyes riddled with sleep as you smiled. “I want to go home.”

Thoughts?

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[rougepetale]

Eisuke never let me go (SFW)

Fandom: Kissed by the baddest bidder (Love 365)

Pairing: Eisuke  Ichinomiya x Reader

Warning: Temporary character death (Would this also be a trigger warning ?)

Note: Thank you Anon for requesting this! I hope I gave it enough fluff at the end! 

It was a beautiful day, Eisuke was having a good day, a rare day of no stress. He wanted to go out, enjoy life for a while.

Who would have known that today would have changed both of your lives forever.

 “FREEZE!”

You and Eisuke were walking in a parking garage towards his car when you both were approached by a lone masked gunman.

Eisuke slowly raised his hands up and taking a step to shield you with his body. “We’re unarmed.” He called out.

“GET ON YOUR KNEES!!” the masked man screamed.

Eisuke frowned, “I’d rather not, this is a very expensive suit” he replied, if he could keep the focus on him you’d stay safe. Eisuke studied this man’s body, he was a mid-twenties Japanese man, he wore all black except for his ugly running shoes.

“I SAID GET ON YOUR KNEES!” the man screamed again, advancing towards you two. You gripped his suit, you had never had a gun pointed at you. You could feel your heart beating loudly, almost drowning out what the man was saying.

“Eisuke” you whispered, he ignored you, “Eisuke… maybe we should listen” you begged.

He reached back and gave your hand a squeeze, he was angry that he didn’t have Soryu around him, he had a job to do in China and wouldn’t be back for a week. “Now, my good sir, what can I help you with?” he asked.

“You! You ruined my life!” the man screamed, “Y-you sold my wife to some man!” he growled, removing his mask. You remembered that Eisuke had helped a girl escape her abusive husband, back when you still believed that Eisuke was a bad man. Back when you didn’t know he was trying to find his sister from his black market.  

“She put herself up for auction.” Eisuke defended his actions, “She delivered the divorce papers the night before, if I’m not mistaken.”

He released the safety. Eisuke tensed, this was getting ugly and fast.

*Click*

You could feel a spike in your heart rate, you could tell that there was no coming down from this. You struggled against Eisuke’s iron grip keeping you behind him.

“You stole everything from me!” the man growled, he was inches away, Eisuke stared the man down, he wasn’t going to bend to this man. He knew he did the right thing, one of the few right things in life that he had ever done. She had escaped the brute of a man and was bought by the man of her dreams, somebody who would love and care for her like she deserved.

Before either one of you could react the man pistol whipped Eisuke, sending both of you to the ground. You groaned as Eisuke fell on the floor beside you. He wiped his chin of blood that was pouring from the gash that was inflicted upon his person.

“Is that really the best you can do?” he asked, attempting to stand the man kicked Eisuke. Eisuke curled around you, not caring if he broke every bone in his body. His entire priority was to keep you safe.

“You damn filthy bastard!” the man screamed, kicking Eisuke again and again.

Eisuke nearly passed out from the pain. It was a wonderful respite when he stopped. “I would rather torture you even more.” He cocked the gun, “But, I have somewhere I have to be.”

You watched as if everything was in slow motion, the man pulled the trigger. Your body reacted before you had any conscious idea what happened.

*Bam*

“NOOOO!” you screamed out, a shrill ear piercing scream. You had covered Eisuke’s body with yours.

The sound of a gun going off had security running down towards the sound.

The man was glued to his spot for a second, he wasn’t going to shoot the girl, but now he didn’t have a chance to change things. Dropping the gun, he ran.

Eisuke had braced for the impact of the gun, so long as you were safe. When the bullet didn’t pierce his skin he opened his eyes. A strangled gasp was ripped from his throat when he saw your unresponsive body on top of his, bleeding… dying…. “Security!” he wheezed out. He gripped your body tight to his. He searched your face.

Gasping for breath you struggled to stay awake. The bullet pierced your lung and you were struggling to take in a breath. You saw Eisuke’s worried face, good… he wasn’t shot. He was fine.

Eisuke.

You smiled at him, everything would be fine if he was alive. “E…. Eisuke… I love you” you were able to get those words out, you two didn’t nearly say them enough to each other.

“______!” he cried out, he saw the light leaving your eyes. No. no. no. no!

“Please… please don’t leave me!” he cried, cradling your body to his, he couldn’t lose you now.

 You opened your eyes to a beautiful sunset on the beach. Huh? Weren’t you in a parking garage with Eisuke? EISUKE?! You scrambled from your lounging to look around. He was lying not but a few feet away, soaking up the sun.

“Eisuke!” you squeaked out, going to him you noticed that he was sleeping peacefully. “Oh… I shouldn’t wake him.” You whispered. You could vaguely remember something about a high stress and your chest vaguely hurt for some reason.

Shrugging you decided to go into the ocean, it was cool and inviting. A perfect way to end the day. But before you entered the ocean you checked your phone, it was making a rhythmic beeping sound.

*beep*   *beep*  *beep* *beep*

Yet you didn’t have any messages, you were surprised that none of the guys were around.  Shrugging you threw the phone on top of your beach bag and entered the ocean. Its gentle waves seemed to be pulling you in.

The waves were mesmerizing, so cool, so rhythmic, so clean and clear. Looking back you saw Eisuke still asleep on the beach, poor guy he must be exhausted.

You were now waist deep in the ocean. For some reason you could still hear your phone. You must have had the speaker on.

Diving below you felt like you were slowly floating down.

Huh, there was something shiny down there, was it… gold?

*Beep*………….*Beep*…………………..*Beep*

Deeper and deeper you swam, yet going nowhere. Your muscles were feeling tired now, your lungs burning for air. Still, you persisted.

 *Beep*…………………………….*Beep*………………….

 Doctor, we’re losing her…..

 ………………………………………………………

Code Blue! I repeat Code Blue!

  You were rapidly sinking now, faster and faster. The water was getting warm and your body began to relax, the bright light was inviting.

“______!”

You looked up to see Eisuke swimming frantically towards you, his eyes wide in panic. What? What was wrong? He was trying to swim towards you, his hands stretched out as he desperately tried to grab you.

Everything was fine though, the ocean was pulling you away from him, doing all the hard work.

You didn’t want to swim any more, your legs and especially your chest was aching. Eisuke looked scared, you saw blood leaking from his cheek… when… when did he get hurt? It all felt vaguely familiar.

“_______!” he called again, which should be impossible in the ocean but somehow he was able to call out to you.  

 CLEAR!

………………………….  

You felt a pain in your chest. You cried out in agony, curling into a ball in the ocean. Eisuke was no more closer to you than a second ago.

……………………………………….. CLEAR!

Another excruciating pain ripped through your body.

Soon you felt arms wrapped around your body

 ………….*Beep*……………….*Beep*……………..*Beep*

 Opening your eyes you looked at Eisuke, he had the most serene look on his face. “______” he cooed, “C’mon…. lets go home” he said.

You looked back and forth between him and the shiny floor, the floor looked so inviting, you didn’t want to swim, you wanted to sleep.

“Why, Eisuke… why don’t we rest?” you asked.

“Because sweetheart, we won’t be able to return.” He replied, tugging on your hand, “You can’t give up now.”

“Eisuke… I don’t think I can swim anymore.”

“C’mon babe… you can do it” he encouraged, his smile encouraged you to swim with him, “That’s my girl, c’mon, we can sleep when we’re on the beach.”

 It seemed like forever for your head to breach the surface of the ocean. By now your body was completely exhausted, Eisuke dragged you to the beach, “C’mon you can nap once you’re on the beach.”

You crawled upon the beach, breathe heavily. Collapsing you rolled over the face Eisuke.

“You did good sweetheart” he praised, “Okay, rest now,” he brushed some of your wet hair from your face to behind your ear, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

 “____?” a voice asked, you knew this voice. You attempted to open your eyes but they felt so heavy, you felt your hand being picked up and being squeezed. “Sweetheart?”

You knew that voice, trying to find your voice you attempted to mumble but it came out as a gurgle of sounds.

“SHE’S AWAKE!” you could feel people crowd around you, “Don’t crowd, give her some air.”

With much effort you opened your eyes, Eisuke’s face was the first one you saw, he looked tired, with the bags under his eyes he looked to have aged.

Beside Eisuke was Soryu and Baba. Your eyes drifted to the side and you saw Mamo and Ota. You looked back to Eisuke and reached up to cup his cheek. Tears brimmed at both of your eyes. Eisuke pressed his cheek into your hand.

“C’mon guys, lets give them some room.” Baba said, helping usher everybody out. Ota didn’t want to leave but Baba was able to usher them out.

Eisuke sat on your bed, kissing your wrist. “_____” he whisper your name, “I was so worried.” He admitted.

You struggled to talk, he brought a glass of water to your lips and you greedily took in the nourishing liquid, finally feeling like you could talk.

“Eisuke, what….what happened?” you asked, your voice didn’t sound like yours at all.

“Oh sweetheart, you were shot.” He rubbed your knuckles watching you with sorrowful eyes. “You died _____” he admitted.

You gasped, remembering that you were swimming towards something shiny…. Was that the afterlife that you were swimming to? Eisuke sighed, “I wasn’t sure that’d you pull through.” He got into your bed and laid beside you, his hand on your stomach, “I am so glad you did…. I wouldn’t know if I could live without you.” He kissed you gently.

“Eisuke….” You whispered, your arms still felt like led but you managed to rub his face, “you saved me… you pulled me back.” Of course Eisuke didn’t know what you were talking about, and that was fine. You closed your eyes and sighed, you didn’t catch the look of pure panic cross his features.

“____” he implored, “Open your eyes sweetheart, I haven’t seen your eyes in a week” he said. You opened your eyes and looked at him, all you wanted to do was sleep, and you felt so exhausted. He was afraid you would slip from his fingers if you closed your eyes again.

“Eisuke, I’m not going anywhere, but I’m tired” you said, “I promise I’ll wake up, I have you waiting for me.”

  It was two weeks before you were checked out, within those weeks you learned that Eisuke was suffering from two fractured ribs from the masked gunman, you also learned that Soryu and his men had taken care of this man and his family.

You were sitting next to Baba taking a sip of wine when he started talking, “You know he insisted that he sleep next to you every day. He didn’t leave your side.”

You looked dubiously at Baba, “Really?” you asked, looking over to Eisuke who was talking with Soryu. “I didn’t know, all I know is that I have an escort whenever you left the hotel, Eisuke wasn’t going to let something happen to you again.

Eisuke could feel eyes on him, turning he saw your shocked face, he smirked and walked towards you kissing you on your lips, “What is wrong my love?” he asked.

“Baba here was telling me that you didn’t leave my side when I was in that coma.” You said, patting Baba’s leg.

A dust of pink graced Eisuke’s face, he grabbed your hand and pulled you to your feet, “Baba should have kept his nose out of our business.” He pulled you to your room, during your recovery Eisuke never once tried to have any sexual relationship with you, treating you like glass.

He guided you to the bed, he peppered your face with kisses, making you giggle. “Eisuke! What are you doing?” you asked.

“Kissing you, what does it look like?” he asked, he pulled the cover up close and snuggled into your body heat.

“Eisuke, I have a request of you.” You asked, between kisses and snuggling.

“Say it, and it is yours” he promised.

“Kiss me and never, never, never, let me go.”

[ellanainthetardis]

prompt: since effie knows shes loud she tried too be quiet in bed. haymitch thinks she is getting bored of him but then effie explaining why shes trying to be quiet ( i am sorry for my poor english )

Here you go! [X]

Of Being Loud, Ex-Boyfriends and Jokes

Haymitch pounded harder into her, waiting forthe whimper or the moan that would tell him she was enjoying it. All he got wasa hitch of breath and nails digging harder in his lower back.

“You’re okay?” he panted. He was close and hewouldn’t be able to hold on much longer but she had yet to make any sound andit wasn’t like her to be silent.

She wasn’t unresponsive,that wasn’t the problem. She was just as eager as usual albeit a bit lessproactive. But she wasn’t talking or moaning or screaming and, that,wasn’t right.

Even when they tumbled in bed out ofdesperation rather than because they had fought, she was still vocal. That wasjust Effie.

“Yes.” she hissed and he looked up from herbreasts to see her biting down on her bottom lip so hard that she had drawnblood. She gasped at the next thrust and immediately let go of his lower backto bite down on her hand instead.

“What thefuck are you doing?” he frowned. Hecouldn’t quite completely stop therocking of his hips but he did try topause, seated deep inside her. “What’s up with you?”

It was the first time they had had sex thatyear and it was… off. They had arguedand they had ended up kissing, nothing new there. Then clothes had flowneverywhere as they stumbled to her room… Nothing new there either. Her behavior now…

“Nothing.” she replied, a bit breathless,hitting the back of his thigh with her knee. “Move.”

“Nowyou talk.” he snorted. “Not like you to just take it like that, Trinket. Why aren’t you telling me what to do?”

“Oh, do you need directions?” she mocked. “Move your hips.”

He glared down at her and she glared right backand he gave a slow deep thrust just for the pleasure of seeing her tossing herhead back, her eyelids fluttering closed and her throat offered to his teeth.

He didn’t bite down though.

Because her lips were pursed tight together andshe hadn’t let out a single noise indicating she liked it.

Now, she wasreacting to him and it was obviousshe was aroused. But she was also usually very vocal in bed, probably the loudestwoman he had ever been with, never shy of telling him what she wanted orletting him know when he was doing something wrong or right. She moaned, shewhimpered, she whined, she groaned, she screamed and she occasionally talked.He loved it when she chanted his namewhile she reached her peak. He loved to make her incoherent.

The silent number now, he wasn’t enjoying atall.

“If you don’t want this…” he growled.

“Do not be ridiculous.” she snapped. “Of course,I do not want this. Unfortunately, itdoes not mean I do not want this.”She grabbed his hand and forced it between their joined bodies, where she wasdripping wet. “I trust you will understand the difference.”

Of course, he got it. He felt the same way.Their inability to stop themselves when it came down to them was worrisome andfalling in bed with her was probably the worst idea that he ever had because hecouldn’t resist. But the crux of thematter was he couldn’t resist. Hewanted her. And he had to have her.

He took the opportunity to stroke her justbecause it made her all flustered and she was annoying him. But loud breathingwas all she consented to give and he took his fingers away, propping himself onhis elbows on either side of her face to better study her. It was torture notto pound into her because he was also throbbingwith need and his restraint was painful. He wasn’t even sure why he wasn’t just taking what she wasoffering and dropping the matter entirely.

“You’re not loud anymore.” he frowned.

“I try.” she sighed. “But you are making it hard.” She pushed the back of his thighswith her feet but he refused to move. “Haymitch!”

“Now that’s more like it…” he smirked, pleasedby her shout of utter frustration. “Why? Who broke you?”

“Nobody brokeme.” she huffed. “Now, are we going to finish this or…”

“Why are you hurting yourself?” he insisted,leaning in to poke at her bottom lip with his tongue. He tasted blood. “Stupidgirl.” he growled, annoyed that she would harm herself just so… What? She wouldn’tshout?

She sighed again and stretched her neck tochase after his mouth. It must have hurt her with her torn lip but hesurrendered to the kiss anyway. She was distracting and the things her tonguecould do soon prompted him to rock his hips again. Only her could make a kissso dirty…

He remembered himself and stilled when sheswallowed back another groan.

“Seriously.” he grumbled. “Spill. What’s thematter? You’re bored?”

“Bored?” she repeated, stunned. “How would youinfer that I am bored?” She shook her head but soon made a face. “Although ifyou do not get a move on, I might very well get bored.”

“You’re holding back.” he scowled. “Why?”

Her reflex was to chew on her lip and he had togrowl and kiss her so he could pry her bottom lip free of her teeth.

“It is nothing.” she answered, almost sheepish.“I did not think you would even notice.”

“That I wouldn’t notice you being dead silentwhen I fuck you?” he sneered. “Kindahard not to, sweetheart.”

She rolled her eyes but her turned her headaway. “It can wait. Would you…”

She bucked her hips up and he automaticallyslammed his down to meet hers. She looked satisfied and it annoyed him so muchhe pinned her down to the mattress with his whole weight.

“You tell me now.” he demanded, fighting tokeep a clear head and think with his upperbrain.

“It isnothing.” she insisted. “I just… I had a boyfriend for a couple of months thiswinter.”

The deep brutal thrust into her wasn’t exactlyplanned. It was more something of a reflex. And he wasn’t quite sure why.

What did he care if she had a boyfriend? Or hadhad a boyfriend ? They weren’texclusive. He slept around too. Maybe not latelybut…

He was delighted however when the thrust stoleanother gasp out of her. At last.

“And?” he prompted.

“And…” she hesitated. “Well, he said I wasbeing too loud. He found it… He did notfind it classy at all, not to say he found it a bit improper and… I know I amusually loud. And…”

She flushed crimson and resolutely stared atthe wall.

“That guy was shit in bed, yeah?” he snorted.

“Language. I wouldn’t say he was bad.” shecommented. “Although quite vanilla. Very respectfulof me. He was not you, that is forsure.”

“And he thought you were too loud.” heremarked.

“Yes. I told you that.” she retorted, clearlyirritated. “He said it was too… It was too…”

“Too what?”he frowned, shifting his weight on one elbow so he could grip her chin with hisfree hand and force her to look at him.

A flash of somethingpassed in her eyes. She looked embarrassed and it wasn’t hard to figure out shehad felt humiliated.

“Slutty.” she confessed in a murmur.

He clenched his jaw. The position was startingto be uncomfortable so he rolled on his back, taking her with him, spreading ahand on her lower back so they would remain joined. The change of angle wasgood and he groaned. She breathed outagainst his chest, her fingers squeezing his arm.

He wasn’t sure he had ever allowed her to be ontop for more than a couple of minutes but he needed the comfort because theyneeded to have a talk – and, yeah,maybe having a talk in the middle of sex wasn’t exactly the best moment butthey never did things the traditional way. He gripped her hips so he could makesure she wouldn’t move. This wasn’t about her riding him – although he wouldn’tmind the sight. For a short moment at least. The loss of control was a turnoff.

“What’s wrong with slutty?” he asked, veryseriously.

“It is not ladylike.” she counteredimmediately.

“You’re no lady in the bedroom.” he snorted.“So what? That’s old news. And a good one too. Ladies are boring to fuck.You’re not. You’re hot.”

She sat up to look at him and the sight of herstraddling him… He could feel himself twitch inside her with the need to do something.

“You say sluttyand you think hot.” she sighed. “Hedidn’t say it that way. He said it like it was a dirty thing. Like I was… I like sex. I enjoy sex. And he made me feel like that was wrong of me. He brokeup with me because… He wanted a wife and not a whore. That is what he said.”She huffed and looked away. “He said I was not a proper lady.”

“Well, he’s an asshole.” he shrugged. “And astupid guy at that. ‘Cause I can tell you, sweetheart, no man in his right mindwould turn you out of his bed.” Her lips twitched but they weren’t quite there yet. He pushed himself up so hecould wrap his arms around her, waiting until she had shifted so her legs wouldbe locked around his waist once more. Not his favorite position but not badeither. “You’re the best fuck I everhad.” he admitted, a bit reluctantly because it would go up to her headeventually. “It’s dirty and it’s hot and, yeah, maybe you’re slutty… And sowhat? What happens in the bedroom stays in the bedroom, yeah? Doesn’t mean youdeserve any less respect out there.”

The way she was looking at him was a littlescary. Her face was a set mask of detachment but her eyes… Her eyes wereshining with emotions he didn’t want to try and interpret.

“You said I was loud too.” she reminded him.

“Never said it was a bad thing, yeah?” hescoffed. “I like it.” He wriggled hiseyebrows and buckled his hips a little. “You can be loud or slutty or whatever…Pretty sure I’ll still think it’s hot,Princess.”

She snorted and rested her forehead againsthis, slowly but surely rocking on him, making him hiss.

“Careful, Haymitch…” she warned in a teasingtone. “It sounds like you are in lust with me.”

“You think you’re witty but you’re not…” hetaunted, lowering his mouth to his neck, rubbing his stubble against thedelicate skin of her throat. “Now, sweetheart… Scream for me…”

She didend up screaming for him. He loved her like that. Wild and unbounded.

They were both sweaty and exhausted afterwards,limbs tangled together, too heavy to move for now. Her head was on his stomach,her arm hooked around his thigh and he thought she might have had a plan ofcoaxing him back to hardness soon because she kept staring at his junk andlicking her lips.

“You want me to kick his ass?” he asked, out ofthe blue.

“Appreciated but unnecessary.” she hummed.“Rumor has it he might be rich but that it is the only big part of him, if you catch my drift. He is having difficultiesfinding a new girlfriend as I understand it. Such a shame those rumors can ruin a reputation.”

He laughed a rare laugh and buried his hand inher hair, tangling his fingers in the glossy blond curls. He didn’t ask if shehad taken off her wig for that guy. He didn’t need to. Capitol men weren’tinterested in what truly laid under the make-up and the wigs. They would findit plain and repulsive. Idiots.

“Crafty.” he complimented.

“Yes, I find it goes well with slutty.” shesnorted.

“Shouldn’t date jerks.” he commented.

Shouldn’t date at all… he almost added.

“Oh, I think I will take myself off the datingscene for the time being.” she huffed. “There is simply no interesting men outthere.” She propped her chin on his hip and tossed him a provocative look,before pressing a deliberate kiss on his tanned skin, right under the hugeswollen scar on his right side. “For the time being, I am all yours.”

He tightened his grip on her hair a little.

Mine.

He wanted to growl it against her skin, to biteher flesh until the claim was obvious for everyone to see, to fuck her until the only word she knewwas his name… A thousand tortures flashed through his mind.

“Who says I want you?” he challenged.

“Your penis.” she replied, calmly, her eyestwinkling in amusement.

He was half hard again. Merely thinking abouteverything he wanted to do to her was enough.

“My dick wants your mouth.” he snorted.

“And you?” She grinned a salacious grin. “Whatdo you want?”

You.

The thought came unbidden and he pushed itaside.

“Booze.” he lied.

She lifted an eyebrow and moved as if to leavethe bed. “In that case…”

He was quick in tugging her back in bed.

The shortest jokes were the best ones.

[itsclowreedsfault]

Bungou Stray Dogs Fanfic: Shatter

Pairing: Soukoku

Rating: T

Other places to read: AO3 | FF.Net

Notes: consider this an AU where they have no abilites.

Chuuya is still young when he joins the Port Mafia. It's a world of shadows, of corruption and blood that takes its toll on the weak. Chuuya prides himself on not being one of those; he climbs the ranks, he fights, and for a while, he wins. But unbeknownst to him, there's an hourglass inside his mind that started running the moment he stepped inside the darkness, the sand falling faster the more Chuuya descends into it. He doesn't know yet, but this hourglass is fragile, and he's running out of time.

Chuuya has a partner. Osamu Dazai, Port Mafia executive, the guy with ruthless eyes and a tendecy to annoy Chuuya whenever he opens his mouth. But together, they're deadly. They go on the most dangerous missions, they take lives, they don't bat an eye when they press the trigger. But each time, more grains of sand fall, filling the bottom of the hourglass until they far surpass the amount that's left on the top. And they're heavy, these grains, too heavy to be held by a glass that's starting to show its cracks. Chuuya begins to notice it. He ignores it all - the nightmares that get more frequent, the hesitancy, the moments of distraction, the foolish mistakes he hadn't comitted ever since his first missions. If Dazai notices there's something wrong with him, he doesn't mention it, and Chuuya pretends everything is fine. But the bottom of the hourglass is almost full, and it can't hold the sand for much longer.

The kids are the last straw, Chuuya thinks. They're the loudest in his head; their high-pitched screams calling for their mom and dad over and over again, clearly audible even with the crackling sound of the fire Chuuya had started. There had been no help, however; no mom to come tell them it was okay, no dad to defeat the big scary monster under the bed. Their parents were far away, gone on a trip from which they would return only to ashes - an accident, the police says, and they nod and pretend to accept it, but when they're alone they coil in fear, agonizing and blaming themselves for the death of their kids and of that poor babysitter who had no real part in all this. After a week, Dazai and Chuuya pay them a visit. Chuuya's hand shakes as he presses the barrel of the gun to the man's forehead, hesitates before pulling the trigger. Mom! Dad! Help us! "Please," says the man. Next to him, Dazai shoots the man's wife, and Chuuya forces himself to do the same. Their boss doesn't forgive those who break. How ironic, isn't it, that Chuuya should be the one to break next.

On his next mission, he can't pull the trigger. His head hurts with all the voices, the screaming, the crying. He can't see the face of the person on the other side of his gun - it keeps blurring, changing into a thousand others who've been in the same place before. Their pleas mix with the noise in Chuuya's head, until he can't take it anymore. The bottom of the hourglass is full, and the glass shatters. So he lowers his weapon, turns around, and runs, and runs, and runs. Away from the smell of fire, from the metallic tang of blood.

Chuuya knows he can't hide forever. A few days later, it's Dazai that finds him. Chuuya tries not to look as pathetic as he feels - calls Dazai every stupid name he can think of, complains that if he is to be disposed of then it shouldn't be done by someone as low as him. Dazai listens, eyes cold as ice, watches as Chuuya's façade crumbles, shatters into a million pieces at his feet. "Just do it already," Chuuya says, falling to his knees. He's tired. Of the screams, of running away. Instead of his gun, however, it's his fist that Dazai uses, and Chuuya's world goes black around him. 

Only Dazai would have a safe house unknown by the Port Mafia. He doesn't say anything about why he's saved Chuuya's life, and Chuuya doesn't ask. During the first few days, he's barely aware of his surroundings - he keeps dozing off and waking up drenched in sweat, choking on invisible smoke, carrying the screams from his dreams in his mind. It's right after one of his nightmares that Dazai comes to his room. He pulls a struggling Chuuya up by his hand, dragging him towards a door at the end of the corridor, pushing it open to reveal a room empty except for a pristine looking piano sitting in the middle of it. "I never thought you could become even more annoying, Chuuya," Dazai says, that mocking tone Chuuya knows so well present on his voice. Before, he would have gotten angry at his teasing. Now, Chuuya just stares straight ahead, eyes fixed on the piano, for the first time focused on something other than what's in his head. Dazai sighs. Pushes Chuuya forward, his hand resting lightly on his lower back. "Play. Like you used to." The weight of the piano lid is familiar on Chuuya's hands, the feel of the keys beneath his fingers an echo of another time, before he started cracking, before the hourglass started running. The first notes are hesitant, but soon Chuuya's hands are flying over the piano, spilling out a melody he can't remember the name of. But it's loud, and if he plays it long enough perhaps it'll become louder. So he plays, and plays, and plays, until his fingers are rubbed raw and his wrists hurt so much they turn numb. He plays, to drown out the voices, to drown out the screams.

The piano room becomes Chuuya's favorite place. He never leaves the house; constantly playing, constantly fighting against his own mind. Dazai comes and goes, but sometimes he stays, leaning on the wall in front of Chuuya and talking for hours on end. On his bad days, Chuuya's unresponsive to everything around him, Dazai's words only a string of noise he doesn't understand. On his good days, just the sound of Dazai's voice makes him react, insults rolling off his tongue with practiced ease, and it's almost as if they are back to when they were partners. Except they aren't. Chuuya is but a ghost of his former self, and he wants to kill Dazai, for being whole while he has shattered. He also wants to kiss him, if only to shut him up.

Only one of Chuuya's wishes comes true, and he finds out there's ways other than the piano to keep the voices at bay. He's drunk the first time it happens, so he can't remember whose idea it was, but it doesn't matter. Dazai's lips are rough and demanding; Chuuya becomes boneless under his touch, can't focus on anything but his mouth. So he lets Dazai play him like he plays the keys of his piano, until his body is on fire and Dazai's name is the only thing on his mind, falling from his lips and echoing as loud as his music in the room. This burning doesn't smell of smoke. These screams don't taste of blood. And for Chuuya, that's enough. 

It's on one of Chuuya's good days that Oda Sakunosuke is killed. That means he notices when Dazai enters the piano room that night. He notices the unusual stretch of silence before he starts talking, and the heavy weight on his voice. "They killed Odasaku," Dazai says, and Chuuya doesn't ask who "they" are, because he doesn't care. He vaguely remembers the guy, and that's it, so he keeps on playing until Dazai speaks again and the music comes to a sudden stop. "I'm leaving the Mafia." Chuuya doesn't raise his eyes from the piano, but his fingers tremble over the keys. The screaming in his head is but a background noise to Dazai's words. "You don't get to run away," he says, his voice low but sharp. "You don't tell me what to do, Chuuya," Dazai answers. It's not teasing, or playful. Chuuya wishes it was. The stool makes a screeching sound as it's dragged across the floor, and suddenly his hands are around Dazai's neck, squeezing. "You don't get to run away," Chuuya repeats, but his voice catches at the end when he sees the challenge in Dazai's eyes. He releases his hold, only to pull Dazai towards him in a kiss. It's forceful, their teeth clashing, but the other doesn't struggle; instead, he kisses Chuuya back with a passiveness that's as unlike him as everything else he's done that night. Chuuya forces Dazai pliant under him, mindless of the cold hard floor beneath them. He traces every inch of skin with his mouth, covers it all in bites; his fingers map Dazai's body, pressing so hard they're bound to leave marks that'll last for weeks. He's not gentle; his kisses taste of anger, of a bittersweet goodbye that has been forced upon him, and hell if he isn't going to punish Dazai for it. So Chuuya takes, and takes, and takes, everything Dazai has to give and more, searching, wishing to hear his voice break, break like Chuuya once had. What he gets is ragged breathing, short nails scratching his skin, a warm body trembling along with his own. But Dazai doesn't make a sound.

Even after Dazai leaves, Chuuya stays. Every few days, he wakes up to find food and new clothes in a pile by the piano. Chuuya knows they're from Dazai, but he's always asleep when he comes - it's not a coincidence, it never is when Dazai is involved - and by the time he wakes up there's no sign of his old partner other than the things he left behind. Alone in the piano room, Chuuya tells himself he'll be glad if he never sees him again. However, it's like the sound of the rain, going thump thump thump until it becomes background noise and you don't notice it anymore. But it's always there, and when the rain stops, you miss the sound. You notice its absence, and there's this strange, sudden feeling of emptiness, an ache for something that's not there. The screams continue, crowding Chuuya's mind, but now there's this tiny string of silence where Dazai's voice used to be, and Chuuya hates it. He hates Dazai, for leaving him with only the voices that are not his. He hates himself, for noticing. For caring.

Once, Chuuya was whole. Once, Chuuya had a partner, who got on his nerves constantly. A partner, who was as ruthless as him. A partner, who saved him when he shattered, and made him into a mess of hastily glued shards with points as sharp as a knife. A partner, who was strong enough not to break. Who was strong enough to leave. Now, Chuuya's only company are the screams, and a piano that isn't enough to keep them away. So he plays, and plays, and plays, until his fingers bleed and his wrists hurt. He plays, to drown out the voices. And to forget the silence.

[samuelignatius-blog]

Draca side stories: Amias Chapter 2

Author’s note: I wrote a book called Dracas and there are some stories I want to tell but I can’t fit in the main series. I decided to write side stories, some lengthy  and some short. Now I made sure YOU DO NOT need to read Dracas to understand these stories. They’re self contained and not part of the main plot. Keep in mind that I write these on the side and for fun so the quality may not be on par as my normal work. I still strive for these stories to be enjoyable and I hope you get invested in the characters. 

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Suggested age is 13+; suggestive themes, mild language, and violence. Does contain gay romance.

You work here, Darrien?

“Yes, but now the question is how are you seeing this?” Darrien asks worriedly as he looks around his clinic.

I can use your senses, Master. Think of it as lesser possession.

“I'd rather not think about you possessing me.” Darrien says with a shudder.

Amias chuckles, fair enough.

Darrien gives a sigh as he walks to the window, grabbing the wooden boards and opening them to let the morning light shine through. Inside his small clinic is a simple bed on the far wall, on the end opposing the door is an old counter with a worn bookshelf behind it. A variety of herbs and vials neatly arranged on each shelf.

Did not expect you to be a doctor.

“Not a doctor, just a healer.” Darrien says as he walks over behind the counter. His hands rest on the counter and a light squeak is heard from the old wood.

And the difference is?

“Doctors do not have magical means in healing their patients. I do.” Darrien explains as he looks beneath his counter. In a basket is a simple white coat that Darrien retrieves and puts on.

Surely using magic means you have more use than a simple doctor.

“Arguably,” Darrien says as he pats down his long coat to get dust off, “but at the same time doctors find actual cures for diseases. I can cure lesser illnesses but something like cancer is beyond my capabilities.”

Even beyond the capabilities of doctors.

Darrien gives a sigh. “True, though I am happy a group of healers and doctors are working with a noble to find a cure.”

Truly? Wh-

Amias is interrupted as the door to the clinic bursts open. A panicked woman carrying a dirty child in her arms comes rushing inside screaming.

“Help my baby!” The woman sobs as she clutches the child closely, the child unresponsive to their mother's actions.

“On the bed, now!” Darrien orders as he rushes to the child's aid, the mother crying as she shakily, but gently, lays her child on the bed. “What happened?” Darrien asks as he reaches for the child's face.

“Sh-she was just playing outside.” The mother sobs, watching fearfully as Darrien examines her daughter. “I was tending to the animals and I turn to see her on the ground.”

Darrien presses a finger to the nape of the young child's throat. A faint pulse is felt though the child is cold, her complexion turning pale. Her red hair even appearing to lose color. Darrien looks down the child's dirty body and notices something at her bare feet. Darrien moves forward a little and sees a stinger detached from an insect on her big toe.

“Nyerms.” Darrien sighs as he rushes towards the shelf and begins to gather herbs, vials, and a mixing bowl. The mother looks at him in anxious confusion as he places the items on the counter and begins mixing them. The small bowl begins to glow a faint blue as Darrien mutters something, his hand glowing a faint yellow as he stirs them.

“Grab her head and tilt it back.” Darrien orders the mother as he races back to the child. The mother does as she is told and Darrien parts the young child's lips and begins to pour the glowing liquid into the child's throat. Once the liquid empties he closes her mouth and starts to gently rub her neck, his fingers glowing faintly. The mother looks on anxiously and lets out a joyous cry as the child begins to cough and spit.

“Oh Mary you-”

“Don't touch her!” Darrien shouts as he raises an arm to stop the mother. “Forgive me but the child needs to rest for a bit.” Darrien explains in a calmer voice as he goes back to the child's foot and pulls the stinger out of her toe. “It would seem your farm has a Nyerm infestation.”

“Nyerms?” The mother says in confused disbelief. “But that shouldn't be, we put down insecticides and had a mage put up wards around our farm.”

“I'd get back in touch with that mage.” Darrien says as he tosses the stinger out of the window. “Odds are he probably made an attractor instead of a barrier.”

The mother lets out a sigh. “I'll worry about that later, I'm just happy my child is ok.” The mother says as she gets down on her knees and watches as color begins to return to her child's face. “How much is the bill?”

“It was a simple procedure, I think twenty gold will suffice.” Darrien answers. The mother reaches for her robe and takes out a handful of coins. As she counts them she places them in Darrien's hand. Darrien walks away to count them and stops to turn back to the mother. “This is thirty.”

“An extra ten as thanks for helping my daughter.” She says, avoiding to look at Darrien.

“Ma'am, that is kind of you, but that is not nec-”

“And you don't have to put that in the books.” The woman says as she returns her gaze to Darrien. “Your wife wouldn't have to know.” Darrien stands silently, staring at the woman for a brief moment as he gives a sad sigh.

“Thank you.” He mutters quietly as he walks back to his counter and places the payment in a drawer. After a few moments the child becomes responsive and, while needing to lean on her mother, walks out of the clinic. Darrien sits on the patient bed and hangs his head, the woman's words still in his mind.

So, how does she know your wife?

“That's not your concern, Amias.” Darrien answers quietly.

My apologies, Darrien.

Darrien shakes his head. “No, I'm sorry. Everyone else knows her so why can't you.” Darrien says as he lets out a deep breath. “My wife is a daughter of a Lord, and as a result quite famous with the townsfolk.”

If she's the daughter of a Lord, why would she need your money?

“Because her father banished her from the family. Called her a disgrace to their name.” Darrien answers. “She was caught in bed with a common man.”

I take it she blames you for her being removed from the family?

“I didn't say it was me.” Darrien answers glumly rubbing his hands as old humiliation comes creeping back to him. “And, sure enough, that wasn't the only man she had been in bed with.” A hand on his shoulder causes him to jump and to look over at Amias sitting next to him.

“My apologies, Darrien. My kind react strongly to emotions, especially when linked to someone.” Amias says as he draws his hand back. “I merely wished to comfort you, nothing more.”

Darrien lets out a surprised chuckle. “Used to seeing you guys treated as pleasure demons, I forget that most of those stories are not the case.”

Amias raises a brow. “You know most of the stories around Incubuses and Succubi are false?”

Darrien nods. “My mother was a powerful sorceress and as a result participated in a variety of exorcisms. She did some summoning to learn more about demons in general. Turns out most religions painted you guys as monsters when, in reality, most of you just want to be left alone. But jerks keep bothering you for selfish reasons.”

“Jerks like you?” Amias points out with a smirk and raised brow.

Darrien flinches but hangs his head guiltily. “Y-yeah. Sorry.”

Amias chuckles. “No need to be sorry, Darrien. You seem like a nice enough man.”

“Thanks, but still doesn't change the fact I summoned you for a perverted reason.” Darrian says with a guilty laugh.

“Which you still haven't done, mind you.” Amias says with a smirk. “Somehow I feel blue balled, and I'm the victim.”

Darrien laughs. “I shouldn't be laughing, I was trying to take advantage of you.”

Amias shrugs. “I was complying and you are hardly the worst person to summon me for an intimate reason. I see it as more prostitution than plain exploitation.”

“With that logic I should've just gone to a whore house.” Darrien says scratching his head. “Though I didn't want Elizabeth to find out.”

“True, easier to hide the fact you are cheating if the other person is in another realm.” Amias' words his Darrien harder than intended.

“Yeah, I was cheating wasn't I?” Darrien admits shamefully.

“Tell me, do you love your wife?” Amias asks cautiously as Darrien looks back at him with wide open eyes. “I am merely curious, the way she treats you and from what I've heard of her she doesn't seem that great.”

Darrien opens his mouth to answer but shakily says, “I...don't want to have this conversation right now.”

“Fair enough.” Amias says as he lets his eyes wander over to the door. “Do you often have to treat children?”

“Yes, though not as severe as that one.” Darrien answers. “A nyerm's venom can leave a victim paralyzed for days if not treated quickly enough. The venom itself is not deadly but going days without food or drink can be life threatening.”

“Thankfully the mother brought her to you.” Amias says as he looks back at Darrien. “I underestimated you when we first met.”

“Oh?”

“I thought you were a foolish young man trying to get lucky. Now I see a smart, caring man.”

“Thank you, though I am still foolish.”

“In a cute way.”

Darrien shudders. “Not sure how I feel about being flirted with a demon.”

“Is being flirted with a guy any better? You are married to a woman.” Amias points out. “Something that I admit I'm a little curious about.”

“I had a friend growing up.” Darrien says as a flustered smile creeps across his face. “While we never got close emotionally we were, well, y'know.”

“You a top or bottom?” Amias asks bluntly with a smile, Darrien's eyes popping out of his head in flustered surprise.

Darrien shudders nervously for a moment but answers, “Depends.”

“Depends on?” Amias' voice trailing off, finding Darrien's shyness kinda cute.

“O-on the guy. I consider myself a top mostly but if the guy has the right build, I mean.” Darrien stops nervously as he gestures randomly, Amias chuckling lightly.

“I get the hint.” Amias says, Darrien giving a sigh of relief. “Now the question is when are we gonna, y'know.” Amias says in a light teasing tone, mimicking Darrien's earlier statement.

“I mean, we could tonight.” Darrien says as he looks at Amias. “My wife is rarely home and she got paid yesterday so she won't be there.”

“Alright then.” Amias says plainly, deep down wanting to ask why Darrien's wife won't be there but refrains from asking. Due to the connection between the two, Amias can feel the humiliation Darrien has about that topic.

Author speaking, I sometimes wonder if I’m writing this story too ‘sexually’. Odd thing to think about as the story never really gets raunchy, I’m about 3/4th of the way through. I guess its just personal anxiety as I want to write a more emotional story involving Amias. Sadly, his ‘nature’ makes that slightly difficult in my eyes. Or rather how that can be interpreted in the eyes of others. Not their fault, I am the one writing it so it is my job to make sure to convey that correctly not theirs.

Regardless, I hope you enjoyed Chapter 2. I am wondering if I should upload another side story I’m writing but that one is depressing. More depressing than having an abusive spouse, if you can believe that. At least this one has a smartass Incubus to give some levity.