#And woke up up with a sore neck and bruises on my collar bone

[iheartcake123]

☁️gentle-nakamoto yuta☁️

a/n: this is inspired by twilight bc im a sucker for the books and movies👀

Warnings: while this imagine doesn’t contain any smut, it does imply it so if you’re uncomfortable or if you aren’t of legal age i suggest you don’t read this.

Masterlist

-y/n’s p.o.v-

i woke up with pain all over my body. my legs and arms were sore and i struggled to even get out of bed. as i sat up in bed with yuta’s oversized shirt covering my body a small smile appeared on my face as i remembered what had happened last night. it was perfect.

i turned my head to look at yuta who was still asleep. he looked handsome. the bottom half of his body was covered with the bedsheet and i pulled the bedsheet up so that his whole body was covered. it was slightly chilly and i didn’t want him to get ill. when i attempted to stand up my legs almost gave out from under me, but i managed to steady myself so that i didn’t fall. my muscles were tired and i just needed to get used to the pain because in a couple of days it would all be gone.

i then quietly made my way into the bathroom avoiding the articles of clothing that were scattered all over the floor. when i reached the bathroom, i shut the door behind me and i looked at myself in the mirror. i was a mess and needed to get showered.

i sighed before rubbing the back of my neck and stretching. i ran my fingers over my hair to fix the mess that it was before then going over to run a warm shower for myself. after waiting a couple of minutes to ensure that the temperature was perfect, i quickly removed the shirt i was wearing and slowly stepped in.

as the warm water hit my body i felt my muscles begin to relax and my body wasn’t as sore due to the warmth. i closed my eyes and just stayed under the water for a good while.

when i finally got done with my shower i dried myself off before slipping on some fresh undergarments. i wrapped my favourite silk robe around myself and stood in front of the fogged up mirror. i brought my arm up and used my hand to clear it up so i could seem myself.

when i looked at the reflection i rolled my sleeves from my robe up and i noticed that my arms had red marks all over them and there were purple bruises on my collar bone. as i investigated more by then turning around and pulling the robe down so i could see the backs of my shoulders, i also saw that they were covered in red marks too.

i brought my hands to touch the red on my skin and winced slightly because it stung. i didn’t even bother to look at the rest of my body as i already knew there would be more marks and i knew if i saw them they would probably hurt more.

“y/n.. baby are you okay?” a quiet knock was at the door and i heard yuta’s voice.

i felt myself panic for a second because i knew that he would feel bad if he knew that i was in pain because of yesterday. i didn’t want him to feel bad because everything was perfect.

“y-yeah” my voice came out more alarmed than i would’ve liked and i silently cursed myself.

“you sure? i’m coming in, okay?” he then said and before i could protest he had already opened the door.

i quickly turned so that he couldn’t see the back of my shoulders and then swiftly pulled the robe up to cover myself again.

his face was written with worry but he soon broke into a smile once he saw that i was fine.

“you scared me for a second” he chuckled before wrapping me in a huge hug.

i loved his hugs usually but this time it was different. i did my best to handle the pain but as he kept tightening the hug i eventually yelped in pain. i was still sore and almost immediately he pulled away.

“what’s wrong?” he frowned and i shook my head.

“nothing” i gave him a small grin as i tried my best to hide the pain my shoulders felt.

-yuta’s p.o.v-

i noticed y/n shift uncomfortably as she tried to convince me that nothing was wrong. i had a bad feeling in my stomach and i started thinking back to last night. was i too rough?

there were purple marks on her collarbone which i remember putting there but surely they weren’t enough to cause y/n pain and discomfort.

“could you turn around please?” i pleaded and she avoided my eye contact.

when i reached for her hand, i slowly rolled her sleeves up and i noticed red marks going up her arm. marks that i had unintentionally put there.

“why?” she nervously laughed moving her hand away and pulling her sleeves back down.

“please?” i couldn’t help but frown.

she nodded and slowly turned around. when she did i sighed, worried at what i was going to see.

i used my hands to gently pull her robe down to reveal the backs of her shoulders. when i did i saw bright red marks much worse than the ones on her arms and i instantly began to feel guilty. i hadn’t realised that i had hurt her last night.

“i was too rough, wasn’t i?” i exhaled gently tracing my fingers over the marks.

“no of course you weren’t” she smiled while looking at the mirror probably in hopes of making me feel better.

“look at you y/n, you’re hurt” i said softly as my eyebrows knitted together.

“they’re just some marks yuta” she shook her head trying to convince me that it wasn’t a big deal. it wasn’t working.

“but they’re not just some marks..” i paused for second and slid my hands around her waist to gently fully open up the robe.

when it finally opened, it fell down her arms and revealed the extent to which i had accidentally hurt y/n. her waist and stomach had purple bruises on them and so did her thighs.

“look y/n, i hurt you and i didn’t even realise it” i whispered leaning into her ear while brushing my fingers over the marks on her stomach and she quickly moved my hands away to close the robe once again.

she looked to the floor and guilt kept on eating at me. hurting y/n was the last thing i wanted to do.

-y/n’s p.o.v-

“i really was too rough” yuta frowned and he put his head on my shoulder while placing his hands on my waist.

i really didn’t want yuta to feel bad because he was nothing but good to me last night.

“why didn’t you tell me? if i had known i would’ve been gentle” he placed a soft kiss on my cheek.

“i didn’t want you to feel bad” i sighed while turning around to fully face him “plus it barely hurt last night”

“that still doesn’t make it okay, i knew i should’ve been gentle! i always get carried away!” he removed his arms from my waist and rubbed his jawline up and down in a stressed manner.

“i should never have even done it, i regret everything!” yuta then said out loud before looking at the floor.

i couldn’t believe my ears and tears brimmed my eyes. i understood that he was frustrated with himself but it hurt me that he regretted it.

last night was special to me, he knew that and now he’s talking about regretting it. talking about it like it was so wrong.

“do you really mean that?” my voice came out as a whisper as i didn’t dare look yuta in the eyes when he turned to me “was it that bad that you regret it?”

yuta’s eyes widened as soon as he realised what he had said. instantly he shook his head.

“no y/n-” he began.

“it obviously was, you just said it” i bit the inside of my cheek to stop the tears from falling out my eyes.

“i know what i said but i promise no” he placed a hand on my cheek and tears began to leave my eyes.

“im sorry, i was just really nervous and it was my first-” i started to apologise and yuta sighed.

he then cut me off by pressing his lips onto mine. the kiss was sweet and when he pulled away he began to speak.

“it was perfect…you were absolutely perfect. im just annoyed at myself and feel guilty for being too rough. i would never regret being with you. ever.” he then pressed a quick kiss to my forehead.

“don’t feel guilty” i told him as i put a hand on his cheek “if you had did something wrong last night i would’ve told you”

yuta’s mouth turned into a grin and he leaned in once again to kiss my lips.

“how about i give you a massage?” he then suggested and i smiled.

“that would be amazing” i whispered happily.

“okay, wait on the bed and let me just get the oils. i’ll be there soon” he pressed a kiss on my temple and led me out of our bathroom, to our bedroom before going to grab the oils.

i couldn’t help but smile as butterflies fluttered in my stomach.

i really got lucky in the boyfriend department.

#nct 127 imagines #nct u imagines #nct yuta #nct imagines #nct x reader #yuta x reader #nct fluff #nct fic #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #kpop x reader #love #writing #nct 127

[bastard-of-the-barrel]

Hey, odd request but could you post the scene about where Kaz faints in the prison truck? I lost my copy of the book and I really wanted to read that scene today

The hinges held.

Another shout in Fjerdan, more footsteps. Then the crack of the reins and the cart surged forward, rumbling over the road. Inej let herself exhale. Her throat had gone completely dry.

Kaz took his place beside her. He shoved a hood over her head, and the musty smell filled her nostrils. He would put his own hood on next, then lock himself in. Easy enough, a cheap magician’s trick, and Kaz knew them all. His arm pressed along hers from shoulder to elbow as he locked the collar around his neck. Bodies shifted against Inej’s back and side, crowding up against her.

For now they were safe. But despite the rattle of the wagon’s wheels, Inej could tell Kaz’s breathing had got worse – shallow, rapid pants like an animal caught in a trap. It was a sound she’d never thought to hear from him.

It was because she was listening so closely that she knew the exact moment when Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the bastard of the Barrel and the deadliest boy in Ketterdam, fainted.

---

The money Mister Hertzoon had left with Kaz and Jordie ran out the following week. Jordie tried to return his new coat, but the shop wouldn’t take it, and Kaz’s boots had clearly been worn.

When they brought the loan agreement Mister Hertzoon had signed to the bank, they found that – for all its official-looking seals – it was worthless paper. No one knew of Mister Hertzoon or his business partner.

They were evicted from the boarding house two days later, and had to find a bridge to sleep under, but were soon rousted by the stadwatch. After that, they wandered aimlessly until morning. Jordie insisted that they go back to the coffeehouse. They sat for a long time in the park across the street. When night came, and the watch began its rounds, Kaz and Jordie headed south, into the streets of the lower Barrel, where the police did not bother to patrol.

They slept beneath a set of stairs in an alley behind a tavern, tucked between a discarded stove and bags of kitchen refuse. No one bothered them that night, but the next they were discovered by a gang of boys who told them they were in Razorgull territory. They gave Jordie a thrashing and knocked Kaz into the canal, but not before they took his boots.

Jordie fished Kaz out of the water and gave him his dry coat.

“I’m hungry,” Kaz said.

“I’m not,” Jordie replied. And for some reason that had struck Kaz as funny, and they’d both started laughing. Jordie wrapped his arms around Kaz and said, “The city is winning so far. But you’ll see who wins in the end.”

The next morning, Jordie woke with a fever.

In years to come people would call the outbreak of firepox that struck Ketterdam the Queen’s Lady Plague, after the ship believed to have brought the contagion to the city. It hit the crowded slums of the Barrel hardest. Bodies piled up in the streets, and sickboats moved through the canals, using long shovels and hooks to tumble corpses onto their platforms and haul them out to the Reaper’s Barge for burning.

Kaz’s fever came on two days after Jordie’s. They had no money for medicine or a medik, so they huddled together in a pile of broken-up wooden boxes that they dubbed the Nest.

No one came to roust them. The gangs had all been laid low by disease.

When the fever reached full fire, Kaz dreamed he had returned to the farm, and when he knocked on the door, he saw Dream Jordie and Dream Kaz already there, sitting at the kitchen table. They peered at him through the window, but they wouldn’t let him in, so he wandered through the meadow, afraid to lie down in the tall grass.

When he woke, he couldn’t smell hay or clover or apples, only coalsmoke, and the spongy rotting vegetable stink of garbage. Jordie was lying next to him, staring at the sky. “Don’t leave me,” Kaz wanted to say, but he was too tired. So he laid his head on Jordie’s chest. It felt wrong already, cold and hard.

He thought he was dreaming when the bodymen rolled him onto the sickboat. He felt himself falling, and then he was caught in a tangle of bodies. He tried to scream, but he was too weak. They were everywhere, legs and arms and stiff bellies, rotting limbs and blue-lipped faces covered in firepox sores. He floated in and out of consciousness, unsure of what was real or fever dream as the flatboat moved out to sea. When they tumbled him into the shallows of the Reaper’s Barge, he somehow found the strength to cry out.

“I’m alive,” he shouted, as loud as he could. But he was so small, and the boat was already drifting back to harbour.

Kaz tried to pull Jordie from the water. His body was covered in the little blooming sores that gave the firepox its name, his skin white and bruised. Kaz thought of the little wind-up dog, of drinking hot chocolate on the bridge. He thought that heaven would look like the kitchen of the house on Zelverstraat and smell like hutspot cooking in the Hertzoons’ oven. He still had Saskia’s red ribbon. He could give it back to her. They would make candies out of quince paste. Margit would play the piano, and he could fall asleep by the fire. He closed his eyes and waited to die.

Kaz expected to wake in the next world, warm and safe, his belly full, Jordie beside him. Instead, he woke surrounded by corpses. He was lying in the shallows of the Reaper’s Barge, his clothes soaked through, skin wrinkled from the damp. Jordie’s body was beside him, barely recognisable, white and swollen with rot, floating on the surface like some kind of gruesome deep sea fish.

Kaz’s vision had cleared, and the rash had receded. His fever had broken. He’d forgotten his hunger, but he was thirsty enough that he thought he would go mad.

All that day and night, he waited in the pile of bodies, looking out at the harbour, hoping the flatboat would return. They had to come to set the fires that would burn the corpses, but when? Did the bodymen collect every day? Every other day? He was weak and dehydrated. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer. The coast seemed so far away, and he knew he was too weak to swim the distance. He had survived the fever, but he might well die out here on the Reaper’s Barge. Did he care? There was nothing waiting for him in the city except more hunger and dark alleys and the damp of the canals. Even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t true. Vengeance was waiting, vengeance for Jordie and maybe for himself, too. But he would have to go to meet it.

When night came, and the tide changed direction, Kaz forced himself to lay hands on Jordie’s body. He was too frail to swim on his own, but with Jordie’s help, he could float. He held tight to his brother and kicked towards the lights of Ketterdam. Together, they drifted, Jordie’s distended body acting as a raft. Kaz kept kicking, trying not to think of his brother, of the taut, bloated feel of Jordie’s flesh beneath his hands; he tried not to think of anything but the rhythm of his legs moving through the sea. He’d heard there were sharks in these waters, but he knew they wouldn’t touch him. He was a monster now, too.

He kept kicking, and when dawn came, he looked up to find himself at the east end of the Lid. The harbour was nearly deserted; the plague had caused shipping in and out of Kerch to grind to a halt.

The last hundred yards were hard. The tide had turned once more, and it was working against him. But Kaz had hope now, hope and fury, twin flames burning inside him. They guided him to the dock and up the ladder. When he reached the top, he flopped down on his back on the wooden slats, then forced himself to roll over. Jordie’s body was caught in the current, bumping against the pylon below. His eyes were still open, and for a moment, Kaz thought his brother was staring back at him. But Jordie didn’t speak, he didn’t blink, his gaze didn’t shift as the tide dragged him free of the pylon and began to carry him out to sea.

I should close his eyes, thought Kaz. But he knew if he climbed down the ladder and waded back into the sea, he would never find his way out again. He’d simply let himself drown, and that wasn’t possible any more. He had to live. Someone had to pay.

---

In the prison wagon, Kaz woke to a sharp jab against his thigh. He was ice cold and in darkness. There were bodies all around him, pressing against his back, his sides. He was drowning in corpses.

“Kaz.” A whisper.

He shuddered.

Another jab to his thigh.

“Kaz.” Inej’s voice. He managed a deep breath through his nose. He felt her pull away from him. Somehow, in the cramped confines of the wagon, she managed to give him space. His heart was pounding.

“Keep talking,” he rasped.

“What?”

“Just keep talking.”

“We’re passing through the prison gate. We made it past the first two checkpoints.”

That brought him fully to his senses. They’d gone through two checkpoints. That meant they’d been counted. Someone had opened that door – not once but twice – maybe even laid hands on him, and he hadn’t woken. He could have been robbed, killed. He’d imagined his death a thousand ways, but never sleeping through it.

He forced himself to breathe deeply, despite the smell of bodies. He’d kept his gloves on, something the guards might have easily taken note of, and a frustrating concession to his weakness, but if he hadn’t, he felt fairly sure he’d have gone completely mad.

Behind him, he could hear the other prisoners murmuring to one another in different languages. Despite the fears the darkness woke in him, he gave thanks for it. He could only hope that the rest of his crew, hooded and burdened by their own anxiety, hadn’t noticed anything strange about his behaviour. He’d been sluggish, slow to react when they’d ambushed the wagon, but that was all, and he could make up some excuse to account for it.

He hated that Inej had seen him this way, that anyone had, but on the heels of that thought came another: Better it should be her. In his bones, he knew that she would never speak of it to anyone, that she would never use this knowledge against him. She relied on his reputation. She wouldn’t want him to look weak. But there was more to it than that, wasn’t there? Inej would never betray him. He knew it. Kaz felt ill. Though he’d trusted her with his life countless times, it felt much more frightening to trust her with this shame.

The wagon came to a halt. The bolt slid back, and the doors flew open.

#six of crows #kaz brekker #leigh bardugo #grishaverse

[twinklelilstarkey]

Stopping You - Michael Gray [Part 6]

Words: 3.9k+

Type: Angst & Fluff

Warnings: Female!Reader. Cursing. Mentions of the nightmare and their past relationship. Cuteness overload with kids.

Prologue    Part 1    Part 2    Part 3    Part 4    Part 5    Part 6    Part 7

The night was long.

It took you an entire hour to calm down completely, and Finn was quick to make you lean back on the bed. He sat next to your head, hand laid over your hair, massaged your scalp lightly to try and relax you.

Michael stood in the doorway during all of it.

He saw you crying for help, saw his cousin and his mom cleaning your tears away, saw you falling back asleep under Finn’s touch. And how, when you were asleep, Finn never left your side.

As Finn falls asleep against the headboard of your bed, Michael leaves the room for the first time. The image of you sobbing into his mother’s chest replays continuously in his mind like a curse. The fact that everyone knew exactly what to do with you terrified him.

He makes his way down the stairs of the home and drags his tired feet to his mom’s big expensive couch, letting himself fall onto it, hoping that exhaustion could take over.

But it doesn’t.

At 5:30 in the morning, he hears Finn leave your room and walk over to the guests’ room, where he had said previously, to Polly, he would sleep.

Michael wasn’t able to sleep the whole night. Polly and Finn were, but so lightly that they would wake up with someone just doing something as silent as walking on the pavement outside.

At around 7 in the morning, you’re the one awake, sitting on the side of the bed and cringing in pain as you try to force your sore body up from the mattress.

Taking a few minutes until you’re able to do it.

You decide to use the early hours to your advantage and take a bath to wash the sweat from last night out of your skin. And when done, you walk back to the room and grab a clean suit and white blouse from the wardrobe in the corner of the room.

You look yourself in the mirror when dressed and see the bruise on your collar bone, peeking from the unbuttoned top of the blouse. You throw some gold necklaces around your neck, in hopes that they would distract whoever sees the bruise, as well as button one of the buttons.

You walk out of the bedroom and all you can hear from the house is the soft patter of your feet over the wooden floor.

As you reach the kitchen, you’re met with a sight you didn’t exactly expect to have so early in the morning. Michael sitting in one of the kitchen’s highchairs, elbows over the countertop as his hands cover and run through his face.

You don’t greet him, obviously, but the sound of you grabbing the kettle on the other side of the kitchen is enough to make him look up and finally see you.

As you fill the kettle with water and put it over the lit stove, Michael watches you silently. He doesn’t want to disturb you as you move your awfully bruised body as if it doesn’t even hurt through the kitchen.

You shove your hand inside your pocket and take out all the rings you had just stuffed there previously, so you could decide which ones to wear while you wait for your tea. You put them over the free countertop, in front of Michael, and look through them.

Michael watches you intensely as the coffee in front of him grows cold. The exposed skin of your chest, decorated with the golden jewellery, catches his attention, and he holds in a cringe at the sight of the purple bruise peeking from the side.

The hiss of the kettle finally sounds through the room and you don’t even flinch at its loud and sudden sound. You start decorating your fingers after much analysing and Michael almost lets out a chuckle at how at least 3 you picked, are his mom’s.

Once done, you look up and your eyes are met with Michael’s. You don’t say anything, nor hold your usual annoyed expression at him, you just stare back silently.

“Did you- Uhm…” His voice breaks the silence, “Did you sleep well?”

You blink at his question and turn around while taking a deep breath, grabbing a mug from the cabinet above the stove.

“Don’t act like you care, Michael” You simply say, turning off the flame from the stove.

He looks away when hearing your usual arrogant tone as if wounded and clenches his jaw.

You prepare your tea, ignoring his presence, and once done, you turn back around, putting down the scolding hot tea on top of the counter in front of him. You grab the rest of the rings and put them back in your pocket while observing all the steam coming from your mug.

“I care” Michael finally responds, “It might seem like I don’t, but I do”

You look up at him and sigh.

“I don’t believe you” You offer a quick fake smile.

Michael falls silent once more and you let your eyes go back down to the steaming mug. All the possible ways to restart the conversation run through Michael’s mind, but the smell of your favourite tea and your perfume takes his mind in a whole another journey.

It amazes him how close you’re standing to him, so close that he doesn’t even have to reach to touch you. And for so long too. Something the past-Michael would laugh at, for sure.

You used to always be by his side. Not in an overly clingy way. It was just how you two were. You two felt comfortable standing side by side.

The memories are so livid that Michael can almost still feel your touch over his skin. Every time you would hold his hand in the street, pepper his face with kisses when trying to wake him up on early Monday’s, or hugging his arm close to you when you were cold.

He remembers it, he remembers your warmth and your delicate and soft hands as if he had just felt them the day before.

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry” Michael whispers over the overly loud silence of the kitchen.

You look up at him again and frown slightly.

“About?”

“Everything” He answers slowly, bringing his eyes over to yours. “And, please, believe me when I say that I mean it”

You don’t say anything.

“I’m sorry for saying all of that shit on the phone. I’m sorry for not calling you anymore. I’m sorry for treating you like shit… And I’m sorry for coming back and acting as if nothing happened”

Your heart skips a beat.

You stare at him silently while taking a deep breath, anger starting to build up in your veins, once more. He is not doing this today.

“The other night, I-”

“The other night shouldn’t have happened” You interrupt, defence mode building back your walls around him, “We shouldn’t have had that conversation”

“Why?”

“Because, Michael” You say louder, hating the fact that he was almost able to get under your walls all over again, “What you did is not fucking exactly easy to forgive and forget, or even excusable. You don’t even fucking deserve a minute of my time, let alone a word”

With that, you grab your mug and walk out of the kitchen, not wanting to be in the same room as him.

You walk over to the living room and put the mug down, taking a seat on the couch.

Michael sighs as you do it and leans back on his chair.

(…)

As you close the door of Polly’s home and walk over to your car, Polly herself walks down the stairs.

She frowns at the sound of the door and walks over to the kitchen to find Michael, staring at a wall.

“Who left?”

“Y/N” He answers in almost a whisper.

“And you let her?” She asks with widened eyes, “She can’t even walk straight with all those wounds”

He scoffs and looks at his mom.

“It’s not like I have any word over what she does or stops doing” He comments.

Polly closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to calm down the nerves she feels towards her own son. She opens them back up and makes her way towards the kettle that still holds enough warm water for a mug of tea.

“Where’s Gina?” She asks as she grabs a mug for herself.

“Probably at the hotel”

“Are you planning on going to see her, today? You spent the whole night here”

Polly turns back to her son, who hasn’t moved a muscle, and he shrugs.

“Yeah. Of course, I am”

Polly nods at his words and puts down her tea, standing exactly where you had stood not even half an hour ago. Michael falls silent again and his mother stares as he fights over his thoughts, even frowning at some.

The older woman sips her warm drink and decides to break the silence.

“What were you two talking about?” She questions, “You were the ones that woke me up”

“I, uhm… I tried to apologize to her”

Polly looks at him shocked.

“Didn’t seem like she took it well” She comments.

“It’s the second time I do it” He admits, making his mother frown, “I don’t know what else to do”

“Second time?”

“Yeah” He nods, swallowing the thick sense of guilt on his throat, “The first time was after that dinner we all had. When I brought her home, we… Uh… Argued”

It all makes sense now.

“She didn’t tell me about this”

“Well, she did say, not too long ago, that ‘that night should have never happened’” He repeats.

Polly stares at her frustrated son and grins while taking a sip of her tea.

“What?” He questions when he notices her smile.

“Nothing, I just” She pauses, “Didn’t expect you to be so worked up about this”

Michael stops for a second. Why wouldn’t he? Yes, you broke up, but you still have a past with a great friendship. He cares for you. And, of course, he wants what’s best for you.

“I do want her to forgive me” He emphasizes, “I just… I don’t how if that’s even possible”

“Michael” Polly starts, taking another sip to warm her throat, “What you put that girl through was inhumane.” Michael tenses up, “You didn’t see half of what she went through, but we all did. Finn and I saw all of it. You were her first ever love, she hoped to be with you forever. And you ripped her heart apart while on the other side of the world”

Oh, how much Polly has dreamed to say all of this to her son. He needs a slap back to reality and she doesn’t care how harsh it really is.

“I didn’t-”

“I know” She says, “But you do need to keep that in mind. Who she is now is the girl that you broke. The girl you loved and promised a future with-”

“But she’s not even the same anymore” He confesses.

“She is” She says with a small smile, “You just had never saw this side of her. Or paid attention to it” He looks at her confused, “Don’t you remember how she looked at Grace’s family in Tommy’s wedding? She hated being close to them, she hated having to talk with the women in the wedding reception. And I watched her as she did it. The cold shoulder she’s giving you, right now, is the same one she gave to those people, Michael.”

“But she never acted like this with me. Even when we first met”

“She was friends with Ada and Esme before meeting you. She knew us, she trusted our family” She explains, “You were introduced to her as my son, a farmer’s boy” She chuckles at the image in her mind, “That was enough to gain her trust”

Michael thought about it for a second.

“She does act different now” Polly continues, “She carries herself with confidence. Acts as if no one can break her. Builds walls around herself so tall that she can’t even peek from over them. But she’s just protecting herself from getting hurt again. That cold shoulder, she would give someone once in a blue moon, is now her new way of staring life in the eyes. She’s not a scared girl anymore, she can fight for herself”

“What do I do, then?”

Polly sighs.

“You can start by thinking what you want with her. You’re engaged Michael, you can’t run after your exes as if they haven’t stared at your fiancé. And once you get that figured out, just try your best at gaining her heart again”

That sounded ridiculously unrealistic to Michael.

“That girl loved you more than her little heart could. She cared for you” Polly emphasizes, “Keep that in mind when talking to her, when apologizing to her. Try to understand her side of the story. But, also, give her time... It’s only been, almost, 3 weeks since you got here”

Give you time. Understand your side. Apologize to you.

Cared for him, loved him.

All of those words made Michael’s chest heavy. He doesn’t know why, but he assumes it’s guilt or, even, regret.

(…)

“Y/N?” Lizzie’s voice sounds as you walk out of your car, “It is you!”

“It is me,” You say with a smile on your face, “Decided to come over to talk about the big night”

You walk over to the front door of Lizzie’s and Tommy’s home and the woman throws her arms around you as soon as you’re close enough.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” She asks when pulling away.

“I already slept a whole night, that’s good enough”

She shakes her head in disapproval, but her smile is still prominent in her face. She had seen you in yesterday’s meeting, but she didn’t even have the chance to talk to you. Especially not after what happened.

You follow her inside the house and one of the maids stops in her tracks to look over your familiar face and say a small ‘good morning, miss’.

“Would you like to eat breakfast with me?” Lizzie asks, “Tommy already left for work”

“Thank you, but I already had breakfast” A lie, “But we can talk while you eat”

Lizzie sends you a small smile and you walk back to the dining room, where she had been previously eating until she heard the motor of your car.

“The maids are dressing up the kids, so it might-”

“Y/N!” Charlie shouts from the doorway of the dining room, catching you both by surprise.

A smile spreads over your face as the small boy runs to you and you pick him up, letting him wrap his small arms around your neck as you hold him over you unbruised hip.

Lizzie smiles at the cute interaction between you two and takes back her seat at the table. You do the same, letting Charlie sit over your legs, but he doesn’t seem to think of letting you go any soon.

“You missed her, uh?” Lizzie asks the boy, making him nod in the crook of your neck.

You two laugh at him and Lizzie restarts her breakfast.

As you two begin a conversation, you help the maid with Charlie’s breakfast, since he doesn’t seem to be wanting to get off your lap. You pass him the piece of buttered toast and he takes it from your hand, munching on it as you have a conversation with his stepmom.

“Tommy talked about a tent?” Lizzie questions and you nod.

“Yeah, it’s where he wants everyone to sit and watch the dance” You confirm, “He did say that he wanted somewhere else for the food and the drinks. I wanted to ask you where, in the house, you think it would be okay for everyone to stay”

“Here?” Lizzie answers, “Do you think this room is big enough? I don’t even know how many people are coming”

“Around 30 to 40 people, I believe” You reply, “Counting with all of us too. But yeah, I think this is good for all those people”

“Great” Lizzie says with a small smile, sipping her orange juice.

The soft patter of smaller feet is heard from the hallways and you all turn to see Ruby walking in the room in front of a maid.

She smiles towards her mom and you and runs towards the table, excited to have her breakfast.

“Can me and Y/N ride the horses?” Charlie questions Lizzie, still biting onto his bread.

“Not sure, Charlie. Y/N needs to rest, she’s had some rough few days. Don’t you think it’s better if all of you just played in the garden? You can show her what you got for your birthday, if you’d like”

Charlie nods at her words with a smile, already excited to show you his new horse toy.

He leans into your chest as he eats his toast and you clench your jaw as his head lays right over your bruised collar bone.

“Do you already know the colour the women will have to wear on that night?” You ask Lizzie, curious to see her reaction.

“There’s a colour assigned for us?” She asks, lifting her eyebrows at you.

“Unfortunately.”

“Oh god, what is it?”

“Gold” You say with a smile and she opens her mouth dumbfounded.

She shakes her head in disgust and you can’t help but chuckle at her.

(…)

Hours later, your ass has grown painfully sore on the grass of Tommy and Lizzie’s garden. You have to admit that even with all this pain, you haven’t had this much fun with kids in a long time.

You missed this.

Ruby sits comfortably in between your legs as Charlie runs through the garden with his new horse toy in hand, acting as if the horse runs through the wind at his speed.

Lizzie talks to one of the maids as she looks out of the window to see you plant a kiss on top of Ruby’s head, making the small girl look up and smile at you. You smile back and look up at the energetic boy that keeps on running.

The sound of the doorbell is heard through the house and one of the maids is quick to walk over to the front door. She opens it and is greeted with the sight of Polly Gray, herself.

“Polly” Lizzie says with a smile, surprised to see the older woman.

“Hello, is Y/N here?”

“Yes, in the garden with the kids”

Polly almost sighs of relief and walks towards the black-haired woman. They stand next to each other as they greet one another, and both look out of the window to stare at you.

They grin at the sight of you talking to Charlie and play with Ruby’s hair, gasping dramatically while accepting the red flower he had just stolen from his stepmom’s rose bush.

“How is she doing?” Lizzie asks.

“Hanging in there” Polly answers, not taking her eyes off you.

“And Michael?”

“Finally waking up to the shit he has caused”

A smirk grows on Lizzie’s face and Polly takes her eyes off you to look at the woman beside her.

“Took him long enough” She comments, making Polly chuckle slightly.

You look over your shoulder once sensing eyes on you and you’re met with both Polly and Lizzie staring. Lizzie says something behind the window and almost in that same second a maid walks out of the house, walking towards you.

“Miss,” The maid calls out for you and the kids stop what they’re doing to look at you, “Mrs. Shelby asked for all of you to go back inside since it’s getting cold”

You nod and offer a small smile. The maid turns and walks back inside, you lift Ruby from your lap and try to bring yourself up from the soft ground without groaning in pain.

Charlie stretches his hand up at you and you take it into yours as you pick up Ruby and hold her on your hip. You three walk back inside the house and the warmth of the large house hits all of you as soon as you step in.

“Let’s go into the living room, we’ll drink some tea there” Lizzie says.

Charlie let’s go of your hand and follows Lizzie into the living room, probably expecting to find the usual cookies he gets to eat when she has her tea.

“You were supposed to be resting” Polly says as she reaches your side, “Your body is too weak to be walking around, especially in heels”

“I’m okay” You insist, offering a small smile too, “I’ll rest when I get home”

You two go into the living room and take a seat on the couch, where it’s way more comfortable than the grass outside, for sure.

Ruby turns on your lap so that she can lean back into your chest and Lizzie continues to open the small box that holds Charlie’s favourite cookies.

“Where’s your flower?” Charlie asks you before taking a bite out of his cookie.

“In my pocket, I have to keep it safe” You say before pulling the rose out of your pocket.

Polly smiles at the sight of the perfect flower.

“What a beautiful flower, Charlie” Lizzie compliments, making the small boy smile proudly.

“You like Y/N, don’t you, boy?” Polly asks him, making him snap his head at her.

“Of course, I do” He answers, making every woman chuckle at him, “She’s my best of friends”

The boy grabs another cookie from the box and turns around, taking a seat on the ground in front of all the ladies, and his stepsister, who is playing with the rings in your hand.

Lizzie starts a conversation between every grown up in the room and you listen silently. Sometimes getting distracted with Charlie and his ways to catch your attention.

You lean your chin against Ruby’s head and the small girl leans in closer.

Charlie, when bored, stands from the ground and walks towards you, pulling himself up the couch so he can sit between you and Polly.

You smile at him and he smiles back, snuggling into your side.

(…)

Michael leans against the cold hotel window, his naked skin erupting into chills at the change of temperature.

His head is still pounding over all the screaming that he had to listen to when coming into the room, and now his eyes plead to close, so they can bring him into the deep sleep he so needs.

Gina turns on the bed and he looks over at her, hating how she lays as if nothing happened.

Right as he made his way back inside the hotel suite, he was welcomed back by a screaming Gina who filled him with all the types of questions about his whereabouts. Obviously, not believing that he was just at his mom’s house.

His mother’s words have sunk into his brain, branding it with the horrible truth he has caused in your life.

Guilt heavies his shoulders and eats his morals away just enough to not let him close his eyes to fall asleep.

He regrets all he has done; all he has said to you. He wants to go back in time and stop him himself from doing what he did. To escape this outcome. To escape seeing you in pain. To escape not seeing you like he did before.

But, what about Gina?

- - - - - -

This part is very boring compared to the others, I know, but we needed a calm part for what’s about to happen (wink wink).

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#michael gray x reader #michael gray #michael gray imagine #michael gray imagines #finn cole #finn cole x reader #finn shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky #finn cole imagine #finn cole imagines #peaky blinders imagines

[ssa-daddyhotchner]

Undercover - Chapter 2

Chapter Selection

It was too dark for me to see anything but I landed in something wet. I struggled to pull out my flashlight and used it on my hand when I pulled it up from the floor. 

There was blood covering my hand. There was white chunks which didn't make sense until I looked down. There were body parts scattered around below me. Bone fragments. 

I stayed quiet and looked around more with my flashlight; shining it on the walls. There were white sheets hanging to keep the blood off the walls. More part scattered around.

It smelled like death and rotting flesh.

Hearing shuffling from the center of the room I shine my light; I reveled Julia Martin. She had a gag, she was bound tightly to the table she was on with zip ties. Long gashes along her torso, arms and legs. 

I hear movement upstairs; it sounds like more than one person. Hotch. 

Something hit the wall, "Hotch!" I yelled to him but he didn't answer. I needed to get Julia out before I could help him. 

I find the strength to get up and walk over undoing her restraints and pulling the gag out, "I'm with the FBI, are you okay", She had fear written all over her face. 

Her breathing was erratic and she was shaking, "He's already here." She whispered those words. 

Luckily when I fell through It didn't damage the stairs too bad. Julia and I walked up the stairs to see Hotch with a man in cuffs. "That's him." Julia pointed to the man as we walked out

Aaron POV

"Hotch, there's something down here", y/n yelled to me. I knew it was best if I kept a look out seeing as the unsub was gone. I could hear her moving downstairs and something else. 

The floor boards behind me started to creek. I raised my gun slightly cocking my head to the side to try and hear it better. Someone was breathing behind me; they inhaled sharply and I jumped to the side and ducked around a wall. 

I snapped around the corner and was met with a bat. I moved out of the way and it hit the wall. "Hotch!", y/n called out for me. I got distracted and was hit in the mouth with the end of the bat. He went to swing again and I caught it throwing the bat across the room. 

I jumped at the man in front of me, slamming his back into the wall; grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and smashing him onto the ground. His face hitting the floor first. Bleeding from his nose and mouth. 

Julia and y/n were walking upstairs when she saw me. She nodded and me and I nodded back as she took her outside. I cuffed the unsub and brought him back outside. 

I called Prentiss, "Hotch did you find anything." I saw Julia staring at the man in cuffs while y/n was holding her. 

______________________________

Y/n POV

We go back to the station in lower DE where Julia's family is already waiting for her.

The unsubs name was Jacob Mann he had a history of domestic abuse, sexual assault, and just recently the kidnaping and murder of 6 girls. 

On the Jet I sit down, Morgan and JJ sit next to me, "You good? For your first case you fell through the floor." They crack a chuckle. 

"Actually I fell through the stairs but yeah I'm good just a little sore. The EMTs said I had bruising all on my back and ribs."

I glance over a Hotch, he's on the opposite end with Rossi and Emily; he's on his phone scrolling. His hands, the way his hair is back but there's a few strands of hair that fall on his face.

I was staring a little too long and the team noticed when they snapped me out of my thoughts. 

"Y/n, are you sure you're okay your spacing out." Reid said with a concerned look. "Yes guys I'm okay I swear." I can feel Hotch staring back at me but I avert his gaze looking out the window. 

Glancing to the side to see his eyes are on me then snap to his phone. 

"Y/n you gotta wake up we’re here", Emily was calling my name and everyone was waiting for me to wake up. 

As I walked off the jet Morgan offered to take me home but he lived too far. Hotch kicked off the SUV he was leaning on and approached me. 

"I can drive you, I'm closer and you are definitely not driving home by yourself." I didn't fight it; I said okay. 

I fell asleep in his car on the way, "Hey." He had his hand on my arm and tried to shake me awake.

"Mhmm." I felt my side of the car get cold when he opened my door. 

When I woke up I had a pounding headache from when my head hit the floor. Breathing was just as painful; every breath was a struggle. It was as if I was hit by a car. 

Walking into the Living room to get water and Hotch was in my kitchen with a cup of coffee. 

"What are you doing here", he held a cup of water towards me and some ibuprofen. "You told me to stay. I slept on the couch if you were wondering." 

Hotch had a tight navy blue t-shirt that hugged everything perfectly, along with a pair of grey sweatpants. It was a great sight to see but one I'd never get used to.

"I tried to wake you up last night but you were so tired; I had to carry you inside." He carried me inside. 

Hotch took a step towards me and leaned on the counter. He raised his hand to my cheek and used his thumb to rub circles on my face. "How's the bruising." 

He was gazing into my eyes like he'd never seen them before and I couldn't stop looking at his. "Its hard to breath. Hurts to walk a little bit and I can't really lay on my side." His face tenses slightly. 

"Where does it hurt." I picked up my hand and was rubbing my bruise. His other hand came up and was tracing patterns on my side, "Right here?" He whispered, I moved my hand to his waist. 

"Yeah", my voice was barely audible. We both started to lean in. 

His eyes flicking down to my lips and me to his. My breath hitched ready for what was gonna happen. 

Our lips were millimeters away from each other when Hotch got a phone call. 

We paused, we didn't move back or forward. Without looking away he answered his phone. I could feel his breath on my lips. "Hotchner." 

His face was right in front of me. My lips barely grazing over his soft lips. 

I wanted so bad to just lean forward more and from the looks of it he wanted to also. 

His eyes still locked on mine, hand on my waist and face. 

"No she's at her apartment", he stayed looking at me. "Got it we'll be in." 

"We have to head to the office", I hummed in agreement. His hand returned to my face.

I subconsciously leaned into his touch. He took that as a sign, as he inched closer.

I took a deep breath and pressed my lips to his. He tugged at my waist pulling me towards him. 

His lips moved against mine with ease, he was gentle and passionate. 

My hand made its way to his chest resting against his heart. My other hand made its way to the base of his neck deepening the kiss. 

Hotch exhaled and pulled away pressing his forehead to mine. "I'm sorry that inappropriate", he said slightly out of breath.

I looked back up at him, my hand never leaving him. "Hotch its okay." 

His gaze met mine as he moved his hand to my arm. "Call me Aaron." 

I gave him a smile. "Okay", I paused. "Aaron", he smiled taking a step back. 

"What was the phone call about." Hotch turned going to the couch for his clothes. 

"It was a remainder, Strauss wants the paperwork for the case on her desk by tonight." Hotch was getting the suit he wore yesterday. 

"If you wanna shower here that's fine", I said stepping out of the kitchen.

I was walking into my room to change; I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around and Hotch was following me. 

I was stifling a laugh, "What do you think you're doing." 

"You said I could take a shower here." 

"Yeah I did, but you'll have to wait your turn." The corners of his mouth turning upwards. 

"And why's that, we'd get to work quicker." Staring at the floor then back up reaching to touch his arm. 

"Because Agent Hotchner, I'm not that easy." I said flirtatiously, I turned around and shut my bedroom door.

I heard him laughing then walking back to the kitchen. 

________________________________________

"Fuck", I whispered to myself. "What happened?", Morgan asked, turning In his chair. 

"Nothing", I sighed looking at my phone. "Now we all know that a lie, what is it hun." 

I looked at him and raised my eyebrows at the nickname. "It's honestly really stupid", It caught the attention of Emily and JJ. 

"What's going on here", JJ asked Morgan. "Oh nothing just y/n being very secretive." 

They all looked at me. "Yes...I'm secretive I just don't think it's everyone's business." 

Emily was quick to change the subject when she lowered her voice. "Did anything happen with Hotch." 

I was confused at the question and she continued, "Oh come on your really pulling the clueless card."

Reid joined in from where ever. "I noticed too he's wearing the same cloths from yesterday." My attention went to Reid.

"And how do you know that", they couldn't know. Nothing really happened but it made me nervous that they were wondering. 

"First his clothes are slightly more wrinkled, second ones obvious he didn't go home last night." 

I glanced at Hotchs office. He took a shower at my place he smelled like me. "How do you know that." I asked looking through his window.

Reid then went on to explain how he usually smelled and that how Hayley's not there anymore there's no reason for him to smell like a women. 

My voice lowered, "You're reading into thing's too much." My head lowering to like I was trying to sink into the chair. 

Morgan took notice, "Didn't Hotch take you home last night." 

They all stared at me making me wanna just get up and run. "Yeah he did but he left after I fell asleep, in my defense I did just fall 15ft onto concrete. He wanted to make sure there wasn't a problem." 

That response seemed to get me off the pedestal when they returned to work. Hotchs blinds were cracked open and I kept looking in eventually I stopped working completely. I was brought back to reality when I heard my name. 

"Y/n?" Hotch was standing outside his door. "Can I see you for a moment." I nodded and started walking eyes following my movements. 

Knocking on the door I hear his low voice, "Come in." I walk into his office and take a seat on the chair in front of his desk. He looks up at me from the paperwork on his desk.

"Talk about anything interesting." He stands up and leans against the desk in front of me. I shoot him a confused look. He nods towards the bullpen. 

"They were trying to figure out where you were. They realized you didn't go home last night." 

I stand up and lean next to him. "I'm assuming you didn't say anything." He asked taking a few steps standing between my legs with a hand on my waist. 

"No I'm a very secretive person, not really a big fan of other people in my business." 

"Oh is that so", he brings his face closer to mine softly kissing me. I mumble in the kiss, 

"Mhmm." 

I could feel his lips curling upwards. I peck his lips again and look at him. 

"Then next time I'll just bring my own." I raise my eyebrows and cock my head to the side, "Next time?" 

Hotch brings his other hand to my waist, "Well yeah, assuming you wanted there to b-." I cut him off with another kiss. "Of course I want there to be a next time", He smirked.

"Good", I had my arms wrapped around his neck as I pulled him in for another kiss. It was slow; feeling every movement we made.

We jumped away from each other sitting back down when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in", The team walked into the room to 'drop off paperwork'. they looked at both of us, studying us. 

When they left I looked at the blinds they were cracked open enough to know that me an Hotch weren't sitting down the whole time. 

We looked at each other and our eyes went wide. "What do I tell them, I got to go out there eventually." He stood back up going to the door with his hand on the handle. 

"Tell them I was showing you pictures of Jack on my phone." 

I squinted and lowered my eyebrows. "Who's Jack." Hotch grinned a bit. 

"He's uh... my son." 

"Oh, can I ask about his mom." 

He tensed up, "You don't have to tell me if you're uncomfortable." He nodded his head and decided to drop the subject. 

He opened the door for me, "Bye Aaron." I walked past him back into the bullpen.

We watched me walk away; looking me up and down before shutting the door. 

Morgan and Emily watching the whole interaction, "y/n I'd say Hotch was checking you out." I tried to look surprised, "Yeah I'm not so sure about that." 

He didn't buy it, "No... he definitely was, maybe he has a little crush on you." 

I turned away and looked at the computer to hide the blush in my cheeks.

Trying to suppress a smile, "That's ridiculous." 

Morgan was chuckling, "Whatever you say mama." He went back to work

_______________________________

@mac99martin @donttellanyoneireadfanfiction @appleblossoms-posts

#aaron hotch hotchner #reader x aaron+hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x y/n #hotchner x reader #criminal minds #fanfic

[virgil-writes]

ash & soot

Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him. (Heisenberg x OC)

on AO3: chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven (ao3 only) | chapter eight

chapter 8 - great expectations

SFW, but usual blood/gore warning. around 3.5K words.

He barely remembers getting dressed and returning to his quarters after such a relaxing shower. At some point he had slipped inside his pants and slid an undershirt on, thrown himself at the desk chair and poured over plans and schematics, a mess of paper and far more motor oil than necessary. He had written and read until his eyes had grown tired, like every other night, fighting off sleep to the best of his ability. He could sleep when he was dead, or when she was dead, when he was far away from this hellhole, when nothing awaited him come morning.

Some nights he would skip it altogether, keep his eyes wide open when his mind was too fraught with dreadful thoughts. He knew what would come if he finally closed his eyes, the memories that he worked so hard to put away. A dream, it was only a dream, he would tell himself over and over, but it was hard to believe it when he would wake up drenched in sweat and tears, throat sore from screaming at the top of his lungs, that all too familiar twinge of sadness and terror balling up in his chest. It was hard to believe and hard to forget, because he would see it when he held the wrench, when he brought a cup to his lips, when he pressed the buttons to get the conveyor belt running. His hands shook, his fingers lost their strength, and then we would remember it all. It was not real, but it had been once, and he is unsure whether the knowledge makes things better or worse.

Heisenberg remembers nothing but the familiar tingle on his fingertips, the numbness that overtook him, anxiety and fear washing over him like he had been engulfed in a sea of darkness. The scribbles on the paper would be evidence of how he had lost control the night before, how he had pressed the pencil hard to try and force himself to focus, to keep going. The cut on his forehead would tell him that he exhaustion had taken the reigns and he had fallen face first into the table, head hitting the metal clamp and inadvertently helping lull him to sleep.

Much to his surprise, that night, when Heisenberg closed his eyes, he was greeted with the blissful sight of nothing. Head void of dreams, of nightmares, body protesting with the awkward way he’d scattered over his work station, but nothing else. The cut had stained some papers with blood and drool had ruined some others; his arms felt numb in the morning, as they had been left hanging off the desk with his head and neck as the only support. It took him a good few stretches of his hands to feel his fingers again - all things considered, this had been a much better night than most.

If the night was almost-pleasant, the morning was anything but. A hot gust of air blew in when the factory kicked into gear with full force, like it did every day around this time, the whirring of blades and purring of engines his usual white noise. Only this time there was an intruder, a high pitched, repetitive sound that threatened to pierce his eardrums - he woke up to the incessant sound of his phone ringing. The thing sat just inside his office, an old landline that Miranda had insisted on him keeping in case she needed to speak to him urgently. She would call him every now and again, but more often than not it was his siblings that would bother him. Moreau would call to ask if he had found any old VHS tapes or old fiction books, Donna would ask him for blades and all manner of crazy-looking schematics built. Alcina rarely called, but given her interest in the bloodsucking beast that prowled the woods, he was certain that would change very soon.

Not that he intended to answer any of them, naturally. Nine times out of ten he was nowhere near the dumb phone to answer, which made Mother angry and him even angrier, because the last thing he wanted was to interrupt important research to tend to any of their petty, cruel whims. When she called, invariably he would be thrust into something barbarous and despicable; she wanted someone kidnapped, or killed, or turned into a monstrosity. She wanted him to spy or intimidate, put on his best scary mask and drill the fear of the Black God into someone’s mind. She never once asked if his research went well, if he was doing well, and though it had been years of such abuse, he could not help but feel the sting of it every time he heard her speak. Somewhere deep down, he still held onto a sliver of hope that she cared; and she would always dig deeper and deeper, until she found it and choked his feelings to death.

Heisenberg lazily lifted his head, right arm coming up to wipe away the drool at the corner of his mouth, eyes hurting under the bright industrial lights coming in through the window. A strand of hair had sneaked into his eye when he blinked, such a small nuisance upsetting him even further, a simple strand of hair that felt like the devil’s toothpick stabbing his eyeball. The phone had stopped for a few seconds only to resurge like the wailing of a baby, and the ringing prompted him to shoot up and off his armchair in a flash, too disoriented and uncomfortable to fully register what was going on. He almost fell on his way to the phone, tripping over his unbuttoned pants, annoyance levels rising with every step. He rubbed his eyes as he approached the offending object, flicked the room’s light on like it would help him hear better. At least it would keep him awake.

“Heisenberg,” came the voice from the other side, sweet and soft-spoken, domineering and stubborn. “Any news on our quarry?” Our quarry, he mouthed to himself mockingly. As if any of it was a team effort, as if he had anything to gain from this little adventure. Well, as it turns out, he did, but lady super-sized bitch didn’t need to know that. The damn hair was still stuck somewhere between his eyelashes. “A little bird told me you left the forest quite late last night.” A little bird would die a horrible, horrible death as soon as he discovered who it was that had agreed to his sister’s asinine plan of meddling in his business.

“Oh hey, sis. Surprised you get reception all the way up there.” He heard her huff of annoyance, chuckled in response. It bought him enough time to figure out exactly what he would tell her. Hey, yeah, turns out your monster is actually this gorgeous lady with a pair of tits big enough to rival any fertility goddess’? “Slippery little thing, that monster of yours. Found some bodies, some blood,” truth was always easier to tell than lies. “Caught a glimpse of something, too, but it disappeared in the middle of the trees before I could grab it. Little shit gave me the loop, took me quite a while to find the way back.” Heisenberg could practically hear her chest rising and falling as she breathed excitedly, happy to hear something, anything, even if it was a blatant lie. He could hear her nails hitting against wood impatiently, stringing together a tune he did not recognize. “What do you want with this thing anyway, needing a new pet?” Quite the funny thought, really. He was suddenly curious to know if the little witch would put up a fight as a tight collar was snapped around her neck.

“Am I right to assume you will return to the forest soon for another search?” Oh, most definitely, though his intentions were far different from what she expected. She continued without waiting for his answer, clearly aware that he would retort in the crassest manner possible. “I will see you handsomely rewarded once I have it in my possession, brother. House Dimitrescu does not forget such acts of service.” And there it was, brother, the greatest honor she would grant him, a compliment reserved for moments like these, when she desperately needed his help and no one else’s would do.

Blah, blah, blah. What was she going to offer him, a maiden? A scrawny lady with bruises big enough to make one believe her skin was purple, bones showing through her ribs and threatening to poke out at any moment? He had long decided against experimenting on women - they were always so weak and fragile, he would tell himself. Had long left behind his whoring days, too, far too focused on his research to let himself be distracted by a pair of tits. Oh, right; the irony. What else could she give him? A casket of wine made of blood of an innocent, with its thick bouquet of brutality and mercilessness?

She could offer him riches, influence, her undying loyalty. The only reward he wanted was to see her fractured into a thousand tiny pieces, nothing left of her and her daughters but the crystal cores they would dissolve into. The jewelry he would keep, the crystals he would sell to the Duke for a hefty price; the dust he would gather, send to an artist to mix into paint and commission a portrait of himself in his best work attire, his beat up trench coat and ragged hat. To make a statement, his fly would be open and his dick out in the painting, forever immortalizing him as the large, hard Lord of the Castle. With the money he would buy the best brewery he could find and have it make the worst beer, call it Lady D’s Fresh Piss, all in her honor, naturally.

He would bring over his suitcase and set up shop in the castle, tear down every reference to the Dimistrescu family and replace it with cheap replicas of innocent, idyllic landscapes, and dozens of horrible quality photos of his face. The extra large milk pail she called a hat would be used for entertainment when he gathered guests over, shoot the ball into the dead lady’s hat or take another shot. His soldats would clean house, kill every last monster in the basement, replace those god-awful torture tools with something else, anything else - maybe pigs, to pay homage to his dear sister. He would then fire all maids and forbid them from ever setting foot inside the place again, hire an all-male crew to tend to the estate and leave him well enough alone. On a clear day he would grab all of their expensive dresses, the paperwork that dignified her as gentry, her snob literature and photo albums, pile them all into the courtyard and burn it all, the vineyard alongside it, then light his cigar in the blaze and smoke it while facing the inferno, the flames reflecting beautifully on the lenses of his glasses. Once it had all turned to cinders he would strip before going through the front door, waltz around the place while rubbing his dick on all of her favorite spots. He would dump all of her fine wine in the biggest, smelliest cesspool, grab the revenue from the last shipment and throw it from atop the church in the village to watch the peasants fight each other for riches that were supposed to be hers.

Perhaps best of all, he would invite Alcina’s little monster over, encourage her to come in while dragging all the dirt and mud gathered on her bare feet. He would give her a tour of the castle, allow her to decorate every room with a harvest wreath or handmade candle, let her cover the posh couches with handmade quilted throws. Together they would roll up the fancy carpet and throw it in the fireplace, lay down the most unrefined of straw tapestries in its place. The mantle would be a display of their crudeness and peasantry, his schematics and forgotten bits of scrap metal, her incenses and rune-inscribed bones and whatever else her little heart desired. He would allow her to have her pick of his sister’s jewelry, try and convince her to take them all, to wear nothing but her favorite set as she danced under the skylight of the atelier, the flames of all tolling bells and the bright shine of the moon as the only source of light for their unholy, delicious rituals.

When silence settled he would grab her waist and pull her closer, whisper in her ear the most delectable of invitations. Together they would desecrate every last corner of the castle, from the halls to the belfry and the stairwells to the balconies, the cries of agony the place had come to be known for replaced by their sounds of pleasure. When they were far too tired to continue they would work together in the kitchen, he would help her prepare a bloodless meal that they would savor watching the wide open doors to the courtyard. He would sit at Alcina’s spot, ignore every single piece of flatware and eat with his bare hands, audibly chew on every morsel. He would draw every curtain and open every window, let the gelid gale wipe away any trace of her and her daughters. Late at night, he would carry his prized lady up the stairs to her quarters, gently place her on the giant bed and cover her with the decadent expensive sheets. She would ask him to stay, and he would, hold her close as she slumbered and he stared at the top of the canopy and let out a tired sigh almost a hundred years in the making. He would be free, and he would have claimed it all, a fitting end to his sordid tale.

If he wasn’t sure Alcina would rise from the grave and put herself back together out of sheer spite, the whole thing didn’t sound half bad.

Heisenberg barely registered whatever she said after, far too immersed in his little happy place to give a shit. She had talked for what seemed like hours, something about training the beast to present it to Mother Miranda, to allow her to experiment and find out what sort of things they could learn of such a splendorous mutation. Some illusions of grandeur sprinkled here and there, the very obvious wish to become the best, most adored child. He felt like Alcina wished Mother would descend upon her in a ray of light, to lift her up and away towards the heavens to take a place at her side. What a load of crap, though he had to admit it was far more than he would have given her credit for when she came up with this sordid little plan.

At some point, she finally realized she had said too much, exposed too much of her grand plan, had become too excited with the prospect of having that admiration within her reach. That, or she had grown tired of sounding too friendly with the riffraff. She quickly finished saying her piece and hung up without waiting for him to say goodbye, wishing him good luck on the hunt, reminding him she had great expectations. As did he.

He found his mind wandering back to his little witch in the woods as he placed the handle back on its hook. Where did she even come from, anyway? Was she born in that miserable place, brought up among the failed experiments of this village in middle of nowhere, Romania? Did she know how to use money, or were the lei they used foreign to her? He had it in good confidence that she could read, considering all the books he had seen around, but did she know how to write? Had she ever seen electricity at work, or had her life been lived under candlelight? Could she drive a car? Operate a telephone? Did she have toilet paper in her outhouse or did she wipe her ass with ferns or something of the sort? How did she find out about nail polish, of all things?

Had she ever lived outside that lousy shack? Did she ever get a taste of luxury, of fine wine, scrumptious desserts, someone to cook and feed her, maidens to attend to her? Had she always worked the land and tended to livestock, gathered herbs and berries in the forest? Had she cared for her parents or grandparents and learned her trade then, offered her services to lice-ridden villagers when they were no longer in the picture? Had they ever met, some day when he was too busy with his own sorrow to notice her, to take in the beauty that had come to haunt him so? Had she ever shared her body with someone, with a lucky lad or lass that caught her vulnerable and willing on a lonely night? Did she… Did she think of him, as much as he had begun to think of her?

Her shroud of blood and mystery, alongside Alcina’s excitement over the prospect of having her torn apart, had a strange feeling seep within his bones, a pang of anguish tugging at his heartstrings. All the more reason for him to hide the truth for as long as he could - even if the witch turned out to be just really clever with herbs and some hallucinogens, he wouldn’t give dear sister the pleasure of sinking those rusty nails into her flesh. Not when he had so much to discover.

Finally alone with his thoughts and away from his fantasies, he looked down at himself to see his shirt tousled, the fly on his pants undone. He had slept alright, although passed out might be a better description. In his defense, he had tried to fall asleep like a normal human being: sat down and let his mind go blank, eyes firmly shut to try and get some rest. But try as he might, he always startled as he was about to drift off, the sight of the dark horse dissolving into a puddle of blood right before his very eyes, of Sturm’s decapitated arms almost comically flying in his direction. Rage followed soon after - another failure, another waste of time. How would he make that thing rise again? He was then caught in the infinite loop of thinking, and planning, and burning out in frustration, until he could carry on no more.

Of course. He remembered it now, what had finally lulled him to sleep, in the throes of his despair. The way she had distracted him with a well-placed, gentle hand on his face, to work her magic and make his pain disappear, to preserve the secret she worked so hard to maintain. The gash on his hand that had left no trace, the lycans and moroaicas dead but not quite. The way she seemed to have a knack for putting things back together again, to prop them up on strings and have them dance like a puppeteer would. If he brought her here into his den, allowed her a glimpse of his work - would she be able to help him? Would she want to?

At first, he had thought the whole thing was bullshit. So maybe she knew a few plants, knew how to make a mean incense to get him high as a kite and seeing shit. Maybe she had some medical training and could put a nose back in its place, big deal. Maybe she held the world record on fastest, most painless stitching of human flesh, and was in cahoots with the Duke to use whatever seemingly magical substance he put in his antiseptic solution. Whatever she was smoking to say that she could actually heal things, that she might just be able to murder Mother Miranda - he wanted some.

And yet the more he thought of it, the less sense it all made. Her touch was unmistakable when she held his chin up, when the monster’s wispy tendrils had done the same. There was no doubt that she had, indeed, healed his wounds. The decapitated heads were very much alive, the blood pungent, the bite as painful as it should be. If she had killed them, how had she brought them back to life? How had she kept them alive on borrowed time, negated the effects the very creator of the Cadou could not avoid? How far did her powers go? Were they powers, like his and Moreau’s and Donna’s and Alcina’s, or a clever trick of the mind?

Whatever the case, Miranda had spent the better part of a century trying to bring back a dead girl in the body of another, necromancy a far too advanced concept for her young mind back in the late twenties. She had spent countless hours, spilled gallons upon gallons of innocent blood, spread a disease that they no longer had control over in the lycans, all for naught. And suddenly some creepy girl at the ass-end of the woods was the second coming of Jesus? She had knocked him on his ass and somehow morphed into this giant mass of blood that would make the hairiest of grunts shit their pants. If there was any chance that she was for real, then it would change everything. The possibilities were endless. He just needed to tell apart the bullshit from the truth.

#resident evil #resident evil village #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x oc #karl heisenberg x reader #virgil writes #a rather chill chapter but next comes soon

[trillian-anders]

marital bliss

pairing: steve rogers x reader

warnings: angst, fluff, miscarriage, depression

word count: 2.2k

description: 1950s au; steve knew he was going to marry you the moment he laid eyes on you, but you struggle with something your parents deem not fit for marriage. and everything that comes with that. 

note: for @jbbarnesnnoble‘s mental health awareness month challenge. 

prompt:  It was progress. Baby steps forward. Maybe it wouldn’t all be okay today, but someday? It would be.

Steve had loved you since the moment he saw you. And he can remember exactly when it was. You’d been at the drive-in. Three cars down with the guy you’d been going steady with for a while. You’d been wearing a powder blue dress and a matching headband in your hair. The dress had daisies stitched into it on the hem. You snacked on junior mints and scolded the guy for touching your hair with his buttery fingers.

You sat against the trunk of your boyfriend’s car on intermission. That’s when Steve first saw you. Shaking the box to unstick the candies while he walked past, bumping into the shoulder of one of the boys joking with your boyfriend, only because he wasn’t paying attention. Only because he was trying to count the lashes that were fanned on your cheeks.

“Watch where you’re going punk.” A shove and he was on the ground. His mom had just about killed him for getting grass stains on his khakis. His popcorn spilled all over the ground. His eyes met yours, connecting for the very first time and it just about took his breath away. He maybe looked a little too long,

“You lookin’ at my girl?” A fist in his shirt collar, yanking his small frame from the ground.

“Michael!” Your voice had been like a melody to his ears, your hands wrapping around ‘Michael’s bicep, his hand curled in a fist, “Leave the kid alone.” It hurt a little, but he was sure you thought by his height and lankiness that he was a kid. But he was sure he was the same age as you, or at least around the same age.

Steve watched in horror as Michael lay his palm flat over your face and push you backward, your back hitting the trunk of the car and without realizing he was even doing it, swung forward and connected his fist with Michael’s jaw.

The next thing he knew he was sitting in his living room with a bag of frozen peas on his eye, held there by your hand and wrapped in a dish cloth.

“My Ma’s a nurse.” He’d told you, “She works nights.” With no one to take care of him you helped him home, the sleeve of your dress ripped and a bruise blossoming on your arm. He was dizzy and unsure how it happened.

“I don’t know if you were really brave back there or really stupid.” He winced at the cold touch of the frozen peas and shivered when his hand covered yours, holding it to his own head.

He remembered seeing you yell at Michael. You threw something at your boyfriend, and Steve remembered you helping him off the ground. His head ringing.

“Are you going to be okay?” If you leave him. He doesn’t want you to. You smell soft like clean linens and cotton. Lemon.

“I should really walk you home.” He said. So he did. And he mapped out the slope of your nose and the way your lips curled. He watched you tilt your head as you debated something about the movie you didn’t get to finish. And he knew then, he knew then that he was going to marry you.

It was good. Really good at first. You were so bright and full of life. Happy. Your smile would pull the sorrow from his body. The soreness from his bones. He’d been so sore the summer he hit his growth spurt. But you’d been with him the whole time.

He could see it now looking back, the melancholy. The odd blue and grey moments that seeped in at the edges of your ray of sun. The days where you hadn’t seen him because you were feeling under the weather. Laid up in bed without visitors.

Your Pa warned him not to marry you.

“She’s not fit for it, son.” A hand on his shoulder when he asked your Pa for permission to marry you. “We shouldn’t have even let it get this far.”

He didn’t understand. Your Parents wanted you to be locked away. Like you’d just stay home with them for the rest of your life. “Her fits,” Your Ma told him, “She’s not what you would want in a wife.” But he loved you. And he reasoned those bad days were worth how good the good days were.

You turned him down initially, crying in your back garden. His knee in the grass as he looked up at you hopeful. “You don’t want to marry me.”

“But I do,” He assured you, “Baby… I love you.” In sickness and in health. He wanted to be by you through it all. He couldn’t imagine his future without you. “I want to marry you.” So he did.

He’d never been happier than on your wedding day. Something that happened much to your parent’s chagrin. He remembers crying, choked up when you walked down the aisle towards him.

The happiest day you’d had in a while. He could see it on your face. Cheeks sore from smiling and many kisses, a soft touch and bubbly champagne. It took those innocent, sweet, loving kisses into something a little more lustful. Timid touches of the first time, for both of you. It was over embarrassingly quick and left him wondering how he could do better next time, wondering if you’d even had the time to enjoy it.

You’d gotten pregnant almost immediately. A joy.

You were so happy, a little sick, but happy. You were glowing and flushed, a kiss goodbye in the morning as he went to work and dinner on the table when he’d gotten home.

But it didn’t last.

The horror of that scarred you. The blood you’d woken up in. A miscarriage a few months into the pregnancy. Not even long enough to show.

That was the first time in the marriage that you hadn’t been able to get out of bed. Steve remembers the routine. Kissing you awake, you’d smile and hum. He would get in the shower and you would start breakfast. He’d find you in the kitchen and wrap his arms around you, hand splayed wide over the growing life inside of you.

And then it was gone in an instant. He would try to kiss you awake and you’d push him away. Weepy and tired. It had begun a downward spiral that he didn’t know how to help. This was met with a snarky comment by your Ma. An ‘I told you so’. It didn’t help.

So he hired someone to help you around the house. Someone to cook and clean. Lucille who could keep you company while he was at work. And you eventually came around. You were happier, but the shadow was always there. A little emptiness in your eyes when you would gaze off into the back yard. The vacantness when he would ask you a question.

This is what they meant. Your parents. That’s what Steve thought when you screamed and cried, throwing things at him. The simple question of whether you should try again. “I’m sorry,” You said later, your hand over your face sunken down on the bathroom floor. The tile hard on his knees as he sunk down to sit beside you, pulling you into his arms. “I’m so sorry.” It broke his heart.

“It’s okay sweetheart.” A kiss to your hair, “We don’t have to.” This was enough. But it didn’t stop another pregnancy from happening. Less happiness this time. But you seemed to cheer at the thought. The prospect. He would find you in the kitchen with Lucille instead of her coming to wake you later. He bought you seeds when you said you wanted to try to plant in the back garden. Pounds of mulch and fertilizer he helped you lay over the weekend. Little sprouts of zucchini and your attempt at watermelon.

He was naïve. He thought you’d been happy this whole time. When the entire pregnancy you were just waiting to wake up in blood. The death of another child. The fear of that. You’d given birth to what would have been your second born. A sweet little boy you couldn’t bear to hold.

Full of cholic and wailing. He didn’t know what to do. Steve didn’t know how to help you and he felt useless, bottle feeding his son formula and staring at your back as you gazed vacantly at the wall.

He lay the boy in his bassinet, sleepy and full. And curled himself around you. He thought you’d be happy. Your baby was healthy. He thought maybe it was just the loss of your first child that made you so sad. He thought maybe you’d be okay now.

But you weren’t.

It only seemed to get worse. The anger, the yelling, the crying. The vacant stares and isolation.

“We should have locked her up.” Your Ma was unrelenting, “With the rest of them.” Steve asked them to stop coming around. He couldn’t imagine putting you away like that. His Ma told him about the asylum. How they treated people. You were better off with him.

He talked to a Doctor. Someone who might be able to help him, even if he was a little biased.

“She has depression.” Simple. Easy. “We can do electroshock therapy in these instances, usually.” He didn’t know what else to do. So he made the appointment.

You screamed at him that night. Told him no. You’d broken a lamp. Sobbing and shaking, “You think I’m crazy.”

“No, sweetheart, I just want to help you.” A sniffle, a plead. “This is what the Doctor recommends.” You shake your head, grabbing a fist full of hair.

“I don’t like it.” You cry, “I don’t want to. I’ll try harder.” You reason, and he looks at you with despair. “I’ll try harder.”

“I just want you to be happy.” He cries. He doesn’t know what to do. And for the first time he really understands that you don’t know what to do either. He cancels the appointment.

 That night you wrap yourself around him and he holds you. “I don’t know how to be happy.” You whisper into his neck, “I do want to be happy.” A kiss to your cheek.

“We’ll figure it out.” He truly believed it.

The next day you were a little less blue and he woke you with those soft kisses and you didn’t push him away. Baby James, who had always been restless found comfort in your arms, laying on your chest while sitting in your lap. The sweet babe’s hair curled in your finger while you read the paper, chatting softly to Lucille when Steve came down for breakfast.

It gave him hope.

You started talking to him. He started accommodating you better. Helping where he could and standing back when he couldn’t. There were still those days dipped in blue. Days where you couldn’t get out of bed and where you didn’t take care of yourself. The days where he would bring you what you needed and leave you alone. But then there were days where you’d beat him from bed. You’d make breakfast like you used to, James on your hip. Singing in the kitchen.

Days where he would find those little bits of you that he remembered and not the person you fought against. But it hits him like a realization that you were this person the whole time. They were every bit of you just like the playful smiles and the way you fixed his hair with your fingers, the way you straightened his tie and told him to be home on time. You were the same person even if you were just laying in bed and weepy and tired, a soft I’m sorry and curled in on yourself wanting to disappear.

You were the same person either way. And he loved you regardless.

You sit out in the back garden and get sun, while James toddled around. You said maybe you should have a barbecue for his birthday. How you went with Lucille to the store and saw sparklers for sale and bought three packs, how maybe you should give little James a sibling.

It was progress. Baby steps forward. Maybe it wouldn’t all be okay today, but someday? It would be.

And he wanted to be with you for all of it. He’d loved you the moment he saw you. And watching you, a full person in front of him and not the mirage of just a beautiful woman with a soft gaze, he knew that his gut instinct was right. He knew that he was right to want to love you. He knew that he was right to marry you and he knew that there would be blue days. And watching you chase after your son barefoot in the back garden, four new vegetables added to your garden and the soft way you’d wrap your arms around him later while he was brushing his teeth he realized that he wouldn’t change anything.

In sickness and in health, he wanted to be with you for all of it. Didn’t matter either way.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #chris evans #captain america #steve rogers x you #au

[pink-peony-princess]

Ruin

-Ellen-

I stood staring in the bathroom mirror at the large pink scar that snaked across my forehead from my left temple to just above my right eyebrow.

It had been almost three months now, and I was still in pain, some days it felt like I couldn't escape it.

I lifted my shirt to show my tummy, yet another angry looking pink scar this one jagged from where the glass had gotten me. It still pain, dull ache ever-present, the itch constant. I frowned, frustrated with how long everything was taking to heal.

"Morning baby," Shawn whispered into my neck,coming to rest his head softly on my shoulder and smiling at me in the mirror.

"Hey," I couldn't help the small smile that pulled at the corner of my lips. He was so beautiful, even first thing in the morning, dressed in an ugly washed-out green coloured pair of scrubs,ready for another day as a doctor in the local emergency department.

"What was that frown I saw before I walked in?" he asked, still watching me in the mirror.

I sighed, "Im just sick of being sore and having these ugly scars all over my body. I can't get it out of my head," I whispered, feeling the tears welling up, an all to familiar occurance these days.

"It's gonna take some time baby," he murmured, pulling me to his chest and holding me tightly.

"Yeah I know," I sighed leaning back into his hold. He really had been the best thing and he had quite literally saved my life, both physically and mentally. Our relationship had never felt forced, we'd just naturally fallen for one another, but if I was being honest I would never have imagined to be where I was today three months ago.

-Three Months Earlier-

-Third person-

"This is a trauma call for an eta of ten minutes," a voice came over the Emergency Department intercom.

"I hate trauma calls," Brian sighed as he got geared up, placing the label that declared him to be team leader onto his protective gown, before pulling a fresh pair of gloves on to replace the ones he had just used to help stitch up a little girl's head after she took a tumble.

"Is the bed all ready?" he asked, ducking his head around the curtain of the only free bay in the department. It had been one of those nights, and it was only eight, meaning that he was only two hours into a twelve-hour shift.

"Almost," his college, and fellow critical care doctor, Connor spoke as he wheeled the crash cart into place, and situated the supplies draw.

"What do we know so far?" Michael, another doctor asked, coming to stand by the other two doctors.

"Adult female, hit and run, while crossing the street." Connor spoke, while glancing down to check his watch for the time remaining before they were set to arrive.

"That sounds nasty," Michael commented, wincing slightly in sympathy. "It's a good thing the nurses decided to page Ortho I suppose, it sounds like you'll be needing my expertise," he turned to face his colleague.

"I hate to say it, but I'd have to agree," Brian replied, sharing a knowing look with the other two doctors.

All three of them knew that pedestrian hit and runs where never good, and there was a high rate of critical injuries sustained, and of course these were usually inflicted on the innocent party. They didn't speak for several minutes, each fidgeting, just wanting to start helping the poor girl already. They didn't say it, but they knew it wouldn't be pretty. This has been confirmed when they got a message via one of the nurses, saying that Shawn, one of their friends and fellow colleague, and, emergency care physician was on route to the scene of the accident after the paramedics requested his help. This was not something that happened ogten, and only when completely necessary. The hospital liked to keep Ashton there as his expertise was so useful in many of the situations that the department faced.

-Ellen-

All I could feel was pain. Pain everywhere. Every inch of my body was hurting.

I tried to piece together how I had come to be here, but was met with some unknown resistance when I tried to turn my head, and survey my surroundings. "Stay still honey. We're going to get you to the hospital shortly, but just bear with us okay," a voice spoke from somewhere above my head. It was then that I became aware of the hands touching me, and instinctively I tried to pull away. "Dave, I think It'll be best to sedate her for the time being," a different voice spoke. That was the last thing I was aware of before I woke to bright lights, and calm, but still somehow urgent, voices.

-Third Person-

When Shawn and Dave arrived on scene, it was worse then they had expected. The poor girl was laying in the middle of what would normally be a busy street, onlookers everywhere watching with baited breath. "Can we move some of these guys out of here?" Shawn asked one of the many police officers that were standing around, waiting for direction. The last thing his patient needed was an audience when they were completely defenceless.

When they finally managed to push their way through the crowd of people, and get the relevant equipment set up, it was to find that things were much more complicated and critical then they had first thought.

"What do we know?" Dave, the paramedic on the case asked.

"They've not been able to give us much, but they're saying that someone ran a red, hit her, and took off. They're trying to run the plates now, track the person down," a burly police officer spoke. " I'll leave you guys to it," he spoke, patting them both on the shoulder, before getting up and going to help the other officers control the swelling crowds,"

As they both surveyed the situation, the injuries were clear to see. The girl had dislocated her left shoulder, broken her collarbone, and from the blood soaking through her pants and the angle of her right ankle, she had a compound fracture. Perhaps more concerning though was the blood that was fishing from a open head wound above her eyebrow, and flowing from her nose. The latter was usually a sign of internal bleeding.

"Hello?" Shawn spoke, as Dave started getting the collar ready. "If you can hear me, give my hand a squeeze okay," he continued slipping his gloved hand into the girl's bloody one, and praying there was a response.

After a moment there was, and they both thanked the heavens.

"Sweetheart, my name is Shawn, I'm a doctor, and this is Dave. Can you remember your name?" Shawn asked, leaning down in the hopes of hearing the young woman's response.

"Ellen," she whispered. It was barley there, but it was still a response.

"Okay Ellen, this is going to be uncomfortable, but we need to put this collar on you so that you don't hurt your neck or back okay. And then we'll get you to the hospital," Dave reassured her, before going about fixing the hard plastic to the girl. Both the medics had had to put the collar on to experience what it was like for the patients, and it was uncomfortable to say the least. Neither one could fathom how bad it would be to have injuries on top of this.

They both felt dreadful when Ellen started trying to claw at the collar, desperately trying to get it off, tears flooding down her bloody face.

"I know sweets, it's okay," Shawn tried to comfort her once they were in the ambulance and had hooked her up to an I.V. with pain medication.

"Shawn, I think It'll be best to sedate her for the time being," he informed his partner, getting the sedative ready.

"Can you check her vitals again please?" he requested, "And get some oxygen on her for good measure," he added, before stepping out of the ambulance and heading to the driver's side. "I think she's stable enough to go," he added, before starting towards the hospital with lights and sirens on, indicating that this was a life-threatening situation.

In the back of the vehicle, Shawn was going about checking her pupil reaction, which turned out to be slow, indicating a moderate concussion. After this, he placed a mask on the girl, ensuring that the saturation levels were as high as possible, as after attaching her to the relative monitors, it was found that she was only satting a 80%.

Finally, he went about checking the heart and lungs, and by this point they were beginning to pull into the hospital, which relieved the medic immensely.

They were met with a team of people at the entrance, Shawn was glad to see this included his three colleagues, Michael, Connor and Brian.

"What do we have?" Brian asked, stepping behind the gurney to help Shawn push it now that Dave had left on a new call.

"This is Ellen, she was hit by a car side-on while crossing the road. She's got a dislocated shoulder, broken collar bone and a compound fracture to the ankle. Possible internal bleeding and concussion. The paramedic also found some swelling, possibly indicating spleen bruising. Lacerations to the head, with nasal bleeding. Her BP is low, same with heart rate, lungs sound normal, standard dose of pain medication given on route." He finished as they made it to the bay that had been set up before their arrival.

"Okay, I want a CT, scan of the head and abdomen and spine, and can someone get me an ultrasound machine, stat, and in the mean time let's get her hooked moved on the the bed so we can start preliminary examinations. On my count!" Brian commanded, directing the team in transferring her safely to the hospital bed.

-Ellen-

The first thing I was aware of when I came to be was the bright lights above me, making me want to shut my eyes again almost instantly. After this, it was an annoying tickling sensation on my face. I moved my hand to try and swipe it away, but was met with resistance.

"Leave it there, Ellen," a calm voice spoke. A young man came into view then. "My name is Brian I'm one of the doctors looking after you, do you know where you are?"

"In the hospital," I answered, beginning to feel overwhelmed at the gravity of the situation, which was only made worse when I realised I couldn't move anything apart from my arms.

"Just try to stay nice and calm for me, you'll be fine, we just need to do a few tests and then we should be able to get you out of this contraption," he smiled sympathetically.

"Shawn?" he called. Another youngish looking doctor, this time with tanned skin, dark hair curly hair and several visible tattoos came over.

"You called?" he asked, before turning to me. "Hi Ellen, my names Shawn," he introduced himself with a smile, "I'm another one of the doctors."

"I want to roll her to do a spinal check,"

"No problem, so on three, I'm going to roll you onto your side and Brian is going to check for sensation." He explained to me, seeing the confusion I was feeling.

A few minutes later, they determined that my spine was fine, and this was confirmed by scans they had done when I was out, that came back fine.

"There you go, that's got to feel better," Shawn smiled, readjusting the blankets to provide me with more modesty.

"Ellen, are you in any pain?" Brian asked, coming over and shining a small light in my eyes.

"My tummy is really sore, and my shoulder and chest area," I told him.

"Okay, I'll get the nurse to increase the hourly dosage, there's no reason you should be in pain. You'll probably still be a little sore though, you've got a bruised spleen, which given time will heal, but you'll be tender for a while. As for your chest, you broke your collar bone on impact. We've put your arm into a sling to help limit the movement and give it an opportunity to heal. You did dislocate your other shoulder though, and we're going to have to put it back into place- don't worry though, we've got Michael doing it for you, and we're going to dose you up so you won't remember a thing," he laughed, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

"You needed me?" yet another doctor walked in, dyed blonde hair, sitting across his face. "Sorry," he added, "There was an emergency in the pit,"

"Ellen, this is Michael, are you ready?" Shawn asked.

"Mmmmm?" I responded unsure.

"You'll be fine," he responded, going to adjust my meds.

To the say that the process was painful would be the understatement of the year, and I may have called all three of them some uncomplimentary names, but after the fact I got some immediate relief.

The rest of the night was spent getting my many cuts stitched up, with the doctors, helping to keep me distracted by talking to me about my everyday life. I ended up in tears when I was introduced to Shawn again,apparently I'd met him a few times before, but I really couldn't remember, who I was told was one of the main people who got me to the hospital. "It's okay," he had spoken, giving me a gentle hug. "It's what we do!" he smiled, grabbing a tissue and wiping the tears off my face.

"They told me you're studying vet science?" he asked, sitting down on a chair next to the bed Connor another doctor and Brian went back to stitching me up. I felt my whole face break into a smile.

"Yep, I'm already a certified carer, but I wanted to take the next step."

"I really admire that," he told me, "Hopefully we'll be able to get that ankle of yours fixed up first thing tomorrow and onto the road of recovery." he spoke, referring to the compound fracture in my ankle that Shawn had told me about not long after I woke. Admittedly, I had thrown up when he told me what a compound fracture was, and had gone into a panic when he explained it would need surgery, but he had calmed me quickly.

"You'll be fine, you've got the best Ortho in the place working on you, Michael. You won't know anything happened once he's done, and you're all healed.

The coming weeks were filled with highs and lows, the surgery went well, and there was no post op infection, something that made all the doctors very happy, however the pain was almost unbearable at times, and they had to give me multiple pep talks to get me through it. I did it though, we their help.

The experience had helped to shape me, and when it was finally time to leave, I knew that I was leaving with four new friends.

But the one person I could always count on was Shawn. He helped me through everything, physio appointments, monthly reviews but above everything else he was a shoulder to lean on, someone to cry to when things got tough. And I guess through all of that our relationship had blossomed without us even realising. But one thing was for sure...

-Present Day-

I turned smiling now, as Shawn looked down at me I uttered the five words that meant so much to me.

"You save me from Ruin."

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagines #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes blurb #doctor!shawn #mendes triplets #werewolf!shawn #peter mendes #raul mendes #shawnblr

[redstainedsocks]

Hurt

Warnings: Box Boy Universe, pet whump, dehumanization, beatings, caning, punishments, victim blaming (or something like it), collars, choking hazard/strangulation.

Word Count: 1.4k

TagList: @haro-whumps @theycomeinthrees, @whumpthisway, @samanddeaninpanties, @teachunks, @draganies, @pepperonyscience, @whump-it, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @untilthepainstarts, @galaxywhump, @kiretto-laorentze, @lonesome--hunter

[Set directly before this, where Brandon notices the marks on his back.] [Meditation explained here]

I think this might be one of my favourite Kit pieces yet, so thank you to the people who asked to see what happened before the previous piece! I hope this really shows a lot about Kit’s character.

*    *     *

It hadn’t been on purpose. As most things often weren’t. 

He was weary, sore, fading on his feet. Trying to do his daily meditation had been a chore and he did it with grudging certainty that avoiding it because he was tired wasn’t allowed. He hadn’t meant to nod off on his knees, tethered to the wall. He jerked awake with a start as he started to slip and his collar choked the breath from his lungs.

He squeaked in surprise, righted himself and felt the drowsiness threaten to overwhelm him again. He fumbled for the clasp that would free his collar from the hook in the wall, his fingers and thumbs slipping over the simple mechanism. 

He couldn’t get it, couldn’t make it open. No-one was here, it was useless to cry out, but he couldn’t get it off and his eyes were barely staying open, his mind refusing to stay awake. He grunted, tried again to press the simple button that would open the clasp and missed. 

He wanted to sleep. He needed to sleep. He could feel the tendrils of it clawing their way into his brain, could feel the sluggish way his body moved, and how he almost forgot between one second and the next what he needed to do. He swallowed reflexively, knowing he’d choke if he fell asleep like this, and that his throat would ache for days.

Biting his lip he let his hand trail round to the back of his collar and fingered the buckle. He squeezed his eyes closed and it hardly took anything to loosen, to pull the leather, ease it back, working the metal out of the hole. It took nothing to open his hand, and let it fall away.

It was easy, to sit back on his heels and sigh in relief. Throat bare, choking impossible. He curled over his knees and sobbed in frustration. 

How could it be so easy, and so hard? Why was it so simple to remove, and yet so forbidden? 

He slammed the palm of his hand against the wall, leaned forward to slump against it in defeat. He hated it. Hated being so close to comfort and not allowed. Hated being left alone to deal with problems like this all by himself. Hated the responsibility that was placed on him to govern his own actions as well as the other pets in the store. Why couldn’t his owner be a proper Owner and keep him in sight, keep him in line himself? Why did it have to be so hard.

It was easier once the collar wasn’t on his neck to get the angle right and undo the metal clasp that clipped it to the wall. He held it in his hands for a moment. Rubbed his thumb over the leather, the metal, the worn material near the buckle.

And then he flung it across the room, as hard as he could. It clattered against the far wall and skittered across the floor a short way until coming to rest. He breathed hard and sobbed once, before crawling blindly forwards onto the thin mattress that served as his bed. He curled up, and was asleep instantly.

*     *     *

He hadn’t meant to sleep in. Usually he woke with the morning light, but not that day. Not the day when his collar was loose from his throat, across the room, where it definitely shouldn’t be. That day he woke at Emile’s voice calling his name, Emile’s footsteps sounding on the stairs, Emile’s key turning in the lock. 

He opened bleary eyes and curled up tighter and then stretched, letting his back pop and his limbs complain at sleeping on a barely-there mattress. He pulled himself up as Emile clattered into the room, dropping bags of food and his keys and who knew what else onto the table.

“Up and at ‘em Kit. Hurry up. It’s not like you to be sleeping in.”

“I’m awake Sir.” He climbed to his feet, stretched again, and only then noticed the feel of his bare neck. His heart stopped. His lungs refused to work. He choked. Choked on nothing, choked on the terror—choked the way he would have the previous night if he hadn’t freed himself—as all the memories came crowding back in, and all his defiance died with the dawn.

He stole one look at the black collar, innocent and motionless on the floorboards. He gulped, pinned his eyes on the floor at Emile’s feet and hoped and hoped and hoped that his owner wouldn’t notice anything was amiss.

Owners always noticed, they always knew. Pets weren’t allowed things of their own, not secrets, not choices. Kit knew this, he knew he was Emile’s and that every little thing he did reflected back on the person who held the power over him. He knew it in his bones—in the bruising, and the training and learning through pain—but what he didn’t know was why it hurt. Why it curdled his stomach and ate away at his resolve, why it made him want to cry or rage, why it made him want to run away and never look back. Why did it hurt when that’s the way it always was, when that’s what he was made for?

Emile hurried him into the bathroom to get moving for the day, and he fumbled his way through cleaning up and getting ready. His mind on the band of fabric that should be adorning his neck, not discarded on the floor. If he could just get to it before Emile, if he could just slip it back on…

Emile was holding it in his hands when Kit emerged from the bathroom, his face like a storm—calm but ready to burst free and unleash hell.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Kit fell to his knees in the time it took to blink. “I’m sorry. I… I didn’t mean to.”

“You didn’t mean to? Are you trying to tell me it was an accident? That it left your throat by itself and you just didn’t notice?”

Kit shrank into himself, all the fire and frustration from the night before had burned itself out. He was hollow. Empty. 

“You wear this because I tell you to wear it. The fact it is removable by your own hand is a mark of my trust, not something for you to exploit. How often do you take it off, hmm? How regularly do you disregard orders, just because I’m not here to see it?”

“Never, I promise, I never have before. Not ever. I thought i was going to choke, I couldn’t breathe, I was tired and I couldn’t get it undone and—”

“Enough excuses! If that were true you would’ve undone it carefully and then replaced it as soon as you were able—not thrown it across the room and left your neck bare for your own comfort!”

“I’m sorry.” He curled over his knees, so low that his hair brushed the floor. “Please, I’m sorry.”

“Get. Up.”

The anger brooked no argument, the order held no negotiation. So he did as he was told, his body shaking with the effort of keeping himself upright. 

Emile strapped him shirtless onto a chair, straddling the seat so his back faced outwards. His limbs held in place by the leather pulled from the cabinets and tied tightly down. The cane, swift and jarring, hit his back fifteen times—until he screamed. And then Emile thrust it between his teeth and forced his jaw closed around it.

“Hold this until I come back for it.”

He nodded and closed his eyes, clamped his teeth onto the smooth cane so it wouldn’t fall. He spent all day like that, tied in place, his back open to the air and ready to be struck. His body protested but he couldn’t do a thing about it, couldn’t even move, and wouldn’t dare ask for respite. Emile rarely used restraints, he knew Kit would take his punishments without being tied down, so the fact that he had been was just another sign of how badly he’d screwed up. He wasn’t trusted, not even to hold himself still.

Each time Emile came upstairs to his office, or to make himself a drink, he removed the cane from between Kit’s teeth and layered a few more strikes over already brushing flesh. Told him how bad he’d been, and how good he was expected to be from now on. Told him how inconvenient it was to have a disobedient, disrespectful pet, threatened re-training, reminded him of the duties he wasn’t performing while he had to be corrected. Words that slipped below the welts on his back, words that marked deeper, that scarred him more.

By the end of the day the only hurt he knew how to focus on, was the one that helped him to learn, so he could be better. Any other pain that lived inside his heart, that wanted to climb out his throat and scream about unfairness, had been wiped clean—beaten out of him.

Emile gently buckled the collar back in its place, rubbing the leather to soften it to the curves of his throat. “What does this tell you?”

“That I belong to you,” he said, voice barely a croak, dry and sore.

“Yes. Do better, in the future. Don’t take the freedoms I give you for granted.”

He nodded, numbed, relief washing over him at the day reaching its end. 

He didn’t know why it had seemed so hard the day before to live by someone else’s rules. Obeying was always easy, and always best—it was everything else that got him into trouble. 

#Kit's Story #pet whump #people as pets #box boy universe #whumper and whumpee #owned whumpee #whumpee and owner #collars #choking tw #strangulation #beatings #violence tw #bruising #punishments #punished whumpee #tired whumpee #caning #victim blaming tw #sleep deprivation #angry whumper #sadistic whumper #defiant whumpee #who is beaten into submission

[pinkpeonyprincessblog]

Ruin

-Ellen-

stood staring in the bathroom mirror at the large pink scar that snaked across my forehead from my left temple to just above my right eyebrow.

It had been almost three months now, and I was still in pain, some days it felt like I couldn't escape it.

I lifted my shirt to show my tummy, yet another angry looking pink scar this one jagged from where the glass had gotten me. It still pain, dull ache ever-present, the itch constant. I frowned, frustrated with how long everything was taking to heal.

"Morning baby," Shawn whispered into my neck,coming to rest his head softly on my shoulder and smiling at me in the mirror.

"Hey," I couldn't help the small smile that pulled at the corner of my lips. He was so beautiful, even first thing in the morning, dressed in an ugly washed-out green coloured pair of scrubs,ready for another day as a doctor in the local emergency department.

"What was that frown I saw before I walked in?" he asked, still watching me in the mirror.

I sighed, "Im just sick of being sore and having these ugly scars all over my body. I can't get it out of my head," I whispered, feeling the tears welling up, an all to familiar occurance these days.

"It's gonna take some time baby," he murmured, pulling me to his chest and holding me tightly.

"Yeah I know," I sighed leaning back into his hold. He really had been the best thing and he had quite literally saved my life, both physically and mentally. Our relationship had never felt forced, we'd just naturally fallen for one another, but if I was being honest I would never have imagined to be where I was today three months ago.

-Three Months Earlier-

-Third person-

"This is a trauma call for an eta of ten minutes," a voice came over the Emergency Department intercom.

"I hate trauma calls," Brian sighed as he got geared up, placing the label that declared him to be team leader onto his protective gown, before pulling a fresh pair of gloves on to replace the ones he had just used to help stitch up a little girl's head after she took a tumble.

"Is the bed all ready?" he asked, ducking his head around the curtain of the only free bay in the department. It had been one of those nights, and it was only eight, meaning that he was only two hours into a twelve-hour shift.

"Almost," his college, and fellow critical care doctor, Connor spoke as he wheeled the crash cart into place, and situated the supplies draw.

"What do we know so far?" Michael, another doctor asked, coming to stand by the other two doctors.

"Adult female, hit and run, while crossing the street." Connor spoke, while glancing down to check his watch for the time remaining before they were set to arrive.

"That sounds nasty," Michael commented, wincing slightly in sympathy. "It's a good thing the nurses decided to page Ortho I suppose, it sounds like you'll be needing my expertise," he turned to face his colleague.

"I hate to stay it, but I'd have to agree," Brian replied, sharing a knowing look with the other two doctors.

All three of them knew that pedestrian hit and runs where never good, and there was a high rate of critical injuries sustained, and of course these were usually inflicted on the innocent party. They didn't speak for several minutes, each fidgeting, just wanting to start helping the poor girl already. They didn't say it, but they knew it wouldn't be pretty. This has been confirmed when they got a message via one of the nurses, saying that Shawn, one of their friends and fellow colleague, and, emergency care physician was on route to the scene of the accident after the paramedics requested his help. This was not something that happened ogten, and only when completely necessary. The hospital liked to keep Ashton there as his expertise was so useful in many of the situations that the department faced.

-Ellen-

All I could feel was pain. Pain everywhere. Every inch of my body was hurting.

I tried to piece together how I had come to be here, but was met with some unknown resistance when I tried to turn my head, and survey my surroundings. "Stay still honey. We're going to get you to the hospital shortly, but just bear with us okay," a voice spoke from somewhere above my head. It was then that I became aware of the hands touching me, and instinctively I tried to pull away. "Dave, I think It'll be best to sedate her for the time being," a different voice spoke. That was the last thing I was aware of before I woke to bright lights, and calm, but still somehow urgent, voices.

-Third Person-

When Shawn and Dave arrived on scene, it was worse then they had expected. The poor girl was laying in the middle of what would normally be a busy street, onlookers everywhere watching with baited breath. "Can we move some of these guys out of here?" Shawn asked one of the many police officers that were standing around, waiting for direction. The last thing his patient needed was an audience when they were completely defenceless.

When they finally managed to push their way through the crowd of people, and get the relevant equipment set up, it was to find that things were much more complicated and critical then they had first thought.

"What do we know?" Dave, the paramedic on the case asked.

"They've not been able to give us much, but they're saying that someone ran a red, hit her, and took off. They're trying to run the plates now, track the person down," a burly police officer spoke. " I'll leave you guys to it," he spoke, patting them both on the shoulder, before getting up and going to help the other officers control the swelling crowds,"

As they both surveyed the situation, the injuries were clear to see. The girl had dislocated her left shoulder, broken her collarbone, and from the blood soaking through her pants and the angle of her right ankle, she had a compound fracture. Perhaps more concerning though was the blood that was fishing from a open head wound above her eyebrow, and flowing from her nose. The latter was usually a sign of internal bleeding.

"Hello?" Shawn spoke, as Dave started getting the collar ready. "If you can hear me, give my hand a squeeze okay," he continued slipping his gloved hand into the girl's bloody one, and praying there was a response.

After a moment there was, and they both thanked the heavens.

"Sweetheart, my name is Shawn, I'm a doctor, and this is Dave. Can you remember your name?" Shawn asked, leaning down in the hopes of hearing the young woman's response.

"Ellen," she whispered. It was barley there, but it was still a response.

"Okay Ellen, this is going to be uncomfortable, but we need to put this collar on you so that you don't hurt your neck or back okay. And then we'll get you to the hospital," Dave reassured her, before going about fixing the hard plastic to the girl. Both the medics had had to put the collar on to experience what it was like for the patients, and it was uncomfortable to say the least. Neither one could fathom how bad it would be to have injuries on top of this.

They both felt dreadful when Ellen started trying to claw at the collar, desperately trying to get it off, tears flooding down her bloody face.

"I know sweets, it's okay," Shawn tried to comfort her once they were in the ambulance and had hooked her up to an I.V. with pain medication.

"Shawn, I think It'll be best to sedate her for the time being," he informed his partner, getting the sedative ready.

"Can you check her vitals again please?" he requested, "And get some oxygen on her for good measure," he added, before stepping out of the ambulance and heading to the driver's side. "I think she's stable enough to go," he added, before starting towards the hospital with lights and sirens on, indicating that this was a life-threatening situation.

In the back of the vehicle, Shawn was going about checking her pupil reaction, which turned out to be slow, indicating a moderate concussion. After this, he placed a mask on the girl, ensuring that the saturation levels were as high as possible, as after attaching her to the relative monitors, it was found that she was only satting a 80%.

Finally, he went about checking the heart and lungs, and by this point they were beginning to pull into the hospital, which relieved the medic immensely.

They were met with a team of people at the entrance, Shawn was glad to see this included his three colleagues, Michael, Connor and Brian.

"What do we have?" Brian asked, stepping behind the gurney to help Shawn push it now that Dave had left on a new call.

"This is Ellen, she was hit by a car side-on while crossing the road. She's got a dislocated shoulder, broken collar bone and a compound fracture to the ankle. Possible internal bleeding and concussion. The paramedic also found some swelling, possibly indicating spleen bruising. Lacerations to the head, with nasal bleeding. Her BP is low, same with heart rate, lungs sound normal, standard dose of pain medication given on route." He finished as they made it to the bay that had been set up before their arrival.

"Okay, I want a CT, scan of the head and abdomen and spine, and can someone get me an ultrasound machine, stat, and in the mean time let's get her hooked moved on the the bed so we can start preliminary examinations. On my count!" Brian commanded, directing the team in transferring her safely to the hospital bed.

-Ellen-

The first thing I was aware of when I came to be was the bright lights above me, making me want to shut my eyes again almost instantly. After this, it was an annoying tickling sensation on my face. I moved my hand to try and swipe it away, but was met with resistance.

"Leave it there, Ellen," a calm voice spoke. A young man came into view then. "My name is Brian I'm one of the doctors looking after you, do you know where you are?"

"In the hospital," I answered, beginning to feel overwhelmed at the gravity of the situation, which was only made worse when I realised I couldn't move anything apart from my arms.

"Just try to stay nice and calm for me, you'll be fine, we just need to do a few tests and then we should be able to get you out of this contraption," he smiled sympathetically.

"Shawn?" he called. Another youngish looking doctor, this time with tanned skin, dark hair curly hair and several visible tattoos came over.

"You called?" he asked, before turning to me. "Hi Ellen, my names Shawn," he introduced himself with a smile, "I'm another one of the doctors."

"I want to roll her to do a spinal check,"

"No problem, so on three, I'm going to roll you onto your side and Brian is going to check for sensation." He explained to me, seeing the confusion I was feeling.

A few minutes later, they determined that my spine was fine, and this was confirmed by scans they had done when I was out, that came back fine.

"There you go, that's got to feel better," Shawn smiled, readjusting the blankets to provide me with more modesty.

"Ellen, are you in any pain?" Brian asked, coming over and shining a small light in my eyes.

"My tummy is really sore, and my shoulder and chest area," I told him.

"Okay, I'll get the nurse to increase the hourly dosage, there's no reason you should be in pain. You'll probably still be a little sore though, you've got a bruised spleen, which given time will heal, but you'll be tender for a while. As for your chest, you broke your collar bone on impact. We've put your arm into a sling to help limit the movement and give it an opportunity to heal. You did dislocate your other shoulder though, and we're going to have to put it back into place- don't worry though, we've got Michael doing it for you, and we're going to dose you up so you won't remember a thing," he laughed, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

"You needed me?" yet another doctor walked in, dyed blonde hair, sitting across his face. "Sorry," he added, "There was an emergency in the pit,"

"Ellen, this is Michael, are you ready?" Shawn asked.

"Mmmmm?" I responded unsure.

"You'll be fine," he responded, going to adjust my meds.

To the say that the process was painful would be the understatement of the year, and I may have called all three of them some uncomplimentary names, but after the fact I got some immediate relief.

The rest of the night was spent getting my many cuts stitched up, with the doctors, helping to keep me distracted by talking to me about my everyday life. I ended up in tears when I was introduced to Shawn again,apparently I'd met him a few times before, but I really couldn't remember, who I was told was one of the main people who got me to the hospital. "It's okay," he had spoken, giving me a gentle hug. "It's what we do!" he smiled, grabbing a tissue and wiping the tears off my face.

"They told me you're studying vet science?" he asked, sitting down on a chair next to the bed Connor another doctor and Brian went back to stitching me up. I felt my whole face break into a smile.

"Yep, I'm already a certified carer, but I wanted to take the next step,"

"I really admire that," he told me, "Hopefully we'll be able to get that ankle of yours fixed up first thing tomorrow and onto the road of recovery." he spoke, referring to the compound fracture in my ankle that Shawn had told me about not long after I woke. Admittedly, I had thrown up when he told me what a compound fracture was, and had gone into a panic when he explained it would need surgery, but he had calmed me quickly.

"You'll be fine, you've got the best Ortho in the place working on you, Michael. You won't know anything happened once he's done, and you're all healed.

The coming weeks were filled with highs and lows, the surgery went well, and there was no post op infection, something that made all the doctors very happy, however the pain was almost unbearable at times, and they had to give me multiple pep talks to get me through it. I did it though, we their help.

The experience had helped to shape me, and when it was finally time to leave, I knew that I was leaving with four new friends.

But the one person I could always count on was Shawn. He helped me through everything, physio appointments, monthly reviews but above everything else he was a shoulder to lean on, someone to cry to when things got tough. And I guess through all of that our relationship had blossomed without us even realising. But one thing was for sure...

-Present Day-

I turned smiling now, as Shawn looked down at me I uttered the five words that meant so much to me.

"You save me from Ruin."

#doctor!shawn #shawn #shawn mendes #shawn mendes blurb #shawn peter raul mendes #shawnmendes imagine #werewolf!shawn #peter mendes #raul mendes #pinkpeonyprincessblog

[abundanceofsoph]

SkyFire 2: Chapter 14

The CMAs: November 2016

Word count: 2.7k

SkyFire 2 MASTERLIST

>Instagram posts

Aurora had slowly been increasing the amount of time she wore her prosthetic every day in anticipation of the upcoming CMAs. While she wasn’t ashamed of her body and had even recently posted a selfie on Instagram of her stump without the compression stocking, she wanted to be able to wear the prosthetic on the red carpet and throughout the entire evening. She’d explained all of this to Ben during a check-up and he had helped to create a schedule for her to slowly build up to a full evening. Despite her impatience she understood the need for hesitancy after Ben had explained the risk of pressure sores. She had also found that the transmitting device that sat behind her ear would start to give her a headache around the two hour mark and Tony and Peter were currently working to solve that problem.

A week before the CMAs, Harry took Aurora out to her favourite Gallery, the Acquavella on the Upper East Side and they wandered the familiar halls hand in hand. After confessing how much she loved the gallery during Harry’s first visit to see her in New York, he had made a point of bringing her here whenever he was in town, although they tried to come at odd times in the middle of the week to avoid the crowds.

“One day I want to have a piece hanging on these walls,” Aurora murmured as they walked.

“You will,” Harry replied, kissing the top of her head where she lent it against his shoulder. She smiled at the confidence of his statement, so sure in his belief of her.

They wandered the gallery for a little while longer before leaving and crossing 5th Avenue into Central Park. They strolled through the park, beanies tugged over their heads and scarves wrapped tightly around their necks to ward off the autumn chill. The sky was gloomy and no one they passed by recognized them as they meandered along. They were nearly to the southwest corner of the park, Avengers Tower looming into the sky above them when the darkening clouds opened above them and the rained poured down. Aurora let out a shriek, quickly followed by peals of laughter, which Harry echoed and they both wordlessly let go of each other to take off running. By the time they stepped into the lobby of the tower they were drenched and laughing. As the strode towards the elevator, Aurora slipped on the polished tiles, throwing out her arm to save her fall as she tipped backwards. Unfortunately, it was her left hand and the impact ricocheted up through the socket of the prosthesis and into the stump of her forearm. She let out a strained hiss of pain, her right hand clutching at her elbow as she sat on the floor, grateful that the rain still clinging to her skin masked the presence of tears on her cheeks. Harry helped her to her feet and moved them both towards the elevator.

“I’m fine,” she whispered. “It was just a little slip H.”

“You’re not fine, let me see,” he murmured in reply. She kept telling him she was fine until the elevator reached the penthouse and they both headed for her rooms. “Ok let’s just get showered and changed into something dry,” Harry conceded once it was abundantly clear she wasn’t going to admit to the pain radiating up her arm.

Aurora choked back a sob as she removed her prosthesis, the skin beneath an angry shade of red. She stripped out of her soaking wet clothes and followed Harry into the bathroom where he was already standing under the hot water. He stepped aside to let her under the water, his hands gently resting on her hips and his chest pressed against her back.

“Don’t shut me out,” he whispered, pressing kisses against her shoulder as the shower pelted down on them. “Please don’t pretend everything’s ok when I know it isn’t.”

As the warm water cascaded over her body and Harry continued to whisper against her skin, she felt herself beginning to tremble. Once the first sob broke, Harry quickly spun her around to face him, holding her tightly against his chest. When her knees buckled, he kept her standing, reaching out with one hand to turn off the shower before wrapping towels around them both and carrying Aurora out of the bathroom. He laid them both down on the bed and held her tightly as her shaking soften and her sobs eased.

“Let me see it,” he said when she finally fell silent. He held his breath as she held out her right arm, dark bruises already forming across her pale skin.  “JARVIS? I need you to call Dr. Walker and Ben Sherman. Set up an appointment for the morning.”

“Right away Mr. Styles.”

“I’m gonna go get you some painkillers and then we’ll just stay in here and watch a movie ok?” he told her. She nodded, moving back from where she was curled up against him to let him stand, pulling on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt before leaving the room. While he was gone Aurora climbed off the bed, letting her towel fall to the floor before slipping into a comfortable pair of shorts and one of Harry’s shirts. She climbed back into the bed, flicking through Netflix while she waited.

Harry returned a little while later with a  tray of food. He placed it on the bedside table before joining Aurora under the covers. Once he was comfortably settled against the headboard, he passed her a glass of water and a few pills which she gladly took, swallowing quickly before placing the glass on her own bedside table. Harry placed the tray between them on the bed and Aurora looked at him questioningly as she took in the plates of pasta and large slices of chocolate cake.

“Steve was cooking dinner when I got to the kitchen,” he explained. “Told him you weren’t feeling well and we’re spending the night in.”

She thanked him, leaning into his side as she rested her bowl on her lap and dug in. a generic romcom playing on the screen at the foot of the bed. By the time they’d finished eating, the painkillers were taking effect and Aurora found her eyes growing heavy as she curled further into Harry’s arms. He kissed her head, shifting them both so that they were lying down beneath the duvet and within minutes she had drifted off to sleep.

They woke the following morning to JARVIS informing them that both Dr Walker and Ben Sherman would meet them in the med bay downstairs in an hour. They dressed and ate a quick breakfast in the kitchen before heading downstairs.

Harry watched on as Dr Walker and Ben both inspected Aurora’s arm, using the med bay equipment to take an x-ray as well as an ultrasound.

Ben looked at her arm, pressing against the stump until Aurora winced. “You have a bone bruise,” Dr Walker announced, “but it’s nothing too serious.”

“How do we fix it?” Aurora asked, her gaze flicking between the two of them.

“We’ll get you some painkillers and you can use heat packs to deal with the discomfort,” Ben replied. “It should heal up on its own after a few weeks of rest, but you need to avoid using your prosthetic until it’s completely healed.”

“A few weeks?” she gasped. “No, I’m supposed to perform at the CMAs next week.”

“Are you supposed to be playing?” Ben asked her gently, sensing her panic.

“No, just singing,” Aurora explained. “I just wasn’t expecting to be on a stage that big without this.” She gestured to the prosthetic hand, sitting on the table beside them. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”

“Hey,” Harry interrupted softly, drawing Auroras attention to his calm face. His eyes swam with all the love and affection he felt for her and she found her breathing levelling out. The panic left her in the wake of his confident expression. “If you’re not ready to go out there without it, we call Mark right now and cancel. But I think you are beautiful. No one watching is going to see anything less than a strong, brave woman, who is an incredible singer.”

“My dress doesn’t have sleeves,” Aurora replied, her brain focusing on the smaller issues in an attempt to stave off the panic building in her chest.

“We could get you another dress,” Harry chuckled, “but think of what it would mean to all of those kids we’ve been visiting. Imagine them watching on tv as you stand up in front of everyone, without shame, without the need to hide.”

“Hadn’t thought of that,” Rori mumbled. “It would mean the world to them.”

“No pressure,” Harry said, “but I think this could be a really important step for you.”

xXx

Aurora flew to Tennessee on her own, while Harry remained in New York to continue working on his album and also allowing her to focus on rehearsals without him interjecting. This was her thing and he didn’t want to feel like he was trying to steal her thunder. He would fly in the morning of the awards allowing plenty of time to get ready before walking the red carpet with her.

She spent the few days leading up to the show in rehearsals with Rascal Flatts, her excitement for the awards show growing the closer it got. Before she knew it,  Wednesday rolled around and Harry flew in just after lunch time. They met up at the hotel, and with the help of their hair and makeup teams they got dressed and ready to go. Aurora had decided against changing her dress and instead stuck with her original choice of a sleek, black strapless cocktail dress with a tight skirt that hugged her curves, ending midway down her thighs. Harry chose to keep his own outfit simple, opting for a form fitting black suit, with a black collared shirt. The bruising on her arm had began to fade over the last few days now a soft yellowing of her skin was the only sign that anything had happened.

Aurora found her nerves growing as their car arrived at the Bridgestone Arena. Harry climbed out first, buttoning his jacket and then holding out his hand to help her out of the car. He squeezed her hand as the car drove away and the couple smiled brightly as camera’s flashed around them. They made their way down the red carpet, Harry’s hand rarely leaving Aurora’s as she gripped his tightly. He only let go for brief moments when they stopped occasionally for interviews and photos, before finally reaching the venue and stepping inside, away from the prying eyes of the media. Ushers directed them to their seats, where they found Rascal Flatts and their wives waiting for them. Harry shook hands with the boys and kissed the wives on the cheeks, while Aurora received hugs from everyone.

Towards the end of the show, while the live broadcast was in a commercial break, Aurora, Jay, Garry and Joe stood up and made their way backstage to prepare for their performance. Harry shuffled down the row to sit next to Joe’s wife Tiffany as seat fillers arrived next to him.

Aurora changed into a floor length red gown and swapped out her earrings before joining the three men behind the curtain, side of stage. She rubbed her hand nervously over the exposed skin of her stump, her heart racing as she prepared to step out in front of hundreds of people, countless more watching at home. Garry gave her shoulder a comf0rting squeeze as the three of them headed out on to the stage.  

“From their new album, Back to Us, please welcome to the stage Rascal Flatts with their latest single, Are You Happy Now?” The audience applauded at the announcer’s words, and then the song began. Aurora picked up her microphone and waited for her cue as Garry’s voice filled the arena.

Someone let your secret out Everybody 'round here's talking about, how your knight in shining armour let you down And now you're alone, I told you so This is what you wanted, baby, now you got it Something's wrong and you can't put your finger on it Could it be that maybe, you did that to me, baby And now you found

Aurora stepped out on to the stage, her head held high as she joined the chorus. She continued walking until she reached Garry’s side, his smile matching her own as she finally let herself enjoy the moment, all of her anxiety melting away as the words poured out of her.

What goes around comes back around It's been that way forever Baby, just look at you now, barely holding it together We were so in love, but you gave that up Just look around, are you happy now? Oooh, are you happy now?

Aurora walked forward to the front of the stage; the audience spread out before her as she sang her solo verse. Yeah, you're gonna spend some sleepless nights Crying in the glow of the TV light With some sad song on and a glass of wine Just to sit in the pain, baby, what a shame This is what you wanted, baby now you got it Something's wrong and you can't put your finger on it Could it be that maybe, you did that to me, baby And now you found

Garry walked out to the front of the stage to join her once more, their voices blending together as they harmonized, the music swelling around them as the song grew.

What goes around comes back around It's been that way forever Baby, just look at you now, barely holding it together We were so in love, but you gave that up Just look around Are you happy now? Now that I'm not around (now that I'm not around) Now that you've finally lost what you thought that you needed Never would have treated your heart like you did What goes around comes back around It's been that way forever Baby, just look at you now, barely holding it together Oh, we were so in love, oh, but you gave that up Just look around (just look around) What goes around comes back around It's been that way forever We were so in love (we were so in love) But you gave that up (but you gave it up) Just look around (just look around) Are you happy now? (are you happy now?) Are you happy?

What goes around comes back around

Garry wrapped an arm around her shoulders at the end of the song and they were both grinning from ear to ear as the audience applauded. Aurora caught sight of Harry, locking eyes with him and blowing a kiss. Joe and Jay reached them at the front of the stage standing on either side of them, all with their arms thrown around each other. They waved to the crowd before leaving the stage.

Since they were one of the final performances of the night, they remained backstage until the end of the show and eventually Harry and the guys wives made their way back to them. As soon as he spotted her, Harry rushed to Rori’s side, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her off the ground. She giggled as he spun her, kissing her deeply when he finally set her back on the ground.

“You were amazing,” he said, somewhat breathless from the kiss. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Jay agreed. “You’d never guess you’ve been out of the game for a year Rori. You absolutely killed it out there.”

Aurora blushed profusely in response, mumbling a thank you, her arms still wrapped around Harry as he stared at her with so much love and adoration.

NEXT CHAPTER

OR CONTINUE READING ON AO3

#skyfire #skyfire fic #aurora stark #dad!tony #iron dad #step dad steve rogers #stony #stony fic #boyfriend harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #superfamily #harry styles #tony stark #ptsd #domestic fluff

[sketch-shepherd-art]

Ginga Togyushi Taurus: Chapter 8

Chapter 8: A Different Kind of Dog Fighting

It was near sunset when Taurus had finally evacuated the forest into the city, completely out of stamina. He collapsed onto the dirty pavement of an alley and took loud, gasping breaths, completely exhausted from fighting the Dire Dogs and avoiding getting shot by humans. It was a wonder he managed to barely escape with his life. As soon as the adrenaline died down, the pain from Taurus' wounds finally kicked in.

Taurus' own flinching forced him to lift his head up and take a good look at his injuries. Fortunately the teeth marks that the Dire Dogs had inflicted on him weren’t lethal, but they still pierced well into his skin. Taurus reached his head back more and licked the blood off his hind leg, tending to the wound the best he could. Unfortunately the scars on his back and neck were too difficult to reach, and he just hoped that the pain would be gone after he slept.

The next morning came, and it was still there. Taurus sighed and forced himself to stand up, trying to ignore the soreness in his back.

Ugh, my stomach is killing me, Taurus just realized he had hardly a bite to eat the previous day. He rummaged around the dumpster and found some bones and an expired chunk of ham. Of course, it was far from appetizing but it was the only thing that would fill Taurus' stomach as of now. 

Taurus finally set foot out of the dark alley and into the light of the bustling street. This wasn't at all new territory for him, as he was already somewhat familiar with the city life back in his home in Shikoku, and he certainly still remembered being told by his father to be careful around humans. Taurus took a short trip traveling up and down the block, but found nothing that could help him find the way to Ohu.

Finally, he resorted to the risky decision he had wanted to use least.

I guess I'll just have to cross the street, Taurus mentally told himself, positioning himself at the edge of the road. Vehicles were speeding past in both directions, and Taurus knew that a hit from a speeding car would be lethal. Finally for a moment, cars stopped passing, and Taurus took this opportunity to speed right across the street. All of a sudden, the revving of an oncoming truck signaled Taurus to run faster, and he finally darted to the sidewalk just as the truck drove past him.

Taurus was elated to find that he had successfully crossed the road, but that relief quickly turned into confusion as he watched as the truck pull over right to where he was, and two men exited the vehicle, eyeing the dog sharply. If his previous experience told him anything, Taurus immediately sensed trouble in their eyes and fled, but yelped loudly as he immediately felt calloused hands roughly seize his collar and lift him into the air with little effort.

"Hey Katsu, look what I found!" the man holding the writhing pup said with a rough voice.

"What the hell do you wanna do with that, Ryu?" said the other man. "That's just a puppy!"

"I think he's more than just a puppy. Look at how heavy his collar is. You think he might actually be some kind of fighting dog?"

"Maybe, but what makes you so sure?" 

"This is the kind of collar that Tosa fighting dogs would wear; you can't get them anywhere else. Think about it Katsu, a puppy who's also a fighting dog. Just imagine the large number of crowds that might draw in!"

"Huh... my god Ryu, you're actually right. Better yet, just imagine the bets people will be placing on this one! He'll be bringing in so much money!"

"Perfect, we're taking him."

Taurus was struggling in the air the entire conversation, but the men paid no attention to the dog's uncomfortable actions. Instead, they walked over to their truck and mercilessly threw Taurus into the back of it, the impact knocking him out cold.

A blinding white light, a throbbing headache, and a loud ringing in Taurus' ears woke him up. The pup groaned as he raised himself to his feet, and grunted even more loudly as his already bruised head hit a metal bar above him. As the world around him cleared, Taurus quickly noticed to his horror that his entire body was blocked off by similar barriers: thin, steel bars.

"No..." Taurus began to hyperventilate, realizing that he was confined inside a small wire cage. It soon also became clear that he wasn't alone in his situation; the fearful pup scanned the outdoor area he was in, and found countless other dogs imprisoned the same way he was, but in far worse condition. Several of the dogs looked stressed, emaciated, and bore many body scars. Taurus found a few more that were somehow in an even more unfortunate state, with body parts such as eyes, ears, toes, and even parts of their jaw severed off and mutilated. Taurus just knew it would likely already be a matter of time before he would probably end up like them.

"Help!" Taurus yelled out impulsively, pounding his front paws onto the bars of his cage door. "Someone get me out of here! PLEASE!"

Taurus began slamming his entire body against the walls of his cage, even despite the little room for mobility inside his cramped space.

"Quiet down, pipsqueak!" Taurus turned his head to see an old disturbed mastiff lying in the cage right next to his own. "It's no use calling for help here. It won't come."

"Trust us, we've done the same thing countless times before," a German Shepherd in the cage left of Taurus' said. "We've lost any hope of getting out of here years ago."

"Y-years...?" Taurus' eyes trembled with anxiety. 

"Just stop trying, kid" the mastiff said again, lowering his head in an annoyed but tired manner. "You'll rot in here the same way we did." 

The mastiff's lack of any encouragement only rubbed salt onto Taurus' internal wounds. 

"What is this place?" Taurus asked, his voice even shakier than ever. "What are they gonna do to me?" 

"It's a dog fighting ring," the German Shepherd explained. "And it's exactly what it sounds like." 

Dog fighting? Taurus felt some of his tension finally leave him as he heard that familiar word. "Oh, good! Maybe I'm not in such a bad place after all."

The two dogs on the opposite sides of Taurus perked their ears up and shot bewildered glares at the Akita pup. 

"What the hell are you saying?!" the Shepherd exclaimed. "Are you delusional or something?" 

"What? But dog fighting is supposed to be a good thing, isn't it?" 

"What kind of world did you grow up in, kid?!" said the mastiff. "Any dog with half a brain knows that dog fighting is a cruel sport that humans take sick pleasure in!" 

Taurus couldn't believe what he was hearing. For these two to say such things to the son of a fighting dog, Taurus was tempted to ask them what kind of world they grew up in. 

"No! That's not true! Dog fighting is a dignified practice in Shikoku where I come from! The humans treat us very well!" 

"Stop fucking around with us, kid. Humans snatched us from our homes long ago and brought us here. They abandoned us, starved us, tortured us, and when that was all over, they forced us to fight against our own friends, all for the sole purpose of entertainment." 

Taurus could see the faint spark of a tear forming in the mastiff's closed eyes. Then he heard the German Shepherd tell his side of the story. 

"Zachary and I are probably one of the few dogs in this place able to hang onto any form of conscience anymore. With what little sanity most of the other dogs around here have, after being forced to be humans' puppets for entertainment for so long, they've... ended up losing their lives to both humans and combatants alike." 

Taurus felt his own eyes tearing up at the Shepherd's description. 

"This is so awful..." Taurus said softly but audibly. "I never imagined that a bad form of dog fighting could exist." 

"Hmph. Fragile, aren't you?" Taurus heard Zachary, the mastiff, scoff. "You've been in your cage for only a few hours and you're already crying about this shocking news to you? How do you think we feel about being trapped in here and being force fed your garbage about so-called 'good' dog fighting all of a sudden?"

"Zachary!" the German Shepherd called out. "Take it easy on him. It's not much easier for a pup his age to handle an experience like this either. We don't need him to feel any worse than how we did when we were first brought here when we were young." 

"Still... I'm really not lying!" Taurus began. "Believe me when I say that not all dog fighting I've seen is bad. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. In fact, my own father was Kato the Fighter, one of the most well-known champions there!" 

Taurus felt his momentary euphoria slip away as the dogs showed no reaction to the mention of his father's name. 

"You... don't even know who that is, do you?" 

"What did you expect, kiddo?" the German Shepherd replied. "We don't even remember the last time we've been in contact with the outside world. The only dogs we've been face to face with are our suffering comrades here." 

Taurus lowered his head in defeat."I’m sorry. I'll stop bothering you then, uh… what was your name again?"

"Jeremiah," the Shepherd replied. "And you are?"

"Taurus." 

"Well Taurus, all I can say is this. Whatever good memories you have of your pure-intentioned dog fighting back at home, hold onto them while you still can. It'll probably be the only thing that'll get your spirits up for all the years you'll be stuck here." 

Damn, Taurus spoke again, silently this time. These guys have been imprisoned for so long here they've just accepted their fate. I can't let that happen to me... 

Later that day, Taurus' ears perked up as he picked up on a nearby conversation among a group of men.

"A puppy? No goddamn way! What makes you think we'd bet on that?"

"Trust me, it's no ordinary pup." 

Taurus recognized the second voice belonged to Ryu, the cruel man who had kidnapped him earlier that day. 

"What makes him so special?" Taurus heard a third voice join them.  "I have no idea what you're thinking by bringing a runt into a dog fight, Ryu." 

"I can assure you he's no runt! There's a good chance that he might have been specially trained. I've got a good look at his collar and that's the kind of collar only Tosa fighting dogs would wear." 

"Bullshit! This will hardly even be a match; that pup is gonna get mauled before the fight's even over. 5000 yen that the Golden Retriever wins."

"I'll say... I doubt this is something that Ryu would lie about. A puppy fighting dog really isn't something you see every day. I'm putting in 5000 yen that he wins!" 

"Alright," Ryu concluded. "It's settled." 

Taurus heard Ryu's foreboding footsteps approaching him, and he scooted over to the furthest corner of his cage.

"Come on, pup," Ryu said, holding a leash in his hand. "It's time to get this show started." 

Taurus trembled and only pushed himself back against the wall even further as the human opened his door. Closing his eyes tightly, Taurus felt the man clip the leash to his collar and suddenly felt pressure against his neck as he was pulled out of his cage. Taurus frantically yanked on the leash trying to run back, but Ryu nonchalantly dragged the pup across the ground without a struggle.

Jeremiah and Zachary could only watch hopelessly as they saw Taurus dragged off to the ring, where he could now truly see how different dog fighting was here compared to what Kato held his career in. The arena was nothing more than a small pit of dirt surrounded by bleachers, nothing like the arena where Taurus watched his father fight in; that one was tidy and closed off with a roof and fence. He felt yet another tinge of dread as he could visibly see what he was sure were blood stains in the dirt. 

Nothing could have been more cruelly ironic for Taurus in this moment. He made a difficult commitment to restore honor to his father's dog fighting legacy and yet here he was already being forced to partake in a form of dog fighting that completely violated every ethical code of the fighting he was familiar with. 

An even more horrible sight trudged its way in front of Taurus' eyes: it was an elderly Golden Retriever, but Taurus could barely even recognize her as a dog. Her fur was matted and missing in several spots, her body was covered in months- or perhaps years- of untreated injuries, and from a distance he couldn't tell if she still had functioning eyes anymore. Taurus didn't at all see a dog under that outer layer of suffering; all he saw was an unknown creature forced through a lifetime of torture. 

Ryu detached the leash from Taurus' collar and forcefully kicked the puppy into the fighting ring. Before he knew it, Taurus looked up and caught sight of the growling Golden Retriever speeding right towards him, with an open mouthful of blood and saliva. Taurus jumped to his right, and the Golden Retriever missed her opponent and collided headfirst into the wall surrounding the arena. Taurus watched her spring back onto all fours as she showed off her bared fangs and shrunken pupils again. 

"Stop, please!" Taurus unconsciously begged. "I don't wanna fight you!" 

"And why not?" Taurus was surprised that her completely unhinged voice was able to respond. "What makes you think you have a choice?!" 

The Golden Retriever darted, but her teeth snapped onto nothing as the Akita dodged out of the way once more. Again and again the cycle of charging and evading between the two dogs repeated, and Taurus could hear humans' shouts of disapproval. 

"I told you, Ryu! That pup can't fight for shit!" 

Taurus faltered for a moment, distracted by the human's voice when he suddenly felt himself shoved onto his back with a set of heavy jaws enclosing around his throat. The bigger dog applied more force to her bite, and Taurus choked and gagged as he felt his respiratory airways being closed off. Before he could black out, Taurus now realized that in the heat of the moment he was once again left without a choice but to strike back. He couldn't allow another foe to try taking his life again. 

Shakily raising his leg, Taurus brought his front paw down and clawed the Retriever in her already damaged eyes. In response, she let go of Taurus' throat and stumbled backwards a few feet. Taurus quickly rolled himself back onto all fours, exhaling heavily. Even with her partially functioning eyes, the Golden Retriever managed to shoot a piercing glare at Taurus, who was able to predict her moves now. 

Before she could attack again, Taurus charged forward and tackled her to the ground the same way he had done with the Dire Dogs. He was only able to stay on top of her for a moment before he felt his whole body come into contact with the ground, as the Golden Retriever had rolled over on her front and shook Taurus off her neck. Taurus landed on the dirt floor with a soft thud and looked up at his opponent looming over him snarling, still as savage and mindless as before. 

Again aided by his swift agility, Taurus got up and ran off to the side before she could bite down on him. After a short distance, the Akita skidded to a stop and turned around, redirecting his path towards the Golden Retriever. The older dog felt the puppy headbutt her to the ground with brute force, and she was knocked unconscious as her head came into hard contact with the base of the wall. 

Taurus' head hung low as he crouched in the center of the ring, sweating and panting from fatigue. He finally raised his head when he heard cheering ring out from all around him, and it was the noise and the sight of the unconscious dog that finally snapped him back into conscience. 

"Oh no!" Taurus cried out as he ran over to the body of the Golden Retriever, a wave of guilt overwhelming him. "Miss, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean for any of this to happen! I swear it was just out of self-defense! Miss, please open your eyes!" 

The Golden Retriever shifted her head momentarily, though Taurus wasn't sure if it was meant to be a response or not. Taurus was so distracted by the defeated dog in front of him that he didn't notice that Ryu had attached the leash to his collar again and began dragging him out of the arena. On the way back to his cage, Taurus overheard one of the humans clearly announcing pride in Taurus' cruel victory.

"Ha ha! I told you that pup was worth something!" 

"Alright, you win. Just take your money, you gloating bastard." 

"Hey Ryu, what should I do with this bitch?" a new unfamiliar voice asked. 

Ryu stopped just right in front of Taurus' cage, still holding the leash firmly in his hand. 

"Put her to sleep," he replied, "She's clearly outlived her strength."

Soon after Taurus was kicked back into his container and locked up, he turned around and peered through the back of his cage at the cruel sight of one of the men dragging away the half-alive body of the Golden Retriever, leaving behind a trail of blood as he went. Finally, just a little ways beyond the arena, Taurus watched with a horrified expression as the human dropped the beaten, bloody dog onto the ground. The Golden Retriever wearily lifted her head up just a few inches, not noticing the shotgun that was positioned right behind her. 

Taurus closed his eyes and looked away as a loud gunshot resonated throughout every dog's ears. 

He was still covering his eyes, shaking and sobbing as they dragged her corpse away to wherever Taurus didn't want to know. 

"Don't feel bad for her, Taurus," Taurus shifted his tear-filled eyes to Jeremiah's calm face right next to him. "She'll never have to experience the pain of living ever again." 

"Besides," Zachary began, "That's probably gonna happen to all of us someday, if we don't end up being killed in the fighting ring first." 

Taurus heard clanking on his cage door and sharply turned around as Ryu dropped a fresh steak bone through the bars onto the wire floor.

"Hey," Ryu said, crouching down so that he was eye level with the puppy. "You did a great job today."

Though the man's voice was comforting and supportive, it didn't reassure Taurus at all. Taurus could still clearly see the malicious intent through Ryu's eyes, and he was being rewarded for indirectly causing the death of an innocent dog. After Ryu left, Taurus just sat wracked with guilt, refusing to eat the steak.

"Stop being so damn ungrateful, kid!" Zachary's condescending voice broke through the silence. "Not a lot of dogs around here get rewarded with good food like that, so just eat it!"

"I can't..." Taurus replied with another hard sob.

"What?" Jeremiah and Zachary said at the same time. 

"I don't deserve to be rewarded like this... not after... what they've done to her... and... it's all my fault!" Taurus choked and broke out sobbing again. Zachary and Jeremiah felt their hearts soften with awe and sympathy for the young pup.

"Damn, what a kid," Jeremiah remarked under his breath. "Clearly abiding by his honor code." 

"Maybe he really was being honest about his background as a fighting dog," Zachary replied. The three dogs remained silent for a while, and when Taurus' tears stopped, he finally spoke again. 

"If I don't eat this, maybe you guys should instead."

Jeremiah and Zachary lifted their heads up in surprise, not sure if that ridiculously generous offer they just heard was real or not. 

"Kid..." Zachary said, completely stunned. "You-you mean it?"

"I don't deserve this, but... after what you guys went through for so long, you both need it far more than I do." With one paw, Taurus batted the meat to his right and it rolled over to the side of Zachary's cage.

I can't believe this, Zachary thought. I have never seen a pup so willing to make sacrifices before. That dog fighting of his he talked so much about really did teach him something. 

"Taurus," Taurus lifted his head to look at Zachary. "Alright, we'll take it."

Zachary bent down and pulled the steak bone into his cage through the bars. Taurus watched with light in his eyes as the malnourished dog finally relished his first good meal in a long time, savoring every single bite, and gladly complied when Zachary asked him to pass the remains over to Jeremiah to share with him.

"Thank you, Taurus," Jeremiah said after he swallowed the last chunk of meat. "This is the first act of kindness anyone has ever shown us in years. If there was ever any favor we could return to you, we'd gladly give it." 

No words came from Taurus as he simply nodded in acknowledgement, and Jeremiah could see visible hope and gratitude shining in the pup's eyes, a stark contrast to the remorse and sorrow he had just earlier.

At least I was still able to help someone today, Taurus reflected silently as Jeremiah turned away from him. Maybe there's hope in this place after all.

#my art #my writing #ginga togyushi taurus

[tired-college-student-writing]

The Many Misconceptions of Malcolm Bright: Semper Progredi

Summary: Bright was confusing on the best days, but JT and Dani had him as figured out as anyone else.

Someone that would poke and prod at everyone because the world decided that it hated him so why not use his skills to needle them?

Someone that didn’t know social bounds because he was never welcomed but never hesitated to apologize whenever he crossed a line, acting like he expected to be hit for each transgression.

The son of a Serial Killer determined to put people like his father away and throw the key into the deepest pits of hell.

What more did they need to know?

Chapter 1 (HERE)

Chapter 2

_______________________________________________________________________

“Easy,” A voice said next to JT as the detective’s head swam, “Let’s get you out of here, okay?”

He felt his right arm being pulled over someone’s shoulder before he finally managed to turn his head to see Bright’s face set into a grim frown.

“Malcolm?” He felt himself ask, mind sluggish as the profiler pulled him up, “Wha’ happ’n?”

“Felix kinda dropped a crate on your head. Looks like you have a concussion, a few broken ribs probably and if the way you’re holding your left arm is any indication, a broken arm.”

That’s right, JT’s mind was catching up. Ryan Felix, the perfect fit for Bright’s profile for the murder of Eric Adams, and an apparent gun smuggler as they had found out once breaking into the warehouse. Bright had said that there was something the Romanian businessman had been hiding from them, a deal that Adams had tried to blow the whistle on that got him killed for his troubles, but they didn’t think it would be anything of this magnitude, making them sorely unprepared to deal with what was happening.

“Gotta call back up,” His voice was a little less slurred now as Malcolm led him through the maze of crates.

“Gil and Dani are on it. We were mostly worried about you, buddy,” the smaller man reassured, “They chased after him after I said I’d get you out”

JT just hummed as they continued only to freeze as they heard footsteps ahead of them.

“Shit,” JT groaned as he and Malcolm press against a crate as they see Felix turn the corner, not thirty feet from them, looking around with his back to them aiming his gun at the slightest of noises.

“Stay Here,” Bright whispered, unhooking JT’s arm from his shoulder.

“Bright? Wait-” His hissed warning was ignored as Bright stalked forwards, silently ducking behind different crates as Felix caught his breath.

Suddenly Malcolm lunged, from his hiding spot, launching himself at Felix without a word. Felix wiped around, finger twitching towards the trigger, but it was knocked out of his hand before he could shoot with a well-placed strike from Malcolm’s open hand, sending it flying down one of the numerous paths of crates.

Without waiting for Felix to gather his bearing Malcolm struck out again, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him down into Bright’s raised knee hard enough to make JT wince at the chocked gasp, before grabbing his arm and flipping him onto the ground arm twisted painfully behind him as Malcolm straddled his waist.

JT felt himself blinking at the display that lasted less than ten seconds.

There was no way that was Bright.

Bright may be insane and weirdly fascinated by murder and make calls that no one else would in a million years, but he didn’t fight back.

He talked people down, risked his own neck to stop JT from shooting a woman that had a shotgun pointed at his face. He was the one that distracted and gathered info, not the one that took down the criminals, before now JT would have wagered good money that the spoiled rich boy didn’t even know how to throw a decent punch, let alone willing to.

“Can you pass me your handcuffs?” Malcolm asked, voices steely calm, eyes boring into Felix’s back like he wanted to burn a hole through his heart.

He was silent until Bright’s eyes flickered up to his, eyebrows scrunching with concern, “You still with me JT?”

“Yeah,” He breathed, “Yeah, No I’m…”

Malcolm’s face twisted into a wince and suddenly he was avoiding the detective’s eyes. “Great,” he said, “Can you give me your handcuffs? And maybe radio Dani and Gil?”

JT numbly walked over to him, pulling his handcuffs off his belt to hand to the profiler, before backing off and bringing his radio up.

“Felix is down,” He relayed as he faintly heard Malcolm reading Felix’s Miranda rights off to him, perfect cadence and wording as if he was reading it from a book, “We got him.”

The evening was a blur after that. JT vaguely remembered more cop cars showing up as Felix was loaded into the back of Gil’s car, a swarm of officers going over the large mass of guns and other illegal products they found in the warehouse hidden in between the electronics and machinery that had been brought to the country legally, as he was loaded up in the back of the ambulance.

He woke up hours later with the diagnosis of a severe concussion, three bruised ribs, one fractured, and a broken collar bone. The doctors decided to keep him for the entire day for observation, releasing him the morning after he woke up. Gil and Dani both stopped over throughout the day however to stop him from growing too bored.

He wondered if he should be upset that Bright didn’t come to see him.

Even after he was sent home he didn’t hear from Bright on his two-week leave.

It wasn’t until he came back to work to find the team working on a new case did he get hit with the full force of Bright’s weirder than normal attitude.

When he first entered the conference room, mid rambling lecture on the latest killer’s psyche to the warm welcomes of Gil and Dani, Bright froze like a deer in headlights, before pointily standing as far away from JT’s chair as he could manage, avoiding looking at him at all cost and only speaking to him when JT asked him a direct question. Even then his sentences were short and to the point, nothing like his normal excited babblings that tended to go off on a tangent before one of the others would pull him back. As soon as the meeting was done Malcolm was out of the room, leaving no time for JT to question his oddness, even as Dani turned to Gil for answers.

The old man didn’t know either, or at the very least wasn’t forthcoming with what he knew.

It wasn’t until JT’s third day back was he able to corner the profiler. It was early evening, Gil and Dani were out following up a lead as Malcolm stayed back to go over some files they had managed to find earlier in the day. Without a second thought, JT quickly made up two drinks in the breakroom, coffee for himself and some floral tea Malcolm claimed to like when he confessed to the group that he didn’t drink coffee due to his meds, and headed into the conference room.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” He accused lightly as Bright nearly jumped out of his seat.

“Sorry,” Malcolm apologized quickly, eyes flicking ever so slightly with fear, “I just thought you might not want to see me after…”

“You ain’t making any sense Bright,” JT countered, taking a seat next to him at the table, ignoring how the younger man flinched at the movement as he placed the cup of tea in front of him, “You got me out of the warehouse and took down Felix, why the hell does that translate to me not wanting to see you?”

The younger man winced, hand twitching like it always did when he was stressed but he didn’t touch the offered drink, “Because I took down Felix.”

“Didn’t we just cover that that’s a good thing?”

Malcolm shook his head, “You looked nervous after took him down, you were stuttering more, eyes dilated even with your concussion, you acted robotic when giving me the handcuffs and immediately backed away to call the others. You were scared, You were scared of me.”

JT hummed, “Well I’ll admit that I was pretty startled by you going full-on Bruce Wayne on him, never seen you take down someone before now. If I’m honest I didn’t know you could take anyone down, you usually just stall them until one of us get there or you’ve talked them down. Honestly thought a rich boy like you would break his hand trying to throw a punch.”

“I mean,” Malcolm still wouldn’t look at him, but the line of his shoulders was relaxing slightly, “I was a special agent in the FBI, I was top five in my class at Quantico.”

“Only top five?” JT snorted, “What were you slacking off? Thought you could get by on good looks, pretty boy?”

Instead of getting a laugh out of the profiler he just winced, “My uh… My teachers didn’t appreciate my unique outlook on the problems given. Always said I thought too much like my father.”

JT flinched at that too. Didn’t think the FBI would pick on such low hanging fruit. Before he could comment Malcolm continued.

“Same reason I try not to use the different forms of fighting they taught us at Quantico, and why I dropped out of Jujutsu after the Surgeon arrest even though I really liked it. Any time I get slightly violent, even in self-defense, people act like I’m just a copy of my Father, like I’m going to go crazy and start killing people just like he did even though he never got physical with his victims,” Malcolm’s words were getting softer but more frantic as the explanation poured out of him, pushing his hands under his armpits as if trying to stop the tremors, “I know you don’t like me already, but I don’t want you to be afraid of me like that, so I figured limiting our interactions would-”

“Bright,” JT cut him off, “I’ve seen you cut the handoff of a guy to save him from a bomb. I don’t think a little takedown is going to spook me more than that.”

Malcolm flinched so hard as if JT’s words had physically harmed him. He opened his mouth to say something, but JT didn’t let him.

“Nope, my turn to speak,” JT kept his voice stern but quiet, afraid to scare the profiler any more, “You’re insane on the best day, Bright. I’ll be the first to admit I don’t trust you a hundred percent yet, and you annoy the hell out of me, but you make good calls on cases and really try and help people in every way you can. So, and I’m only saying this once, You may be a major pain in my ass, but you’re a good man, Bright, and I seriously doubt you’re anything like your nutcase of a dad.”

The look Malcolm gave him as his little speech came to a close could be defined as nothing short of hopeful, painfully making JT’s chest ache with the pure wistfulness aimed at him.

“Oh don’t give me that look, just drink your stupid fancy tea before it gets cold,” JT said with a roll of his eyes.

“It’s just Butterfly Pea Flower Tea,” Malcolm countered, eyes finally regaining with the flickering light they had been missing since the warehouse, his hands only trembling slightly as they wrapped around the cup, “Nothing fancy about it!”

“Bright, it’s bright blue and smells like perfume my gran would wear. It’s fancy.”

JT hid his small smile in his coffee as his comment earned a giggle from Malcolm.

Yeah, he didn’t trust the guy yet, but they’d come a long way from when Malcolm first showed up and JT knew that If he wasn’t careful he’d end up with Bright as a friend just as Dani had.

And yet, as he watched the smile stretch Bright’s cheeks as the profiler started to verbally expand on his profile based on the files he’d read, JT couldn’t really bring himself to care.

#prodigal son #malcolm bright #malcolm whitly #jt tarmel #Malcolm and JT aren't friends yet #But they will be #Malcolm is a badass #Dani Powell mentioned #Gil arroyo mentioned #Martin Whitly Mentioned #Malcolm has problems #but we knew this

[ehstarwar]

a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves (5/8)

Rey has always known Ben was attractive. But right now, he was perfection.

Rey felt almost guilty for all the debasement she was about to unleash on him.

Almost.

-

Ben and Rey spend her heat together.

-

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.6K

Read on AO3

Notes: so sorry for the delay on this chapter! i threw a May the 4th party for my fam and my attention were... elsewhere. plz enjoy this party of sin as a lil treat. 

♥(ˆ⌣ˆԅ)

(also i feel inclined to inform you that the editorial note for this chapter was 'Ch 5: Ben comes over; they fuck')

chapter 5: made with the fume of sighs

-

It’s hot when she wakes. Like, boil off your skin, 7th circle of hell, smokey inferno, hot. It’s not that she didn’t expect it, per se, but she didn’t realize just how bad it would be. Heats on suppressants were awful, to say the very least. She remembers the scratches that adorned her skin the first time she ever had a heat. The body marring she’d inflicted upon herself when the fire inside of her grew too hot. But they were bearable by herself (and a solid knotting dildo that she’d used her very first paycheck on).

But this? Rey would never survive on her own. 

When she realizes that she doesn’t have to, Rey instantly turns to Ben. He’s snoring softly next to her, chest moving slowly as he breaths. The soft glow from a lamp they’d forgotten to turn out in the hallway illuminated his skin. 

Rey has always known Ben was attractive. But right now, he was perfection. Rey felt almost guilty for all the debasement she was about to unleash on him. Almost.

She rolls over onto his chest, nose instantly going to the juncture between his shoulder and neck, inhaling as deeply as possible. His scent is so thick and rich, she can taste it on her tongue. Ben smells sinful.

Only when her hips start grinding on his thigh does Rey realize how wet she is. Her slick has clearly been flowing for some time now, and has drenched her cunt. It’s wet and sticky and feels so, so good moving against Ben.

He’s already hard when she wakes, and can feel him through the thin shorts of his boxers. Her hands dig into his sides, grounding her to him like she might float away if she doesn’t. She feels Ben wake with a sharp intake of breath, no doubt smelling her. Ben stays still below her for a moment, letting Rey use his body, until he finally comes to full consciousness. His whole body tightens when he realizes what she’s doing, and his hands grip her hips. 

Rey is putty in his hands, making no effort to combat him when he flips them over, just holding herself to him as tightly as she can manage. Ben mouths at her hair, kissing any part of Rey his mouth can find. Rey touches all the skin she can find, and nearly hisses when she feels the fabric of his boxers impede her way. 

She tries to shimmy them off of Ben, trying to get him naked and inside of her as soon a possible. Her hands shake against his skin as the fruitlessly pull at the offending fabric. Ben guides his hand down her body and to her shaking fist, soothing her in a way she didn’t know she needed. Ben moves with her to take of his boxers, and Rey is only reminded that she’s wearing a shirt when Ben rips it off of her.

Rips.

With his bare fist.

The omega in Rey positively keens. 

She’s panting against Ben as he continues his assault with his mouth, moving to her neck and sucking on her scent glands.  She babbles incoherently until she feels his cock, hard and dripping against her core. 

“Need you… alpha… need you…” Ben makes a sound of affirmation at her words, unable to pull himself off her to properly respond. When his hips cant and his head enters her for the second time that night, Rey gasps. 

Her hands fly to Ben’s head, tugging his hair into her fist as he seats himself fully inside of her. His groan against her skin sends delicious vibrations all the way down to her toes and Rey thinks she’s never felt more right. 

“So, so good… good for me… omega…” His words are whispered through clenched teeth. Ben bites at her collar bone, no doubt leaving even more purple hickeys dotting her skin. Rey tries to move her hips beneath his crushing weight, to get him to move inside of her like she so desperately needs.

When he starts thrusting, Ben does it like it’s painful. Like every movement test his self-restraint. Like he wants to piston inside of her and fuck her within an inch of her life. If Rey had the capability to speak in even fragmented segments, she would have begged him for that.

“Fast…Ben… please…”

He moves with purpose now, giving Rey a taste of the roughness the fire inside of her so desperately desires. Her mouth goes to his glands, licking and sucking at his like he did for her. The whimper he gives makes her arch her back even further into him. His hands hold onto her hips, at first to keep her steady, but now to move her along his cock. Ben stretches her every time he enters her, giving wondrous sensations along Rey’s spine. He moves her so easily, like she weighs nothing at all. 

The heat that Rey woke to, that she though was all consuming, became a blanket of comfort. Feeling the heat between them was satisfying in a way Rey had never thought possible. It’s still a lot, still clouding her head like a dense fog, but there’s a rightness in it. A sense that this is where she’s supposed to be. Beneath an alpha, this alpha, letting him have her in anyway he could want. It’s a drug that she’s quickly becoming addicted to.

Her orgasm crashes on her the moment his thumb finds her clit. If she screams, the blood rushing in her hears drowns it out. Her mouth flies to Ben’s, eagerly waiting for her. Ben works her through it, kissing Rey within an inch of her life, and using his body to bring out any pleasure that could possibly be given. 

Rey feels the hot splash of tears on her cheek, and when she opens her eyes, it shocking to see that they come from Ben.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Her hand instantly flies to up cup his cheek. Bens’ eyes are wide as they stare down at her. He still moves within her, slower now, with that same painful restraint from earlier.

“I need this… I need you…” The flush in his face and pout in his lips make Ben look so beautiful that it’s impossible to look away. Rey pets his cheeks, brushing his hair from his sweaty forehead.

“You have me, Ben. You have me,” She tells him. His lips drop to hers in a bruising kiss as he comes. His hips are flush with hers that their body is nearly one, as he continues spilling into her. 

It’s a balm her body needed that comforts her in a way words won’t do justice. Even better than before, on the couch, before the worst of her heat. Now, in the throes of it, his come saves her.

His knot inflates and locks them together, not that either of them would ever dream of parting, but in such a secure way that Rey is overwhelmed with. Ben collapses on her, kissing and licking her skin and glands, knowing somehow that its what she needs. 

She knows the hot tears on her cheek this time come from her.

-

They drift between sleep and sex like breathing. One moment they’re basking in the feeling of cooling come, the next they’re passed out like they haven’t slept in days. Rey like it most when she wakes to Ben kissing down her skin, either in chaste, kind kisses that remind her there is thick layer of sweetness beneath this strong alpha, or in hot, wet kisses that makes her body feel like it’s on a bed of needles. 

She’s lost count of how many times they’ve fucked, certainly how many times they’ve come, but the sticky white fluid coating her thighs and sheets beneath her makes her think a lot. 

His head is resting on her stomach, hands holding onto the sides of her hips. Ben sores lightly against her skin as she cards through his hair. It’s a rare moment of clarity that is giving her the ability to bask in the moment, feel human again, if only just. It’s been… 36 hours? Maybe. The curtains are drawn closed so time telling is a bit harder. Especially since they don’t know where their phones are and don’t care to look

Rey feels Ben come to, snores ceasing. She smiles down at him as he lifts his head from her abdomen, sleep still evident in his eyes. 

“Hi,” She breaths, mentally mapping the moles on his face. Ben grumbles something before dropping his head back down, planting wet kisses on her stomach. 

“I think…” He begins, trailing kisses up to her face, “… that I’m going into rut.”

Rey hums, still running her fingers through his hair.

“How do you know? When it’s coming on, I mean?” She asks.

Ben pauses, seems to consider this while his nose works a line up and down her neck.

“My senses are on overdrive… like I can taste emotions. Last time you came I could taste it in my molars.”

“That sounds unpleasant.”

“Its not. Not with you.”

If Rey were in any better state of mind, that admission would cause her to reel. To think of what he means and if he actually means it and it’s not just some pheromone induced statement meant to get into an omegas pants. 

But heat-Rey knows Ben means it. Means it for her. 

Rey feels the familiar lick of heat stir within her core and knows this brief reprieve will be ending soon and the lust induced haze will settle over her once more. 

“What are you like during rut?” Rey rushes to ask. She’s not worried about it in the slightest, just curious to know before her hindbrain takes over.

“Posessive.”

Ben doesn't elaborate, but they both know it’s enough of an explanation. 

-

The slick, slapping sounds of their hips meeting repeatedly almost drowns out the grunts Ben gives and the moans Rey can’t contain. He is spread on his knees, hands holding Rey by the waist as he moves her up and down his cock. 

“Want… want behind… you behind… please…” Her voice is broken as she whines her request. The blurry view of Ben she has is enough to see him clench his jaw tighter.

“No,” He grunts out. Rey gasps.

“Please alpha… please.” 

“If I take you from behind,” Ben punctuates his words with a deep thrust that makes Rey feel him in her throat, “I’ll bite you.” The words are spoke though clenched teeth, with a voice that sounds like its pulled from the depths of his vocal cords.

“Bite me, alpha. Mate me, mate me please…”

“Omega,” He warns.

“Please, alpha… mate me, fill me with your pups… please, alpha,” Rey cries.

Ben’s knot catches as he comes and comes and comes.

-

“Please…”

Rey protrudes her neck out even further, chin all the way pushed into her chest. 

“Rey…” His voice is a whine, his resolve is breaking.

“Want you to mate me, alpha.” “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do, I do! Please, Ben,” She sobs. 

His head falls on her shoulder blade, and she can feel the tension in his jaw. 

Ben has his arms wrapped around her center as his cock pushes into her, much too slowly for her liking. But alpha is in control now, and Rey doesn’t dare move against him.

“Baby… I can’t.”

Rey goes to beg him again, but his hand latches onto her clit, circling it until her lips can’t form words.

-

It’s cool when Ben wakes.

The a/c must have kicked into overdrive while he and Rey were… fornicating. His room is frigid and a stark comparison to the heat they’ve been wallowing around in for days now. Rey must be cold to because she’s huddled up beneath him, body curled around his and leg hooked over him.

Her small hands are balled into fist holding up one of the many blankets he brought over when they first got here. She’s warm against him, but not in the steaming hot way she had been all weekend. That, and her scent, tell Ben that her heat is over.

The stab of disappointment he feels hollows some part of him out.  

Ben should get them up, give her some water and food, make her take a shower, then drive her and her nest to her apartment, with a friendly peck on the cheek while he thanks her for a much-needed vacation.

That’s the proper way to handle this. It was a means to an end. She went into an inevitable heat, putting him to a rut, and they fucked like rabbits because it’s what biology wanted. 

Biology did, however, fail to explain the intense feelings Ben still felt when he looked at her. Or the way he always held her tighter when she said his proper name. Or how hard he came when she was begging him to mate her. Or the surge of love he felt when she asked him to give her pups.  

Ben looked down at Rey, still sound asleep against his chest. 

He knew he would never recover from this. That now his life was her. That it didn’t matter how Ben didn’t sink his teeth into the pulsing gland on the back of her neck and mark his territory forever; Ben was Rey’s, mating be damed. 

Rey’s face scrunched up before her breathing caught, coming too much like Ben had. When her hazel eyes opened up and landed on Bens’ face, he felt his heart stop.

“You’re awake.”

He nods.

Instead of getting up and doing what Ben fears the most, Rey nuzzles back into him, inhaling his skin like its not the only thing she’s smelled for the past few days.

“My heat is over.” Ben doesn’t know whether he says it for her benefit or his.

“Yeah.”

They stay silent for a moment before she speaks again, this time her voice is even softer than before.

“You didn’t mate me.”

The twinge of disappointment he detects in her voice make his throat feel tight.

“Did you want me to?”

It’s a loaded question, one that shouldn’t be asked to an omega coming out of a heat. Ben needs to hear her answer all the same. 

“I asked you to.” Her hand comes up to brush along the gland, feeling the unmarked skin. Rey looks back up at Ben, eyes wide and filled with an emotion he can’t quiet place. “Thank you. I shouldn’t have asked that of you… especially in rut. You’re a stronger alpha than most.”

Ben should feel a bout of alpha pride at that complement. He should beam and flex his muscles and buy a monster truck just to back up what she’s said.

But he doesn’t.

For all the times Ben has wished for strength and resolve, he wished it weren’t given to him. That he was weak enough to have broken down and bitten her and mated with Rey and finally confessed what he felt for her went far beyond the friendly rapport he would have to sink back into. That the sense of belonging he felt with Rey and no one else would finally come to head and they’d be connected for the rest of time. That he would mate her and marry her and have a hoard of children and grow old together and be remembered as each others.

Ben hopes she can’t see the tears welling in his eyes.

“It would have been wrong of me… to do that to you. Without your consent… your mentally stable consent.”

She looks at him for a moment more, face unreadable even in the pale sunlight that is peaking into the room. When she rest her head against his chest once more, only moving her hands to caress his skin, Ben exhales a sigh of relief and prays that this moment would last forever. 

-

come say hi on twitter! 

#reylo #rey #ben solo #kylo ren #ben solo x rey #kylo ren x rey #rey x ben #adam driver #daisy ridley #sw #star wars #ao3 #fan fiction #my work #appihtg

[moonstonemoonlight]

Shock collar - 32 and AI

AI, 32 and Datashift by Poopachii and Oooodlesofdoodles

Warning for swearing and electrocution

32 woke up lying, not in bed, but on a cold stone floor that smelt old and damp and was very uncomfortable. This wasn’t his house. Pushing himself up on his hands, he rubbed his face and squinted at the darkness around him, feeling a weight around his neck as he moved. Light came from a wall of the room, intercepted by bars like the side of a prison cell... His sense of dread grew.

One hand moved up and found that the weight around his neck was some kind of metal collar. 32 grimaced nervously, knowing that it couldn’t mean anything good.

A shadow moved in the corner of the room and 32 jumped to his feet, startled, watching as the shadow moved to step into the filtered light from the hallway. AI. Him. Of course.

“Oh, awake finally? You sleep like the dead. And don’t bother making a fuss, this place is abandoned.” 32 didn’t say anything as AI eyed him.

“Then again, I suppose that was a good thing. It would be much harder to escort you if you screamed your head off. If you did I might have had to harm you, which I do so dislike to do.” 32 might have snapped a reply, but he was sidetracked by the other’s rambling.

“Wh- You kidnapped me?!” he wheezed, stepping back and glaring at the Ink, bracing himself against the wall.

“Oh don’t be dramatic, it was for the safety of everyone involved.” AI moved closer. “Just think of the danger you put them in, simply by being there. But then, I’ve always known you were selfish, Error.”

“That’s not my-” he cut himself off as AI moved suddenly closer, standing in front of him, finding he couldn’t move back any further. “Hey, back off-!” AI’s hand wrapped around his jaw and muffled what he was trying to say. 32 glared mutely at the other’s amused look, watching his eyelights cycle: a yellow circle, a pink diamond, a red target...

“I’ve given you more than enough chances. But you just don’t learn, do you?” The hand holding his face gripped hard enough to bruise his jaw and he winced, shaky eyelights fixed on AI. He was grinning, the sociopath.

“Don’t give me such a look, I would never kill you. That would be besides the point. I just need to fix your behaviour and you’ll be free to go.” AI retracted his hand to pat 32’s head and walk off, leaving the glitch to stare at his back warily. AI looked out between the bars and into the corridor, as if checking it was empty, though he’d already said it was. The lights buzzed in the quiet.

“I’m not doing whatever the fuck you want me to. I won’t be ‘Error’ for you.” AI sighed heavily, as if 32 had said something entirely unreasonable and exhausting. He clicked something in his fingers without looking back.

A sharp pain crackled down his neck and 32 yelped, grabbing at his throat as the pain sparked then died down. “What the hell was-!?”

“Like I said, your behaviour will need to be corrected. First with stopping this insistence that you are ‘32’.” AI turned to look at him consideringly, eyelights fixed for a moment, then moved closer again. 32 was already pressed against the wall, rubbing at the soreness in his neck, nervously glaring up at him.

“... You’re a sick bastard, you know that?”

“Must you be so difficult? This is to help you, you know.” AI leaned into his personal space without regard, curling a hand around 32’s face when he cringed away.

“Like hell it is!”

“Stubborn, as usual.”

32 snarled and bit his hand. There was a muttered growl, then AI pulled away. Pain lanced through him again and 32 hissed through clenched teeth. The shock lasted longer this time before shutting off, and he hunched into himself as he tore at the collar, but the metal just stung his fingers.

“I’m sure you’ll change your way of thinking soon enough.”

“Fuck you!”

Electricity sparked down his throat just as sudden as before and he choked, grabbing hold of the wall as his fingers spasmed.

“Let’s try a test run shall we?” 32 stared blurrily at the ground. “Here’s an easy one. Say, ‘I am Error’.”

“Go to hell...”

Another shock, he screeched and struggled to stand, clawing at the hand that steadied him. “Go ahead and get your resistance out now. We have plenty of time.”

32 hissed and tried to squirm away. His bones hurt, his neck felt like it was burning.

“Try again, Error.”

#writing #bad things happen bingo #bthb #datashift #huehuehue #I probably got the characterisation all wrong #but still #love these two #AI #32 #datashift AI #datashift 32 #AI and 32 #artistic illusion #sys32 #system32 #tw cursing #tw electrocution #tw electric shock #tw shock collar #shock collar #AI you douche #undertale fandom #chrono