#fuck me it's been a long time since ive had to tag a thing tw

[evermetnotforgotten]

Found some old pieces and decided to put them up. Thank you to @whatiswhump for the encouragement and for always being so lovely. These don't really fit with anything anymore, but who cares :-) Enjoy.

content warnings: noncon, kidnapping, torture, murder, drugging.

Series One - Taken

Lev was dreaming.

Or—or he was spinning, but he was standing still. Definitely. Maybe. He wasn't sure. His head was light but for a brief moment, when gravity pressed down, and his chin flopped forward to his chest before bouncing back up again.

“Wh's happen?”

He couldn't tell whether he'd spoken the words, or they'd been spoken to him, or to someone else. He could hear them, could make out the separate shapes in the sounds, but they were fluffy, like cotton stuffing, and they floated away before he could grab and make sense of them.

“—s me?”

He did manage to grab, however, an object in front of him. It was hard, and square, and grey, and he could curl clumsy fingers around the sides of it. It wouldn't pull free. He wasn't—he wasn't strong enough. He tried to stand, but was held still at a point on his waist, and his breath hitched slightly at the vague awareness of being held down, secured to something. He didn't like it.

“Shh, love. You're okay. Here, drink this.” He only registered it after the fact, but he had taken what was offered to him with trembling hands, and had poured it down his throat. Another spin pushed at him, and the back of his head rested against a soft surface. It was as if he was upright, flat on his back, and hanging upside-down all at once.

What did Pierce always say? Breathe. In for four, out for eight. That's it.

He let the soothing baritone and the gentle pressure against his scalp anchor him. They slowly dragged him back under, to float there, in half-consciousness.

-

“He's just taken a Valium, makes him a little loopy sometimes.” Martin smiled softly, running fingers through the hair of the man now half-collapsed against his side. He reached across to Lev's lap, buckling the seatbelt that he had undone in his confusion.

The flight attendant looked sympathetic, returning his smile with a look that said oh, the poor dear. She handed Martin the two in-flight meals, and the two bottles of juice to go with them, and pushed the bulky trolley a few feet further down the aisle to serve the passengers behind them.

He was just so cute like this. Curled up, moderately confused, unwittingly obedient… Martin had hoped it would last until tarmac, as there was only a couple of hours left of the journey, but it had been difficult to calculate. He had a knack for estimating these things, usually getting it just right, but there were multiple factors at play here. The amount Lev had eaten beforehand, for instance, or his weight—though Martin supposed the latter would only serve to work in his favour. Lev was only of a medium build, lithe, a little on the thin side. It didn't take much.

The first dose needed to be quite small, so that Lev was just lucid enough to make it through airport security. Martin had even gone to the effort of slipping a small bag of unmarked pills in the carry-on of the couple in front of them, trying to contain a smirk when they inevitably got pulled up by officials and it caused a scene. The stunned un-responsiveness of his “partner” could then easily be played off as shock at the drama unfolding before them, quiet as they were both quickly ushered through the metal detectors—also, it was amusing.

Just as amusing were the text messages that he'd had the good fortune of reading on Lev's phone, just before they'd had to leave to catch their flight. It had been buzzing relentlessly, the display lighting up with the words Call incoming: Graham Pierce every time. Martin had lifted the hand of his unconscious soon-to-be hostage, silently cheering when the fingerprint unlocking system worked, and scrolled through them. The texts got increasingly more emotional, more desperate—god, he'd wished that he could have taken the phone along with them. He'd had to commit them to memory instead.

He'd never been this bad before, not for himself. He got jittery just thinking about it, about pulling this whole thing off.

It was thrilling.

-

What the fuck. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.

Pierce reached for his phone, having to fight off the icy shock that was threatening to paralyse him in order to do so. With shaking hands—whether from anger or fear, or both, he couldn't tell—he picked it up from where he'd half-thrown it to the other end of the couch, moments before.

He had to be sure. That it wasn't some kind of a prank, or a fake. His heart was jackhammering so fast. He slowly turned the phone over to take a closer look at the dark, slightly blurry photograph on the screen.

The first thing he zoned in on wasn't the blood, or the bruises—it was the gag, and the first thought that he had was about how Lev would hate that. The second thought was about how there was actually a lot of blood, now that he had a proper look at it. It was all over the man's face, covering most of his nose, lips and chin, and had soaked into the material of the gag, which looked to be some kind of tightly pulled cloth or canvas. A nasty, mottled bruise decorated the space high on one cheek. His eyes were closed. Sleeping. Or unconscious. There was blood smeared across the green tiles underneath him.

Not. Not dead. He couldn't be dead.

Pierce tried to pry his jaw from itself, almost hurting from how hard he had been clenching it. Utterly unable to just sit there and do nothing, he took a deep breath—in for four, out for eight—and tapped on the little phone icon beside the number, dialling it.

It rang... and it rang out.

Pierce let out a sound of frustration. He dialled again.

This time, the call was answered immediately, and he recognised the smooth, clipped, deep voice instantly.

"Graham."

"Martin? What's—what do you want?"

A light chuckle from the other end of the phone. "If you have to ask, you're not ready yet."

Okay. He needed to tread carefully, now that he knew who he was dealing with. He'd always suspected that deep underneath the surface the man was a proper psycho, just never had reason to believe it. Well—the fact that the man worked for the Mob should have been the first major tip-off, but he couldn't hold that against him. Pierce was many things, but he wasn't a hypocrite.

"Let me speak to him. Please."

"Tell me his middle name."

Pierce blinked. "What?"

"Hmm. And here I thought he actually meant something to you."

"Wait, no, just—I'll co-operate. I just need proof of life."

"He's alive. You'll take my word for it. You'll also answer my question. Surely you know what it is by now." Though Martin was using the familiar, orders-only style language of the Mob, his tone remained calm, almost pleasant. “Don't tell me you're too chickenshit to have asked him already.”

"It's Alexander."

"Aha, I knew it had to be something pretty like that. Lev Alexander Johnson." He said the name as if feeling it roll around in his mouth.

Pierce was about to snarl out a response when a faint moan filtered through the speaker of the phone, causing him to freeze in place—

And the call ended.

"Shit. Shit," Pierce swore.

-

There was something intimate about lying there, tied up on the bathroom floor, straddled across the chest by his attacker, that Lev couldn't quite wrap his head around in its current state. The state being: rattled, foggy, just barely struggling out of unconsciousness. Thinking clearly was a little hard, considering all of that. Realising that he had to especially focus in order to breathe properly didn't help the matter. A throbbing, clogged up nose and whatever was currently in his mouth were both working to partially obstruct his air intake.

But he could still see, and feel, and everything felt… far too immediate. As if shot through a macro lens, every detail highlighted, the bigger picture forgotten in favour of minuscule changes in texture and fine patterns of light. Martin's hand, for instance—the dark splotches of blood clinging to the knuckles, the thick veins threading underneath the skin, and the shiny, black concentric rings of the camera lens.

He felt the pins and needles shooting down both of his arms, numb from being trapped underneath the weight of the man on top of him, and his wrists where they were bound together. Why was… why was Martin on top of him?

The stylised sound of a fake shutter went off once, twice, thrice. Lev blinked absently, squirming when his face was grabbed and tilted to one side, cruel fingers digging into a particularly sore spot there.

“Just a few more, sweet thing. The first one I sent him wasn't very good.”

The shutter sounded once again. Lev felt a delirious whine escape him.

“Now. Where were we?”

-

“It was some kind of benzo, right? Like a roofie. What you gave me.”

Martin didn't respond. Instead he reached for the gag, which was lying discarded on the ground, and turned on the bathroom sink, letting the water run until steam rose from the basin.

Lev didn't really expect a reply to his question. It felt good just to speak, softly, to be free of the cloth that had been pulling and stretching his lips, drying them until they cracked. The gag wasn't the type to completely cut off all sound, just to make it so that anything he said would be moderately unintelligible—but that was enough to make Lev anxious. Pierce had always liked to joke that there could be a rampaging werewolf right in front of them and Lev would still try to invite it over for tea. That he would be chatting even underwater, with a mouth full of concrete.

It was always hard to describe how helpless not being able to form words properly made him feel. Like he wasn't a real person.

He was still bound with the duct tape, at four different points on his body—hands, knees, feet, and around his whole torso, at the elbows. Martin had come into the bathroom, grabbed him under the arms, and propped him up against the wall. Lev had been bracing himself for the incipient pain as soon as the man had walked in the room. He'd been surprised to find, then, not a fist, nor a knife, but instead a small carton of liquid breakfast—strawberry and blackberry twist—being shoved into his lap, and the gag being untied at the back of his head. Martin had told him he had five minutes until it went back in.

Lev was able to take small sips through the straw, trying not to notice how it came away with more blood each time he brought it back from his mouth. He didn't know whether grateful was the right word, exactly, but the idea that he wasn't being left to starve was filling him with some mixture of relief… and apprehension.

He had to ask. The question was burning his tongue. It was predictable, and cliché, and entirely futile, but he had to ask it, regardless.

“What do you want from me?”

“From you?” Martin looked over his shoulder at him, still wringing out the wet cloth with deliberate movements. His eyes were soft, a small smile across his lips. “You're already being really good. I'm incredibly impressed with you.”

That… Lev didn't even know where to start with trying to make sense of the response. He couldn't detect any trace of sarcasm or deceit in the gentle praise, laid out so matter-of-fact like that.

“You didn't even scream when I took off the gag,” Martin commented.

“I would have, if I thought it would achieve anything,” Lev admitted.

Martin tilted his head to the side, thoughtful. “Smart. And honest. Now drink up—you've got one minute left.”

When his time was up and Martin knelt down beside his captive, the wet and slightly less bloody gag in his hands, Lev decided to give his best puppy-dog eyes a go. It was worth a shot. Lev wasn't above debasing himself—he'd worked in retail, after all.

“Please, don't. You don't need to.”

At that, Martin studied him for a few moments. “You're pushing it.”

Lev couldn't do much except open his lips when the gag was refastened and pulled tight. Satisfied, Martin pulled back, reaching up to the counter of the sink. “I think you'll be grateful to have something to bite down on, anyway.”

The silver shine of a knife in the other man's hand sent Lev head-first into panic, and he tried desperately to scramble back and away from the blade, despite his back already being up against the wall. He brought his bound hands up to protect his chest, and curled his knees up as best he could to do the same.

With a free hand, Martin grasped Lev's ankles and yanked, hard. Lev let out a startled sound as he was pulled out flat to lie against the tiles, as he had been before, his head almost smacking against the floor on the way down. Then, the knife against his cheek forced him to lie still. Very still. Barely breathing.

“Bring your hands down.”

There wasn't anything else he could do except comply, right?

As soon as Lev's hands were away, the knife sliced down the front of his jumper, severing the fibers with relative ease. It would have done the same to his T-shirt, but Martin instead opted to cut only a little portion of the collar, and then grab the corners and tear it the rest of the way open, with forceful hands.

Lev took several shaky breaths as his collarbone, pecs, and eventually his shoulders, were all exposed to the cool air. His hairs stood on end at the feeling of being so unprotected, his lungs and hammering heart right there, vulnerable, just underneath the thin layer of freckled skin. He'd never been one to be ashamed of the way he looked without clothes on, but to cut and tear them away, to be put on display like this… was different.

He felt like a little frog, about to be vivisected.

Martin brought the knife down to hover just underneath his collarbone, and Lev instinctively turned his head to the side, and squeezed his eyes shut.

The slow, cold line drawn across his body was shocking at first, but then the opening started to run hot—and then started to hurt.

The warm prickle of a trail of blood running up and over the side of his neck. His cries, muffled, but still ringing loud in the small room. Sobs. Pathetic little mh, mh, mh sounds. Martin… was laughing. He was laughing at him.

Another cut, parallel to the first, stinging its way across his skin. And this one, this one, it fucking hurt, god, it was so much worse than the punch to the face, so much more measured, and Lev wanted to scream. And he did.

-

In for four, out for eight. Over, and over, and over.

The regimented, almost mechanical breathing was the only thing keeping Lev from having a fully-fledged panic attack, there and then. Probably a warranted one, granted, but he'd just managed to shake off most of the cloudiness of the drug, the dizziness giving way to something which felt more like a bad hangover. Not that any panic attack was really more justified, or voluntary, than another… he was just trying to keep it together as best as possible. The breathing helped.

He wasn't able to determine just how many cuts Martin had left on him, the blood having obscured any definition there. Several cuts in, Martin had grabbed him by the throat to try and push him into the floor, making it harder for him to squirm under the knife, and much harder for him to draw breath. When he'd been released, panting and shaking, his entire right pec stung, and throbbed awfully. The pain had lessened in the couple of hours since he'd been left alone in the room, but there was still a portion of his mind dedicated to it, aware of it, cataloguing differences in sensation. Another part of his mind was focused on maintaining the deep, even breaths. The rest, was wandering.

If anyone had heard his earlier screams, when Martin was hurting him, surely he'd know by now. He wasn't expecting a storming of the gates, or anything, but… at least a sign. Something. Not that he knew how big of a building the room was located in, at all—there was a word for that type of amnesia, but he'd forgotten it. God, maybe the cops had shown up, but this tiny room was too far away from the front door for him to have heard anything. Maybe he was being kept in the middle of nowhere.

There had to be a reason, for all of this. If he could just figure out what Martin wanted, what he was keeping him for, why he was doing this, then maybe he could… Lev gently bumped the back of his head against the tiles, a soft, chiding thump, and huffed a sigh. What? Do what, exactly? Continue to lie on the floor, wrapped up in tape and his own clothes like a bloodied sausage roll? He'd have to try something else. He looked around the bathroom.

Small, but relatively clean. Toilet, standard. Trash can. Shower. Grubby bar of soap in the holder. Sink. Couldn't see on top of the counter from this angle. Three drawers. Maybe… maybe there was something in them. Maybe he'd get really lucky, and Martin had left the knife up there.

Lev rolled onto his side, wincing as the movement caused one of the flaps of his ruined jumper to slap against his bleeding chest. He brought his knees up, and planted his hands against the floor, as firmly as he could. So far, so good...

Or maybe not. From there he was a little bit stuck, and this endeavour was starting to prove a lot more difficult than he'd anticipated it to be. He'd thought his hands being bound in front of him would be to his advantage, and that he'd be able to push himself up using his arms—but that was before the handful of minutes spent writhing around on the floor, shimmying like a seal on sand. Cute, sure, but terribly impractical. Before long he was huffing and trembling from the exertion, face hot with effort.

Eventually, Lev was forced to concede that it just wouldn't be possible, not with his elbows secured to his sides like this, and not as drained of strength as he was. The ring of tape around his torso was turning out to be the major obstacle, preventing him from gaining any kind of proper leverage with his arms. It didn't help that there were still slippery patches of his own blood smeared across the tiles.

Ah, okay—if he wanted to do this, he'd probably have to get some momentum, enough to roll sideways onto his knees without the use of his upper body at all.

He psyched himself up, and rolled—

A few unsteady moments—

And he was on his knees, finally, facing the sink.

Which was when he heard the footsteps, followed by the sound of the door unlocking behind him. A pause.

“You know what? I'm kind of impressed. However, it does mean I get to have the pleasure of doing this—”

A hand pushing on the front of his throat sent him sprawling, his back smacking flat against the ground, all of the air forced out of his lungs in one hit. As he wheezed, Lev decided that he hated the feeling of being on the floor, lying on his back, yet again. In a gesture that seemed to be just for good measure, Martin delivered a swift punch to his stomach. Lev would have cried out, if he had the capacity.

-

This time, no sordid photograph preceded the ringing of his phone. He answered it immediately with a gruff “Yes?”

“Graham Pierce!” Martin answered cheerfully. “Thank you for calling. Please hold.”

“But you called me—“

Pierce was cut off by a rustling noise, and a loud clack. The next time Martin spoke, his voice sounded further away, echoing slightly. “This is the group project portion of the assignment, so I had to put you on speaker. Say hi, Lev.”

“Mmm.”

Before Pierce could formulate a response, or ask Lev if he was ok, Martin was already pressing on in his typical, inane fashion. “You know how in school they always make you do a group project, but come the day of the presentation your group-mates either don't show up, or haven't done any of the work? This is like that—just, y'know, your partner's here, he just can't participate. Now there, don't look at me like that, Lev Alexander.” There was a clear grin in his stupid, grating, irritating voice. Pierce was choking down the impulse to tell him to shut up, just shut up.

“So, old chap, I hope you're ready to do enough talking for the both of you.”

-

“So, question one. How long do you think our little darling will last with my knife in his abdomen?”

Pierce's mouth ran dry. The image in his head—of his, of Lev's face, brown eyes wide and frantic, the gag that would still be between his teeth, the shallow, rapid breathing—was causing every last rational thought to slip through his fingers. The amount of pain he must be in. The amount of fear.

“Clock's ticking.” Martin's voice had deepened to a purr, and a soft whine filtered through the phone speaker.

“It depends,” Pierce ground out, through gritted teeth. His fingers were almost white where they clutched the side of the dining table.

“On what?”

“On where—on where you've stabbed him. Please, don't kill him. Please.”

He'd… never begged before like this in his entire life. He'd never scared so easy, or been so uncertain. He'd never had so much to lose. A handful of first's, today.

A long, chilling laugh from the other end of the line. “Oh, don't worry. I haven't gotten that far, yet. Like I said, needed to have a chat with you, first.”

“What do you want? I'll give you anything. I'll give you myself. We can talk about this.”

That had to be it, right? Martin wouldn't have any gripes with Lev, personally—this had to be all some kind of a grudge, and not something like a whim. That his—whatever they bloody were, his Lev—was not getting tortured on a whim. Because then he didn't have the first fucking idea what to do.

Martin seemed to delight in the whiplash created by throwing out non sequiturs at whomever he was talking to, because he followed up with yet another one. “Hang on, I'm gonna move the phone closer to his head so you can both hear each other properly.”

Now… now Pierce could hear every laboured exhale, every pained, feeble sound, every hitch in breath. Fuck.

“This one's different to the one you met earlier. It was custom made for me out of a very hard, very durable type of stainless steel, the kind they use for high-quality Japanese kitchen knives. Only four inches—less than what I'm used to working with, honestly. But size isn't everything.”

Pierce was familiar with the small folding knife being described. He'd seen it used before. On civilians and other members of the Mob, alike.

“Lev, babe, I'm gonna need you to stop squirming and lie still.” The sound of a slap, followed by a muffled shout. It horrified Pierce.

“So. Next question. How long have you been fucking him for?”

“We're not… we haven't.” He could actually respond honestly to that one. Not that he hadn't entertained the notion, hadn't wanted to—not, not sex, but ask him out, see if there could be anything between them, if they could be more than friends.

“Really? Huh. Well—oh, you should've seen his face, just then! Holy shit—you didn't know, Lev? That he was having dirty, depraved thoughts about you? Are you disgusted that he was thinking about you that way?”

“Please, tell me what you want.”

“Right now, I want you to apologise.”

At this point, Pierce was on autopilot. “What...”

“I want you to say 'Lev Alexander, boy of my dreams, I am so sorry for what I'm about to do to you'.”

Pierce blinked, and then he didn't know what happened. He must have had a lapse of consciousness while forcing himself to repeat the words, the movement of his lips going unregistered by his own brain—but he was sure that he'd been able to say them, somehow, because the next thing he was cognisant of was the sharp pain of his fingernails digging into his forearm, drawing half-crescent circles of blood, and the hiccuping, terrified sobs that sounded so close, yet so, so far away.

“He can't respond, obviously, but I want you to know that he's shaking his head. I guess he doesn't forgive you.”

“Damn you.”

Martin hummed, a short, steady noise. “So. Here's what you're going to do. You're going to choose between one of two things. I'm going to slide this knife right into his belly, right about here,” a sharp, startled cry, “maybe a few times. Maybe—let's say five or so. And then I'll let you listen to him bleed out, and die. That's Option A.

“Option B; I take him, and hold him, fuck him in all the ways I know you've fantasised about, but were clearly too much of a coward to go and do. And I'll probably still stab him once or twice, let's be honest. But then, I'll leave him alone, and let him live a long and happy life. That is, unless he goes and offs himself from shame, or whatever. Who knows.”

The escalation. The final nail. Despair crept on all fours into Pierce's chest and burrowed itself a home, deep, deep within in his wretched soul. He wouldn't survive this. There was no way.

Seconds passed. He… had to say something.

“Lev,” he choked, “I—”

The deafening gunshot startled Pierce so badly that he almost dropped the phone. He recovered, reeling, not able to recognise the disjointed sounds coming from the other end of the line, “Lev?”

“It's fine—he's fine. Fucker stabbed me, though, and ran. My aim's not what it used to be, apparently.” A woman's voice.

Pierce rested his forehead against the table, lightheaded. When he spoke his voice shook, pathetically, but he couldn't summon the energy to give a shit. “Stenberg. Thank—thank fuck.” One of the Mob folk, a remnant of the old guard, one that he could still trust. He could have kissed her. “Please, let me speak to him.”

“'Course. Hang on.”

After a few moments of shuffling, he heard the hoarse, slightly awkward voice.

“I'm good, I'm fine. He's gone.”

-

Lev didn't expect the leap in his chest, the wave of relief and genuine elation when he spotted the tall, fair-haired former mob, a bottle of water in each hand, eyes scanning the airport mezzanine for his two arrivals.

He bounced down the last two steps of the escalator as it approached the floor, straight into Pierce's outstretched arms—and then was instantly welcomed by a surge of regret as the still fresh cuts across his chest were jostled on impact, to the jumbled tune of 'ah, ow, shit' and 'sorry, sorry'. The padded adhesive bandage was enough to contain the blood and guard against infection, but wasn't capable of doing anything to ward off his own stupidity, or his capacity for immediately forgetting that he was injured.

Pierce was well kept, as usual, but the exhaustion in his face was hard to mask. His hair was thrown back into a loose bun, beard grown out to a casual smattering of stubble. Stenberg ambled over to them, supported by a crutch under one arm, and accepted one of the bottles of water, downing it almost in one go. The two exchanged a formal nod and a handshake that Lev couldn't decipher the exact meaning behind, but assumed it was some kind of associate thing.

Stenberg was incredibly cool, Lev had decided. Being stabbed in the thigh seemed to phase her surprisingly little, if at all. She'd told Lev to go and lock the front door, and by the time he came back she had found a tea towel and a half-used roll of duct tape from somewhere in the hotel room, and was “fixing” herself on the floor of the kitchenette. She'd looked up at him, bloody hands still wrapping the tape around her thigh, and said “Hope you can drive. I'm under strict orders to kill a certain motherfucker if I see him—need both hands for that.”

Lev had laughed outright when he saw the exterior of the bathroom that he'd been tied up in for the past forty-eight hours. The hotel room was relatively well furnished, a double bed and a vanity, and when he got a glimpse out the window the room appeared to be pretty high up. The place looked to be just the right amount of seedy luxury that he wouldn't be surprised if all of the walls were soundproofed. They'd waited for a while, but when neither cop nor homicidal maniac showed, Stenberg had just shrugged and led him out the door.

That was what Lev decided to focus on, in the car trip home, on the details after he had been rescued. On the scenery of his home city whooshing past in a blur, on the feeling of the breeze on his face, on the fact that he was finally able to move his wrists independently of one another. Not on Martin's hands on him, on his chest, on his throat. Anything but the threat of a knife in his stomach at any given moment. The feeling of his back pressed up against the cold tiles. Not—

Well, he tried to. A work in progress.

Pierce was focused on the road, but looked as if he was struggling to say something. He was chewing his lip, shoulders tense, fingers tapping on the steering wheel idly with the song on the radio.

Lev hazarded a guess. “Hey… he was forcing you to say those things as much as he was forcing me to hear them. Right? I don't hold you to any of it.”

Pierce let out an exhale, head tilting to one side, eyebrows raised. “It was… effective. I'm still sorry, though. He was trying to use you to get to me, to get under my skin.” The sentences were calculated carefully, but still wavering, uncertain. “I'm worried that this has ruined any chance we had together. That you won't… that you're not safe with me, any more.”

Lev couldn't help the smile that worked its way across his lips. Together. So it was true, then.

-

“What do you want for toppings, love? Grab any veg from the fridge that looks good.”

One word in the casual question caught Lev's attention, and held it. All of the other words fell away, dropping to the floor like discarded things, except for that one throwaway endearment.

His face must have betrayed some of his thoughts, as Pierce stopped kneading for a couple of seconds to look up at him, realisation and concern dawning in his eyes. “Shit, sorry. Didn't realise, just kind of slipped out. Won't happen again.”

Lev shook his head, unable think clearly with the buzz of whatever primal instinct had switched on under his skin, sequential arrays lighting up in tandem, activated by such a short and simple word. “No, it's fine, it's just… yeah. I don't know.”

Whatever it was, it was making him particularly inarticulate. Lev put his face in his hands, groaning.

It was the second time today. The thanks, sweetheart from a tiny, totally harmless elderly woman, when he'd retrieved her dropped receipt at the grocery store earlier in the morning, had instantly twisted his throat into a knot. He'd had to rush off to the bathroom to hide his trembling hands, his burning hot face. Clutching at his own arms in a toilet stall.

But that had been outside, in a public space. Lev knew he was safe, in here, making pizzas in Pierce's home, his house cat Rosie weaving through his legs and purring intermittently. The green-eyed calico was a bundle of love, ecstatic at having the attention of two whole humans for the better part of a week. Graham had suggested the two of them stay at his house until his contacts got a bead on Martin, wherever the man had fled to—Lev had gratefully accepted the offer, not wanting to be alone in his apartment for longer than it took to pack a duffel bag and check his mail.

He knew that he was safe now. He wasn't afraid, damn it—but, honestly, the teasing voice ringing in his ears, the echo intimate touches, the pet names? Fuck them, and fuck that man for ruining such soft words as love and sweetheart.

“Sorry,” Lev mumbled to no-one in particular, slipping off the stool to go rummage through the fridge. Tomatoes, and peppers, basil, ham, mushrooms.

Graham rolled the stray chunks of dough off his fingers, patting them gently back into the ball. The way his floury hands pushed and pulled at the dough, forward and back, in a half-circle, was relaxing to watch. Meditative. He pulled out a glass bowl from one of the kitchen cupboards, scooping the ball into it and covering it with a cloth, leaving it on the windowsill to rise in the warmth of the afternoon sun. He picked up his half-glass of merlot, the other hand leaving white fingerprints where he reached up to absently massage at his neck.

“I know I'm not all that great at talking, but… if you want, or need to talk, I'm happy to listen. Or, if not me, then I could help find someone you could talk to. It's, uh… not great to have certain things rolling around in your head for too long.”

Lev was ripping the basil apart in angry little motions. “I just feel so… so stupid. He didn't even do anything to me, and I'm still all jumpy like this? How does that make any sense?” When Lev looked up to gage the other man's response, Graham was staring at him, slack-jawed.

“Lev… what happened to you, what he did to you... wasn't nothing."

Growing increasingly frustrated at the kitchen counter separating the two of them, Lev threw the sprig of herb down on the surface and wrap his arms around the man. He felt hands softly smooth down the back of his shirt.

“You should use whatever pet name you want to call me, just to spite him.”

He felt the rumble and jump of Graham's chest as he laughed. “My stepmum used to call my dad chicken, or chook—would that work? Only if you want to.”

Lev looked up, eyes still tight with unease, but the spark of a challenge in them nonetheless. “You can call me chook, if I can call you Gray. Then it's even.”

“Deal. But I think we should have some more wine to celebrate our new aliases.”

“Sounds good to me.”

-

Martin was in a mood.

The bullet wound on his upper back was making it difficult to do anything physical, most movements telegraphing don't do that again signals to his brain. The weight of his own body was working against him, leaving him almost embarrassingly sluggish and uncoordinated. The room was cheap and it showed, and the only thing saving it from being a total shithole was the mini-bar in the corner.

And getting someone who could remove the bullet and also not ask any questions? That had been a total bitch. He'd only been able to find a person capable of the former, but the latter was something he'd had to manage himself, before collapsing on the scratchy single bed. Another mess he'd have to clean up later, added to the list.

And yet.

He hummed. He whistled. He laughed.

He was in an incredibly good mood.

Martin didn't know exactly how he would get what he wanted. But he knew he would get it. He was owed it, after all. More importantly, he had permission.

But right now he needed to eat, and to rest, and to gather his strength. Which was just exceptionally boring, so Martin indulged himself in daydream.

He thought about Lev, and all the cute little moans he'd made on the floor, squirming, underneath him. Threatening to fuck him had been merely a whim, but the more he thought about it, the more the idea cemented itself in his brain. He'd only wanted to hurt him, but that was before he realised how pretty he was when he cried. The way those brown eyes had been searching his own, tears welling up and spilling over, irises blown wide. Still struggling to find any scrap of truth, or mercy. Full of hope.

But then they'd been rudely interrupted. Too bad.

He thought about Pierce, and how he'd love to help the ex-mob remember the value in deference. He must have forgotten it since leaving the Galloway family, amongst other things. Martin smirked at the thought of Graham trying to be normal, trying to forget his past life, and all the things he'd done. The racketeering, the violence, the murder. The man had been as fucked up as him, once upon a time.

He'd help him remember.

Martin rose, pushing aside the scream of protest his body gave as he did, making it to the tiny desk with only a small amount of dark spots in his vision.

He picked up the pen.

Series Two - Isolation

“You either sing, or you scream. Your choice.”

Martin raised the cane, tapping it against Lev's cheek, running it along the underside of his chin.

“No, please,” said Lev. He raised his hands slightly, in gentle surrender, trying to placate the man. Attempting to broadcast the right amount of subservience, despite already being on the concrete, on his knees.

It was better when he faced him, talked to him, played along. The man seemed to revel in his nervous obedience. And Lev was happy to give it, if there was any chance of being spared a beating.

“I don't know what, what, uh, which song. What do you want me to sing?”

The look of disappointment that fell across Martin's face was strange, as if he couldn't believe Lev would let him down like this.

“Come on, now. I can't do all the work for you.”

Lev hated that he was like this. Twenty-five, a fully-fledged, tax paying adult— to whom the begging, the kowtowing, the prostration came embarrassingly easily. Coming to heel at the first mention of a firm hand, a stern voice.

He didn't want to please the other man. He didn't. He just didn't want to be hurt. That was it.

He closed his eyes, and searched for the right note. Going with the first song that came to mind, one deep within his psyche. A favourite.

His voice shook at first, before he schooled it into something sturdier. He got through the first chorus with barely a waver, and then Lev could only cower, and curl, and try to shield himself with his arms as the rattan cane was brought down on him again, and again, and again, and again. The whistle and crack of it hitting a shoulder blade. The heavier thud as it hit a meatier part.

And then he could only lie on the floor, and bleed, and bruise.

“You said, nhh… you said you wouldn't...”

“Wouldn't what?”

“Promised...”

Martin tutted. “I made no promises, darling. Besides,” he said, wiping the blood from the cane with a cloth. “How can you expect me to resist, when you sing so sweetly...”

He stooped, and Lev would have been afraid, if he had the energy. Martin pressed a kiss to Lev's temple.

“...but your screams are like music to my ears?”

-

He probably deserved this. It had been a long time coming, and he'd pissed off a lot of people. A lot of people.

Pierce hacked out a wet cough, spitting blood and phlegm into his own lap. Most of his suit was already soaked in his own sweat and body fluids, so whatever else he added to it didn't really make a difference. His glasses were fogging with the warmth of his breath, in the cold of the room.

It was a standard holding room—dim, brick-walled, one small skylight in the ceiling. One he'd have used himself for conversations, back in the day. Though this time he was the one in the chair, sitting pretty in metal cuffs and rope. Each leg secured individually, immobilised.

He lifted his head at the sound of the door unlocking, and a person entering the room.

“Pierce.”

“Winters.”

“It's good to see you.”

Pierce quirked an eyebrow. “Really,” he deadpanned.

Winters looked at the ground, timid. They had been a soldier when Pierce had been in the family, the lowest echelon within the Galloway Mob. Used to following orders, but not giving any.

As Winters approached, Pierce spotted the roll of tape in their hands. “Come near me with that, and I'll bite your fucking fingers off,” he warned, baring his teeth.

“Try it and you'll regret it,” they said, their voice equally calm, but halting in the advance.

A surge of dangerous bravado filled him. “Oh, you're gonna threaten me now? Get your jollies from this little power trip?”

“I've got orders. You know how it goes.”

He knew, but right now, Pierce was feeling petty. “Yeah,” he laughed, “I know how you always liked playing at being one of the big boys. Tell me—did your parents not want a girl, or is all of this just penis envy?”

Their reply came in the form of a fist to Pierce's face, the punch snapping his head backwards. As he rolled his neck to the side, slowly, his glasses clattered to the floor. They were broken, bent out of shape. A few drops of blood trickled off the tip of his nose, splattering against the shattered lenses.

He was immediately grateful to have the shards of glass away from his eyes, as otherwise the next punch would probably have left him blind. The chair rocked back slightly with the force of each impact.

And any pithy comments were steadily beaten out of him. One, by one, by one.

When they were finally done, Winters shook out their hand, sending a small bloody cascade arcing outwards. They stepped back, panting from the exertion.

“God, I've been waiting years to do that.”

The strike of a match, followed by the smell of a cigarette. Pierce groaned, barely able to turn his head from the smoke blown in his face, further stinging his bleary eyes.

“I can deal with you misgendering me, if that's what you were going for. I've heard worse from better men.”

Winters had undone the top button of their shirt and rolled up their sleeves. As they raised the cigarette to their lips, holding it there while they pressed a piece of the tape to Pierce's mouth, he noticed the official tattoo on the inner forearm. The Galloway crown, three dots sitting in the centre. Not a soldier, then, anymore.

“But Martin was right. You never respected me. And you still don't.”

They circled around behind the chair, and Pierce violently tried to twist his right arm away from the searing pain that he knew was about to be inflicted on it, to no success. The cigarette found his forearm, sizzling against the skin there for several agonising seconds, until the sensation gradually gave way to cold numbness.

He watched Winters move to the door, flicking the crushed butt into the corner of the room as they left him, there, with nothing but his pettiness—and a smouldering, circular burn.

-

How long would it be before he went insane? Lev gave himself maybe two more days, tops, before he lost his damn mind in here.

The only real contact he'd had with another human being was with Martin—so the bar was already pretty fucking low, seeing as he had been beating the shit out of him at the time—and that had been at least three days ago. At first he'd been relieved to see no trace of the man, but then twenty-four hours had passed, and then more, and now he was just bored.

Lev couldn't decide whether it was better or worse that he knew the impacts of extended solitary confinement on prisoners—the depression, the self-harm, the hallucinations, the cognitive impairment. He chalked it up to the same kind of elusive irony there was in him having both a psych degree, and an anxiety disorder. The element of physician, heal thyself.

The grunts that had been bringing a tray of food twice a day weren't really the chatty sort. Apparently he was supposedto eat, though, as they would stay and watch until he was done with the meagre platter, or they'd slap him around until he was. Which had happened one time, only once, when he had felt far too queasy to touch the bread and powdered eggs pushed in his direction that evening. He'd instantly been made to regret it.

They also wrested the tray from him every time, which Lev guessed could count as social interaction, if he squinted.

“Christ,” he muttered, scratching carefully at the hot, itchy lacerations on his back and shoulders. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Great—already talking to himself. Halfway there already. Lev couldn't stop the delirious giggle that escaped him, putting his head in his hands.

What would his therapist have said? He could visualise her, sitting on one of the yellow couches in the cozy studio apartment turned psychologist's office. She would tap her pen against her pursed lips, and she'd say… that insanity was a perfectly valid response to a situation like this, probably.

She'd actually encouraged him to talk to his own thoughts as a way to distance himself from them. Defusing, she'd called it. Thank his anxious brain, and let the thought go.

You're going to die in here.

Thanks, brain.

You're an idiot.

Thanks brain, and also, rude.

Martin will probably be back soon. At least that's less boring.

Holy shit, brain.

Maybe the insanity wasn't setting in quick enough.

At least he hadn't been tied up, or tied down to anything this time. He could stretch, and pace, and fidget however much his weary, weak body and the tiny room allowed. A mercy he never thought he'd appreciate.

Gray would be looking for him. Surely, someone would find him. He just needed to hold out until then.

-

Lev was going to die in here.

Not from boredom, but because of the fingers wrapped tight around his throat, and getting tighter.

The press of the man on top of him—one of the guards, the big one with the undercut, the same one he'd called a dickhead only seconds ago—using his full weight, both hands, squeezing so hard, quite literally crushing the life from him, and then—

He needed—

Please—

No—

Lev felt the last movements his body would ever make, in the form of a violent spasm in his legs, and a gentle rake of fingernails against skin.

Then, release, and the way air rushed into his starving lungs all at once, and out again in several, convulsing sobs. Clutching his neck protectively. Taking one breath, another, as if stealing something he wasn't supposed to have.

The firm hands that took him by the shoulders caused him to seize in terror, frantically mouthing his apologies, lacking the sound to make them. The man didn't say anything, he didn't need to, the message in his eyes uncomplicated—next time.

Lev nodded his understanding, between poorly suppressed coughs. He dimly registered the guard picking up the tray from the floor, leaving the mess of cold pasta where it had splattered, and exiting the room.

The room quickly grew too big, too bright, too loud. He crawled to the corner, facing the crisp white line, slotting as neatly as a human body could fold itself down. Pressing two cupped hands to his mouth. All of him shaking, shaking.

He had forgotten himself, and been reminded.

He'd remember next time.

He'd have to.

-

The room was nine steps wide, and ten-and-a-half steps long, heel to toe, so a complete lap was thirty eight and two half-paces, one half at each corner. The days went like this—lights on. Powdered eggs and a stale bagel, a cup of water. Bathroom. Pacing. Cold pasta, with chunks of chicken in it, a cup of milk. Bathroom. Pacing. Lights off. Sleep, whatever came. Lights on.

The big guard didn't lay hands on him again, except on the arm to lead him to the toilet down the hallway. It was the only time he was touched, one large hand firmly on his biceps, half-dragging him there and back again.

He looked forward to it. He hated himself.

He'd been reciting poems, song lyrics, movie dialogue, whatever he could recall. He was running out of things to talk to himself about, but it was the only thing that made him feel any better. Not great, but all he had.

Whenever the door opened he looked up, hoping to see Gray's face, saying it's okay, chook. I've got you.

-

His heart was beating way too fast, and hadn't stopped, not for a while now, and that was a problem, right? A heart only has so many beats in it until it gives out, right? The conversation in his head had turned to pleading with his body to relax, please, just give him a break. Stop feeling things. The breathing exercises should work, they usually worked, but they weren't working.

The guards had to know—he banged on the door until the hand started to bruise, and then he used the other. The guards had to know, because Martin wouldn't want him to die in here, right? He'd been entertaining, he'd been accommodating, he'd sung and screamed so sweetly. Martin would want to hear him. He couldn't hear him if he wasn't here.

When the door opened he looked up, hoping to see Martin, saying right, love. Time for another round.

It was just the guard, again.

-

His throat was still aching from the strangling, and it must have been weeks since that. He thought about provoking the guard again, just to feel something, to have something to blame, but even thinking about it caused his body to seize so hard it made him dizzy. So, he went quietly. Not well enough to bite the hand that fed.

There was no point in words, as no one would hear them. They bounced back at him from several directions, loud, and hoarse, and achieving nothing. So he stopped. He still had to pace, though—he had to move his body, or else it would stop existing. The borders on him would fade, and whatever was inside would escape into the atmosphere.

He would disappear, and no one would know.

He wasn't sure what made him him, any more. He was a person, but he was also a series of electrical pulses in a shell. A container of blood and meat and bone. A dot floating in space.

When the door opened he saw himself, pacing up, and across, and down, and back, and up again.

-

It had been a long six weeks, and Martin was exhausted. The job he was asked to take had dragged on far longer than expected, and it was mostly just negotiation. Long, insipid, and just incredibly dull. Loosening his tie and hanging up his suit jacket in the main lobby, he wound his way through the long corridors of the warehouse complex, stopping at the holding rooms.

What he found behind the first door was very interesting. He stood in the doorway for a few minutes, leaning against the frame, and watched.

Oh, this hadn't taken long at all.

Martin guided Lev out of his room and down the hall, four doors down, to where the blond ex-mob lived. As Martin opened the door, Lev slowly resumed walking heel to toe, along the north wall of the cell.

When the fluorescent light from the hallway crossed his face, Pierce squinted up from where he was slouched. He still tied down to the chair, bearded and scowling. His eyes widened in shock when he realised who was currently making his way about the perimeter of the room.

When Pierce finally found his voice, he sounded shattered.

“What... did you do to him?”

Martin smiled, tilting his head.

“Nothing,” he admitted. “Absolutely nothing.”

-

“Don't,” said Pierce, voice weak. “Don't touch him. He's clearly not well.”

Lev was onto his third lap of the room, walking carefully, as if measuring the distance with each step. Barefoot, shirtless, plain grey briefs with a black waistband. Pierce thought he could see greenish echoes of bruises stretched across his neck and back, but he couldn't be sure from this distance.

He wasn't responding to any bids to get his attention, which was... concerning. To put it so mildly.

“It's quite fascinating, isn't it? What a small cage can do to a wild creature... I could just leave you both here for a while, you know. I'm willing to bet that this,” Martin gestured, “for long enough, would just drive you insane.”

“Get fucked,” Pierce spat, the rage frothing forth with a snarl despite himself. Hands clenched and straining at the cuffs, painful. Unnoticed.

Martin's eyes narrowed. “Luckily for you, I'm just here to blow off some steam.” He caught Lev with one gloved hand at the small of his back, steering him away from the wall, saying, “Let's make this easier on your loverboy's myopic ass, hmm?”

Then, Lev was only inches away, moved to stand in between his splayed legs, and now he could see that yes, the bruises were real, and yes, his eyes were glazed over, unfocused. He seemed to be in the throes of a severe mental break.

Pierce struggled to maintain focus through the rush of oxytocin that flooded his system, triggered by the proximity of another person, almost flush with him now. Closeness that he hadn't felt in so long.

He tried again to talk to him. “Lev, I'm, I'm right here… I'm right here.”

Dark eyes found his, a spark of recognition in them, a furrowed brow, and that was when Pierce realised he'd made a mistake.

As Lev started to regain his grasp on reality, his instinct was to lift himself from Pierce's lap, pushing against his chest and away—he was prevented from doing so by the large hands forcing his own behind his back, leaving him with no choice but to lean against the man in front of him. Martin held him still with one hand, pulling off his tie with the other.

Pierce's stomach dropped. Pressed together like this, he could hear the hitch in breathing, and the quiet no, no, no as Lev's hands were tied with the length of silk.

Pierce cursed himself to hell, and back. It would have been better—he couldn't do anything, but it would have been better—if he hadn't just coaxed Lev back from wherever his mind had retreated to. If he was still out of it.

It would have been so much better, if Lev had never met him.

The words left him in a long, anguished string. “Martin don't, please don't don't do this, he hasn't done anything to deserve this—he hasn't done anything to you, he doesn't know anything. Please. Please.”

In response, Martin smiled. Saccharine. He lowered his hands to Lev's hips, hooking his thumbs at the waistband of the briefs, and slowly, slowly pulled them down. Lev let out a distressed keen at the feeling of being exposed, and buried his face in Pierce's neck.

“Do you feel that?” said Martin, voice filling with awe. “He's shivering all over.”

Pierce's throat was closing up, every swallow an effort, thick with regret. “I'm so, so sorry,” he muttered into Lev's temple.

He felt the shaking cease, and the full-body tension that took place. He felt the smooth pressure of the first thrust, and the sharp jolt of the second. He heard the scream. He heard the sobs.

“Fuck,” Martin hissed. “That's tight.”

Pierce focused on the smell of Lev's hair, his skin. He closed his eyes, and mourned for a relationship that was killed before it had a chance to grow.

Series Three - Reluctance

Pierce rolled his neck side to side, cracking it, feeling some of the tension along his spine dissipate. He picked up the knife—no, the tire iron. Tested its weight with a few experimental swings. A low whine sounded from the corner of the room.

He'd been led into the cell with a single instruction—make him cry. No specifications, just the ever-present implication of what would happen if he didn't comply. The terms of the deal. A guard at the door to make sure it happened.

He'd never enjoyed this sort of thing, not the way some of the other Mob folk did, but he had never exactly gone out of his way to avoid it, either. Considered it just part of the job, though he knew that didn't make him any better. At best, complicit—at worst, even more of a monster.

The kid chained to the wall looked like he hadn't been left there long. Red hair, young—early twenties at most.

Just a kid. Still just a fucking kid.

Maybe Pierce could get through this with a bit of smoke and mirrors. Maybe he could find a fear, a phobia, something to exploit. Maybe the kid was an easy crier. If they were both lucky.

He advanced, slow and deliberate in each movement, twirling the metal rod in his hands. Letting the captive look him over, read the threat in the posturing, and the way Pierce had stripped—been stripped—down to just his singlet, exposing his bare arms and the tattoo running up and down the full length of one of them. Like some sort of awful, loutish display of dominance. Power. Violence.

There was one person who liked that look, eyes lighting up at the casual danger there, but god damn it, god damn it, Pierce was trying so hard not to think about him right now. He wasn't allowed to think about him, at all, any more. He wasn't worthy.

But he knew how he looked. He could use that to his advantage. And by the way the anger in the kid's eyes was already waning, starting to give way to something uncertain…

Pierce slapped him as hard as he could, hoping the sudden, humiliating shock would provoke what he needed, but no dice—a couple of stunned blinks, and that was it. Fine—he grabbed him by the throat, digging a cruel thumb into the windpipe, earning a wince. Better, but it still wasn't enough.

He could do it. He was just another thug, sent in to torture a captive.

He could do it. He tapped the tire iron against the captive's rosy, sweaty cheek.

He needed to do it—God, he really couldn't deliberate like this for much longer.

Pierce gripped the iron with both hands and swung, aiming for soft tissue at the waist, but the kid immediately tried to twist out of the way—the resulting impact was way too high, catching the bottom of the ribcage with a horrifying crunch. And that, of course, that made the kid scream.

It took most of what Pierce had left, to smother the instinct to drop the iron and apologise, or panic, or run from the room. It took more still to press the unexpected advantage, crowding in on the kid, pressing fingers into the site of the trauma, hoping, hoping, teeth clenched against the unending wail of agony.

Come on, come on, come on, come on—

There.

He gestured for the guard to come over and verify. They grabbed the kid by the chin, tilting it this way and that, before letting go with an affirmative grunt. Finally he was dismissed, which was fucking fantastic, because couldn't stand being in the cell for one second longer.

He threw the tire iron down on the table on the way out. Headed straight back to his own cell. Curled up on the comparative luxury of the shitty mattress, and wooden pallet. And wept.

tw: suicidal ideation

He'd begged for it.

“Please, just let me kill him.”

Graham clutched the knife with a trembling fist. It was the final thing, the only thing, he could think of doing. Be the one to beg.

“I'll do it, chook, but I need you to make the decision. I need permission.”

He had no right, no right to make that call, but surely… surely it was better for him to die here, than to be forced to exist one more day in this hell.

He'd do it. He'd do it, and then even if Lev resisted, even if he still had the will to go on, it wouldn't matter—he'd do it, and then he'd turn the knife on himself. And then he wouldn't have to live with the weight of this. And they could both be free.

For the first time in far, far too long, Lev stirred. He looked up, with that depth and love in his brown eyes, and he smiled.

“Always knew… you'd be the death... of me. Love. Love.”

Despite everything, he was still joking. Feeble, fading, but there, still there.

And Graham, selfish enough to beg for his lover's death, but not enough to go through with it, bowed his head, before waking with a start. Crying. Calling his name.

-

He recognised one of the guards, this time around. Jacobs. All macho swagger in an absurdly tight shirt. Despite the neck tattoos he was a real traditionalist, if Pierce remembered right. He nodded a greeting when Jacobs showed up to let him out of his holding room, and got a reserved nod in return, along with today's instructions.

“Same as yesterday.” So, he'd be allowed to stop once the tears were flowing. For whatever reason.

“Can I ask—"

“Nah,” the other guard grunted.

Fine. He just wanted to get this over with, before the headache sitting just in along the sides of his nose escalated any further. As it was already making him want to beat his head against a wall.

As soon as the three of them entered the room, the kid straightened, the short metal chain at his wrists clinking with the movement. Eyeing them warily. That tracked. Pierce wouldn't expect anything less.

The bruise had spread across the kid's torso, blossoming from underneath a stark, pale line through the centre where the tire iron had kissed skin. He peeked out from underneath red bangs, hanging low in the shackles, breathing slow, shallow. Having his arms above his head like that, for such long periods of time must have been uncomfortable, if not downright dangerous. Nerve damage, blood clots… Pierce wondered if there was a sneaky way he could check the kid's capillary refill, under the guise of messing around with his fingernails.

Pierce headed for the table, reaching for—

His hand faltered, eyes widening as he realised that he had been left a different selection of tools, today. A pair of pliers… and a small, kitchen-grade blowtorch.

An incredulous laugh threatened to escape him. They expected him to mutilate the kid? No way. No fucking way.

Pierce turned back towards the door, reaching out to Jacobs with one calloused, upturned palm. “Belt?” He asked, praying that his reputation still held any amount of weight around here. Not missing the way the both of the guards twitched towards their holsters.

“Why?”

“Testing a theory.”

Jacobs fixed him with a calculating look, but then reached down to undo the buckle and slip his belt from its loops.

Pierce took the thick faux leather and folded it, unhurried, small flakes of black springing free with the flex of the material. Sticking to the sweat on his palms.

“This'll do.” A jingle, and a foreboding snap echoed out across the room as the strap was pulled taut. The sound, that cruel sound, was just… everything Pierce hated, in men like him.

For a brief second Pierce could see the gears turning, but then, like a flicked switch, all muscles in his body started to tighten.

“N-hh, n-oh, no, no, pl-uh, pl-ease, please, nh, please,” the kid stammered, chest heaving, shaking his head. The defiance from yesterday had crumbled so quickly, it was almost as if the man on the wall had been replaced with a completely different person. He was twisting from side to side and pulling down in the cuffs, straining, tears welling up in those panicked green eyes, and long blonde eyelashes fluttering.

As it turned out, two lashes with the belt got the job done fast. Real fast.

To the sounds of quiet sobs, he wiped the blood from the leather on his slacks, handing it back to the stunned guard.

“Shit, man,” Jacobs muttered. He was leaning against a wall, regarding the captive ex-mob with something that bordered on disquiet. “How'd you know he'd react like that?”

“Could see it in his eyes,” Pierce lied, heading for the door.

Thank God the kid had caught on quick, and was a convincing actor. Because, really? A blowtorch?

Before he could leave, Pierce was stopped by a large hand.

“You're not done.”

“What?”

“You're not leaving, until you're done,” the nameless guard reiterated.

“I'm done. I did what you wanted.”

No further response.

-

Pierce listened to the rain falling on the roof of his cell, and thought about murder.

Specifically, he was in the middle of picturing Martin's neck under his hands, and how he'd look as he suffocated, slowly, or quickly, if Pierce willed it... whether his eyes would bulge, all trace of smug superiority extinguished. Whether they'd roll back in his head. Whether Pierce could supply enough pressure to crush, feel the cartilage crack, before collapsing in on itself.

Or maybe it'd feel good to put his mouth to Martin's throat, right over his pulse, the same spot Martin had sucked the bruise onto Lev's. Whisper a soft you should have left us be, before catching his teeth on the tight skin there, and ripping. Not stopping until he came away with gristle.

He wasn't sure if the visceral, pathological fantasies stemmed from a deeply traumatised psyche, or a yearning for retribution, or simply from a need to channel his pent-up energy somewhere, anywhere. Three birds, one stone, in any case.

As far as justifications for killing someone went, it was a slippery, blood-soaked slope for a person to head down. But he wasn't a person, not any more—he was a feral dog, and his mottled and flea-bitten snout was already so dirty that it would never, ever be clean again. How much could one rapist's dying screams weigh on an already laden conscience?

And it was better to get this all out now, before he was called into the other cell, again. He'd already accidentally shattered a couple of bones on the kid, and that was while he had been completely lucid. Didn't need to add whatever fucked up rage-fog this was to the mix. Unwise.

With the wind and the rain worsening to a howl, Pierce settled in to another one of his favourites—in this one Martin was thrusting, rhythmically, but instead of inside, this time it was upward. On the crest of each jostle, ones that sent the other man's head lolling backward, the knife in his solar plexus would pull free, and then slide home again with a squelch. Teaching him the only meaning of the word penetration he deserved.

Pierce would be lying if he denied getting a kick out of imagining it as one of Martin's own knives, the little folding one. With that one, he'd really be able to carve, and gut, from stomach to sternum. Get his hands nice and wet.

He just needed one opportunity. Just one.

If the guards found him afterward, wrists-deep in the mess he'd made, they'd just put Pierce down—probably right here, in this cell. Put a bullet in his brain. Dump his body somewhere. They wouldn't bother going after Lev. No point, if he was already taken care of.

If that didn't happen, and he made it out alive, he'd check on Lev only once. Just to make sure he was safe.

And if his love never wanted to see him again after that, didn't want him after he'd seen the rabid creature, the less-than-human he'd become?

Then that would be fine. Just fine.

Until then, he just had to wait for the right moment.

Every dog has its day, after all.

-

“Off,” said the guard, gesturing to Pierce's torso. He fixed him with a spiteful stare in return.

“Off.”

This whole thing, insane as it was already, had just teetered over into absurdity—they wanted to force him to hurt this kid, but by now the kid definitely knew his heart wasn't in it. They didn't seem to want information, they just wanted him to make him suffer. Specifically with the tools they'd laid out. Which they were now going to use on him for failing to comply. Reasserting the fact that he wasn't here by choice.

So what was the point, here? What was the fucking point?

Lifting his arms up, Pierce pulled at the back of his singlet, obediently slipping it up and over his head. Before he could complete the motion, a steel-capped boot kicked him down to one knee.

Genuflecting. Not to gods, but maybe to god complexes.

The black singlet hanging loose across his elbows, Pierce watched as the guard picked up the blowtorch, adjusted the nozzle, pulled the trigger. He couldn't suppress the shudder that ricocheted through his body when the blue flame sprung to life in the man's grip, the low, even, rushing sound of it almost scarier in its lack of intensity.

Forced forward by Jacobs' hands, his bare, scarred back was exposed to the ceiling.

The first pass of the torch was light, quick, but it ripped a scream from him nonetheless. A second pass, diagonal to the first, excruciating, and he whited out.

He came to on the floor, on his elbows, the burn of bile in the back of his throat, and a boot nudging his side.

“Now get up, and try again.”

Pierce raised a single, trembling finger, requesting a few moments, a tremor shooting down his other arm as it struggled to support his weight. He was granted only a few, before the foot nudged him again, harder this time.

He stood, shakily, carefully, swaying on his feet, the singlet falling from his arms and to the floor. Collecting the pair of pliers from the table. Feeling something in him snap, the threads of it dissolving away.

The kid's face was alight with strong, bright terror. Pierce swayed a second time, eyes dropping to the kid's mouth.

As he pressed his lips over the kid's, he felt the questioning hum of startled confusion as it reverberated across their teeth. An indignant gurgle of a shout rang out from behind the pair of them, followed by hurried footfalls as Jacobs rushed over.

Pierce smiled weakly against the kid's lips. He'd remembered that particular foible correctly, then. Blunder one.

No sooner had Jacobs laid a hand on him than Pierce swung his fist in an arc, punching the pliers high into the man's neck. Jacobs stumbled, choking, clutching at the plastic handles sticking out of him. Pierce spun around, reaching for the gun pointed at his head, still within his range—blunder two—grabbing it on top, moving it to one side as the shot was fired. Going deaf with the noise of it. Hitting at the inside of the guard's wrist, a snap of the index finger as it was wrenched by the trigger guard. He turned the gun around, aimed, shot twice.

Jacobs was fumbling with his own holster, his fingers slick with blood, but a bullet to his chest brought him down—and Pierce followed him, getting in close. Running on nothing but adrenaline and hate.

“I just wanted to walk away,” he hissed, pressing the pliers in further, watching the man convulse. “I just wanted to retire and live quietly, with my boyfriend, and my cat—but you fuckers had to come and tear our lives apart and drag me back here. Well, guess what? Now you've got my full. Fucking. Attention.”

Pierce, slowly coming to the realisation that Jacobs had stopped moving long ago, released the man's shirt collar—when had that happened?—and let him fall to the floor.

“Dude,” came the scratchy, slightly hoarse voice. “That shit was metal as fuck.”

“Sorry.” Pierce wiped at his face, absently. Smearing hot blood across his chin.

“Any keys on 'em?”

He searched the bodies, sighing in relief when he heard a jingle. Quickly freeing the kid from the cuffs, aware of the speed at which his strength was starting to drain from him, Pierce was just able to keep them both steady as the kid regained feeling to his extremities.

He counted his lucky stars—lucky he didn't get shot in the face anyway when he took the gun. Lucky he hadn't gone into shock after being burned like that. Lucky the kid was willing to help him limp out of there, after everything.

So very, incredibly lucky he was able to pull of a stupid, reckless stunt like that, and still be breathing. The both of them. Alive.

-

The kid's name was Hugh, and he was actually twenty-one, and a little bit of a brat. He had bid them goodbye with a parting message to Lev:

“Take care of him. I'm straight, but your boyfriend's a really good kisser.”

Pierce—Graham, god, he never wanted to go by his last name ever again—felt the heat cascade down his neck and over his chest, and he buried his face further into his partner's Henley with a groan.

He still knew he shouldn't, he didn't deserve to—but his love was right here, holding him close, careful not to touch the burns on his back. He smelled so good, and he was so warm, and Graham was so tired.

“I know,” Lev had said, his voice rumbling and full. “Thanks again, Hugh.”

“Don't mention it. Any time.”

“Cocky fucker,” Graham mumbled, relishing the laugh that Lev gave in response.

He was home. He was safe. He was home.

#whump #noncon tw #murder tw #kidnapping tw #drugging tw #fuck me it's been a long time since ive had to tag a thing tw #lgm writing #lowkey thinking of writing an extension to the end of the isolation one... #if you saw me post this to the wrong blog no you didn't

[angelyuji]

yandere superman headcanons

tw kidnapping, "nice" guys/incel behavior (kinda), isolation as punishment, manipulation, yandere stuff... the usual

yandere clark kent x gn!reader

diana prince is next guys I LOVE WOMEN!!! lemme know abt any tags i miss or just any other superman thoughts (yandere or not) cuz i love superman a lot

hes so big and buff and strong

hhnhsdngnnhnhnngnfhgnnngngn

sorry

ive been obsessed with superman and lois recently and i thought to myself “i need him so bad id do unspeakable things”

ALSOOOOOO have u guys seen the new superman??? ohmygodddd HELLOOO SAILOR

anyway here we go :)

sweetest kindest angel alive… at first glance

actual clark is genuinely the best sweetest guy in the world and i don’t think that would technically change but if anything he’d start buying into the incel/nice guy pills and that’s what would warp him

he’s literally sooo sweet to you (i cant get over how much a of cutie pie clark kent is)

ok pause lemme start from the beginning

when he first met you, he was e n a m o u r e d like he thinks youre the most beautiful person in the world type stuff

at first, the relationship is normal, you guys are friends, study buddies, coworkers, yk normal shit

he’s still super in love but hes kinda aware that its one-sided and he can’t make you like him

you guys are super close friends tho

but as his crush progresses, he starts to consult more than his friends and normal relationship advice, he starts to consult incel chatrooms and subreddits

he wants to go further than friendship with you, but all the guys in these chatrooms are telling him awful things abt u. for example:

‘hi! requesting help for getting out of the friendzone with my friend’ i’ve been friends with them for a long time, but i see them as more than a friend. ive had to watch as they date all these awful people and i just want them to see me more than a friend. any advice is appreciated!

– dude these ungrateful bitches are never gonna see u

– people like them never see the good guy until its too late

– u just gotta make them like u, nobody understands the nice guy until u make them

– all of these responses are so weird, just be normal and flirt a little!

ur stupid fuckign idiot nice guys don’t get a chance till u make them give u chance

women are so fucking stupid

reading all these “helpful” comments really warped his mindset

he went from innocent farm boy to incel misogynist becuz

they have to be right! like why else have u not given him the time of day as more than a friend

so soon, ur gonna notice these changes

he went from being supportive bestie to making snide comments, putting you down, making moves on you that you clearly don’t want

ur hurt, heartbroken, your friend became something unrecognizable

u’ll ask for some distance, just to think abt if u want to continue the friendship and clark will realize that he can’t make you like him from just this

so you’re gonna go home, take a nap, and next thing you know you’re getting snatched from bed by freaking superman

he genuinely believes he’s done the right thing

he’ll bring u to the fortress first. he has everything set up already, so u wont freeze or starve to death

i wont bore with the details but he would NEVER lay a hand on u

that’s NOT my superman

its more like

“i need you to eat something.” clark begs you, his eyes filled with worry. he had crouched down next to where you sat. clark had given you free-reign around his fortress, but you chose to sit in the corner near the entrance.

“fuck you.” you turn away from him, anger dripping from your voice. you haven’t eaten since he brought you to his ice castle, but you can’t remember how long ago that was. you missed home, your friends, your family. you missed freedom. you hear clark sigh.

“you’re gonna get sick if you keep going like this, (y/n).” his hand touches your face and you slap his hand away. you know there was no way you could hurt superman, but he holds his hand looking hurt, and you feel a twinge of guilt. he holds out a bag from Big Belly Burgers and places it next to you.

you scooch back, your back hitting the wall, not willing to back down. “i’ll eat if you let me go.” you feel like a child throwing a tantrum, but you would do anything to go home.

you see him rub his forehead in frustration, “this isn’t working.” he mutters to himself. you don’t say anything, wanting to see what he would do. instead of trying to fight you again, clark picks up the bag. “i’ll come back when you’re ready.” he says.

“come back? what are you talking ab-” in one blast of air, clark was gone and you were alone.

days had gone by, you felt like you were going crazy from the solitude and the hunger. thankfully, clark had left mountains of water bottles for you, so you tried to fill up with those. it wasn’t enough, you had started to miss your kidnapper’s company after many conversations with yourself. all you could do was sleep or stare at the wall, blankly. after a week, you couldn’t take the isolation. “clark?” you call out, weakly. not a moment passes before he appeared before you.

his eyes were filled with pity and worry, “are you ready, sweetheart?” his hands cup your face and you lean into the warmth, nodding.

he could never hurt you. that entire week away was killing him, but the commenters were right. you just needed to know that he was all you needed.

#like and reblog <3 #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #gender neutral reader #kidnapping #yandere clark kent #yandere superman #yandere clark kent x reader #yandere superman x reader #yandere headcanons #clark kent x reader #superman x reader #incels #hashtag nice guys #isolation #starvation #yandere dc

[luminecent-sky]

How my team would interact in sagau: my mains

Just from the pic alone, its clear who my fave is.

Anyways, Ayaka is main dps, Barbara is healer(no kokofish yet, didnt have enough to get her after zhongli), Diluc is sub dps and Zhongli is sheild.

Ok now the interactions, with voicelines too!!!

A/n: i will be making one for all of my team comps, idk hot to tag this lol

tw. Yandere and cursing only in diluc's section

》 Kamisato Ayaka,

The first to be bestowed with a golden star.

Ayaka, gets along well with Barbara and Zhongli, hoewever when interacting with diluc she's a bit reserved. Because she knows i don't particularly like Diluc.

As my main, i may have spoiled her rotten.... giving her my first 5☆ weapon, the best artifacts i could get and even breaking my f2p status to get her costume.

Voicelines:

》About the Creator: Adored by the divine

Oh, you want to know when i got bleseed by the creator? Well it was when the first star showers began, in... April? was what the creator called it, anyways i am honored to be the first to receive the golden star and bringing honor to the Kamisato clan. The Almighty Shogun and Lady Guuji even hosted a celebration for this event.

》About the Creator: Honor

Being one of the first blessed is such an honor, i devote my entire being to their grace. What ever she needs i will become, be it her sword, her friend and dare i say it.... maybe even a lover. Everything i am is hers, my heart, my soul. I have travelled with her for so long that i know how to talk and help their grace should they ever come to teyvat.

----------------

》 Barbara Gunnhilder

One of the original blessed, had been under the creator's blessing for the longest.

Barbara gets along with everyone, no matter what team she is placed in. Often seen with Ayaka and Diluc, because of their elemental compatibility.

As the one of the original 4☆ that we get in-game, she has been with me since the start. Her hydro vison helps Ayaka and Diluc do more damage and keeps them alive.

》About the Creator: Blessed by the divine

You know i always thought that the creator would abandon me after a while... It happened to Sir Kaeya, Xiangling and even Noelle. However she never did, i stayed, even gave me better artifacts, a better weapon.... So i decided that when their grace decides to finally decend I'll be one of the first to welcome her. To thank her for all she's given me.

》About the Creator: Worship

Ive learned a great deal of information about the creator, ive added it to the records of the divine in the church library. Most of the rituals we hold in the name of the creator is based on the information ive gotten. From the colors of the celebration to the items we offer. Ill make sure the creator won't have to lift a finger when she gets here, only the best for them. The price does not matter when the entirety of mondstat is willing to sacrifice everything for them.

----------------

》 Diluc Ragnvindr

The second to be bestowed a golden star.

He's got a... complex relationship with everyone. He respects them all as he does with others, however watching them be favoured, cheered on and loved by the creator while he gets at most a "Oh you finally landed that hit, thank fuck." Or a "Damnnit Diluc- ugh I'll switch to Ayaka she would do better." Knowing that he is favoured but having the creator actually let him know are two different things.

Yes im mad at diluc cause he made me lose the xiao banner in june.. days before my birthday. He's very useful in my team but barely crits and stuff.

》About the creator: Unloved by the divine

Ah, about their grace... she doesn’t usually have anything good to say about me. However on the rare time she does i always keep it in my mind. I just have to work harder to earn their grace's forgiveness.

》About the creator: Determination

I have to get stronger so that their grace can finally feel confident in my abilities. I must prove that i can protect them. When the creator descends i can offer the dawn winery as a place of recidence for her. With her there, i can finally show that i am capable enough to be beside her. That one of the safest places in teyvat is by my side. They won't need anyone else to protect her anymore once she's within the manor.

----------------

》 Zhongli - Rex lapis

The seventh to be bestowed a golden star

He gets along with everyone in the team often telling stories about his days as an archon. Always in the team and gfted the second golden weapon. Like barbara keeps the others alive.

Yeah he has primordial winged jade.... cause i got the weapon before xiao banner, and then lost i gave it to him. Somehow despite being on sheild build he crits almost constantly, has the record for my highest crit thus far. Of 62k

》About the creator: Archon blessed by the divine

About their grace? Well she is quite a lively woman. Ah you mean her blessings, to us archons being blessed by her is quite the honor, and as i am the only one she has blessed Barbatos and Ei have been understandably displeased. Buer is still acclimating to godhood after her imprisonment so she remains neutral about her opinion.

》 About the creator: Responsibility

As the oldest of the seven and only archon currently blessed i have made it my duty to serve her grace to the fullest. If she asks of it i shall even retrive my gnosis from Snezhnaya, her needs are of the utmost importance. Anything she desires, be it the rarest and finest jewels or the heads of those who displease her, all will be lain at her feet. When their grace decends i ahall return to my post as the archon and worship their grace with the people of liyue.

Tagging:

@meimeimeirin girl its here.

#sagau #tw yandere #genshin x reader #self aware genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact sagau #writings from the cosmos: genshin

[juni-ravenhall]

tw: really bad depression etc dont read if sensitive. (tw tagged)

its messed up how a couple days ago i had one of my absolute worst depression days compared to previous months and was more or less suicidal again (for the duration of that day). then yesterday and today i felt way more normal human person than usual (its extremely rare for me to feel "almost normal" like not severely apathetic and severely depressed and severely unhappy and severely unmotivated to be alive or to do anything etc, combined with being in chronic pain and feeling physically sick etc).

im exhausted and sick today so i cant rly do anything but my mental state is about the same as yesterday aka... emotionally i feel kinda okay. im upset about not being able to do anything ever, but thats a thing i just have to feel every day in general and not specific to today. other than that i feel kinda okay. i feel like i would be cleaning and doing other tasks i need to do if i wasnt too physically exhausted, bc i have motivation to do (small) things rn, and yesterday when i was less exhausted i did get a bunch of stuff done.

its really really crazy experiencing not-apathy. i really dont know how to describe what its like to go between the suicidal apathy to "hey i almost feel like a normal person today aside from the physical stuff". (but as a note, its not "improvement" or that im "getting better" bc if youre suicidal 3 days ago and then have 2 okayish days its just... not long enough to be proof of a consistent change)

im doing some changes lately in that ive been trying to quit eating candy (chocolate is my self-treatment drug since the swedish healthcare system doesnt even try to help me most the time and the only thing aside from my gf that numbs the pain is chocolate) and im maybe a week or a bit more than a week into being chocolate free for this round. usually my mental health crashes for any reason after a few months and i go back on it, but at least i made it through one suicidal day without going back on it so far. if i can eventually stick to a healthy diet without much sugar, i hope that might help some of my other symptoms, but its hard to get to that point alone without money or support when youre disabled. (aka fuck the healthcare and wellfare systems)

#personal #nonhorsgaem #tw suicidal #tw depression #tw mental illness #tw comfort eating

[skullinahat]

🌻🌻

thank u!!! ok so two of my posts have been blowing up recently which is the first time its happened since my queen posts, and i am expeirencing other peoples tags. so far the most confusing ones are when people reblog with a random series of numbers. had a couple people add shit like 3245 or fc2743598 and for the life of me i do not know why???

also people have tagged my panic attacks gif post as two characters ive never heard of, my favorite being cato westbrook because. i mean just look at that name.

its all very amusing. also since you sent two im gonna talk about another thing :)

tw for bones and animal death for this part (its a lil nasty dont traumatize yourself for no reason):

awhile ago my neighbors had a deer carcass in their woods. i fucking love bones and the process of decay, and nearly every day for two or three months i would go out to the carcass and take a photo, slowly watching it be reabsorbed into the earth. IT WAS SO FUCKING COOL. the skeleton, though picked clean, stayed intact for a long time until these necrophilous beetles SWARMED the thing for like two days, and then i came back and all the bones where disconnected. those little guys are so efficient its amazing. a day later the bones where scattered like an animal had rolled in them, which is also really interesting because what is the benefit of rolling around in cleaned bones??? after that (with the neighbors permission) i gathered up all the bones into a bucket and carried them to my garden where they remain!

i am shocked at how small the bones are for how HUGE deer are. like i always underestimate how big a deer is gonna be and always overestimate their bones are. wild

thanks so much for the ask!

#gabbering #bones bones bones!!!

[mistressoffandoms-alt]

I posted 1,967 times in 2022

5 posts created (0%)

1,962 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@fwippedowbit

@griancraft

@wandersong

@anarchy-and-asexuality

@tiefling-queer

I tagged 26 of my posts in 2022

#the scraping sounds as the boat moved across the ground :d - 1 post

#it’s been too long since i’ve seen it - 1 post

#try to drink responsibly to some degree - 1 post

#and then they make out - 1 post

#sometimes if i really don’t like them i’ll block them for good measure - 1 post

#i hate that my brain still tried to press the read more despite knowing that it wasn’t going to work - 1 post

#i miss the roots of forensics in which you analyzed things to determine what poison was used - 1 post

#it’s a bit harder to racially profile the element arsenic - 1 post

#i need to watch mirrormask again - 1 post

#cannibalism tw - 1 post

Longest Tag: 133 characters

#< admittedly that was given to chat because we needed to be able to relate to at least one character and stanley apparently wasn’t it

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Odd things I’ve seen walking off the bus today: a Casio keyboard

0 notes - Posted September 8, 2022

#4

this is bullshit ive slept for like probably 14 hours today and i am still so fucking tired this fucking cold is fucking bullshit my brain is jello and my body feels so achy I want to go back to sleep but I cant because my brain is too wired to sleep but too sleepy to try and catch up on all of the lectures I’m behind on

0 notes - Posted September 7, 2022

#3

Hey @staff

Why did you make it so that longer posts do this on mobile?

How do I change it back?

I just want to read the long posts please

0 notes - Posted April 26, 2022

#2

Hello world

I am not capable of doing things today

Please stop requiring me to do thing today

Please just let me lay in my bed trying to take a nap and failing so as to maintain the slight level of calm that I am currently at

This is greatly appreciated but is also undercut by a continuous current of knowing that at some point someone is going to come up to me and tell me to do things

Which is not appreciated

Because as stated above I am not capable of doing things today

1 note - Posted May 18, 2022 (This is still accurate to this day)

My #1 post of 2022

It’s been a while since I’ve had to use this

1 note - Posted April 26, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[clo-thespin]

tw, talks of past addiction and dissociation

im gonna get really deep.

i am feeling the most intense, sudden crave for alcohol right now. its been a while since ive wanted to drink. i relapsed over xmas break bcuz i had nothing to do and the thought crossed my mind and it sounded fun at the time. it wasnt. it wasnt fun, it wasnt worth it. i broke a lot of my parents trust in me and it kind of ruined the holiday vibe.

but i was putting tags on a post and i went to type "im a little silly" and before i could type silly, one of the suggested tags was "im a little drunk". so, after posting that post, i look up that tag because im curious abt the posts under it.

and the typos, the funny stuff people have typed, i want that. i know that life is much happier to me while im drunk.

when i started reading those posts, i could literally feel the way i get flushed, the way everything's just a little blurry, the way my head spins if i move it, how im a little detached from the world.

i might be dissociating. the feeling of my body when ive dissociated is very similar to the feeling of my body when im on something like alcohol, which is probably why i feel like ive drank something. my hands, that dont feel like mine with how clumsily they are moving around, are warm.

i turned off my music because i was planning on turning a yt video on. but i havent done that yet, so my room is silent minus the sounds of my keyboard. silence scares me but when im in an episode like the one i think i might be in now, the fear is so muted. im scared but for so many other reasons that the silence is pushed back and im not aware of it.

i had to check to see what this post was originally about because i zoned out for so long that i forgot. the craving has gone away and behind all this nothing im feeling is a huge ball of yuck. disgust. towards myself. i know its okay to crave things but i will never stop hating myself for it. it reminds me of all the fucked up shit that i did when i wasnt clean.

im really struggling to stay in the moment and not zone out really bad again. i dont know if im typing things that make sense, im really trying to but i dont feel right. im going to stop typing about this now and try to get back to myself because im scaring myself.

#i hate tagging #tw #drinking #cravings #addiction #dissociation #dissociation tw

[masterfrownn-archive]

A

#listen. im aboutta get real in tbe tags for a bit #mental abuse tw for those who need it please dont read further if youre sensitive to stuff like that #im just so fucking tired of everything that has gone on with my parents and how for so long they had prioritized drugs and their unstable #relationship over their fucking children. my dad has been through several nasty divorces and drugs have been involved with all of them. #it just keeps on getting progressively worse as time goes on and me and my siblings are neglected further and further. ever since i was #little i would often have to call my grandparents to give me basic fucking things like food and stuff bc my dad works shifts and wasnt home #alot while my mom was either asleep or passed out from fucking pills. it is such a horrible thing to be raised around and as ive gotten #older and older the realization that my childhood wasnt *better* i was just unaware of my surroundings just slaps me harder and harder #and my past experiences are nothing compared to what i deal with now. for years my parents have left me to watch their children #while they go out almost everyday to smoke and purchase weed. it isnt even normal weed its this hardcore concentrated shit that fucks with #your brain really badly. it amplifies my dads rage problems and has caused my stepmom to develop bipolar issues and often is subjected to #wierd hallucinations. and the way she handles her problems and shoves her mental issues onto her children isnt good. honestly i could go on #and on abt how unstable my family has been.. but the thing that is causing me to fucking break now is how my stepmoms hallucinations have #gotten so bad that often she will make me and my siblings do wierd things and yell at us for stuff that we didnt even do. its gotten so bad #that me and my siblings often have to come stay at our grandparents for days on end untill our stepmom is *okay* again. abd normally the #next day after or so she will break down again and me and my siblings will go back to our grandparents. its gotten to the point to where i #just. dont wanna go back. im allowed to be myself and laugh and have fun and actually be a fucking kid here and the only thing that makes m #sad when im over there is the thought that i have to leave. my grandparents know my parents are bad and apologize to me alot for what has #happened and the only reason they havent called the cops or child services or something is bc the criminal justice system is a piece of shi #that would probably land us back at my parents. i hate my parents so fucking much and ive had it. i wanna tell them that i hate them and #that i dont wanna come back so bad and honestly i think im on the verge of doing it. it isnt just me that has suffered at the hands of them #all of my siblings have and i cant take it anymore. im sorry for rambling and if youve read this far thank you. i will probably feel better #tomorrow.. i just needed to get this stuff of my chest bc i hardly have the energy to message my friends about this stuff anymore. #dumb

[iwadori]

Hiiii can i request prompt 53 with tsukki? My annoying cousin u may know @chibiiichan(i cant tag her its a surprise) recommend ur account and well she never been right more than now I LIKE UR ACC TOO URM JUST TAG HER IN THE POST (bcs its actually her birthday next week monday so....the least i could do this bcs she likes tsukki and shes recently talk abt the iwazumi story of yours....lmao shes cringe but in the same time got mad n i was besides her hearing her whining like bruh 'its 1 am'...i know i should buy something for her but she got spoiled enough 💅...that mf-) thank you ✨

‘ALWAYS AND FOREVER’

TSUKISHIMA X READER

2K WORDS

GENRE: ANGST,FLUFF

TW: SLIGHT AMBIGIOUS MENTION OF SUICIDE/ASSISTED DEATH, AND DEATH, CURSING (IN MY A/N)

THIS IS FOR @chibiiichann Happy birthday, I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS (BECAUSE I HATE IT :D ) SOOOOO YEAH I HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR BIRTHDAY.

NOT PROOFREAD AT ALL. EXPECT SLIGHT MISTAKES

You were dying. You knew it. Your husband, Kei, knew it. Even friends you haven’t spoken too since high school knew it.

So why did you all pretend that everything was okay?

5 year old Y/N:

You were running around your neighbourhood park chasing after butterflies, without a care in the world. As you were frollicing in the grass, you manage to trip over a rock tumbling to the ground scraping your knee making it bleed. Looking down at your slightly injured knee, your lip begins to quiver which eventually leads to wails of tears streaming down your face.

“you don’t have to cry you know?” said a slightly quiet voice towering over you. Above you was a boy, quite tall with a fat pair of glasses, golden eyes and a head full of blonde locks.

“Well when I get hurt, I cry” you say matter oh factly (is that the phrase?) rubbing your nose as you sniffle. He held out a hand to you, which you immediately took shooting upwards and brushing yourself off.  

The boy, after looking at you wildly, turns around and walks back to the actual park. “Oi wait,” you call at the boy swiftly following him “aren’t you going to ask my name?”

“no.” he says simply, proceeding to walk ahead.

“well my names Y/N L/N pleasure to meet you,” you say jumping in front of him so he doesn’t move, waiting for him to tell you his name...which he doesn’t. “you don’t have to be so rude you know”  

“I’m not being rude” he says stiffly “ it’s just my brother says not to speak to strangers” a smirk appears on his face to say ‘you can leave me alone now.’  

As if on cue, his brother approaches the both of you given the boy a slap on the back making him cringe “Hey Kei, who’s the friend you’ve made here?”  

“My name is Y/N L/N and I'm here to be KEI’s best friend!” you said putting the emphasis on the word Kei after just learning that was the blondes name.  

Kei rolled his eyes and sighed saying “nii-chan can we go home now” he folded his arms in annoyance.

“No Kei, you’ve got to get to know your new found friend Y/N-Chan right?” his brother said teasingly, knowing it was the last thing Kei wanted to do.

“Yes ofcourse!” you say with a toothy grin, dragging Kei along with you to his demise.

Until the sun went down, you spent the rest of your time with Kei getting to know eachother (well him getting to know you more, since you did all the speaking.) Regardless of his previous annoyance in getting to know you in the first place, Kei would be lying if he said he didn’t want to know you now.

As the sun was setting, Kei’s older brother (who’s name you learned was Akiteru) called him to tell him he had to go home because dinner was ready. Before he left, you grabbed his hand and wrapped your pinky finger around his saying “As long as we shall live, we will always look out for eachother as we are forever bestfriends, agreed?”

back to present -  

In some odd way, this was Kei’s way of looking out for you. He knew what you had was uncurable and would weaken you even more as the days go by, so pretending like nothing was wrong seemed to be best in his eyes.  

Everything you and Kei did was a game or some nostalgic act that you once did when you were children. It was sweet to say the least, seeing Kei all engrossed and determined to make you happy.  

Your alarm rings snapping you out of you daydream, ‘it was time for medicine’ you thought with your face scowling at the thought. Immediately on time, as always, Kei comes In the room with all your medicine thats needed.

“Aren’t you my perfect little nurse Kei” you say teasingly giving him a wink, laughing as you see his face turn red.

“Do you have to do this every time y/n?” he asks rolling his eyes at your childish behaviour.

“Oh I'm just showing love to my best and favourite nurse” you continue laughing at your own words

“Im your only ‘nurse’” he deadpans giving you your medicine as you talk.

“Well that is more reason to make you the best nurse.” you say smiling.

Silence falls between you, and you stare down at your arm watching as your husband gives you the medicine making you frown. “Do we have to keep doing this?” you ask which is probably the 1000th time you’ve asked.

“Of course we do Y/N as I’ve said yesterday and the day before that and the day before that it-”

“But do we really?” you interrupt “I can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep doing this.”

“Do you doubt me Y/N, I can do this forever” he says “ I can take care of you forever”

“But I don’t wan-”

“I’m finished, I’m going to start on dinner” he gets up and leaves the room yelling “I’ll call you when it’s done.”

Sometimes you and Kei have these conversations. And all the time it ends the same way. You complain, he ignores and then you go and have dinner.

You can understand why he doesn’t want to have this conversation. Who would want to hear about their partners complaints about practically being alive. Kei was torn, ever since he met you all he wanted to was to keep you happy. But could he compromise his own happiness for it.

15 year old Y/N - flashback

“Kei Kei, aren’t you excited!” you yell smiling widley

“Excited for what?” he asks, amused by your enthusiasm “it’s just highschool.”

“Well it’s a new highschool! Karasuno high school, to be exact.”

“And that is still just a school.” he says

“Not just any! That’s the school nii-chan went too, and even tho he lie-”

“Let’s not talk about it Y/N” he murmurs “we should go now, don’t want to be late on our first date.”

Going to Karasuno was fun, at the start everyone was pleasant and nice. But after a week or two when you and Kei were still stuck to eachother like glue, people weren’t so pleasant. Kei was like a pop idol, being gorgeous and over 6ft at just the age of 15, caused alot of attention, especially when he was always around you.

At the start, the hate you got was bearable, it was the petty bitchy notes in your locker or just people blatanly talking badly about you infront of you. People didn’t do it when you weren’t around Kei, so when he had volleyball practice (which you were so excited that he joined the team) you were a big target for the bullies to come around.

Kei didn’t really know of the bullying that happened towards you, especially since he was mainly in practice or not around when it happened. But one day in practice he heard some of his teammates, kageyama and hinata who seemed to talking about a student in one of their classes that was always getting picked on by the other girls in the year.

“Yeah and I heard that Nana-san was planning on getting her and her friends to attack Y/N-san soon.”  said Hinata

“Shrimpy, who are they planning on attacking?” Kei asks to make sure he just heard the ginger correctly.

“Oh this lovely person in our class their name is Y/N-san” he says, looking at Kei’s reaction he also asks “Why? Do you know them?”  

Kei doesn’t respond, and immediately leaves the gym, ignoring Hinata’s and the other members of the teams yells of ‘Where are you going tsukishima.’ He didn’t care, he just had to get to you.  

He searched all the classes, asking every student if he knew where you were. Someone directs him to the toilets, where he burst through the door to see the other girls in your year surrounding you and beating you up.  

“What the fuck are you doing to them?” he yells startling the girls.

“T-T-Tsukishima-san" one girl says “It’s not what it looks like.”

“Oh fuck off” he says, with them still frozen in shock “I said go!”  

“And don’t think I don’t know your names either” he calls after them.

He rushes towards your bruised body on the ground and cradles you gently, confused on what to really do. “Oi Kei,” you say weakly catching his attention “I would’ve won if you didn’t come to stop the fight.” you joke making him scoff.

“Whatever you say Y/N.”

After you heal up, Kei already told on the girls that beat you up getting them suspended, and you explain how they were treating you because of their infatuation of him. And how they only did it when he wasn’t around.

Once he learns this information, he decides to quite the volleyball team, to your surprise. But you demands on making him not quit were ignored, as he excused it by saying “I have to make sure you’re always alright remember, and if that means quitting some volleyball team then so be it.”

That was one out of the many times that Kei put his happiness before yours.

Flashback over.

When you first got diagnosed, Kei was immediately researching on it as it was a very rare condition. But sadly, he only found what the doctor already told you both. It was uncurable and your immune system and your body will weaken as the days go by.

Which it did, you were a shell of your past self. It was always shocking for Kei to see, especially with you only being 25. ‘It wasn’t supposed to be this way,’ but he never let you see his sadness.

Whenever you knew Kei was sad you always reminded him “Kei, I may be dying but please don’t cry over me” every time you said, there was a slight undertone of humour in your voice which always worked in boosting Kei’s spirit.

AN: IVE GOTTEN TO THE POINT WHERE I HATE THIS SOOO IM SORRY IN ADVANCE FOR THE SHITTING RUSHED ENDING IM GOING TO PROVIDE FOR YOU LOL.

The days passed and the years went by, and you and Kei were still alive and kicking it. Doing your daily routine of you making some joke, Kei giving you your medicine and then you eating dinner. You eventually stopped complaining, realizing and remembering your promise you gave to Kei at 5 years old in that park. “As long as we shall live, we will always look out for eachother as we are forever bestfriends, agreed?”

Of course you had your rough days, everybody did and it was even harder being sick with a terminal illness. But having Kei to guide you through the storm made It better for you.

However, Kei isnt a miracle worker. He couldn’t save you, noone could. And you both knew that. That didn’t mean it made it any easier when the medicine stopped working and your pain got too hard to bear. Kei couldn’t watch you do this anymore, “the choice is yours” he said with tears in his eyes.  

So you knew what you had to do, you got in your bed pulling Kei with you, and letting him envelope you in a big hug as you both cried.

“I love you,” you say “You know that right?”

“Of course I know that, idiot” he replies “And I love you.”

“Always and forever?”

“Always and forever.”

AN: how did I END UP CRYING WHILST WRITING THIS WHEN IT MADE NO FUCKING SENSE, I WAS TRYING TO DO THIS COOL NOTEBOOK (I HAVENT EVEN WATCHED THE NOTEBOOK) ENDING WHERE ITS AMBIGIOUS AND SHIT AND I JUST GIVE UP OKAY? I APOLOGISE LOOOOOOL. I HOPE YOU ENJOY ATLEAST A SENTENCE OF THIS AT LEAST.

#haikyuu x reader comfort #haikyu angst #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyu scenarios #haikyu headcanons #haikyu #tsukishima kei #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima angst #tsukishima x reader

[ad1thi]

top 5 fanworks of 2020

rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

tagged by: @iam93percentstardust, @omg-just-peachy

rated in order of least to most favourite: 

1.  a helping hand - buckytony, mcu, established relationship, 1k, K+

Bucky wants to shave his beard. Tony helps.

i really enjoy the intimacy involved in acts of service, and there’s always something so small and treasured about shaving,,,the trust involved in letting someone that close to your face with a knife, the intimacy in being no more than a couple of breaths away from each other, the faith that the other person won’t fuck up your face by giving you a weird shave -- i just love the layers to shaving someone else,,,and i just had to make it buckytony. this is a really short fic (as most of my fics are) but i really love it

2. broken pieces (me and you) fit together perfectly - samrhodey, mcu, developing relationship, post IW, 1.5k, K+

After Thanos, after the Snap, after Sam loses everything familiar, he finds Jim.

//

AU-gust Day 5: Post Apocalyptic AU

i really enjoy samrhodey, i really enjoy the idea of Rhodey only being a couple year’s ahead of Sam and Sam having a big crush on him, i really like the idea of both of them bonding when they join the Avengers post AoU, i really like the idea of this simple, easy relationship developing between them in this very soft and understated way, but ive never actually written them before this fic - which is why im so proud of this fic, because i like the story ive weaved here

3. princely duties - thortony, mcu, asgardian tony AU, meet cute, 1.6k, K+

Thor Odinson, Crown Prince of the Realm of Asgard, Brother of Loki the Silvertongue, son to Frigga the Kind and Odin the Great, was known for a great many things.

He was known for his great looming stature, stranding tall and proud even for an Asgardian, with muscles that rippled and tensed as he walked. He was known for his illustrious hair, a thick blond mane that he'd taken a vow to never cut, braided and cascading down his shoulders in thick waves. He was known for his might on the battlefield, for the terror he struck through the heart of his enemies when he called lighting itself down to rain fire on those who dared oppose him.

He was known for being a gentle prince, for always having an ear open and the time for a pitcher of ale. He was known for the bond he had with his brother Loki - how the two of them had curled around each other at birth, his tiny fist clenched around his brother's equally tiny pinky, and never let go.

But more than any of that, Thor Odinson was known for never taking a Consort, in all his years.

//

AU-gust Day 9: Royalty AU

Ostensibly, this is a thortony fic, but i really like this fic because of the relationship i wrote for Thor and Loki. i do hope to continue this some day, to expand this verse into a couple of related one shots that show Thor and Tony’s relationship overtime, and develop more on Thor and Loki as brothers because i think we were really robbed of that in the mcu - but this is one of my better AU-gust fills, for sure

4. the things we tell ourselves in the dark - stevetony, emh, skrulls, angst, 1.1k, K

“Still,” he turns away from Tony, because he doesn’t want to hurt him, but if he doesn’t get this out, it might eat him alive, “I was with them for months Tony. Months. How did you not notice? How did you not know it wasn't me?”

this is one of the few stevetony fics ive written all year, because ive sort of fallen out of love with the ship but emh brought it back in full force. i wrote this entire fic in 20 minutes literally the second i finished the Secret Invasion episode because there was such delicious angst and it begged to be written, and im so happy with how this turned out. i personally, am always quite worried that characters sometimes sound OOC in my fics, but i definitely didn’t have that issue with this fic, and i just really enjoyed writing it

5. 1000 lives (for you) - buckytony, mcu, soulmates AU, tws compliant, 14.7k, T

On the 10th of December 1991, the Asset is taken out of cyro, and there is a name on his right wrist.

On the 16th of December 1991, he is sent out to shoot the tyre of a car, and then kill the man and woman inside.

When he returns to base, there is a boy, no older than 17, chained to the wall of his room, shivering and bravely fighting back tears.

It does not occur to the Asset until much later than these two events are connected.

//

AU-gust Day 3: Soulmates AU

this is currently my largest fic till date, and it is such a labour of love. i don’t think ive ever worked this hard, or this long on a fic, and it’s definitely the fic i am the most proud of from 2020. im having so much fun writing this, and im really hoping that everybody reading this is really enjoying it too because i have so many ideas for this verse and it’s possibly one of my favourite things ive written ever -- not just this year

+

Bonus: the morning after - mcdanno, hawaii 5 o, established relationship, 1k, T

“I know I say this a lot,” Danny’s voice is still gruff with sleep, and he peers at Steve with one eye, as if opening both is too bright for him. He’s half twisted so he can face Steve, and the show of flexibility isn’t helping with Steve’s mission to keep things PG-13, “but today - you are literally a pain in my ass.”

i very recently got into hawaii 5 o, but i truly love these idiots with all my heart and soul, and it’s been so long since i immersed myself in a new fandom or wrote for any other characters, so i wanted to celebrate that by choosing my favourite h5o fic from this year. the thing about mcdanno is that they really do write themselves, and there’s so much potential with them that a lot of what i write is stuff you can truly imagine just happens off screen on the show. anyway, Danny is always calling Steve a pain in his ass, and i just thought it would be funny if Steve was literally a pain in this ass, and then this small one shot happened

//

those are my top 5 fanworks of 2020!! tagging @deathsweetqueen, @diazalex, @rhodee, @aleator, @starklysteve and as always, anybody else who feels like doing this!!

#tumblr tagged memes #my writing #buckytony #samrhodey #stevetony #thortony #mcdanno

[mother-snake]

cut you a piece

(oh boy! its been a hot second since ive posted a story... hope you enjoy! tell me if i need to tag somthing!)

tags: @idkanameatall warnings: angst, majour carachter death. tw self hurt, tw soup of slide. adult language words: 7488

-why was janus the way he is... and what can happen when you lose everything youve ever known.-

Janus, he was fucked up, and Romulus he was pureless. So of course they fell in love.

Self-preservation smiled as he sat next to Romulus. The two had known each other for around a week. Both of them had hit it off almost immediately. both of them not liked by the others. but they were okay with that, after all they had each other.

They were sitting there next to one another. Romulus was drawing something that had happened in the imagination. self-preservation was scribbling down names on a sheet of paper. He was yet to find one that he liked. It was difficult.

He let out a small sigh as he looked down at the note book that seemed filled with different names. None of them seemed right. he crossed out the ones that seemed to plain. The ones that were hard to pronounce.

“hey! Are you alright?” Romulus asked his friend.

Said side blinked. He hadn’t realised he had begun to cry. “I’m fine,” he said as he rubbed the tears out of his eyes.

Romulus picked up the book and read some of the names. A small grin on his face as he kept reading. “what about Janus?” he said finally as he put down the notebook in his lap. “that’s a girl’s name though,” self-preservation pouted. “no! j-a-n-u-s. as in the god of half-truths!” he cheered at the scaled side.

He pondered this name for a couple seconds. Slowly a warm smile lit up his face as he looked at Romulus. The smile becoming infectious along with the happiness rolling of him. “okay then! Janus it is,” he said with a wide smile, “don’t tell the others though. Shh!” whispered. “okay,” Romulus whispered back.

Both of them giggled as they leaned their heads on one another. both of them completely content with what little they had.

Because to them…each other was enough.

Romulus let Janus know what was wrong with him. And Janus stopped using, and binging, and pissing his whole life away.

Romulus wasn’t happy with any of the sides. When he got the chance, he would bash them over the head with his shield.

Why? I hear you asking. Right now, Janus was crying into his shoulder. Tears set off by their reaction to what he had hoped to never happen.

His once bleach white scales had changed to what he considered a pretty yellow. Sunflower yellow. he held his Janus close. The two of them had been dating since Janus’s second month of creation. Both of them had never gone anywhere without the other nearby.

Not that either minded. They actually found peace in knowing where the other was in these times.

“Janus? Its okay, you’re okay… they can’t hurt you as long as I’m here. Okay?” “I know…” he got in response as Janus sniffed.

He looked up to Romulus with red puffy eyes. The anger in Romulus’s stomach swelled. “let’s give them a visit, shall we my sunflower?” Romulus said slyly as he held out his arm.

Janus let out a small laugh and looped his arm around Romulus’s. said side pulled the other closer. “no, I wouldn’t like that,” he smiled widely.

But before they could get to the door there was a sharp knock at the door of creativity’s door. They looked at one another before Romulus ushered Janus behind himself.

“Romulus? De- self-preservation?” oh morality. “we need you guys quick! There’s a new side here!” he yelled, his voice both a mix of concern and excitement.

They looked between one another. There hadn’t been a new side since Janus appeared. And that had been apparently very unexpected.

Both of them ran next to each other as the door burst open. Romulus mildly confused on how Janus could run so easily in heel shoes. Janus was just focused on the fact there was a side with the light sides.

Scared that he would be treated the same way he and Romulus were. when they arrived, they stopped and stared at the side that hissed at logic like a cat. “I’m sorry, did you just hiss at me?” logic asked looking flabbergasted at the new side.

A wide smile grew on Janus’s face as he let out his own hiss. Grabbing the attention of the new side. the small child looked up to Janus who gave another small hiss. a hiss this time was directed at him. This one wasn’t as animalistic. But more friendly.

Janus and Romulus nodded to one another and held out their hands. the small child ran into their arms. “welcome to our dysfunctional family,” Janus mumbled as he hugged the smaller form.

And Janus told Romulus he'd die for him, Which looking back, was the right thing to say.

Janus sat there listening to music blaring from cautions room. Him and the newest addition, wrath, had gotten into another argument and it wasn’t pretty. He had witnessed the end of it.

He was positioned at the side of Virgil’s door. Waiting for the other to calm down. He hoped they would. “hey, you okay there?” Romulus asked.

Janus let out a sigh, “I’m alright. Just waiting for the two small hatchlings to calm down. It may take a while by the sounds of it,” he chuckled. “I think Thomas starting high school is getting the best of them.” He said.

“yeah… I can tell,” Romulus said, hiding his hand in his pocket; He could tell the other later. Romulus smiled and kissed his cobra on the head before turning around. “hey, Romulus? Id cut you a piece of me,” he said slowly, almost singing. “what?” “id cut you a piece of me, and where you go, I will go too. Yes… I’m now a part of you,” he smiled. Romulus felt tears pouring out of his eyes as he surged forwards and hugged Janus tightly around the shoulders. “how long?” Janus muttered into his shoulder. “a couple years at best. But no longer I’m afraid…” he muttered into Janus’s shoulder.

They didn’t do anything but hold each other. Romulus knew lying to his queen wouldn’t work. It never did. And as self-preservation. Something like this was bound to become loose. With or without him saying anything.

“I am now a part of you,” Romulus muttered.

I cut you a piece of me, I cut you a piece of me. And where you go, I will go too. Yes, I am now a part of you

They laughed as they sat around the screen. A movie had been chosen by Patton. but one was caught up in their thoughts. Not much had changed since everyone had found out that Romulus wouldn’t be around for long. and that made Janus feel things he didn’t want to feel. He tried his best to repress everything he was feeling. He knew it was causing him harm.

He found himself snapping at the kids and others more. he was scared. He was going to lose his best friend. Nothing else seemed to matter more at that moment.

“hey, sunflower,” Romulus said calmly as he wrapped an arm around Janus. Janus felt himself sobbing as his lover held him close. He buried his head in his chest. this had been the first time any of the others had seen Janus cry in front of them.

Romulus held Janus close. He was the only one who knew that this was almost a daily occurrence now. He didn’t want to leave his queen behind. If he could stop what was happening. He would. But there was very little in his power

Romulus pulled Janus closer. He wouldn’t leave Janus like this. He wanted to go out with a bang. And that’s exactly what he would do. “marry me,” he said as Janus slowly began to calm down. “what?” Janus asked shocked. “marry me,” Romulus said again, “I’ll be honest I would have waited till Thomas left high school. But with things going on now. Now is never a better time- “ “yes…” Janus said before wrapping his arms around Romulus’s neck ad pulling him close and into a kiss.

The lights looked at the two love birds wondering how they could have been so cruel to the both of them for so long…

Caution and wrath cheered at the scene in front of them. God, they had been close to forcing the two turtle doves to marry. They were perfect for one another.

But perfection doesn’t last. that was something they learned the hard way…

Janus and his romulus, got married in his temple, Cause they calculated,

The wedding was by no means small. they had it in the imagination. Something that had been a surprise when Romulus had offered to have it there.

It seemed everyone in the imagination knew of the event. and as soon as he had entered it seemed as if everyone knew who he was. the whispers of him becoming Romulus’s second hand was a surprise. But he guessed that was understandable with Remus being king creativity.

Laughter rung in the air as people danced and children played. Each person swelled with so much joy and happiness that their king had found someone to stay at his side. if only they knew…

Janus and Romulus sat on chairs at the very front of the castle. The party being outside to make room for everyone there.

“thank you,” a young boy whispered to Janus as Romulus stood up to talk to someone. “may I ask what for?” he said slyly getting a smile out of the young boy. “for making the king so happy!” he cheered. “I should be thanking him for making me so happy,” Janus said, “I don’t know where I’d be without my king,” he chuckled as he ruffled the young boys hair.

“would you care for a dance?” the young boys eyes lit up like stars and he almost dragged Janus by the arm and into the crowd.

Romulus spotted him from the crowd and let out a hearty laugh as he spotted his sunflower. Giving and encouraging wink. Janus stuck out his tongue in response.

The people around laughed as they watched their two rulers, their hearts warming knowing that the kingdom was in safe hands.

But… alas… time was slowly running out.

That Jules was more Jewish than Jessie was Catholic. Jules mother was pleased.

Janus knew that Romulus was slowly becoming weaker. Spending more time in his room than anywhere else. the two spent the winter curled up around one another. Glued to each other’s side. Christmas had been an event and a half. With Janus and Romulus teaming up and decimating the others in a snowball fight. Janus ended up getting a cold that very afternoon. But he was okay with that.

Valentines day had been spent handing roses to the people of Romulus and now Janus’s kingdom. hand in hand they had become something that neither thought could happen.

And then it began… his hair had slowly begun to turn grey… it was small at first. Just small strands here and there. He also found himself struggling to pick up heavy things that he could have picked up easily before.

Janus found himself glued to Romulus. then one day they found themselves wondering the streets of the city. People smiled and waved at the two of them happily. Greetings were shared and smiles returned.

It had been a perfect day so far. The sun was blazing down on Janus. Warming his scales perfectly. His cold bloodedness often caused him issues.

then everything seemed to go slow motion.

“hey… sweetheart… why is everything spinning?” he muttered. “my king nothing- Romulus!” he yelled as he caught his lover as his knees buckled and gave out below him.

He felt his breathing picking up as he laid Romulus gently to the ground. Everything else was forgotten.

Black streaks rose from his neck. Half of his right cheek was covered in the almost inky looking patches. Janus was panicking internally. But keeping as calm as possible on the outside. “come on sweetie… you’re going to be okay… let’s get back to the castle…” no one around said a thing. everyone worried for their king and queen who had only been married for five months.

Janus knew time was running short. He just didn’t know how short it would be.

Married six months, when on route 87, Janus turned quickly,

Janus didn’t leave Romulus’s room unless necessary. Virgil and Orpheus bringing him meals as he sat by his lovers’ side. His face now almost completely covered in the blackness that seemed to make him look like a void.

Janus hadn’t spoken very much. Romulus had looked at Janus with so much joy every time he woke up. small snippets of his memory disappearing daily. but never forgetting Janus. It seemed like him mind couldn’t forget him. And he was fine with that. It would be nice to remember his lover at his final moments.

Janus had been startled out of his thoughts when Romulus reached a hand out and nudged Janus. “yes Romulus?” “can I see them? One last time?” he asked his eyes weak and barely focusing. “…okay…” Janus said, trying to keep himself together.

He scooped Romulus up into his arms. It scared him how light his king was. he looked over to the face of Romulus that was almost hidden by his growing hair that was so dark now it almost matched his skin.

“let’s go, my love.”

In a beaten mitsubishi, killed romulus in a crash. A marriage begun and ended,

He walked through the streets. Barely keeping himself together as silent tears poured down his face.

The people moved out of their way, bowing their own heads. Tears streaking down their faces as they looked on in mourning.

When they arrived at the main balcony of the castle, facing where the sun had always set. and there it was, going down over head.

Romulus had his head in Janus’s lap. A weak smile on his face as he looked at the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. “I cut you a piece of me…” he sung. “Romulus?” Janus’s voiced cracked. “I cut you a piece of me… and where you go, I will go too. Yes… I’m now a part of you,” he sung weakly. “I’m now a part of you.  From now on I’m half a soul, without you I can't be whole, “Janus sung back. tears pouring out of his eyes. “oh you are the start of me…”

Romulus smiled as he looked at the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. His sunflower looking at him with a simile and love in his eyes. “goodbye my queen,” he whispered. “goodbye my king,” Janus choked out.

Janus cried out loudly in pain as he felt Romulus go limp in his arms. Wails of despair filled the air. the people below heard the cries of sorrow and tried to block out the gut-wrenching noise that seemed to cause everyone else to cry for the loss of their young king.

Everyone lined the streets. Holding red and green lanterns in their hands before sending them to the sky. Each one holding a small message written on the inside. Hoping that maybe it would reach their king.

Janus saw the lanterns flood the skies and smiled ever so slightly. He wouldn’t be alone. He had everyone here… but. No… he wouldn’t. no. he couldn’t return.

Romulus had long since faded. Leaving only his cloak and crown behind. a warm smile on Janus’s face. he had left his cape behind. He had always been forgetful.

He flung the caplet over his shoulders and stood up removing the crown that rested on his brow and placed it next to Romulus’s.

“goodbye my love… perhaps we may meet again in another life…”

With broken glass. His life was scattered, and soon was her ash

Janus looked dead. That was the first thing Virgil realised when Janus left Romulus’s room.

Virgil still couldn’t help but ask, “how is he?” Janus couldn’t look Virgil in the eyes, “he’s in a better place now,” he said weakly. Virgil surged forwards within seconds. Wrapping his arms around his pops. He himself didn’t know how to feel. He had never been overly close to Romulus like self-preservation had.

But he knew now more than ever that he was needed. And he swore to himself that in that moment. He would stay and protect his pops from anything that would come their way. “come, would you like me to tell the others?” Virgil asked.

Janus could only nod. Not trusting himself to say the wrong thing. it was then that he realised that Janus was waring Romulus’s cape. Heh. His dad had always been forgetful. But a small part of him knew that it had been deliberate.

The walk seemed daunting to Janus. This was one of the few times he had been anywhere without Romulus by his side. but now? There would be no one. Just himself it seemed despite the fact he knew he had his children by his side.

He felt the silent tears pour down his face. but he didn’t care.

Then he heard laughter. Virgil gave a small smile and walked ahead of his father.

There at the living room table was Logan, Patton and Orpheus. All eyes turned to the two of them. “how is he?” Patton asked.

Janus felt himself shaking as he pulled the caplet closer. Had the mind palace always been this cold?

“he…” Virgil began, “he passed away.” no one said a thing. As there was nothing to say… Patton felt something in his chest tighten. He could feel the amount og grievance coming of Janus. He was surprised the other was holding himself together. Logan… well. He didn’t know what to do. There was no logical way to help Janus unless he could find a way to bring Romulus back. Orpheus stared at Janus. Stared at his pops who was now widowed. He knew this would be a hard take on everyone. But this would be devastating on Janus’s behalf.

The silence stretched onwards. No one could say anything it seemed. but Janus couldn’t take it anymore. The silane wasn’t something he was used to. So, he took a couple steps away from the group, turned around and bolted to his room. The cries of everyone behind him were ignored as he closed his door.

He locked it and felt himself sink to the ground. his eyes darted around his room. He wanted to be safe. He didn’t like the cold he was feeling. He wanted to be held and have someone at his side.

He laid down on his bed, ignoring the pounding that came from outside the door and slipped under the covers. Holding the caplet as close to himself as possible. maybe if he had waited another couple hour’s, he would have met the two new sides… but, right now. Weather he knew it or not. He needed the sleep. and for the first time in forever he fell asleep, exhausted from crying. But that was okay… he would get used to the empty feeling eventually.

He may have wanted Romulus… but he knew he wasn’t coming back.

I cut you a piece of me, I cut you a piece of me. And where you go, I will go too. I lost my life when I lost you.

It had been a month. Janus barely spoke. But when he did it was always in lies. he had made them forget. He had made them believe that the twins had been there the whole time. He felt like he had betrayed Romulus. but it was for the best.

“hello my dear snake face!” creativity one cheered as he saw Janus walking to the kitchen. Janus let out a wince. He hated it when jabs were sent to his scales. “what don’t you want creativity?” he glowered. “come now, why do you refuse my name?” creativity said. Janus couldn’t respond but kept walking. Trying his best to ignore the other side. Janus froze as creativity 1 kept taking, “listen. Can you just not leave me alone. I don’t need my space,” he snapped at the red sashed side.

Roman seemed taken back by the words but his features softened, “very well my dear snake, I bid you farewell!” and as quickly as he was there. he was gone.

Janus sighed as he made his way down the quiet hallway. He knew that the others were trying to give him space, not knowing anymore why his mood had shifted so dramatically. from happy to so sad that Patton could barely spend five minuets in the same room as him before he accidentally starts to cry from the overwhelming sadness coming from him.

He looked blankly onwards towards the kitchen. He was after another bottle of wine. It helped numb the pain. he knew Romulus would have slapped him on the head by now and told him to tone it down with the spicy grape juice. But… well. He wasn’t.

And things hadn’t been going well to put it simply. ever since the twins arrived. he knew it was only a matter of time before the place split into two. And he knew that when it happened things would only get more difficult. Especially if he was stuck with one of the twins.

Don’t get him wrong. He loved the two to pieces. But it hurt to see them every day. So much of Romulus was in them it hurt to look at. roman had Romulus’s eyes and Remus had his chaotic personality.

Maybe if they hadn’t reminded him so much of his lost love, he would not need to cry himself to sleep, or hold up the illusion that he was okay. but he needed to stay strong. That was a fact he needed to keep up.

However, things wouldn’t be so normal anymore. Not after today. he was aware of yelling coming from the Livingroom. the same direction roman had gone in. but he didn’t think much of it…  that was until he entered the room however and froze. Orpheus was yelling at roman who looked ready to rip his head off.

“so what? At least he cares about us!” Orpheus yelled. “deceit is nothing but a lair and you know it!” roman yelled back, “he’s plotting something against us all. Why else the sudden mood shift?”

Janus stared at roman from his spot by the door. His chest aching from the words that had fallen from his mouth.

Then he felt nothing. Just an empty place where everything other emotion should have been. he stared blankly in his direction. “don’t worry creativity. You won’t be seeing much of me for a long time,” he said sharply before turning around and walking away.

Roman said nothing in response. Instead just looked at the spot where the side had been.

Orpheus shoved roman to the floor and spat next to him. “if you come near any of us again. I WILL put your head on a pike,”

That was the last time for years that he would see either side. and dinner that day would be the last time he would see Virgil and his brother. both deciding that it wasn’t worth staying with people who didn’t care.

And thus, the divide happened. No one would realise until the morning. With a single door cutting both sides away from each other.

Yeah you loved someone so much. That to lose them is to never recover,

It had been a month. Virgil, Remus and Orpheus were gathered in the Livingroom on the floor playing monopoly. No one seemed to be close to winning. Each side cheating in their own way.

Janus sat on the couch with a glass of wine. He watched blankly. Not saying a single word. He hadn’t spoken since roman had taken the major jab at him.

He glared at the cup in hand. He hated repressing his feelings. And normally wine would work… but he guesses his tolerance had built up greatly.

He let out a sigh and drooped his shoulders. He closed his eyes and felt the cold wave wash over him. Then there was nothing inside of him. He opened his eyes and looked over to the dark sides who glanced over at him. they knew what he had just done. But they had stopped trying to stop him a long time ago.

“still don’t know why you enjoy repressing your feelings,” Remus said, “repression never works,” “I know…” Janus whispered back. the entire mini group froze, their eyes snapping to Janus. “I just need to feel numb sometimes… its better than feeling what I feel…” he said as he looked at them.

It felt like the first time they had seen him properly since the door was put in place. his eyes looked almost dead. His once pale yellow scaled had become a dirty gold, pecks of brown mixed in.

He let out a short sigh before standing up and walking away. A hand rested itself upon his shoulder but he simply shrugged it off and continued on his way. he had work to get done. God knows what the light sides were getting Thomas to do.

Virgil looked at Janus as he left the room with wide eyes. Janus’s cold emotionless gaze imprinted in his mind. he wanted to know what had happened to his pops over the past six months. He had changed…he had changed so much and it scared him.

Remus looked at where Janus was and glanced down at his hands. had it been his fault Janus was like this? Did he himself do something or was it something worse?

Orpheus couldn’t look in their direction. He hated being able to do nothing. Especially when his pops was in such a state. It sent spikes into his heart. Yeah, he knew what it was like to have emotions you didn’t want. It sucked.

But at least all three of them would be there to help him.

You've given part of your being to them and when they Go, you can never have it back you can never have it back.

Janus was starting to panic. And that was an understatement. Ever since Virgil had revealed himself, he was slowly spending more time with the light sides. It had gotten to the point where Janus was only seeing him early in the mornings or late at night.

Every time they talked it always ended with an argument. Orpheus or Remus would have to break them up sometimes.

That’s how Janus found himself. Cradling himself in his bed. Wrapped in his blanket. Tears pouring down his face as his right eye was closed shut. An ice pack held closely to his eye. it was black and purple. Punched by someone with pure anger.

Orpheus had sided with Virgil. And he would be lying if he said he didn’t feel so lonely. It felt like that day all over again. Maybe the pain came from the fact it was supposed to be Romulus’s birthday today.

Maybe that’s why he snapped at the both of them. He regretted everything that had slipped out of his mouth during their yelling match.

His eyes glanced over to the bowler hat sat at the table.

“eh, hats aren’t really my thing you see,” Romulus said as he looked at Janus. “but why are you giving it to me of all people?” Janus asked curiously looking at a blushing Romulus. “its been a year since we’ve known each other. I thought it would be nice to get you something.” “but… I didn’t get you anything!” Janus said woefully. “I’ve got you! that’s all I need!” Romulus said as he playfully punched Janus’s arm.

Janus looked away and stared at the grey sheets covering him. Wincing as the ice pack sent spikes of pain into his injury.

God, what would Romulus say if he were here… he wondered who’s side he would take.

Three small knocks sounded from his door. “come in,” he said smally.

The door creaked open to reveal a rather shy Remus. Janus felt a wave of guilt spread through his soul. The poor thing never knew what to do in these kinds of situations. “come here,” he muttered as he patted the space next to him.

Remus gave a smile and made his way over. Tucking himself next to Janus. The scaled side wrapped an arm around the smaller side, holding him close. “deceit?” Remus said. “mph,” he hummed back. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Janus glanced to Remus with a raised eyebrow. “I’m sorry. I know you’re going through a difficult patch right now… I can feel your destructiveness coming of you. I don’t know why you’re like this. But if ever you need to talk… I’m here. Even if I can be fucking weird about it.”

Janus felt the tears beginning to fall once again. at least he still had Remus he guessed. “Janus,” he whispered as he looked to a rather shocked Remus. “what?” “my name… its Janus.”

Remus looked at Janus with wide eyes. He had never known his name. he was pretty sure no one knew his name until this second. “you can’t tell the others. please,” Janus said. “I promise,” Remus said with a sharp nod.

The two stayed like that for what felt like forever until Janus fell asleep in Remus’s embrace. the intrusive side was almost surprised to see Janus looking so peaceful as he slept.

Had this really been how he had once been? His memory was blurry. Not all there, and sometimes he could swear he didn’t do half the things his mind had told him he did.

And for some reason. He felt like he had never seen… Janus… so calm. So… dare he say; peaceful.

 I haven't thought of Jules, or Jessie, Or their story in the better part of a year.

Janus was slumped against the wall as he stared at where Virgil and Orpheus’s doors should have been. An empty bottle of wine sat by his side. god… he really was a fuck up. wasn’t he? He couldn’t keep himself in check. Relying on numbing himself with drink or his own power.

“hey… you okay there?” Remus asked Janus. a memory struck him sharply in the chest. why did he have to look so much like Romulus?!

He turned his head back to the wall. Glaring at where the door should have been. he didn’t want to have any memories right now. It would only cause him to cry once again. It seemed to be the only thing he had done for the past week. Waiting and praying that his children would come back…

But he knew that it wouldn’t happen. He had lost almost everything… Romulus…Orpheus…Virgil…his happiness… his love for things…his ability to feel.

The last thing he had was Remus. And that felt like its own personal hell. Don get him wrong. He had grown to love the side like his own child. But when he looks at him now? All he sees Is a young Romulus with a moustache.

He couldn’t look at him anymore. He couldn’t feel anymore. He didn’t want to continue like this… “don’t think like that,” Remus growled, snapping Janus out of his own mind. “you’re supposed to be self-preservation correct? Then help Thomas. Get out of the shadows you’ve trapped yourself in. or at least find a healthier distraction. For god’s sake, go and piss off my brother!” Remus yelled hysterically. “fucking get of the floor and tell me how to help you!”

Janus stared at Remus. Help Thomas? Would it really be a good idea… unless… “I have an idea? But I need your help,” Janus said.

A small spark lighting up in his eyes. Remus grinned as he looked at the deceitful side. He didn’t think he had seen the side looking almost excited about anything.

“what do you need?” “morality’s old outfit. If Thomas really wants to make a fool of himself, I would know… lets sort that out.”

Remus held out a hand and Janus took it. “well, for starters… his name is Patton. Logic is Logan as well. You ought to know that if you’re going to get away with this…”

Yeah… he didn’t need much. but Remus was enough for now. And that was okay.

But warming your hands in mine fills me with terror, That I will lose you, today, or tomorrow, in two years, or seventy.

Janus was beyond frustrated. What would it take for them to listen to him!? he had been trying his best to get the others to finally listen to him. God damn it he even tried his own way at the court room to get their host to listen to him. But of course, he was the villain. He was always the fucking villain.

“hey Janus guess what I found-“Remus said as he skipped into his room before freezing.

He had spent the past couple hours in the imagination. So, it was only reasonable that he wouldn’t know what was happening. That didn’t stop him from worrying and rushing over.

“sorry, I shouldn’t be crying over something like this…” “don’t apologise for having fucking feelings,” Remus said as he patted Janus’s shoulder.

They sat quietly next to each other. Neither said anything or a while. Just basking in each other’s company.

It was reaching the half an hour mark when Janus remembered. “why where you here again?” “oh right!” Remus grinned before reaching into his leather bag. Janus would never nor would he want to know what that bag was made of… that didn’t stop him from having suspicions though. “here they are!”

Janus felt himself lose his breath. “I found them in the ruins of some old castle, pretty cool right?”

Two matching silver crowns laid in Remus’s lap. One imprinted with a sword and shield. The other with his own symbol. The snake’s eyes however being a single ruby and emerald. “I guess you have questions?” Janus said in what was barely an audible whisper. “you bet your fucking ass I want answers. Tell me everything, and don’t think of lying to me Janus.”

He reached out and cradled the crown in his hand, took a deep breath. And began to recall everything he had tried so hard to repress over the past three years. Coming onto four. Remus listened closely. Taking in everything Janus said. Thoughts and feelings swarmed his mind and body.

But he couldn’t make himself angry. No matter how hard he tried. As Janus was sitting by his side. Smiling and laughing and looking years younger than he had looked in well… forever.

“he left and I broke. No matter how hard I tried. I couldn’t be happy without him there,” Janus said as he looked over to Remus.

the green coloured side looked at Janus. Both had tears in their eyes. “is that why you couldn’t look at me for so long? Because I reminded you of him?” he said, voice cracking. “yeah… god between you and roman, you really looked like him. And it hurt. But… I guess I just needed to get over it, like a wall I suppose. The first couple times can be hard, but you’ve just got to keep pushing forwards,” Janus said.

He looked down to the crown in his hands. he gestured for Remus to take it from his hands. “no,” Remus said as he laid the other crown in Janus’s lap, “they mean far more to you than me.”

For the first time in a long time… Janus was at peace. Sure, things were far from fine.  God knows it couldn’t be worse. But right now? He was content with just having Remus.

“If you have any more questions… ill be happy to answer them.

When even the Earth has numbered days. I can give just one thing that stays.

he fucked up. there standing in front of him was a teary-eyed Remus… oh god… what the fuck had he done. “do you really think I’m evil?” Remus said as tears poured down his face. “Remus- “Janus said as he reached out an arm. he flinched back as Remus summoned his mace. He held it in his hands. malic filled his eyes. he took a couple steps back. “follow me. and I won’t hesitate,” Remus said as he made his way over to the door that split the mind palace.

“Remus please. I’m sorry. Please. I can’t lose you too… please- “ “maybe you should have been more careful deceit,” Remus snarled before opening the door and slamming it behind himself.

Janus felt himself crumple to the ground; he didn’t know how much he was shaking. He didn’t care that he could barely breath.

He was alone… it was cold… there was no one. He was no one… nothing mattered. he felt nothing.

He wanted his king…he wanted someone to tell him he was okay. He wanted someone to look at him and tell him to get a grip.

he wanted Virgil… but he wouldn’t forgive him… he wanted Orpheus… but he would never trust him… he wanted Remus… but he would never look at him again… he wanted Romulus… but he knew he was never coming back…

and as he cried himself to sleep on the floor…. He had never felt more like a monster.

I cut you a piece of me, I cut you a piece of me. For where you go, I will go too. I am now a part of you.

Janus winced as the metal slid over his skin. Small trickles of ruby red fell from his arm like red stained tears. Screaming from his skin told him to stop. but he couldn’t.

He had been alone for a couple months now. It was an hour away from midnight. Signifying the death of his lover. he wanted a hug. He wanted someone to hold him as he cried.

What he wanted he didn’t deserve. He was the villain. He was the monster in the closet. and it was fine. At least he was something. Even if it hurt…

He hadn’t been summoned in such a long time. It had been the barely less since he had seen another side. he was scared that they had forgotten about him. Some nights, like today, he could hear laughter coming from the other side. And that was enough for him to know he wasn’t wanted.

They were fine without him. maybe it would be better to go completely. Joining Romulus instead of staying where he wasn’t wanted.

The empty wine bottles that were around him no longer were able to do their job.

He shook as the cold air froze his skin. It had been a while since he had turned the thermostat down. He deserved it though.

The thought of being able to see Romulus filled his head. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling slightly giddy at the thought. Getting to see his best friend of so many years once again, but for eternity.

A small weak laugh filled the air as Janus stood up and made his way over to his room. He looked down at the bowler hat that sat neatly at the end of his bed.

He picked it up and dusted it off before placing it on his head. Trying his best to ignore the shiny objects that rested in their own cases in the back of the room.

The only question was where. Where would he go to do this? an idea struck him in the chest… yeah… that would be perfect… all he needed was to make a plan. no letters were needed, the others wouldn’t care enough to wonder where he had gone.

From now on I’m half a soul, without you I can't behold. So cut me a piece of you, Cut me a piece of you, and where I go, you'll always be.

It had been a struggle, trying to sneak into the imagination. But it had been much harder to find what he was looking for.

The buildings were broken. Barely standing. Vines and shrubbery grew out of cracks. It broke his heart to see that this is what had become of his kingdom. he thought once that it would stand forever. But nothing ever did. Did it?

Janus chuckled as memories filled his mind.

The streets him and Romulus would wonder for hours, talking and smiling with their subjects. the town square where he had danced at every Halloween with everyone around him. A wide smile on his face.

The castle grounds where he had danced wit the young boy who had thanked him for looking after their king. he wondered what that boy was doing… was he still alive? Was he dead?

Then the castle came into view, it wouldn’t be long now. the sun slowly had begun to set. The golden huge filling the sky like it knew what was going to happen. As if it were saying a final goodbye. He felt tears swell in his eyes.

Only five minuets later, he was standing on the weather-beaten balcony that had the perfect view of the city below.

And then he choked out a sob as ghostly figures, white wisps of phantoms filled the streets. Each holding a lantern before sending them up and up into the sky.

They shone like small red, green and yellow stars…

He looked down to the small bottle in his hand. He popped the lid open and drank its contents… he would be okay… he would see Romulus again. He lowered himself to the ground. Lying face up and staring at the sky flooded with fake stars.

And slowly his vision became blurry. “I cut you a piece of me, I cut you a piece of me. For where you go, I will go too I am now a part of you. From now on I’m half a soul, without you I can't be whole.” He sang weakly into the air…

“oh you are the start of me,” a voice sung back clearly. a sob left Janus with a smile on his face… he was home.

Romulus held out a hand. he took it without hesitation. Being pulled into a hug and very quickly a kiss. warmth, love and happiness flooded him as happy tears poured down both their faces. “hello my queen,” Romulus said as he looked at Janus with eyes filled with longing. “hello my king,” Janus said before bursting into tears.

So, cut me a piece of you, Cut me a piece of you, and where I go, you'll always be. Oh, you are the start of me, Oh, you are the start of me

“are you sure this is the right way?” Virgil asked concerned. “hell yeah emo-bitch!” Remus said excitedly.

He was taking them to see the lights that had begun in this area since well…forever. Always at the same time. Every year on the same day.

“I feel bad were not bringing Janus,” Patton said. “that asshole? Fuck him,” Orpheus growled.

Virgil paused for a brief second. Glancing at the castle. “hey… I think someone’s over there,” a figure outlined by the lowering sun stood on the balcony. it struck Remus quickly as to who it was. he felt himself filling with anger that seemed to plant deeply in his chest.

But… then it seemed to split in two. There was a figure standing next to Janus. And a song filled the air.

They all seemed to be thinking the same thing as they surged forwards. Bolting to the castle, hoping they were wrong as repressed memories filled their minds.

And then they stopped. Each one of them shaking as they saw the unmoving body of self-preservation lying on the ground. his eyes glazed over and his chest unmoving.

Two shadowy figures danced in each other’s embrace as they laughed. Peppering kisses on each other. a warm and sad feeling filled their chests.

This was the first time in years that most of them had seen Janus smiling. And he was in his lovers embrace.

“goodbye Janus,” Patton said as he waved over. “cya, on the other side Jan,” Virgil said… silent tears poured down his face. Logan gave a sharp nod and a small smile. Remus and roman gave a small wave. Not trusting themselves to speak. “take care of pops dad,” Orpheus muttered, his voice cracking as he did so.

“goodbye,” Janus’s voice echoed in their minds as the shadowy figures faded away. Smiling and holding one another with wide smiles.

Oh, you are the start of me

#Janus sanders #Roman sanders #Sander sides #remus sanders #patton sanders #Virgil sanders #logan sanders #kingceit #sander sides angst #angst #janus angst #tw suicide #tw self harm

[hopipp]

tag game!

Rules: answer the questions and tag people you’d like to get to know better.

tagged by: one of my new moots @uchiwaka! thanks friend! ur url is bomb and the fact that you like bokuroo assures me that you have IMMACULATE taste.

tagging: @softyiwa @atsuu @nyaanko @runicfairy @rantaroamami @seijouthirdyears ​ @techno-trashcan ​ !!!! :D and anyone else interested!

(Under the cut bc its long af on mobile)

What do you prefer to be called name-wise? jules, hop, hoppip! but anything goes really

When is your birthday? april 18th! im bday buddies w terushima yuuji and asahi shiina. big aries energy.

Where do you live? i live in a sharehouse in south london but i grew up in toronto to italian immigrant parents

Three things you are doing right now.

writing a dissertation on LGBTQ+ pride buttons/badges in the late 20th century

thinking about iwaoi

smiling at the dog pics my friend is sending me on discord

Four fandoms that have piqued your interest?

that volleyball show you know the one

mo dao zu shi / the untamed bc wangxian 

i got into golden kamuy recently and i love it sm and think its totally underrated. its like jojo and gintama humour but by a mangaka who drinks respect women and respect indigenous ppl juice pls read it

im also fresh to the jjk fandom and id already kill for the main trio. gay/lesbian/bi solidarity.

How has the pandemic been treating you? BAD THANKS! when it first started i flew home to toronto to stay with family, who drove me crazy, so i moved back to london in september and have since then been off and on in lockdown. and bc of this i havent been able to really get much of my research done or find a full time job in my field. life is struggle at the moment but at least im in europe? 

*tw* also because of covid i had to attend my own grandfathers funeral on zoom. the absolute worst thing ever. 

on the bright side i started a haikyuu watchalong a few months ago and met a great group of folks. we made a discord afterwards and i love chatting with them every day <3

A song you can’t stop listening to right now? LUCID by rina!!! the entire sawayama album!!! and for some reason jet pack blues by fob

How old are you? 24

School, university, occupation, other? I have a BA in history and am working on my MA in queer history right now. I also have a part time job at an artisanal vegan kimchi company. yes, completely relevant to my studies i know. *sarcasm* i also volunteer at a local LGBTQ+ history organization.

Do you prefer heat or cold? my answer always changes because when im dying of heat i long to ski and ice skate but when im cold as balls i want to be sweating on a beach somewhere. to be honest i prefer mild autumn weather. a cheeky 18C maybe. 

Name one fact others may not know about you. i love to cook and i have an instagram dedicated to my plant based creations where i post recipes and stuff

Are you shy? used to be but not at all anymore

Pronouns? whatever floats ur boat

Biggest pet peeves? Straight People TM

What is your favourite “dere” type? i guess good ol tsunderes *blows a kiss to tsukki and inuyasha*

Rate your life from 1-10, 1 being crappy and 10 being the best it could be. uhmm 8 or 9? im very happy i moved back to london but miss rona has really fucked me over. 

What’s your main blog? this one!

List your side blogs and what they’re used for.

@gay-pirate-anime my one piece blog

@kira-kween jojo blog

@oddliy lgbtq+ and film blog

@suiibiian MDZS blog

@18496 photography

@jimin-juice bts blog i dont use much anymore

@fancy-tuna my old url and now mostly shitposts

ive been on tumblr for like 10 years so they’ve piled up

Is there something people need to know about you before becoming friends? i dont think so? idk? i like oikawa and im queer thats enough to know lmao. be my friend <3

#i feel like this was long sorry ahahaha #and mostly me bitching LOL #oops

[soranihimawari]

Shatter continued

A story in several parts:

tw: reader chan’s sibling is a toxic force to be reckoned with; officers mentioned in later parts (civil servants for young adults); mentions of accidents and scarring [both emotional and physical]; young adult 18+ for strong and suggestive language

word count: 6.8 K 

tagging @oikawa-obvs​ @m0nstergeneration20xx​

the characters and other tie in works:

seijoh 4: oikawa, iwazumi, hanamaki, mattsun

spin off of the Running at 6a.m. feat. hanamaki and his s/o [plus s/o family]

Little side notes: mattsukawa issei means “it’s all right.” // fuyu no rairakku fuji means “my beautiful wisteria tree” // mitsuketa means “I have you”

Throughout this story, mattsun & q learn how important the actions of others does not define a set path.

Images based via Pinterest

Image 2 based off this post

<< Back

III

The day before you leave back to your side of the city, you tell your friend what has transpired between you and mattsun on movie night:

“That’s great! I knew he’d like you. They all do,” she says. “I mean, you did fall asleep next to him for a little while before they walked us home that night.” 

“Yeah, I know,” you reply. “I’ll be out with him all day…”

“You’re not going to know what hits you until it shows, Q.” 

“Life is not like the hallmark movie channel, Chise!” 

Your friend’s stubbornness and your counter argument came to a close when her aunt and uncle stepped in to act as a mediator between the two of you… 

“Your sister is coming to pick you up, Q,” her uncle informs you. The news was not a welcomed one at all; the blood in your veins ran cold. 

“What?! Uncle, you can’t be serious,” your friend states, wide eyed. “Q just got here…She can’t go back! Her sister is not right. Please recon—”

“There’s nothing we can do,” her aunt replies. She explains all the sound reasonings why. 

“How long do I have?” You wonder. Chise storms out of the room and when you hear her door shut, you inhale and exhale a deep breath silently counting down before you rationally think things through. You were gone for a total of four days & three nights; it takes about an hour or so for the train, but if your sister does a ride share, you have less than that. 

“She’s on her way, isn’t she?” Your voice betrayed your expression. 

“Yes,” you’ve never seen your friend’s uncle so abruptly twist in disgust. You know both he and his wife would try anything to help you, but considering how they presented the facts, it was going to be a losing battle.

Nodding, you thank them both for the news and the hospitality they offered, but you ask them to leave as politely as you can. You were seventeen years old when you realized that the hardest thing and right thing are not always the same.

IV

Your sister wasn’t always this way. She was the elder & you needed to listen to her. You were always like water, one with the moon & stars; she was like fire, warm and with enough energy to harbor the solar flares. She wasn’t always an unhappy brute; the accident that tore your family apart was the catastrophe which estranged you to this day. 

“What do you mean Q’s leaving?” Makki asks. He sits up hearing his girlfriend’s voice fall into a panic. 

“It’s an emergency; you know I told you about y/n’s relative right?” 

“Yeah. What’s wrong?”

“Takahiro, I’m worried for Q because that’s the one who’s coming to pick her up. She can’t go back to that house on a whim! Her sister might beat her up worse than before!”

“Stay where you are. I’m getting a hold of Iwazumi & Mattsun.”

“Mmk. Hurry because I don’t know what time that witch is arriving.”

—18:43—

“Call the authorities,” was what you hear your friend’s relative instructs. One of them has to keep the objective line of sight here and now all there is left to do is wait.

You stand outside your friends house with a dark expression. Your sister’s arrival meant you could try to fight, yet you knew words are just as damaging. You come face to face with her just as the boys arrive. 

“Come little sister,” she says. You don’t move. Your friend is behind you, but when the boys arrived she lets them in the side gate: Makki leads followed by Iwa, and finally Mattsun. Your friend fills them in and now they stand at the ready to help you if you need it.

“Q. Come now. Don’t make it anymore difficult than it has to be.”

“No.” Your voice is absolute. 

“No?” She sarcastically replied with a scoff. 

“Did I stutter?” You retort. Your friend and her family is on the porch watching this. 

“I don’t know what your game is, but this is a family affair…”

“Do not bring them into this mess,” you warn as you walk toward the spot on the lawn where your sister stands. There is a few feet of grass between you. 

“Enough,” she says in a menacing tone. “Quantum stop being foolish before I burn you and cast you out. Black sheep or not, you are my sister and you will do as I say.”

She takes out a lighter from her purse and one of the oldest journals you have. It was a tome you had since you started middle school.

“Burn it for all I care,” you spat. “Because as far as I am concerned, we are no longer family. You stopped being in mine before I started high school you bitch. Touch me again and I will make you regret finding me.” 

At this point, your teeth are bared and your voice is as even as it can me. You know there is truth in those words, but with your found family behind you, you have the higher ground. 

“Like hell little sister,” she spits. “I rather you drop dead and die because you are what makes me insane: this ends today.” 

You sister burns the book regardless. You stomp out the flames in time that a good portion of the damage book is scorched down to a delightful singe. You wonder how long your sister has been without her medication. The gargantuan illness does not leave her nor do you want to find out because the shadow of her hands comes into contact with your left side of your face. 

She leaves without batting an eye at you. Rather, you feel the residual sting of a slap across your face from a hand that is not your own. The sound is like a whip cracking in the wind.

“Mattsun, Iwazumi,” your friend’s face is pulled into Makki’s side where he whispers something in her ear, probably to watch you say the final nail in the coffin:

“You have no power over me; I am not afraid of you,” you defy her orders again. 

“You cheeky little shit,” your sister says before your fist makes direct contact with her face and when it knocks her to your left, you roundhouse kick her in the ribs thus knocking her wind out of her. 

“Did you know she could fight like that?” Makki asks. Your fist is unclenching because your wrath is unlike anything they’ve witnessed, sure Iwazumi smacks Oikawa with a volleyball, but when ther collectively see what you can do, they look at each other. Except Mattsun, he reads the situation and what you told him at the movie night the day before finally clicks.

I am not ready because I am not fully healed yet. I am left alone to deal with my own demons. Everyone has dragons to slay and for today that dragon is your sister. His thoughts are strung together, yet he sees what you mean in practice and honestly it explains your cynicism, your perception of what it means to have someone who is just as toxic and how they tried to break you. 

“Holy shit,” you clearly hear your friend gasp behind you when she pushes herself off of Makki. When your sister lands on the concrete border of the lawn, you don’t care to notice the winter wind whipping around your short locks. Your breathing is becoming more unstable, yet when you stand to inspect the damage done, you glance down with an oddly satisfying expression: You’re a survivor and you’d be damned if your sister thinks she could shatter you further. 

You pick your sister up by the collar until she is eye level with you. You whisper something in her ear which makes her furious: “Fuck you and the high horse you rode in on sister.” 

“Go,” your best friend says one word while Makki holds her back; Mattsukawa and Iwazumi sprint to where you are holding your sister and all that woman sees is red thereafter.

Her mouth lets out an in humane scream as she lunged forward, her hands have a vice grip on your exposed flash. You feel her nails dig and leave marks. The action carried through as hands reach for your neck to crush your windpipe. You know of the western saying “to choke on your words,” but you’d never thought of it being done physically.

As soon as this occurs, you notice your sister’s wrists are almost snapped by the sheer force Mattsukawa exerts in holding you from behind. Your gasping for air is by far one of the most horrifyingly haunting things he’s ever heard (and you all you can emote is telagraphing I am terrified. Don’t let me go). It takes you a moment to register that it is because you hear him breathe behind you.

“I got you,” Mattsun holds you; he holds you for as long he can to make sure you don’t slip on the residual frost on the lawn. He runs a hand through your hair calming you down further. Your hands are not by your side anymore, rather you feel them grasp on to his own. You close your eyes and he repeats those three words until your breathing and panic subsided.

This occurs while Iwazumi corners your sister and she leaves your friends’ property. Sirens wail in the distance and it doesn’t take very long for the authorities to take your sister into custody for verbal and physical abuse charges whereas you claim self-defense. It’s hard to talk currently, so you write it out on the report form. Makki and your best friend are filling out witness statements while Iwazumi is being checked out by one of the health officials right after you sign the report documents. Mattsun doesn’t leave your line of sight at all, for that you are grateful. Your knuckles have the suture glue on them aid the healing process. The EMT gives you a neosporin antiseptic for the scratches on yout face left behind from the slap your received from the guilty party already in the backseat of the squad car that had already left for the booking station in the west side of the neighborhood.

When the witness statements are done, you are asked to come to the precinct first thing in the morning for a secondary assessment for your wounds,but this is bypassed as soon as you mentioned your previous case serial numbers.

“She’s as lucky as they come,” one of the officers says in passing. “We’ve been trying to pin her relative’s location because of the fact this isn’t her sibling’s first attempt at attempted murder.”

“You did the right thing as soon as you called sir,” his partner praises your friend’s aunt and uncle. “That woman is a danger to herself and others. How did one sister’s grief spiral while the other chose to move forward is beyond me, but miss Q has some good people around her.”

“She’s our niece’s closest friend, so please make sure that woman has all ties cut with the victim,” you heard her uncle say.  “We’ll take her in, but please make the arrangements to have some of her things brought here before the holidays.”

“Understood sir,” the first officer says tilting his hat. “Ma’am, we’ll be going then. Good day.”

Iwazumi takes his leave shortly thereafter and reminds Makki to give you all some space. Mattsun asks if it’s ok to take you away for a couple of hours. You finish passing along the case files while this occurs. You’re not ready to talk about what just happened, but you find yourself ready to move past this ordeal. Families are different, yet your relationship with your sister is one of the worst after the story of biblical twins.

“Of course. Take her out for as long as she needs. You have my number, so text me later,” your friend says with a warm smile. She bops her head toward where you still stood basking in the frosty atmosphere. “Gods know she needs a break. Oh, and Mattsun?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.” She hugs hun quietly along with her uncle who lays a hand on his shoulder. Her aunt mentioned something about how they’re going to remodel the room you stayed in to a permanent one. “She is family after all,” was the last thing he heard as the three of them went back inside their home.

On that note, Mattsukawa returns back to your side. He marvels at your new marks bestowed by what had transpired a couple hours ago. It’s nearly eight in the evening on a Tuesday night. Winter break has finally come, but here he notices you’re ok. Or rather, as ok as you make it seem.

“I should get you a bell,” your sense of humor is impeccable, but when the tears that never come do make their way known in other ways, you stop to turn your face back to the skies. You close your eyes thanking whatever lucky stars you have for having good people gravitate toward you; with one final breath, you return your focus back to your guard dog even if he towers over you with enough power to eclipse the graying skies. As he reaches for your hand, you know this is the first time he sees a glimpse of how much you shine. 

“It’s quiet now,” you said, returning your undivided attention to him. “Thank you.” 

The young middle blocker moves forward with you mentioning something along the lines of you had a date to keep. 

“Do you still want to go?” He asks you this to gage how you’d react. He doesn’t want you to over exert yourself, so when you say yes, he leads the way to one of the closer neighboring shopping plazas.

One trip to a tea shop down the street leads you and him to have a quaint seat by a window. The both of you talk like old friends. You don’t let the dread of what looms over you break you, you’ve been through worse and you’re not going to let anything happen to make him feel like that again. You could tell how frightened he really was earlier when he kept you in front of him on the lawn. You pour some more mango black tea into your cup. You know you two barely say much, yet an entire epic is laid out between you two.

Not a word is said because there is an definite understanding in the delicate exchange here. Mattsun sips his tea and as he learns you’re exhausted of fighting on your own. It dawns on you if given the chance stories about being wronged in the past leads you to be bound by love later on. Tell me you want to help me too, Mattsukawa.

“If you’ll have me, please let me be your kintsugi,” he places the dwarf tea cup down on its saucer. You sit across from him as the fluorescent lighting causes your eyes to flicker amusedly at his features. You rest your chin in your hand when he does this. 

“You don’t have to ask,” you reassure him. With your free hand, you hold one of his with residual heat. Why are you doing this? You like each other. Hell, he’s the one who made sure you’re alive. He’s amazingly kind, so what is stopping you? 

“I already run with you at six in morning. It’s plausible after--Mattsun? Hold on a sec. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I like you,” Mattsun’s voice is as casual as he makes it seem. Don’t make me go through that again; I almost didn’t get the chance to show you how amazing you really are.

You see what he means behind those eyes of his. He’s honest, kind, and strong; almost like steel, but you’re just as strong like titanium. You work well together, you think. If this is what it feels to fall in like with someone, you’d proactively seek it every time from him until you learn how to love yourself for all parts of you. He has a subtle way of telling you he likes you. Acts of love and kindness aside, you want to cherish this setting, precisely because you live the way you tease him in a friendly manner. For a moment, the veil of winter’s shouldering dreariness stops. Your lips curl into a Cheshire’s grin. His heart nearly stops for the second time that day.

“I like you too,” you chuckle. “Who knew you were such a romantic at heart Mattsukawa?”

“You did.”

You nod. “I should have known. So, where would you like to take me now?”

After you two finish speaking at the teahouse, Mattsun escorts you toward another part of the same plaza. Your face illuminates in the refraction of the street lamps, your hands bump into each others whilst you walk the promenade.

There are no words exchanged because neither of you want to see each other with the image seared into your minds’ eye; his arms that evening were clicking on to your waist, his his center of gravity shifting so when he pulls your body backwards, you hear his voice reminding you he has you, you’re safe here. You nodding closing your eyes when his warmth emits a calming aura. You both ignore the subject, but you’re really fucking thankful to have him (along with the company you keep, each showing a different type of love from the international myths you loved to read): you both walk with the same thoughts that evening: Don’t scare me like that again, whatever you do, stay alive. We haven’t even seen what our story might look like. Just please, prove to me you’re still here; catch the fire from me to you and live.

Mattsukawa and you walk past a pillar and stop to take a glance at the community announcement boards. A few of the paper lanterns are already lit. The street lamps are beginning to hum.

“There’s a night market happening,” you read aloud, slowly, you feel yourself relaxing more into your surroundings. Your hand points to the sign and Mattsukawa notices the minute change in your behavior. You’re much more free and outgoing than before; you’re a winter’s tale and a dahlia, but he knows the flower thing might be a tad bit off, so he keeps that content to himself for now.

“We’ll take the others here later,” he informs you about thinking about how his classmates, especially Oikawa, would handle not coming.

“If you say so,” you reply. You both continue to walk and browse through the various shops, but when he takes you into one the art stores, you ask him to wait a moment to let other patrons walk in. He is perceptive enough to understand your feelings, so he does what he thinks is best: he reminds you you aren’t going inside alone. 

“I got you,” Mattsukawa repeats from earlier. “We’ll go inside whenever you’re ready. Does that sound fair to you?”

“...ok.”

“Do you want to go call it a day then?” 

The moment you nod, he walks at a quicken pace. Eventually you tell him to slow down when you pass by a neighboring plaza. This one was more serene than the last.

“What’s on your mind?” You ask you impromptu date. 

I’m learning to trust you a little more and I’m afraid of this continues, would you run from me? 

“Mattsukawa. Don’t overthink it,” your voice is unmistakably calm, yet it is driving him to let go and live a little; so you do. You let his hand go for a little while, and now you stand in front of him and you have a mischievous glint in them. 

Fuck it. I don’t care if you’re here for four days or four minutes. I am not running away from this, from you, and the possibility of you staying.

Mattsukawa tilts your face up with one of his fingers and when you feel his lips ghost over your own, you close the gap. First kisses in the winter are not rare, but the ambiance of being surrounded by the wisteria trees dyes the world into a violet haze. Love is not as fickle as you think. This one is different, you both relish in this display of affection. He breaks the kiss briefly, and to him, seeing you like this makes him finally understand the sentiment of seeing a whole universe in one person.

You stop him dead in his tracks because as soon as you feel Mattsukawa’s warmth leave your face, you understand how much he was holding back; you both were. His face is tinged a little bit flushed out slightly by the curious softened stare you give him. He wanted to see you worked up before, but he wasn’t expecting to see you act so hastily. You drag your bottom lip through your teeth before you sigh much to your own chagrin because you knew what he felt was true.

“Mmhm,” you’re driving him insane in this short game of stolen glances because he received no further warning when you pull his lips back on yours. Your hands traverse upward from where your hands initially were on his shoulders and eventually looping around his neck. There is a secret kindness you want him to have; he owns this part of you, the wild capricious love of the cold is gorgeously delightful. You’re ok even when he deepens this kiss and he draws this sounds of want and need from you the more you let him. You taste his love in the way your hands love to tousle his hair; you hear his chest rumble in amusement when he opens his mouth slightly teasing you with the residual taste of the tea from earlier. Don’t be afraid to fall, you muse.

Mattsukawa draws you in closer to him as he snakes one arm around the small of your back while the other hand he has used to tilt your face moves to your shoulder before finding solace on your neck. He lost a to the way you move your body and you both don’t succumb to each other’s prowess. What you both crave you found in each other. He dips you to one side like in those old movies you so love. You’re mine, my dear; irreplaceable and hopelessly in my loving arms. Safe you’ll always be.

You catch your breathing when you part, he places you back in a standstill position. You’re smiling together, like a firefly lamp in the summer, casting a halo ring around you two. A few of the flowers are blown away in the brief wind and apparently land all around scattered like gorgeous mosaics on the concrete. You turn your head slightly to hear his heart drum on; you tell him things via tracing the kanji on his shirt little messages like “future,” “brave,” “loyal,” “true,” etc. he chuckles because it tickles a bit, but he reminds you wildhearts can’t be broken so easily. You concur taking a deep breath, watching as your exhale leaves little pufts of moisture to dissipate in the air. He rests his head against your shoulder in a slight variation of an acknowledging bow; his breath tickles against the nape of your neck, his mouth teasingly nips at the midpoint of your ear.

“Fuyu no rairakku fuji,” he crowns you a new name; his lips press against your cheekbone. You grin at the new nickname.

“Mattsukawa Issei,” you remind him when you two begin walking again and he pauses dumbfounded by the tone you use. It dawns on him that perhaps his best friend’s girl told you his name in full. You return the wisteria name he bestowed upon you with a much simpler one for him. “Mitsuketa.”

— spring forward—

You wonder if he could remember that when you sleepover for the first time; you find out he can and does so the moment he lays you down on his bed to make you remember how being loved by him is going to leave you breathless one step at a time, and true to his word, his hands are sturdy.

This love is messy, but you enjoy every moment of being enamored by him. You don’t look back anymore, but forward when he calls your new name right as you pull him back toward you before you both ruin the sheets that support you. You place a hand over his chest to stabilize his figure over you. “Watashi no utsukushī fuji,” his voice has you defenseless the moment you humbly accept him as solely yours.

“My first love, come here,” your lips were always inviting toward him and he listens to the way you both praise each other while he brings your unscarred arm above your head; your scars are now inked with wild wisteria flowers he so affectionately called you a few months ago.

Luckily one of your case workers knew someone in Miyagi who does tattoos pro bono for victims of abuse survivors. Languid wisteria blossoms iluminate your arms under a blacklight, but the white ink outlines remain visible like small embroideries tying you to the blossom to ward off evil. The subject came about one evening during the routine cafe shoppe run with the boys and your best friend:

“All I’m saying is that if she wants it done, we know someone in Miyagi who can,” Makki reasons with your friend.

“I was thinking about it,” you speak up before your friend completes her ‘harrumph.’

The table falls quiet. “I was thinking of having the wisteria blooms cover the worse of it.”

“Wisteria, huh?” Oikawa asks. “I think that’s a good choice. Iwa-Chan! Let’s— ”

“No.” Honestly, when he found out what had transpired via the group chat with his friends, he nearly cut his family vacation short to fly back to check on you.

Instead, Iwazumi took over by sending him photos of both Makki and your best friend eating a crepe one night followed by one of you and Mattsukawa after he gifted you a wisteria branch necklace.

Presently, your hand coaxes Mattsukawa into leaving marks of his love blatantly across the exposed parts let him meet. The bruises his lips left behind are just as intoxicating as you remember.

“You’re still so daring,” his voice drowns out the pleasurable noise you let him hear.

“You’re~ahh~ staring,” your hands find their way to the collar of his half undone dress shirt. He pauses for a moment, smirking through his gaze when he envelopes you in his arms. Your hands are too quick when you unbutton the rest of his shirt. You’re wearing one of your old high school gym baseball shirts when you came over to visit for spring break. (The first time you sleep overnight was quite entertaining to say the least, but you both prove you’re capable of this sort of love too.) His hands move to coerce your legs slide over his thighs and here you sit, knees slightly bent and he has you where you both want to be.

Your breathing is ragged and labored as he kisses you slowly, hands slipping under your shirt.

“Please," your voice is barely above a whisper. One word was all he needed and fuck were you worth it. Mattsukawa assists you in pulling that fabric over your head before you push him down back on the bed. Your arms are cut around his shoulders for support as he picks up where his kisses left off. Your love bites haven’t fully disappeared yet from last time: bites across the mounds of your breasts are yellowing now; the ones over the inside of your thighs are still healing beautifully. His wisdom lurks in how well you handle his sexual desires with every time you consent to it. You both seek no other tangible means to prove how far you’ve come (with and without his help).

“You’re still pretty,” he says. He marvels at the fact you’re still with him in the present moment. Your hair is tangled in his hands and he beckons you to make him remember what you told him in the park one winters day.

“Mesmerizing me is what you do best,” your mouth haunts his own pulling out the lewd sounds of his satisfaction. He hisses as you return his favor; he holds you tighter until you are comfortable in his hold. Those eyes of his remain on yours because you told him the first time to keep his eyes forward.

“You’re really something else,” he groans as you bite the space in the space between his shoulder and neck. You don’t let him come undone without you a little less than an hour later; he makes good on his promise of always saying he got you and you return with remembering you have him. You ran with him every day at six in the morning for a solid year, but forgot that sexual escapades with him are more often a marathon than not. Eventually, you catch up to him, and the cycle begins anew with you. Mattsukawa is a fierce lover, but within the walls you share with him, he realizes you’re just as lethal as a jaguar in his bed.

Yes, love in the spring always came in waves for the outside world, it here, once the sheets were changed, you and Mattsukawa take care of each other first before he has your drowsy form (smelling like the rain) clean and clothed in just an old pajama top of his (he wears a pair of a different style sleep pant) he lays you down first before he climbs in with you.

Loving each other is never as messy as you heard from those around you. It’s only because you both let each other propel forward; your love is maddening since you and Mattsukawa are firm believers the shattering parts make you the most beautiful. So when you wake up in each other’s touch, his lips always trace over the sides of you where he loves you strongest, whistling the melodies that cause flowers to bloom.

End

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#mattsukawa x reader #tw: violence #tw: toxic behavior #tw: mentions of scars physical and emotional #tw: death and blame #reader chan learns she is strong too #angst to fluff #this be some heavy shite #🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #🌻.txt #🌻sora scribbles

[jiaraendgame]

So uh it’s my birthday today. I’m now 25 years old and it feels just so fucking weird to say that I made it into my mid twenties. I know we are in 2021 now and I’m hoping for a more positive year but I have to say through the shit storm that 2020 was I’m happy to have survived.

In 2020 I learned a lot of things. I learned that I need to speak up more and not let my voice be drowned out even if it’s not something people want to hear if they don’t agree with me. I’ve learned that it’s okay to be myself and even though I hate myself there are people who love me for exactly who I am. I learned that you can find friends or family in the strangest of places such as the people I’ve met here on Tumblr and the lovely people I’ve met on Twitter. I’ve learned that we as the middle and younger generations can have a voice and can change the corrupt system we are living in. Albeit slowly but change is possible. Ive learned to not let people take advantage of me. Whether it be my kindness or my problems with saying no even if I don’t consent to something. I’ve learned to be unapologetically me, and to embrace myself including my fucked up side because the sooner I do that the happier I will be and the more open I am to healthy change. I’ve learned a lot about myself and learned that it’s okay to ask for help.

**** TW // SH & Suicide ****

I struggled severely in 2020 with my mental health and hide it pretty well. I’m not proud of that. It was like opening back up my old self again, a place I thought I long left behind. In this year alone I struggled with myself and ended up breaking my over a year achievement of being clean from self harm. I hurt myself and in turn that was like flipping a switch or opening the flood gates. Once more I couldn’t stop and anything that set me off I took the pain away myself instead of talking or the other methods of coping I grew to know in the past. It was hard and devastating to my mental health doing that to myself again. However as of writing this I am 2 weeks clean again. Back on the path of healing myself. This wasn’t the only thing I struggled with however... I also had thought about and made 2 minor attempts on my life this past year. Something again I thought I was free from as it had been years since my last attempt. Once in September and the most recent one being 2 weeks ago. I am doing better now and have since then reached out to a few people and have been looking into getting professional help. The reason I mention this is because I want to say how I understand how fucking hard life is. I know how struggling can seem endless and like you’re drowning with no end in sight except one. I’m here to say and remind you that’s not the answer. There are so many better things you can do and you are worth so fucking much to people. There is a way out and it’s okay to struggle and it’s okay to ask for help. I’m here for you and just know you are not alone.

2020 was the most chaotic time in my life thus far. From the pandemic, to losing my job, to online college, to being in the process of buying my first home. And so much more. Not to mention all the political and other struggles of the world. It was a year of a few ups but many catastrophic downs. However we are still standing and there is a reason for that. We are strong and we have voices and we can get through this. You are never alone.

So as I sit here with existential dread on my 25th Birthday, let me just say thank you to anyone and everyone who I have interacted with on here and on Twitter. I hope 2021 brings us all the love and positivity we all deserve. I was going to tag a bunch of people on this to say thank you for interacting with me but as this got a bit more personal I’m thinking at some point I’ll make a second post for that.

#kayla talks

[asteraegis]

i dont know what to say for myself honestly.

for the love of god take heed of the tags before beginning. i really fucked edward up and ive written a smut specifically about choking him out.

its from edward’s POV btw

Tags: Deimos! Alexios/ANGST/mild to moderate violence/assault TW/choking/slapping/M|M/blowjob/cream pie/rimjob/spanking/biting/breathplay/aggressive dom/masochism/sadism/forced submission/rawing/knifeplay/top dom! Alexios/bottom sub! Edward

6122 words.

I felt his stare burning into my skin. Why was he so interested in me?

I had just introduced myself to him as one should to new recruits, that’s all. He had nodded in response, looking down on me with those dark eyes I’ve learned to fear. If I had known Alexios’ past beforehand, well, perhaps I wouldn’t have been so casual when greeting him. This man, he was a murderer of hundreds of people, if not thousands. I mean, I know I’m not one to judge seeing as I was a pirate, but the people I killed then were mainly by canons on a ship, not with my hands. And now I’ve had this brooding shadow looming over me every day since I met him, his glare following me everywhere I go. I’m usually one to confront this sort of behavior, but with the rumors of his temper…

Needless to say, this Alexios fellow would not let me out of his sight. Even in my own room at night with the door locked and curtains drawn I felt his intensity. Had I done something to anger him? Why can’t I shake this brute from me?

However, this night was something different. It had been lashing down rain all day and with dusk approaching the weather still wasn’t letting up. I had been stuck at one of my usual haunts since the afternoon, stopping in originally for a couple quick drinks afore heading home. But being holed up in a pub for so long causes barflies to swarm around you. A couple rough looking gents with scars to suggest they’re naturals at picking fights had been looking me up and down for the past hour and it was beginning to get on my nerves. Figures, I can’t go anywhere without some kind of nasty look tossed my way. I turned my head to look out the tavern’s window at the rain. It had lightened up slightly but that wasn’t saying much. But seeing as I left my phone back at my apartment there really was no reason for me to pissed about being soaked during the walk home. I sighed and handed the bartender a tip.

“Don’t seem like it’s letting up any time soon, mate, I’ll just suffer through it,” I muttered, finishing my third drink of the evening.

“Aye, just don’t drown, Kenway,” he nodded and with that I left the bar.

I had only gone about a block before I heard gruff voices call out and heavyset footsteps approaching with haste. Blast it, those codgers are lookin’ for a brawl, I thought as I looked over my shoulder to confirm my suspicions. Sure enough, the two men from the pub that were glaring at me were chasing after me. I began to run, not in the mood to fight them in a storm and hoping me speeding my pace would cause them to give up. Unfortunately, they didn’t give up and began cackling behind me.

“Where you goin’ blondie?” I heard one of them holler. “We just want to chat!”

I stepped wrong while running and it sent a surge of pain up my left leg, making me stumble a little. I hadn’t fallen, but the mistake did hurt quite a bit. I tried to bare the feeling long enough to turn the next block’s corner into a secluded road only about a block from my apartment. Once I reached the dirt path, I hurried behind a dumpster and massaged my knee. It must have popped from a bad foot placement. A slick sidewalk is never good running conditions, and it doesn’t help that I was wearing sandals. I slowed my breathing, expecting that the men would’ve just ran past this road. That is until one of the blokes took a fistful of my hair and dragged me from behind the dumpster in front of their partner. With his boot pushing me into the sludge I just wanted to slap myself for thinking they wouldn’t see the muddy foot prints I had left behind while I ran for cover.

The one that had caught me kneeled down over my back, lifting my head up to look at the other while restraining my arms. “Well, what d'ya think, man?”

His friend grinned, unbuckling his belt. “Yeah, this punk’ll do just fine.”

Ah. So, it wasn’t a fight they wanted. I writhed under the man and managed to buck him off, only for his accomplice to quickly grab me by the throat and pin me against the wall. He had a sick grin on his face and the sinister aura of it was only heightened by his grey eyes and the rain dripping down his cheeks. The other one punched me in the jaw while grey eyes held me still. I grunted, the hand on my throat flexing.

“Thought you could just run off again, sweetheart?” grey eyes sneered, leaning into my face in a way I’m assuming was meant to intimidate me. “Why don’t you just play along and we’ll let you go when we’re done, eh?”

Now, spitting in those pretty eyes of his probably wasn’t the smartest thing I could have done, but shit, it’s what I did. He grimaced and I managed to knee him in the crotch. He let go of my neck and I began to run off again but his pal tackled me to the ground. He held my face in the mud to stifle my yelp while grey eyes stomped on my ribcage.

“You ugly son of a whore!” he snapped. “We tried to play nice but now I’m gonna kill you and set your body ablaze in that dumpster once we’re finished!”

My head was lifted from the ground so I could look at him. I spat mud out of my mouth and smirked, knowing it’d only piss grey eyes off more. “Like you and your buddy have the stones for that.”

I wonder if he felt strong when he kicked my cheek. It’ll leave a bruise yes but I think me biting his cock off when he tries to force it down my throat will hurt him worse. I regrettably never got to enact my revenge on him though.

“Get off him,” a rough voice demanded through the rain.

I don’t remember much of what happened next. Grey eyes ordered his friend to knock me out so I wouldn’t run off while they dealt with the man. Shame. I would’ve loved to watch the fight.

When I opened my eyes next, I was at my apartment in my bath tub. The curtain was open and a man was standing in jeans and a white tank top. Red splotches dotted and splattered his clothes. He was rinsing his hands in my sink, blood washing off them, his knuckles raw. My eyes explored up his scarred arms to his face and that’s when my heart dropped. Alexios was in my bathroom. Why was he here? Why was I naked? Why was he covered in blood? How had he got in here? I must’ve made some sort of noise trying to figure out what to do about this situation because he looked at me in the mirror. I sunk down in the water, afraid of his plans with me.

“Hmph. You’re awake,” he huffed.

I recognized the voice. He was the man in the alley that intervened. That only brought up more questions in my head. “Why–”

“I hope you don’t mind me letting myself in while you were out–”

“Why am I naked?” I blurted out.

He looked confused about me interrupting him at first, but a snide smile spread on his face. “You were covered in mud, Edward.”

“How’d we get in here?”

“You’ve got keys, don’t you?”

I bit my lip and glared at him. Sass, huh? I studied his shirt again and noticed dirt down his right shoulder. He must have carried me here after giving those blighters what for. Still, I wasn’t sure how I felt about him stripping me while I was out cold. He lifted off his tank top and tossed it in my hamper, using one of my towels to wipe the smudges off his arm. It was my first time seeing him without something over his torso and all I could think was that he was chiseled like a damn statue. He put that rag in the hamper, too, then turned his attention to me.  

“You could at least thank me for saving your skin and washing you, boy,” he said, a blank expression I couldn’t decipher on his face.

My ears got hot. He washed me? Just thinking of his hands rubbing down my body… Jaysus… “Uh, right. Thanks.”

He nodded and moved over to stand over me. “You’ve been soaking long enough; I think it’s time we got you out and dried you off.”

Alexios reached down to lift me out of the tub but I squirmed out of the way. “I-I can stand myself, mate. Just… can you fetch me some trousers?”

He huffed, almost seeming disappointed in my competence. After he left the room I stood and dried myself off with a towel. I wrapped it around my waist, bending over to drain the tub. I flinched when I heard the floorboards creak outside the bathroom door. I knew he was standing there but he wasn’t saying anything, just watching me with those shadowy eyes. When I turned around, he handed me some bottoms—a pair of white swim trunks that wouldn’t even reach mid-thigh. I sighed but took them from him regardless.

I went to slide the shorts on but his stare not breaking from me caused my hands to hesitate. “Do you mind, mate?”

“No,” he said, still not breaking eye contact with my skin.

I blushed and positioned myself away from him, but even with my face away from his I could still feel his gaze. I attempted to wriggle into the trunks while I had the towel around my waist but right before I could pull them all the way up it fell to the floor. I hastily tugged the shorts on, now more than ever unable to look Alex in the eye, though based off the low snicker behind me he enjoyed my mishap. Figures. I shifted to have my face toward him but still wouldn’t look at his face. He seemed able to detect that I was unsure of him. From the mirror I was able to spy his grin as his own gaze met mine in the reflection. Against my own wishes my eyes instinctively darted away to the floor and he laughed louder.

“Tell me, blondie,” his voice sounded like a wolf’s growl as he approached me slowly. “do you fear me?”

I didn’t answer him. Both because I couldn’t find the courage to say no and even if I said so I’m sure he could detect I was lying. Now standing inches from me I could hear my heart beating in my ears. I’ve never felt so terrified and I’ve had swords to my throat, been beaten half to death, and survived multiple shipwrecks. I’m not sure what I was expecting him to do to me, but grab my pony tail and wrench my hair down so my neck was straining to look at him wasn’t it. He looked livid with me. I pushed away from him but he shoved me against the wall, the back of my head slamming up against the tiles. I yelped but Alexios slapped me across the face with the back of his hand and grabbed my jaw to keep my eyes focused on him, his fingers digging into my skin.

“When I ask you a question, answer me,” he snarled. “Got that?”

I tried to speak when he asked; I really did. But my body was trembling and it didn’t help when he shook me. I could feel that there was water in my eyes but I couldn’t tell if I actually had started crying when he shook me the second time, I just started shouting out an answer. My voice felt like a foreign object in my mouth, I couldn’t control anything I said to him. “Yes! All right? I am afraid of you mate! And why shouldn’t I be? I’ve heard plenty of stories on how ruthless you are and now I’m pinned to my own wall half naked being shouted at by you, you fucking knave! Now either kill me too or let go of me!”

Alexios stood like a brick wall when I attempted yet again to push him off me. There was nothing in his expression. He was just, watching. His grip on my face didn’t change for what felt like hours so I stared back at him, wondering if he could crush my jaw in his hand. From this close to him, mere breaths away, I studied him as he always did me. Alexios’ eyes were intense, but I could feel there was something behind them, something that almost felt like innocence broken by misplaced trust. He had a scar on his left cheek that cut through the top of his eyebrow. There was sleeplessness under his eyes creating dark circles. With all this mutual observing I wondered if he felt anything looking at me. After an eternity he at last blinked a few times and his hands dropped to my shoulders. His visage softened and I realized I still had my hands pushing against him. When I began to take them away, he suddenly wrapped his arms around me in a hard embrace. My face was pressed into his neck while he held me, his head against mine. I could feel his heart beating against my chest as he made an effort to pull me as close to him as possible. I was baffled. This man just slapped and shouted at me, I just admitted I feared him, I can still feel his fingers and palm’s sting on my face, and now he’s hugging me?

“I… I am sorry, Edward,” he mumbled into my hair. His voice seemed to crack for a moment and I heard him sniffle. Was he crying? “I didn’t mean to harm you, I just… I—I can’t control myself.”

If I was puzzled before I was utterly lost now. “Alex—”

“I needed to know how I made you feel, whether or not you trust me, if you feared my presence. And here I stand, with you shuddering in my grasps. I never wanted you to feel this way, Edward. I—I never wanted you to—I never—”

He was crying, choking on his words like I had before. Was this a confession? I blinked off any tears my fear might have brought in and pushed back from him to look him in the eye. He held his head down but I could still see a tear stream down over his scar. He spoke of me quaking in his arms but nothing compares to the quiver when I took his head in my hands to make him look at me. He appeared so distraught by his own actions. When I moved my hands to his broad shoulders, he slumped against me, something I’ll admit I wasn’t quite ready for. He wasn’t that much larger than me, I’ll admit, but I wasn’t prepared to support his weight and we fell to the floor, half in the hallway and half in the loo. He laid on top of me and I wormed around but it seems his revelation exhausted the man. Sighing, I settled into the floor, pondering how long I’d be stuck there under Alexios. His cheeks had dried from his fit of emotion and his breathing had slowed to a normal pace. I endeavored to run my fingers through his hair, but his dreads were too thick to comfort this brooding baby in that way. I stared at the ceiling with my arms stretched out over my head, questioning why I was even still laying here, I’ve moved men heavier than him off me before. Was I just afraid to wake him? I looked at him sleeping on me. For once I didn’t feel fear from his presence, in fact I pitied him. He clearly needed something like this, though if all he wanted from me was to relax on my body, I felt bad for avoiding him for so long.

I think I may have drifted off a little while we laid on the floor. When I woke up it was significantly darker in the apartment, the only light being the bathroom’s. I must have made some sort of noise or shifted slightly because Alexios suddenly groaned and lifted his chest off me. He had his hands planted on either side of my shoulders and my arms were still reaching above my head on the wood. While we slept our legs had also joined in on this compromising position, my thighs resting over his with his groin against me. We blushed when our eyes met and Alex sat back on his heels to let me sit up as well.

“Sorry about that, Edward,” he said, rubbing the back of his head.

“No worries mate, I didn’t mind it at all!” I laughed, trying to break the tension between us.

Alexios raised an eyebrow at me and cocked his head. “At all?”

“Not in the slightest!” I need to stop talking without thinking.

“Is that so?”

“Yep!” Oh my god.

He seemed to have this queer plan forming in his head. I wanted to bite my tongue off. Considering how he reacted when I was naked earlier, I’m sure me saying I was completely comfortable having him pressing on top of me was only adding insult to injury. He looked me up and down with an inquisitive nature, almost debating his next move. I gulped when I noticed his lips form a smirk. I stayed on the floor while he got to his feet, my body stuck in this pose looking up at him like I was a submitting dog. That snide mien returned to him when he stood over me. I tried to smile at him in the friendliest manner I could, though I think he misunderstood what kind of friend I was trying to come off as.

“Well, in that case, blondie,” he lifted me into his arms in a fisherman’s carry and marched me into my room after turning off the bathroom light. I was dropped on my back in my sheets and watched Alexios hold his belt buckle. “You wouldn’t mind getting to know each other better, now would you?”

I think I put the most thought into this answer of any I said all day. I felt my stare glued to his hands on that buckle and my tongue pushed itself against the roof of my mouth. For the first time since the day I met him I gave him a genuine smile. “No, I certainly wouldn’t.”

He returned me with a satisfied leer, quickly getting to unbuckling his pants, whipping his belt off so swiftly it made a whooping noise. Alexios grabbed me by my ankles and pulled me to the foot of the bed, putting the belt on around my neck like a collar and leash. He didn’t secure the buckle so it felt more like a noose, but regardless I felt ready to melt into anything he put me in, be it this leather strap or a rope. He tugged on the belt and it tightened around my throat, causing me to groan. He sat on the bed next to me and patted his lap for me to rest my head over. I was on my stomach and he placed a hand over my ass whilst his other took his cock out in front of me. He began stroking it to get it fully erect with me watching through a hungry gaze, biting my lip as his fist rubbed down the veiny shaft, his knuckles still raw from his brawl. Once hard, Alexios took the belt to yank me towards his dick and I immediately got to work, my lips kissing his tip before licking it in a circular motion. My tongue traced down his skin then back up to the head and I heard him sigh as I moved my mouth down around his cock. I went slow at first, going straight to the base and from his light muttered swear I could tell he wasn’t expecting I could deepthroat him. I got cocky and began sucking him with more force, moving my head back and forth down him. My showing off seemed to be working for Alex as his hand became snugger on my ass. I moved my left hand down to go to town on my own member, but he noticed me rubbing myself and spanked my ass with the same force he slapped me with earlier. I whimpered and instinctively withdrew my hand, him amused by my retreat.

“Good boy, you’ve been trained well,” he whispered to me.

He’s right, I’ve learned to be wont to being used like this. He spanked me again, and he appeared to enjoy my muffled yelps as he did it again, and again, and again. My skin felt numb and my cock was begging me to stroke it. I decided that if he was just going to continuing slapping me like this I might as well try to rub myself once more, just to see if he was willing to let me. I quickly learned he wasn’t, as when I started moving my hand down once more, he grabbed the back of my head and choked me with his cock, my lips pressed to the base of his groin. I attempted to push my head back so I could breathe but his hold was far stronger than my neck. I began gagging, wondering if he was going to let me breathe any time soon. Perhaps he liked how it felt to have his cock in my throat while I choked. He switched up his hands so he no longer was holding my ass but unfortunately for me he grabbed the belt with his other. Alex pulled it skintight, compressing my throat and I felt tears forming in my eyes. I moved my hands to hold his thigh, digging my nails into him as if to ask him if he was trying to kill me already. There was a low chuckle when I struggled to pull away from him, like he was enjoying my scriking. I was becoming more desperate to move off of him, but it was too difficult with him being so much stronger than me.

“Scared, are we?” He leaned in over me, yanking my head back so I could look into his glare. “Next time don’t touch yourself without my permission, understand?”

I moaned in response to him, hoping he’d finally let me catch my breath. He patted my head and finally released me, my body moving on its own to get away from him, gasping for air while I backed up against the wall on the other end of the bed. Alexios had a wicked grin on his face, grabbing the belt to pull me back to him.

“Aw, I really did frighten you. You’ve got your mascara running down your cheeks like a scared little whore,” he said while wiping my face with his thumb.

I was still winded and with my panic subsiding I began to see red. “You… what the fuck were you trying to do? Suffocate me?”

He frowned, clearly able to detect my irritation with him. “Sorry, I had gotten ahead of myself.”

Alexios was looking down at the floor like a guilty dog and I rolled my eyes, kicking him in the side. “Well shit mate, don’t stop, just give me a damn warning next time.”

I saw his entire body perk up and he shifted around, taking the ‘leash’ in his hand and tugging me closer to him. He noticed me wince from how taut the belt was around my neck and loosened it slightly for me which made me groan again. Honestly, either be rough with me or play nice, don’t keep switching up. I lurched forward and shoved him down on the sheets, kissing him and smiling against his lips at the startled noise he made. I grinded my pelvis over his cock, his hands slapping down on my ass to jerk me into him. I felt his fingers caressing the seam on my trunks but I shrugged it off, not realizing he was looking for the best place to grab a hold of so he could rip open my shorts. It was one quick tear and it’s fair to say I wasn’t ready for it. Alexios grabbed my flesh, toying with it in his palms while I rocked back and forth on him. He kissed me back as he rolled over on top of me, but only for a short time as he soon moved his mouth down to kiss my jaw, my neck, and then my shoulder. At my shoulder, he bit me and I yelped, my hands and legs wrapping around him while he tore my skin. He lapped at the blood from my fresh wound like he was a wolf.

Alexios’ eyes shot me a harsh glance, though before I could think about what that look meant he answered my question with his cock up my ass. I cried out, wishing he gave me more of a warning than just a simple stare before going in raw, but I guess he wasn’t used to being accommodating. He continued this trend of being unaccommodating while he fucked me, his strokes inside me being ruthless and deep. I couldn’t control my voice; I was just a whining mess at his mercy. Alex shook my arms off his back and pinned my arms down next to my head, his weight being pressed into my wrists. My legs tightened around his waist in response to the way he was dominating me, still aching to touch myself but knowing there was no way he’d let that happen. He seemed to love my wailing; his grunts tainted by low laughs. I see his life as Deimos has made him have a fetish for causing pain in others. Hmph, schadenfreude.

I continued trying to free myself, but damn was this guy strong. I couldn’t even manage to lift my pinned wrists, and that’s with the added adrenaline of my ass feeling like it was being torn to shreds by his lack of empathy. Alexios didn’t once seem to want to slow down with me. He just wanted things done his way and couldn’t careless about how much pain I was in. Perhaps I gave him the impression I could take a beating and that’s why he’s been eyeing me the way he has. I could hear his grunts deepening; he must have really been feeling this semi-torture session. His love of completely dominating me made me wonder if he just viewed me as prey, a toy for him to use and then he’d throw me away. The idea of that must’ve turned me on quite a bit as I felt precum from my cock drip onto my pelvis. I’m not surprised I was into being used; I just wish I had standards for how I was treated in bed. Honestly, I wish I wasn’t wincing through this dealing so I could keep my eyes open long enough to properly see the expression on Alexios’ face. What I’d give to be able to watch this beast fuck me before my eyes…

Alex’s speed somehow went faster and his grip on my wrists turned into an almost crushing feeling “Oh god Edward…” I heard him moan.

I swear I was about to bite a hole in my lip. I had bit myself to stifle an actual scream from the pain, but luckily for me after Alexios came I only had to suffer through a few more rough pumps. After those he slowed to a halt, both of us catching our breaths for the moment. I finally got a good look at him, sweat soaking his brow and his cheeks red. He pulled out of me and I felt his cum dripping out of me as he did. He finally moved off from holding my wrists and sat back, looking at the clear hard on in my shorts and the mess he made of my rear. I tried to give him a little simper so he’d know I enjoyed it, but he just kept staring at my bottom with the same gaze I was giving his cock earlier. I gulped, knowing he still wasn’t finished with me.

“Roll over,” he demanded and I obliged with haste.

I had originally been on my hands and knees but Alexios knocked me down to my elbows afore grabbing my thighs. He bit my inner thigh before licking up my leg to my ass where he bit me again. I winced, this guy really liked using teeth, huh? I felt him lick the bite, stinging my flesh before his tongue traced to the rim of my ass. Is… is he going to eat me out?

Well, it wasn’t a question for long. Sure enough, Alexios started lapping away despite having just came inside me. My stomach fluttered, he just kept surprising me. My cock was twitching uncontrollably, I was moments away from climaxing myself. And then he stopped, grabbing my hair by the pony tail, wrenching my body backwards. The back of my head laid on his lap, his gaze meeting min. Alexios wiped his mouth and shot me a jeering leer, sending a shiver down my spine. My heart was beating quickly as his stare moved down my body.

“Look at you, dripping like a girl would,” he taunted, flicking my cock’s head. I yelped which he seemed to like. “Let me guess, you want to cum, don’t you?”

I nodded. I’d want nothing more than to finally finish. He’s been toying with me for so long I felt numb. Usually I’d feel happier about lasting longer than my partner but this was just too much, I was losing my mind.

Alexios took my wrists in his fingers, those rough hands pinning my arms against the sheets. “Beg for it, blondie.”

I didn’t even try to fight him. I just bit my tongue and swallowed any remaining pride I had. “Please, Alex,” my voice was quivering as I spoke but who could blame me, I was desperate. “I want to cum, I need to, please let me, mate, it’s driving me mad. I need it, Alex, I feel numb. Please, please, please, let me—”

Alexios had grinned right before he slapped me across the face. Judging by the laughter, I must’ve done something right. Even so, my skin was left with yet another one of his handprints on it and I only wished he’d stop playing these games and just cut me the least bit of slack so I could just—

A knife pressed up against my throat. Alexios had pulled a switchblade from his pocket while I was recovering from his palm’s burn. My breathing changed to become shorter and more rapid. I could feel the edge grazing my skin. One slip of his fingers and my throat would be cut, be it on accident or purpose, I wouldn’t be able to tell with him. All I had to go on was that same old snide smile. His other hand stoked my hair, twirling strands around. He used the blade to tilt my chin back so I had to look down my nose at him. His thumb graced my cheek in a soothing way, almost making me forget all about the weapon in his other hand.

“You may touch yourself now, sweetheart, but keep those blue eyes of yours shut,” he whispered to me.

My heart rate was still speeding but, somehow, I managed to calm myself enough to shut my eyes and move my hands down to my groin without moving my neck, a feat harder than someone who’s never had a blade against their throat might think. My cock was peeking out the waistband of my trunks so I just finished pulling down the shorts so I could rub myself. The feeling of my fingers finally touching me was pure ecstasy. I bit my lip while I finished myself off, Alex still petting the side of my head. While I couldn’t see his face right now, I knew he was grinning from watching my spray myself with my own semen. As soon as the blade moved from my neck, I began panting like a thirsty dog to catch my breath. He swiped the blade over my abdomen carefully so he wouldn’t slice me while I breathed, though at this point I don’t think I’d have cared if he did.

Alexios patted the side of my head. “Open your eyes, my little puppy, and stick out your tongue. I’ve got a treat for you.”

I opened my eyes slowly, still panting but now with my tongue out I really felt like his mutt. In front of my face he held his switchblade, it glazed with my cum. He wiped the blade over my tongue.

“Good boy. Now, swallow.”

I did, even opening my mouth to show him, which he seemed to get a kick out of. He chuckled, rustling my hair. I smirked back at him; glad to see I had done a good job for him. He leaned back against my pillows and I rolled over on top of him, moving up his body so I could lay on his chest rather than his legs. He looked overjoyed, his forearm over his eyes while he shined a grand smile.

“Hey, Alex,” I said, trying to get his attention without success. I flicked his arm, though he didn’t even flinch. Pouting, I grabbed his jaw and pulled him to face me. “Oi, Alex.”

He looked a little surprised that I had suddenly grabbed him, but he was still grinning. “What, Goldilocks?”

Goldilocks, oh how many times I’ve heard that. “’Fraid I don’t fear you no more, mate.”

Alexios’ fingers brushed through my hair. “Aw, what a shame. Guess I’ll need to reinstate that later, huh?”

I knew I was dancing with a devil at this point, but still I gave him a cheeky smile. “I’d like to see you try.”

He and I shared a fit of giggling banter before falling asleep. When I woke up, the side of the bed he had slept on was empty. I frowned for a moment before hearing clanking coming from the kitchen and him groaning. I snickered, shaking my head. Can’t believe I was scared of him just hours ago. When I stood to go help him out with breakfast, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Torn shorts with cum staining the fabric, bruises dotted my skin alongside a few bitemarks. The worst of these marks were the bruises wrapping around my neck and my swollen ass. The shiner from the kick in the face I took yesterday wasn’t nothing either, but judging by the amount of blood Alex’s shirt was drenched with I couldn’t really complain. I changed my pants to some clean striped boxer briefs before heading into my kitchen where I found Alexios running his hand under water.

I grinned while watching him, walking towards him silently. Once behind him I slapped his ass, making the brute jump and swear. I laughed at his reaction, leaning my body up against his shoulder while he covered his face in embarrassment.

“Come to help me then, blondie?” he sighed.

I pressed my head against his shoulder and wrapped my arm around his waist. “Shit, if you’re really struggling that much to fry a couple eggs.”

He groaned at my snark, though I helped him anyway, not wanting him to burn himself making scrambled eggs again, even though his brief incompetence was kind of cute. The eggs weren’t that bad, just a tad burnt. We parted ways about an hour later, though the next day I saw him those dark eyes looked more afraid of my ability to bounce back from his beating than anything else. At last, it was my stare burning his skin, not his on mine. I grinned at him and his eyes darted away from me.  He was scared of me.

Good.

#alexward #alexios #edward #assassins creed #i write #its 5:47am #im so sorry my dear sweet boy #if youre lucky i'll write a smut of you fucking arno instead of the one i want to write where roberts #ya know #tortures you senselessly #yall reading this like 'shit at least it isnt noncon' #acod #ac4

[peachywise]

nullify part 2

an umbrella academy fanfiction // klaus hargreeves x reader

- part ii: the broken alarm clock || ⋆ part i ⋆ part iii ⋆ part iv ⋆ part v ⋆ part vi ⋆  more parts to be released

- synopsis: You've heard of people having rude awakenings before, but you'd never actually experienced one yourself. That was until Klaus Hargreeves broke into your apartment, banging pots and breaking your clocks. This idiot just can't seem to go away.

- notes: wow, okay thanks for all the love so far on this guys!! I hope you enjoy part two. originally this had a lot more but it got a bit too long, so I cut it in half. part three will be up pretty soon. let me know if you want on the tag list. tw in this one for swearing, fire, and mild violence.

link on ao3

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Dreams have a funny way of making unconscious fears rear their god-forsaken heads in all too terrifying ways.

You’d been plagued by a particular nightmare for years, ever since you were a kid. It used to occur every night when things had been particularly bad, making your already so cruel waking days extend longer with sleep that should have been a type of escape. Now it only happened when you felt exhausted or anxious. Sometimes both. Okay, mostly both. You should have taken some comfort in the familiarity of the dream given the particular instability of your life, but alas, it was what it was.

And it was complete and utter horse shit.

It always started the same. You woke up in your childhood bedroom cluttered with crayon drawings and clothes scattered about, everything caught on fire like juvenile kindling. Your flannel pajama pants—the ones with the ugly looking green bunnies you thought were hilarious— had just caught a bit of the flame, burning away the fabric and charring and licking the skin of your leg, bubbling and making an awful smell. You barely managed to smack it out with your pillow before forcing your too adolescent and unstable force field up.

This was when the dream would begin to differ. Sometimes different things or people trailed into the room, watching you as you watched them, the house crumbling down to burning decay and ash while you sat crying in your little bubble, sweating and straining to keep it up and full. Sometimes they talked. Other times they didn’t. As you got older, anger tended to mix in with the panic and desperation you’d felt in the situation, aimed at whatever or whoever you believed had caused the flames.

Tonight, this dream's starring opponent stood all too close to you while you struggled and wailed. Reginald Hargreeves towered over your cowered figure, but your gaze wasn’t on him. No, your eyes fixated on the uniform-clad Five and the Cheshire grinning, kohl-lined eyed Klaus behind him who greeted you with an irritatingly ironic, “hey, hot stuff.”

Odd. You’d never felt both terrified and annoyed in these dreams before.

“It’s time for you to wake up.”

Well, that was new too.

“W-what?” You sputtered out, slightly loosening the death grip tight around your legs, eyes searching Klaus as his voice ringed louder and clearer than the haze and blaze of the fire.

“Come on, wake up!” Klaus yelled again, pushing Reginald away as he stepped up closer to your bubble, close enough to burst it.

And then your eyes cracked open, and your nightmare followed you into consciousness as one of your larger pots was placed so close to your face that you nearly smacked into it on time to the wooden spoon Klaus was already rhythmically slapping it with, hollering repeatedly as he did, “wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up!”

No one could blame you for your knee jerk reaction. Any sane person would have reached over for their alarm clock and hit the person who broke into their apartment over the head like you just did now. No one would also blame you for screaming. Your brain hadn’t even registered yet that it was Klaus who loomed over you. It was a fucking jarring way to wake up, for Christ’s sake.

Klaus immediately dropped the pot and spoon to grab his head, yelling out an overdramatic, “ow!” Too bad the pot landed with a hard thud on your stomach, causing the air to rush out of you and a groggy groan to leave your still panicked body in unharmonized synchronization with his howl of pain.

The now broken alarm clock which stopped ticking in your hand probably would have let out a cry of pain too if it could. But it was dead. Klaus was going to be too in a moment.

“Look what you did!” You shouted, throwing the sheets off your body as you scrambled off your mattress, nearly tripping on your feet as you did. Shoving the clock in his face, you continued with, “you broke my clock!” using your other hand to subtly clear the sleep out of your eyes.

“I broke your clock? You broke my head!” Klaus bellowed back, gripping his forehead in a way you thought was just a little too theatrical.

Shoving his arm, your face furrowed in an aggravated frown as you grumbled out an exasperated, “and you broke into my apartment. I win. What’s next, want to break my sink as well? Go ahead, you’d be doing me a favour. It’s the only way the landlords going to come look at my shitty plumbing.”

“Oh, of course, pleasure to be of service,” sarcasm dripped from his tone, similarly to how the blood dripped on your clean carpet from the cut in his head when he removed his hand to give an equally as sardonic curtsey your way.

Great.

Turning to grab a handful of the Kleenex from your bedside table, you hurriedly reached up and pressed it to his head to stop any further damage befalling your security deposit. “stop bleeding on my stuff,”  you swore. “Come on, let’s go to my bathroom.”

“First you hit me, and then want a morning triste in the bathroom?” Klaus tisked. “My my. You’re a little wildcat, aren’t you? I like it.”

You tried to ignore the fact he just followed up that comment with a growling noise like he was one of those creepy men in old 70’s movies, but you couldn’t. Instead, you decided not to take the moral high ground and flicked his cut over where you still had the Kleenex pressed. A pathetic exclamation of “hey!” brought a smug smile to your face.

“Come on, sit down. Let me see if I have anything to clean that up with,” you muttered, ushering him to sit on the lid of your closed toilet seat, grabbing his hand and putting it on the Kleenex-gauzed wound before bending down to rummage through the cabinet under the sink. “Want to tell me how you got in and why you’re here in the first place?” Sudden dread coursed through you as images of what else he could have broken flashed in your mind. Turning back around with wide eyes, you implored, “please tell me my front door isn’t hanging off its hinges.”

“Well you certainly think highly of me,” he uttered back, sniffling loudly as he slouched forward, eyes momentarily flashing behind you before quickly glancing your way again. “Your door is perfectly intact. But you really should lock the window on your fire escape. There are some nasty creatures out there. If you don’t watch out the boogeyman might get ya.”

Of course, he fucking climbed through the window. You bet he didn’t even try the door first, knocking or breaking in. His first instinct was to just climb up and—

Wait.

“I keep that unlocked because the ladder up to the fire escape is broken and I’m on the third floor. Did you bring your own ladder just to get in here? Forget the boogeyman, I’ve got a real life psycho sitting on my toilet. Did you happen to bring a knife too? Let me just get in the shower really fast and you can fulfill your Norman Bates fantasy. ”

“I mean, if you’re offering to get in the shower,” Klaus started, but before you could whack him on his wound again, it seemed like an invisible force slapped him upside the head, jerking him forward as he gave what was now his third cry of pain in under ten minutes. You were so shocked that you fell back on your butt, eyes frantically searching for whatever had made your thoughts turn into action. This wasn’t your power, right? You couldn’t do that. You didn’t want that. You would have a panic attack if—

“Christ on a cracker, Ben! It was only a joke! Death has made you so sensitive.”

Oh thank God, it was just a ghost.

Klaus sneered as his eyes glanced up at what was seemingly air in front of him as he had a conversation with his… invisible? Yeah, sure. Let’s go with his ‘invisible’ brother. “I am just being my perfectly charming self.” He paused, face reacting to whatever Ben must have said as he made the most melodramatic eye roll you had ever laid witness too. It was a little impressive, actually. Not that’d you mention it. No, you just watched the sideshow in front of you play on in jarred, mildly entertained, fascinated silence.

“I am not scaring ‘em off—” another pause, another exasperated shake of his head. “You don’t think I know that? I know we need them. If I go back there alone, our baby assassins going to shoot my balls off!”

Baby assassin? What, is like the new tickle me Elmo? If he was trying to ease Ben’s concerns, he was doing a terrible job of increasing yours while he did it.

As Klaus continued yelling, rambling on certain obscenities in the direction of your wallpaper peeled wall, you sat back up and turned back to your cabinet, pushing various bottle beside until you found the peroxide and cotton pads. Standing back up, you walked over to Klaus and swatted your hand in front of him, hoping to diffuse whatever argument had since gotten boring and headache inducing in your mind.

“As much as I’ve enjoyed this episode of Caspar the slap-happy ghost versus his dipshit brother, can you guys shut up long enough for me to clean this cut and get you the hell out of my apartment?”

Klaus immediately closed his mouth as both eyebrows shot up. Glancing over your shoulder one last time, he stage whispered to ghost boy, “they’re so touchy.”

Reaching over, you took the Kleenex from his hand to toss it in the trash, noting how the cut had stopped bleeding. Grabbing his chin, you wordlessly tilted his face up, angling it slightly towards the bathroom’s fluorescent light, leaning in closer to inspect it.

“Looks superficial. It’s fine” you stated, letting go of his face as you twisted the cap off the peroxide bottle, tilting it to soak one of the cotton pads.

“Well which is it, am I superficial or am I fine?” He quipped back, a lazy smile curving his lips.

Deadpanning, you replied, “you’re a pain,” before unceremoniously pressing the cotton pad to the cut maybe a bit too hard. Klaus once again winced in pain as he inhaled a sharp intake of breath, jerking his head away.

Well, make that four cries of pain now in under ten minutes. If it happened one more time, you wondered if you’d get a prize.

“Such cute pajamas for someone so utterly devilish,” he jibed, reaching out a hand to absently pluck the sleeve of your brightly blue coloured flannel. You slapped his hand away and he pouted like a child scorned. Oh, boo hoo.

Pressing the cotton pad back to his forehead, a little softer this time, Klaus visibly relaxed as you cleaned the wound. “You never answered my questions. Seriously, how did you get up that fire escape?”

“Well, if you haven’t figured it out yet, my darling brother has recently acquired the art of physical touch. I climbed on to his shoulders.”

Pausing, your eyes bugged out a bit as you turned your gaze to his. You never thought about that being possible. You’d always just been worried about one robber. Fuckin’ idiot. “I should really lock that window, huh?” Klaus snorted in affirmation.

As you finished clearing the blood from his pale skin, you leaned slightly back to inspect that it looked fine. “I don’t have a Band-Aid, but I think you’ll survive.”

Klaus held up a finger, an amused look flashing in his eyes as he used his other hand to dig through too-tight leather pants pocket. Standing up as he pulled a band-aid wrapper out, you watched as he made his way over to the mirror above your sink, ripping it open and putting on a very pink, and very floral, Hello Kitty Band-Aid.

Twirling back around, he raised both hands up and motioned towards his new accessory, asking, “what do you think?”

You were quiet for a moment, then you nodded. “I think that makes sense.” Klaus grinned.

As both of you made your way back out of your bathroom and into your shoe box sized slightly messy bedroom, you crossed your arms over your chest and leaned back against the wall. Klaus made himself feel at home as he poked around the various knick knacks. “Seriously, why are you here Klaus?”

“Have you suffered a bout of amnesia since last night?” He questioned, turning a sideways glance your way before he continued on his little expedition of your things. “I’m here to bring you to meet the rest of our happy family. Five thought you would be more willing to come with me than him.”

“And here I was thinking he had some semblance of intelligence,” you muttered, pushing yourself off your wall to go nudge him out of the way when he moved to go open one of your drawers. Why would Five think you’d be more willing to go with homeless Mick Jagger? You’d only met him once. You’d only met both of them once, in fact.

“Well you’re not exactly kicking and screaming to get me out of your apartment now, are you?” Klaus almost purred, brushing a hand across your shoulder as he swirled behind you, beginning his snooping once again. “In fact, it seems like someone was all too willing to play nurse to a cut I easily could have cleaned myself.” Picking up a picture frame from your bedside table, an odd look crossed his face before you snatched it from his hands, setting it face down. Now you were getting irritated. Whether it was with him, or yourself given the unnerving truth of his statement, you didn’t exactly want to delve into it at the moment.

“You bled on my carpet. I couldn’t trust that you wouldn’t bleed on the rest of my things before you managed to do a shitty patch job,” you replied easily back, averting your gaze from his as you took a few steps away.

Klaus made an elusive ‘hmm’ noise in the back of his throat. And then he flopped on to your bed, leaning back against the headboard as he grabbed your fuzzy white blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders and throwing it over his head like a cloak, curling into it as he contentedly smiled, “cozy.”

You picked up your pillow and tossed it at his face.

“Look, you guys can’t just barge into my life and expect me to go along with whatever this is. I’ve spent a good part of my life trying to stay out your way praying I never meet your dear old dad. Now if you’ll excuse me, today’s my day off and I intend to spend it quietly alone in my empty apartment.”

“Our dad? This had nothing to do with him,” he said, sitting up straighter as he dropped the blanket off his head, studying your face with a slight tilt to his head. Looking at him in silence, you rolled your hand in a ‘come on’ to signify for him to continue and stop being so freaking elusive.

“We need your help to stop the end of the world.” Then he threw his arms up with jazz hands, excitedly saying, “isn’t that so much fun?

Huh.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you gave a curt nod before twisting around, picking your phone off your receiver as you began dialing a number.

“Who are you calling?”

“The cops.”

Boy, was he also the Flash? You had never seen someone move so fast in your life. Ripping the phone from your hand, he slammed it back down on the base then gripped both your shoulders, pushing you away from it as he completely crowded himself in your personal space. Slight alarm skittering across his eyes. “Come on, is that really necessary? I’m not playing around.”

“Why should I believe you? Trust you?” you shot back, shrugging off his grip as you folded your arms around yourself. “As fun as you are to banter with, this is fucking crazy! You guys knew what I could do. You guys knew where I worked, where I live, what my name is! Now you say you need my help saving the world? Calling the cops seems like the natural progression of how this interaction should go on my side.” Jesus, where you hyperventilating? Where was that phone? You had to get that phone.

Klaus crouched lower to your height, arms stretched out like he was trying to calm a wild deer. Bitch. “Okay sweetheart, you need to calm down for just a second,” he soothed, and you couldn’t help but exhale a short, unamused laugh. “You know us, you know what we do. Or at least what we did. The Umbrella Academy isn’t some mastermind organization, we were just a group of kids brought together by a man with a god complex who so desperately tried to mold us into those bullshit cliché, good Samaritan superheroes. We’re fucked up, but we wouldn’t just come after an innocent like you for no reason. You have free will in this, okay? All I’m doing is asking, not telling you to come. Just let me take you to everyone. Five can explain this all better than I can.” He took your continued silence as an opportunity to continue his point, adding in, “you can even bring your clock as a weapon if it makes you feel more comfortable. You’re a real danger with that thing.”

As much as you hated to admit it, he was pretty convincing. If they had wanted to hurt you, if they had wanted to use you, you had no doubt they would have forced it upon you by now. From what you had learned, it seemed nearly all of them had been estranged from their dad for a while now. Vanya’s book had been pretty enlightening on the horrors that had occurred in that house, at least from her view point. So if Reginald was the one pulling their strings, then he was pulling their strings unbeknownst to them.  

It also didn’t help that your curiosity was piqued. You always loved a good mystery.

“Alright,” you conceded, letting your arms fall back down to your sides. Klaus let out a long breath of air and happily grasped his hands in front of him, jokingly singing as he did, “Darling, you’ve made me the happiest man in the world!”

“Under one condition.”

“Oh, I was so close,” he sulked immediately under his breath, dropping his hands.

“You have to promise me that I can leave. Like no strings attached, I can drop off mid-conversation and slam the door on my way out, type of leave. I’m only there to hear what he has to say, ask some questions, and that’s it. I haven’t decided to help you guys.”

Raising his hand out, he gave you a knowing smile as he extended his pinky finger. “I promise,” he droned. Heaving a sigh, you lifted your hand to wrap your pinky around his in a child-like binding promise. He was lucky he had such sincere eyes.

Letting go, you took a tiny step back as you cleared your throat, feeling uncomfortable with the odd tension you now wanted so desperately to melt. “Well, get out. You and Ben. Let me change and then you can take me to your master, or whatever.”

“My master?” Klaus gasped, as you herded him over the threshold of your door. “Five is a child. I am clearly more superior.”

Giving a tight smile, you quirked your eyebrow up. “You sure about that? I got the impression yesterday that you’re more like his fun loving, but pitifully dim witted henchmen,” you replied, then swung the door shut in his face before he could have the last word.

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