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writingsbychlo · 4 years

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if the world was ending | mitch rapp

word count; 5152

summary; mitch broke up with you because he couldn’t handle being in love again, and now he regrets that decision, and would do anything to take it back.

notes; this is a song fic, but I didn’t include all of the lyrics, so don’t send me asks about missing chunks, please! check out the song!

warnings; smut, unprotected sex.

I was distracted, and in traffic I didn't feel it when the earthquake happened, But it really got me thinkin' Were you out drinkin'? Were you in the living room Chillin', watching television?

His key would continuously seem to miss the lock on the door, and Mitch let out a low growl, shoving at the metal once again as he tried to force the lock to work, blurry eyes and exhaustion taking him over. Before he could question it, the door was opening from the inside, metal shifting and gears clicking before the wood was moving from his sights to reveal you instead, a bright smile on your face and one of his black henleys on your shoulders, hanging slightly loose around the open collar as it faded away into a pair of sleep shorts and fluffy socks clad on bare legs.

You were a sight for sore eyes, messy hair and teasing grin, and all.

“You didn’t even check who it was, what if I’d been an intruder?” He chastised, stumbling forwards one tired legs and pressing a kiss to your lips, humming happily as you pressed back into him just as eagerly, before he was kicking the door shut behind himself and dropping his bag down by the front door.

“An intruder with a key?” You raised your brows at him, his lips flicking up at the sides as his shoes followed; phone, wallet and keys all being discarded onto the side unit, and his eyes were locking onto the couch, joy filling him at the idea of laying down. “Not that you know how to use it, apparently.”

“You try using a key after six days in Russia with no sleep and having to fight, like, four people at once. Everything hurts.” You placed a hand on his chest to stop him in his movements as he edged toward the couch, a whine falling from him as he turned to look at you.

“You’re covered in blood, you’ll ruin my cushions, you need to wash up first.” He let out another sigh, despite knowing that it was a true and fair request, and nodded his head. “How about I run us a hot bath? I’ll put those bath salts in that make your muscles all tingly, and I’ll wash your hair for you.”

He nodded, a wave of serenity already washing over him simply at the idea that he’d get to relax in the warmth of the water, his back pressed to your chest as you wrapped around him from behind, holding him close. You were always so good at making him feel safe when he came home, and he knew it was one of the reasons he’d fallen for you in the first place. What was intended to be a simple fling to satisfy the cravings for basic affections and the lust deep in his gut had become much more.

He had a key to your apartment, and the cat the roamed the halls was friendly enough to bump its head against his shins and purr. He’d met your friends, and knew the names of every worker in that Thai place down the street that you loved so much, and they knew him. It had been so easy to slip into something more deep and meaningful with you, but there was still a clawing guilt in his stomach every time. The true intentions he’d had that night when he’d bought you a drink in a shitty bar while you wore a tight dress and danced under low lights, not to woo you and love you but simply to find a quick fuck, someone to warm his bed and quash the loneliness for a little while.

He hated that he couldn't give you what you needed, that he wasn’t able to love you, because he just didn’t know how anymore. Every time he came home and went to your place instead of his, the key he held and the emotion in your eyes every time you looked at it, it was only a matter of time before you said those three little words to him that he couldn't say back, and everything he so deeply craved would come crashing and burning down at his feet once again. Warmth would shift to icy chills and he’d have locked himself out once again, because commitment just wasn’t something he was capable of anymore.

The water was running, gentle hands skimming up his sides as you helped him to undress, his own hands working over soft skin as he pushed your clothing to the floor, mouths melding in soft kisses, fingertips leaving goosebumps over flesh as you embraced one another’s touch once again, and even with the respite from his guilt that your presence provided for him, it was still always there. A pit in his stomach that was growing bigger and bigger, because as the tender moment stretched on and on, he knew tonight was going to be when you said it, full of bliss and joy and expecting to hear the phrase back, and so he kissed you, deeply, willing you not to, so that he could selfishly claim just a few more hours with you before it was all over.

It's been a year now Think I've figured out how How to let you go and let communication die out I know, you know, we know You weren't down for forever and it's fine I know, you know, we know We weren't meant for each other and it's fine

Pressing his forehead against the side of the plane, his eyes fluttered shut for a second, the painful ache spreading over the entirety of his body was enough to make any other grown man cry, but that wasn’t the cause of the burning behind his eyes today. Today, Mitch had the painful reminded of this day a year ago when he’d been on his way to see you, but he didn’t quite have that luxury anymore. His throat was tinging, choking back the emotions he held, one’s he so wanted to release, and his nostrils flared with a deep sigh instead.

“You’re been pouting like a child all fuckin’ day. Will you cheer up? You’re ruining the beer I’m anticipating when I get home with your foul mood.”

He cracked his eyes open, hoping they didn’t appear as glassy and red as they felt, and he swallowed down the lump in his throat, scowling at his mentor in hopes that he’d lay off. That tactic clearly hadn't worked, however, because Stan shifted a little more in his seat, dragging a curious gaze over every inch of his face in a way that made Mitch squirm in his seat a little, uncomfortable at the scrutiny he was being afforded.

“You look depressed.”

“That’s because I’m stuck on a plane with you.” He muttered, moving himself to look out of the window instead, and his mentor barked out an amused laugh, but Mitch could still feel his lingering stares.

“No, I think you’re freaking out about what happens after you’re no longer on the plane with me.” He hated that Stan could read him so easily, that to everyone else he was a safe that was locked up tight, and that it was so easy for the other man to crawl under his skin, get on all of his nerves and be one of the only people who truly knew him. “You weren’t even this on edge and tense when we were on our way out, never mind coming home.”

“I just don’t like going home to an empty house, okay? It’s too quiet. Cold.”

He grumbled the words out, but Stan scoffed, and was fixed with a harsh glare in return, but he didn’t flinch like Mitch wished he would, seemingly unaffected by the burning stare. “And who’s fault is that, huh?”

Mitch opened his mouth, gaping a little, before snapping his jaw shut tightly, feeling the muscles twitch and tense as his teeth ground together. He could feel the divet between his brows, where they had puled together, a spot that always formed when he was angry or confused or concentrating, and he could still feel the warmth and weight of you sinking down into his lap while he wrote up his reports, your thumb smoothing over the spot, followed by a brush of your lips as you told him to relax.

The thought made his eyes sting once again, and he cursed a little under his breath, giving in at the stares they were sharing as he cowered out, blinking forming tears away quickly. “I don’t get what your problem was. You clearly care about her. Why can’t you just tell her that, and stop sulking? It’d do you good o have her back, I liked you better when you weren’t sulking and single. Less of a bitch to work with.”

“You’re a bitch to work with.”

“What are you? Five?”

He knew it had been a weak response, and he cringed a little on himself, sinking down further into the plush leather of the plane seat and trying to sift through his thoughts, something that Hurley clearly acknowledged, because he waited patiently but expectantly in silence, running a hand over his jaw as he watched Mitch try to gather his thoughts up and sort himself out. “It’s not so easy to just say. It’s complicated.”

“It really ain’t.” Stan shrugged, something about his tone making Mitch feel like he was about to get some kind of fatherly advice, and his curiosity got the best of him as he peered over at his superior. “I’ve heard you say that word before. Heard you say how much you love beer, how much you love beef dumplings and noodles on a Friday night, how much you love knocking cocky recruits on their ass.”

“Saying I love food is not the same as being able to say I love (Y/N).” He hissed, hopes dropping as he realised the statement wasn’t going to be useful, but Stan smirked at him wickedly, shrugging his shoulders and sipping his drink.

“Yeah, well, you just said it.” His face twisted up, moving between several different expressions, before a slightly nauseated shock was what he settled on, as he realised that the words he’d never been able to say aloud before, or even internally acknowledge, had finally been voiced for the first time. In front of Hurley, of all people. He was never going to be able to live this down. “Now, why can’t you say that to her?”

“Because everyone I’ve ever loved before has died, Stan.”

He could see the shock flick across the older man’s face, and it brought him a sick kind of amusement to know he’d caught him so off-guard, but then he was shrugging, and again moving back to that irritating level of passive smart-ass that only he had managed to master so effectively. “Yeah, well, you didn’t have the same training you did before now, did you? You’re not even thirty. You gonna’ spend the whole rest of your life miserable and unhappy just because of a car crash and a shooting, both of which were beyond your control?”

A dull aching in his chest flare dup a little at the mentions of those events, but he knew it was true, and his body deflated with the breath he let out as he gave the weakest rise and drop of his shoulders that he could, his hands clasping over his stomach as he turned to stare out of the plane window. A large hand found his shoulder, squeezing comfortingly, but he didn’t bother to look over.

“Just stop being a dumbass, you clearly love this girl, so why don’t you just get your head out of your ass and go see her?”

Stan wandered away after that, ice clinking in his glass as he handed it off to a flight attendant before disappearing to the bathroom, and Mitch was left alone to wallow in painful thoughts with a stabbing pain in his chest as his heart continued to long for you.

But if the world was ending You'd come over, right? You'd come over and you'd stay the night Would you love me for the hell of it? All our fears would be irrelevant If the world was ending You'd come over, right? The sky'd be falling and I'd hold you tight And there wouldn't be a reason why We would even have to say goodbye If the world was ending You'd come over, right? Right?

He was sweating, hands clammy with a nervous perspiration that made him feel uncomfortable in his clothes, like he wanted to curl up into a ball, dig a hole in the earth, throw up, or some combination of all three. The walk he’d done was so familiar to him, and yet right now, as he stood before your door, it had felt eerily unfamiliar.

There were definite changes.

Your neighbour’s suspicious cat sat out on the front of the apartment building but did not come over to him, even when he’d called out its name, taking the welcome distraction as he crouched down and held his hand out to it, trying to tempt it into remembering him, into approaching him again, but it hadn't. The small animal had simply stared at him as he stood there, before mewing loudly and running away when he’d taken a fraction of a step closer to the door.

The elevator in the main building was working, it had broken only a few months into seeing you before, and now it was back up and working like it had never been broken. The lights in the entryway were brighter, and the hallways had been repainted, the soft grey that they had once been was replaced with sky blue, much brighter and cheerier, and he remembered you telling him about it while laying in bed together one night, it was the exact colour you’d voted for when the building meeting had taken place to discuss it.

The crack in the framing by your door that you’d never gotten around to fixing was mended, damage done by the previous tenants and he’d always said he would fix it for you, but had then always forgotten to bring the tools he would need for it, and he choked down the regret in his throat as he brushed a finger over it. He knew the route, his feet feeling like dead weight under his body as he’d trudged along the halls, before finding himself here, all but trembling with fear and anticipation outside of your door.

The paper and ribbons wrapped around the flowers in his hands were crinkling loudly with every shake he made, and he took a deep and steadying breath, shaking himself down from head to toe. The rapping of his knuckles on the door felt like it reverberated along his entire body, his heart thumping painfully hard against his chest as he waited, eyes fixed on the floor as he watched warm light spill out from under the threshold and into the corridor, soon blocked by a shadow as he heard the scuffling of your feet along the floorboards.

Breath was stuck in his lungs, a choked sound leaving him as the door swung open, your voice ringing out but dying in your throat as you spoke, claiming that whoever it was that you were expecting - certainly not him - was early, and he dropped his eyes, just for a split second to scan along your body, before he was looking up at your face once again.

So pretty, and if he’d thought the melodic ringing of your voice was enough to end him then he had been entirety unprepared for the sight of you. The little black dress he loved so much was fitted to you like a second skin, a cocktail dress he’d seen you wear so many times before as he took you out for drinks and celebrations, his body flooding with heat. Hair styled up, makeup to perfection, and he would have been just as breathless if you’d crawled out of bed to answer the door but you were stunning, and he hated every ounce of himself for ever letting you go.

His jaw dropped as you stared at him in shock, pain flashing in your eyes before you hardened your gaze on him, an act he’d never wished to have you aim at him and yet he knew he deserved it, and yet the words were burning on the tip of his tongue as every moment he’d ever shared with you flashed before his eyes, swirling in his mind, and pulling one very prominent one to the front.

The last time that he’d almost uttered the phrase to you, the one he was determined for you to hear from him now, even if you no longer felt the same. The last time you’d worn this dress, and you’d taken him with you to celebrate one of your friend’s birthdays, his cheeks heating up as he looked at you, but saw that day.

I tried to imagine your reaction It didn't scare me when the earthquake happened But it really got me thinkin' That night we went drinkin' Stumbled in the house And didn't make it past the kitchen Ah, it's been a year now Think I've figured out how How to think about you without it rippin' my heart out

You were giggling into his mouth, red lipstick smeared across his chin and cheeks as your fingers scratched at the stubble lining his jaw, tongue tangled together as you stumbled into your apartment. The door slammed as it closed, hard enough to shake the walls, but neither of you cared, especially not when you were making such sweet sounds for him as his hands slipped lower and lower across the silk lining your body.

Shoes came off first, his shoes being toed off as you tried to kick off your heels, sinking a few inches further down his body as the height fell away, and he wrapped an arm around your waist to be able to lean over you, keeping his mouth firmly on yours as wet tongues tangled together. You were stumbling through the apartment, tripping over one another’s feet and laughing breathlessly as your hands worked down the buttons on the front of his shirt.

You were pushing the material from his shoulders, blazer and dress shirt falling away to the floor with a distant ‘thud’, the fluttering of material sounding out, and the heat around you both was crawling higher and higher. It was frantic, a night of teasing and longing looks, sipping champagne and cocktails with sly winks and whispered needs. He’d cleaned up for the event, and you’d made it clear before you’d even left just how good you thought he looked, and you were clad in dark black silk with thigh slits and heels and you were enough to bring any man to his knees, and he absolutely intended for that to be his next destination.

He was rucking up layers of fabric in his hands until the skirt was bunched around your waist, making you hold it up, and the closest surface he could pin you to was the counter of the breakfast bar, barely having even made it through the kitchen, and hissed as bare skin found the cool marble. His knees hit the floor, your panties following until the scrap of lace was pulled tight around your knees, but then he was helping you up, sitting you on the surface, letting your lay back as he spread your legs and dived right in.

You were dripping for him, before he’d even done anything but kiss you, a groan slipping from his lips as he all but drooled at the thrill of getting to indulge in the honey that was slick on your thighs. That was where he started, licking up the mess you’d already made of yourself as you squirmed and panted underneath him, letting him tease you with small bites and sucking at your soft skin until you’d growled in frustration, a hand in his hair pulling him closer until you were burying his face into your core, sounds that filled every wet dream he ever had taking over.

His scalp had burned, the scratch of your nails and tugs of the strands and your thighs and hips had been littered with red marks the shape of his fingerprints that would be purple in the morning, but he knew you loved it just as much as he did. Two fingers had slipped into you, scissored and curled as he lapped around them, driving you to the point of senseless babbling just with his fingers and tongue, before you’d exploded around him. Then, he’d fucked you.

Deep and slow on the counter with your arms wrapped around his neck, legs tights around his waist as you clung to one another, a collection of tangled limbs, a moaning mess and you chased your highs, until the two of you had been all but sobbing one another’s name into the other’s mouth as you kissed your way through your peaks, and he’s spattered your thighs and cunt with his arousal, pulling out at the very last second and leaving you trembling underneath him when he’d scooped it up and pressed it to your lips.

It was hot, and erotic, but the moments after had been loving and tender. Taking a shower with weak muscles, sinking to the bottom of the tub together as water thrashed down from overhead, soft kisses and laughs and whispered confessions until the water had gone cold, and you’d collapsed into bed together, leaving a mess t tidy up int he morning, sheets sticking to wet skin as you were too lazy to even dry off, just cuddling together under the sheets, drunk on one another, and the words had been so close that night. A sleepy, post-orgasm haze, he’d so nearly whispered them against your lips as you kissed him goodnight.

I know, you know, we know You weren't down for forever and it's fine I know, you know, we know We weren't meant for each other and it's fine But if the world was ending You'd come over, right? You'd come over and you'd stay the night Would you love me for the hell of it? All our fears would be irrelevant

“I love you.”

You flinched, like you were standing too close to a fire and had been burned, and it felt like a knife twisting in his stomach as he watched your reaction. Your arms came up to wrap around yourself, toes digging into the wood of the floor as you stood your ground but he knew your nervous ticks, he knew you, and he frowned, but didn’t let it deter him.

“I love you so, so much. I’m a fucking idiot, I know I am. I know you hate me, and you’ve probably moved on and can find someone who actually deserves you, but I’m selfish, okay? I wanted you to hear it, I had to tell you, for my own peace of mind. I had to know that I cam here, and had the balls to tell you that you are the person who hasn’t left my mind in an entire fucking year. Every thought, every dream, every time my heart beats, it’s all for you, and I had to tell you.” He took a deep breath, scanning your face for even a twitch, any slight tell of an emotion he could get, but you were offering him nothing. “I couldn’t say it before, I was scared and I didn’t know what I was feeling and I know that I hurt you. It kills me every day to know what I did, to think about your face, and the way you’d cried when I walked out, because it haunts me, okay? A year ago today, I lost the best thing in my god damn life, and I just had to tell you, because in another year, and another ten years, and forever on, I think I’ll still love you then. I had to know that you knew.”

You were staring at him, eyes wide and a little glassy as he took a deep breath, lungs screaming out for oxygen and his mind was finally blank. The incessant buzzing he’d become accustomed to as his mind whirled around you on a loop had finally stopped, and he was left in calm, the aftermath of an event, the silence that came after an explosion, the harmony after a fight when everything just went still.

But there was always more to come.

Only then did the thoughts about what you were wearing catch up to him. Pretty painted lips and sharp eyeliner and that sinful dress that made his blood run warmer in his veins as he burned from the inside out. A quick glance behind you confirmed that there was a pair of black strappy heels to match the outfit, a necklace with a gem that he’d never seen you wear before was hanging between your breasts in the low neckline of your dress, skin soft and freshly shaven on the slit up your thigh on your dress.

He let out a sigh, shoulders slumping a little, but he tried to offer you a reassuring smile nonetheless. “Date?”

Your brows pulled in with confusion, and he could physically see the walls surrounding you begin to crumble away, before you let out a heavy sigh, your arms dropping as you caved under his faze, finally speaking to him; “No. Drinks with the girls.”

“Ah, right..”

A tepid silence took over, and he tried not to drop his eyes from yours. Soaking up every moment he had with you before you inevitably kicked him off of your doorstep, and you crossed your arms over your chest, leaning on the doorframe. “A distraction. They’re taking me out to cheer me up, because it’s been a year since the best thing in my life walked out on me.”

Mitch felt his breath hitch in his throat as he stared at you.

If the world was ending You'd come over, right? The sky'd be falling while I'd hold you tight No, there wouldn't be a reason why We would even have to say goodbye If the world was ending You'd come over, right? You'd come over, right? You'd come over, you'd come over, you'd come over, right?

A fistful of his shirt, a harsh tug that he wasn’t expected that made him fall over his own feet, and then there were lips on his own. He couldn’t help it, the embarrassingly needy whine that left him the second his brain caught up with what was happening, and he dropped the bouquet to the floor, hands finding your hips as he pulled you into him. Bodies collided, flush and pressed together, your hands circling his neck and fingers in his hair, heat flooding him from where you were pressed to him, and it felt like he’d been cold for the entirety of the past year, goosebumps rising and falling along his skin as he fell back home, into your arms.

Your cheeks were wet as you gasped into his mouth, tongues sliding together, panting from breath as noses bumped. It was urgent and rushed, not the kiss he’d imagined with you if you’d forgive him, but the one that seemed most fitting. Messy and uncoordinated as if you were learning each other for the first time, becoming familiarised once again with every inch of the other, hands roaming and tongue exploring, until you were satisfied that you were thoroughly reconnected.

He let out a wet and hoarse laugh, raising one hand to sit on your jaw and wipe his thumb under your eyes, clearing away the tears that were already threatening to spoil the masterpiece you’d created, and he knew how long it took you to do it.

“Baby, please don’t cry. You’re going to ruin your makeup.”

You let out a laugh, and he cleared your face, stealing a few more pecks as though at any moment you were going to realise what he’d done, go back to hating him, push him away as if this was the last he’d ever get to see you. You were staring up at him, with glassy eyes and the sweetest smile he’d ever seen, and Mitch swore he couldn't even feel the floor anymore, as if he was floating, up in the clouds and lost to the world.

“I’ll wait. I’ll wait right here, until you come back. We can talk, or you can yell, whatever you want. I’ll be here.”

“I‘m not going anywhere.” You pulled him back in, another collection of sweet kisses that he didn’t deserve but would always accept, never willing to give them up again. “I’d rather stay in and watch TV with you, but you have to go and get us takeout. You know I hate walking to get it.”

“I do, I do know that.” He sniffed, breathy exhale like a laugh as he held onto you tightly, before dipping down to collect the discarded flowers from the ground. A few crumpled petals fell away to the floor, but they were otherwise intact, and he pressed them into your hand carefully, watching as you admired them, thumbing at the delicate leaves and bringing them to your nose.

“This doesn’t get you off the hook, you know.”

“I’ll spend the entire rest of my life making it up to you, I swear.” You only nodded, letting him into your apartment as you led him inside, smiles and tears and he dipped down, lips brushing your earlobe as he listened to you gasp in surprise. “I love you, so much.”

“I love you too, Mitch. Even if you are a fuckin’ idiot.” He only nodded, following your lead as you took him by the hand and guided him through to find a vase and water for the flowers. “Go get my phone, I need to text my friends.”

He did as told, trailing through the apartment, bringing your purse back with him and presenting the item to you, his hands searching for your body once again, just needing to hold you and know that it was real, to know that this time, you weren’t just a dream his mind was conjuring up to torment him with.

He didn’t need a night out, he didn’t need you to be dressed up, he didn’t need anything but you. You and him, and the love you shared, it was enough to get him through anything.

If the world was ending You'd come over, right?

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 3 years

Note

do you have any fics where stiles is treated badly? It could be by the pack, or by family, or something. I just need angst

Here’s some angst. I’ll just be crying over here, don’t mind me.

We Were Not Born to Drown by cutflowersound

(1/1 I 3,497 I Teen I Sterek)

After Gerard tortures Stiles, he is left alone to deal with it.

Derek saves him.

Scratch that, they save eachother.

You Were Never Meant to Know by Mooneye

(1/1 I 8,521 I Teen I Sterek)

“Not a fan of exorcisms, Stiles?” the figure asked as though he were enquiring about the rain.

“Not really. I could spew black bile if you’d like more authenticity,” Stiles answered.

“Stiles, what’s going on?” Scott demanded, unease growing.

Stiles is a demon, always has been, and never intended for anyone to know. Unfortunately, his secret is forcefully revealed and he has nowhere to hide.

Birds Eye View by HappyJuicyfruit

(2/2 I 20,956 I Teen I Sterek)

Derek’s eyes widened, and his first instinct was to look towards Scott, but he already knew what he was searching for wouldn’t be there. Hadn’t been there this whole time.

Stiles was missing.

Derek growled and turned to Scott, “what did you do?”

Scott, pale and wide eyed, looked between Derek and Chris, who were both looking at him for answers. “I- Deaton said he wouldn’t notice!”

Chris sighed, “wouldn’t notice what?”

Derek growled in agreement.

“Deaton gave me pills, full of mountain ash, to replace Gerard’s cancer pills. That way after Derek bit him, Gerard would die.”

Chris crossed his arms, “you didn’t think a cancer patient, or the doctor he checks in with regularly, would notice that he wasn’t taking his pills?”

He Is a Secret Born From a Legend Born From a Myth by LuneFaitLaFolie

(22/22 I 29,907 I Not Rated I Sterek)

Which leads him to where he is now, waking up in Derek’s bed, the pack, Deaton, Melissa and his dad all present. All of them looking worried sick and concerned, trying to distract themselves with something, anything to not go near Derek’s bed. Derek’s bed which he was currently occupying. He slowly looked down to his arms and yep, there they were, his invisible tattoos that were no longer invisible.

The Mating Privilege by Kikileduc

(12/12 I 35,380 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles and Derek have been happily mated. The pack is doing well, but in hopes of creating alliances for it to do better, Derek accepts a neighboring pack's request to allow two wolves to join the Hale-McCall pack for a full moon cycle. They hope to form a blood-tie, or at least a long term friendship between the two packs. The issue is Kohona, the tribal leader's daughter, has her eyes set on an unavailable alpha wolf. This could have drastic consequences for their young emissary, however...

Only he saw. by obsessedbutonline

(31/31 I 45,781 I Teen I Steter)

When the pack stopped telling him about meetings, Stiles laughed. It wasn't surprising that they forgot to update his number when their phones kept getting destroyed by the monster of the week...right? They just forgot. That happened. All the time! Too often. When the pack stopped giving excuses for forgetting, a deserving prickle of fear and trepidation etched its way into his heart, making his usually cocky and brave smile falter and leave. Only when they weren't watching. When they went out of their way to stop him going to meetings, he stopped smiling altogether. Only where they couldn't see. But it's fine, right? He was part of a family that loved him and just wanted to keep him safe...right? But when Derek used the door instead of the window to get into Stile's house, as small and insignificant a fact that may be, he accepted that something was wrong.

Residents of Bad Wolf Bay by Lunabell_Marauder_Knyte

(8/? I 49,769 I Not Rated I Sterek)

“Time travel is a tricky thing, Stiles.In your world...you lived, you ran with wolves, you fought...and you died. But I couldn't let you really die. But you couldn't be there anymore.” The Doctor said.

“...where am I now?” Stiles asked numbly.

“There are parallel universes. All mostly the same minus a few changes in each one. This is the one the Tardis is familiar with.Like before I am burning up a sun just to make sure you've made it alright.” the Doctor's hands are in his pockets as he looks at him with a sad smile. “In this life you were never born...so there won't be a problem of accidentally causing a paradox. I sent you to a point in time where you can make a difference. I know you're smart enough to figure things out...just...be careful. I am so, so sorry.”

“...Take care of my dad.” was the last thing he got to say before the Doctor vanished.

Or In which the pack's neglect and his father's indifference drive Stiles away. He becomes the Doctor's companion and we know that eventually all companion's adventures end. Some endings are happy, some are sad. Some are bitter sweet.

The Doctor tells the Sheriff and the Pack that Stiles won't be making it for dinner. Now...or ever.

Backstage is Full of Parasites by Falln_Grce

(14/14 I 61,349 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles learned to take care of himself from a young age. And despite going through trauma as a child, he's 17 now and has adjusted to the new normal as well as he can. With a soulmate-AU just to keep things interesting.

What if the Sheriff didn't turn to alcohol when his wife died... What if he focused all of his attention on helping a seven year old, recently removed from an abusive home, Isaac get settled into the Stilinski household... Where would Stiles fit into that world?

Escape From Eichen by MelodramaticSalad

(24/24 I 139,993 I Explicit I Sterek)

There's a reason why we have dreams we can't remember. What if those dreams had the possibility to show others and ourselves what our innermost desires were, even if they were completely unknown to ourselves? That is, until it was time for them to surface. It was 2018 when this new technology was first released to the public, four years ago. A company called the Eichen Corporation started up and had three very distinct things that they specialized in.

Derek Hale found himself trapped in an Eichen facility by mistake, he was completely normal, there was no reason for him to be there. One thing was for certain though, he was going to get out of this place, and he was going to take them down.

Do Not Go Gentle by MojoFlower

(51/51 I 195,878 I Explicit I Sterek)

Derek Hale, Beacon Hills Alpha and Dom, wakes up in a dark cell already housing another captive – a mute, traumatized sub with a cruel collar around his neck. His only goal is to get them both free of their brutal circumstances; but even as he tries to get his young companion home, a bond between them grows. Nothing comes easily: danger and harrowing echoes of their ordeal shadow every step they take.

Blue Monday by ExpectNothingGainEverything

(18/? I 511,120 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles would have never guessed that the star player of the lacrosse team and presumably the hottest guy in school who everyone wanted a piece of and one of his most hated bullies would turn out to be his soulmate.

Derek would never have dreamed that fate would be so cruel to pair him up with a freak like Stilinski.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #injured!stiles #steter #peter hale #angst #hurt/comfort #Anonymous

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hectabdr · 3 years

Text

Dragon Raja IV - Chapters 9 & 10 (Abridged)

Hi everyone, in today's update we start learning a little more about Johann's father and that vision that Luminous experienced.

Previous Chapters

Chapter 9

Luminous woke up in a white room. In front of him there was an old man in a white doctor's coat. He explained that once Luminous left the library, he fell and hit his head on the pavement, so his friends brought him to a hospital to check if he had a concussion. Behind the mirror, however, they were being watched by two psychiatrists, next to them, Nono and Finger observed as well. Luminous had to answer many questions, he answered as logically as he could. According to the lead doctor, this wasn't a good sign, a person who knows that they're suffering from some sort of mental disease will always make an extra effort to demonstrate their sanity and Luminous was definitely going the extra mile.

They actually brought him there after Finger threw a rock at his friend's head and knocked him out. Truth be told, they already suspected the doctor's diagnostic, their friend was schizophrenic. Luminous's tantrum didn't help his case either. The young S-Rank was yelling, then threatened the personnel to let him go and almost flipped the table. Minutes later, he was already constricted by a straitjacket, resting on a small hospital bed.

Trying to ignore the other patients with whom he shared a room, he slowly vanished under the effects of a sedative injection. As soon as his eyes closed, his body felt the cold sensation of heavy rain. He was in the number 0 highway all over again, trapped in that same vision, the one where Nono would die in minutes, yet the shadowy creatures were not trying to eat them alive, but frozen like statues, while a small figure walked among them. Carrying an oversized umbrella, the little devil greeted his brother and made an interesting contribution.

The dream that Luminous experienced was not simply a prediction, but a simulation of it, and as such, it could be experienced all over again. In fact, he could repeat the same scenario as many times as he needed to find the one where Nono would survive. It was like the "save" feature in a video game and there was no need to exchange a quarter of his life for this service.

-Odin, what is he?

-You could understand him as a dead soul, trapped in this Nibelungen. He possesses infinite power, yet for some reason, he couldn't leave this place for many years, until now.

Odin's restriction was about to end, after all, he managed to lock Nono with the Gungir lance and it was a matter of time before he could leave the Nibelungen to reach her. Once you're locked by the lance, you're doomed to die, however, it cannot be locked on the same target twice, since theoretically said target should be dead already. Therefore, the solution was simple, if Luminous managed to prevent the lance from hitting Nono, Odin wouldn't be able to try for a second time. According to Ming·Z, someone in the past already escaped the Gungir lance, he just didn't know how. Luminous would have multiple chances to find a way, with a clear objective in mind, he started the second round.

The scenario resumed and the creatures started moving towards them. The pair once again fought for their lives, with a big difference: Luminous performed exceptionally well. Being able to remember the behavior of the servitors allowed him to know exactly how and where to shoot them, leaving Nono speechless. She was particularly surprised when he blew up her car, since he forgot the part where they agreed to escape in the Maybach. Wasting time to explain his course of action, a servitor took advantage of their distraction and cut through Nono's neck with its hands, killing her in an instant.

He woke up in his hospital bed, extremely frustrated. Ming·Z·Lu left a phone in his bed with a message that invited him to try again. The only problem was that he couldn't fall asleep. Luminous threw tantrum after tantrum until the nurse came in and he requested another sedative injection, which surprised her. According to the doctors, these sedatives weren't addictive, so Luminous had little to no reason to want another one. He had to lie about his condition, saying that there were voices in his head yelling to one another. The nurse injected him again and he fell asleep, ready for his third attempt.

In the middle of the battle, he noticed that one of the servitors had a little number next to it, just like the stats in an RPG, and the creature was a "level 600 enemy". According to Ming·Z, a very strong regular human should have a combat level of 100, so this thing had six times the strength of a tai chi master. Enemies that strong should be avoided in close combat and shot from a distance instead. Odin's power level and other stats were displayed as a bunch of question marks. It was a sign of their abysmal difference in strength. When Luminous tried to analyze Ming·Z·Lu, his stats were hidden by question marks as well.

Chapter 10

Days later, Finger and Nono were drinking in Luminous's old bedroom, trying to figure out what to do next. They believed they understood the situation, their friend was mentally ill. He knew about this boy called Lu Mang, who died in an accident and he created an imaginary version of him. He projected most of his own accomplishments into this made up president of the Lionheart club and got two of his former classmates involved in his delusional quest.

Finger suggested giving Luminous back to the college, despite of the risk that it might represent to his safety. If they apologized for their actions and brought back the number one target of the secret party, they might have been able to get pardoned. Maybe Caesar could ensure his well being. Nono still insisted in analyzing the inconsistencies on everyone else's perspective on Luminous and Finger suggested that she just couldn't accept the truth of her sidekick's mental condition.

Finger's suggestion was tearing her apart on the inside, because she knew that she was supposed to be the one who suggested they give up on Luminous, then Finger would be offended and start defending his old roommate, this didn't make much sense, why was she the one who was hesitating? She expressed her disgust at his proposal and left Luminous's old house.

-Even if he's the disoriented puppy that you say he is, it's still mine! I'm the one who picked him up from the women's bathroom!

Meanwhile, Luminous just lost his 46th attempt at saving his former senior. After all of those attempts, he suffered 22 serious injuries, including 12 fractures, 7 deep wounds and 1 broken finger. His previous attempt was devastating, he managed to get in the car with Nono, but the death servitors lifted the car up in the air and they couldn't accelerate anymore. Nono was visibly terrified, while the creatures destroyed the vehicle, they sat down, waiting for their end to come.

Ming·Z tried to dissuade Luminous from pursuing Nono, or even saving her, but his brother refused. The little devil was confused about his brother's feelings and revealed that he had been writing a small webnovel inspired by the real life relationship between Luminous and Nono. His readers weren't particularly happy with her character and wanted her to be more clear about her intentions.

-I learned more about humans to understand the feelings that you have for your senior sister.

-Did you find your answer?

-Yes, your feelings are in all the wrong places.

-Nonsense!

Perhaps there was something he could do. Ming·Z couldn't stop the Gungir lance, but he would be able to kill Odin if Luminous was willing to trade his last quarter of life. As expected, Luminous refused, so he gave him another gift: he would provide him with any weapon he could ask for on his next attempts. Luminous asked for an apache helicopter but Ming·Z forced him to settle for something smaller, a bazooka.

The next round started and Nono freaked out when she saw Luminous's new rocket launcher, where did he get it from?

Back in the real world, Nono arrived at an abandoned building that belonged to the Media Asia Group. The boss of the Black Prince Group was an old acquaintance of hers, a devoted one at that, the same young man who lend her the red Ferrari: the young master Shao. His business card was enough to allow Nono to request information about an old employee: a man whose last name was Chu.

The middle aged man that guarded the old building was curious about this girl and her credentials. She went straight to the point and asked for the long deceased man, Mr. Chu. The guard recognized the surname immediately, his full name was Chu Tianjiao. Long ago they used to be colleagues and drank together from time to time.

Tianjiao was married to a dancer and had a young son, he wanted to earn more money, so he quit his job working as a driver for members of the taxation bureau and became the personal driver of a wealthy man, who owned the Maybach that Tianjiao drove every day.

Nono kept asking for more information, but there wasn't much to say, he loved spicy chicken wings and braised pork belly, he barely spoke unless it was to brag about simple things. But there was something more, Tianjiao lived in the factory, so she asked the man to take her to Tianjiao's room. In her way, she noticed a reflection in the window, powerful flames, but it only lasted a second.

Tianjiao's bedroom hadn't been opened for many years, but the air inside was surprisingly clean, just a little dusty. The furniture was simple, a double bed, a bedside table, a writing desk, a chair and a mini-refrigerator. Some strings in the corner of the room were used to dry his clothes and a jacket was hanged in them. This was everything that Chu Tianjiao had. Nono stepped in, asking to be left alone and she closed the door to allow her profiling ability to fill the missing details. She analyzed every aspect of the small place and came across a photograph. A family of three, a boy who was five at most, a woman with a bright smile and a man in a white shirt and woolen pants combing his hair, hugging his wife proudly. Was the boy Johann Chu? She couldn't recognize his face.

Nono sat down on the bed, closed her eyes and allowed her ability to put her in that man's shoes. She saw him, a man with no name arriving at the town for the first time, carrying nothing but a suitcase. He sat down at a food stand and ordered braised pork belly, but the vision was interrupted by the pain of heavy mental exhaustion.

Her skills were demanding and she found herself trapped in that state, feeling like the was sinking in deep water as she desperately tried to escape. The experience sent her back to the Three Gorges Dam, where she almost died, a monster came to her aid and yelled "Don't die! don't die! don't die!"

She wasn't completely sure about how she survived on that mission. Caesar and Luminous put a story together, in which Norton approached the diving bell and attacked her, the dragon then attacked the Monach, where Caesar skillfully slayed the monster. Luminous brought her back to the boat, where she woke up in her boyfriend's arms.

But there was more to it, a monster, one that ordered her not to die and saved her with powers that broke the rules of the world she knew. Was that an illusion?

Nono felt the whole place trembling and got out of the room, outside, the rainfall had flooded the building and the whole structure was sinking in the muddy ground in which it was built. Nono tried to make her way out, she was trained for this, swimming as fast as she could, she got trapped by the tons of stored garbage and slowly passed out from suffocation until someone finally grabbed her wrist.

She woke up in an ambulance, where she discovered the identity of her savior: the boring middle-aged man that guided her to Tianjiao's room was in fact an olympic swimmer who almost joined the national team! He even had an 8-pack and all, Nono wondered, when did that old man become so interesting?

Anyway, while everyone clapped and celebrated the local hero, she contemplated the ruins of the sinking building. Her last connection to Chu Tianjiao was now lost.

In a simulated combat situation, inside of his dreams, Luminous was now on his 62nd attempt to save Nono. His routine was well practiced, not a single bullet was wasted. He pushed Nono back into the Maybach and prepared to fire the Bazooka at the death servitors, but the projectile exploded inside of the cannon, killing them both in the resulting explosion. Ming·Z excused himself for the defective product, after all, Luminous already used dozens of them so at least one could be expected to have some sort of flaw.

77th load, by this point he already managed to make it out oof the servitor battle and they drive deep into the highway. He tried to pass through the toll booths but accidentally hit a concrete isolation block.

He woke up again at the hospital and asked the nurse for another sedative. He had been sleeping for five or six consecutive days with the help of those injections, only waking up to eat and occasionally chat with his fellow patients. The nurse was growing suspicious of him but he faked a mental episode and the nurse ran away to ask for the doctor's instructions.

Finger showed up to visit him and brought some apples, he also reassured him about Nono's trust in him, informing Luminous of Chen's quest to find more clues about Johann's dad. They also found more about Chu's mother, who probably developed her psychological pregnancy after the death of her real son.

To lighten up the mood after the arrival of the nurses, Finger turned the TV on and they watched the news together. Apparently the airport was closed due to the incessant rains, and they were showing the departure of the last plane right before the lockdown, but something startled Luminous.

Odin's flames were reflecting in the water, the god swung his lance and the wind and water were quickly turned into a blade that cut through the airplane like butter. The airport was covered in flames and some of the passengers were injured.

Luminous tried to warn everyone in the hospital and begged them to call the police, but his apparent prediction meant nothing to them, after all, the footage shown in the news was a repetition from days before. They pushed him back into his bed and sedated him immediately.

Odin was indeed too much for regular humans, and he was about to start tormenting the city, just waiting to get out.

#Dragon Raja #Dragon Raja Novel #Luminous #Nono #Ming Z Lu #Johann Chu

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meterokinesis · 4 years

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Stars as Sharp as Knives

Read it on AO3

Prompt: stabbed

TW: Violence, PTSD, Disassociation

Summary: Tim remembered getting stabbed in vivid detail. The images were horrifying on their own, but together they formed a sick film that played on loop in Tim’s mind. Even after waking up the next morning, and the morning after that, he kept wondering: why am I alive?

Tim remembered getting stabbed in vivid detail.

In a job like this, where you either saved the day or ruined it all, he was used to cuts and scrapes and wounds. He anticipated them even, which the first aid kid he kept in his utility belt could attest to. But getting stabbed that night in the desert was something else.

The sound of steel through flesh. A cruel whisper. Blood, warm and sticky. Sand in his nose and eyes. Cool near-winter wind that ruffled through his hair. Dirt under fingernails. The weight of a body dragged behind him. Brick walls with metal stairs. A soft bed, with downy pillows stained rust.

The images were horrifying on their own, but together they formed a sick film that played on loop in Tim’s mind. Even after waking up the next morning, and the morning after that, he kept wondering: why am I alive?

This was a question he’d been asking himself for longer than he cared to admit. He was alive because no one had managed to kill him yet, and no more. If the universe had its way, he would be dead eight times over. Tim was just lucky, he supposed. But not lucky enough to escape the nightmares.

He remembered while attempting to sleep in the lavish jail cell Ra’s al Ghul concocted for him. He remembered while training with high level assassins, every time they went for a jab at his stomach. He remembered when Tam hugged him, and his reflex was to make sure she didn’t have a knife. He remembered on his first night back in Gotham, when he had to update his medical records to say “Patient has no spleen after a traumatic injury to the abdomen.”

The nightmares were the worst. They played out the scene in gory detail, each time with a new sort of reverence for Tim’s suffering. It wasn’t always the Widower who stabbed him; sometimes it was his father, or Jason, or Damian, or the mugger that killed Bruce’s parents. On bad nights, it was Bruce. On worse nights, it was Stephanie.

The nightmares persisted long after he defeated Ra’s al Ghul at Wayne Enterprises, long after Bruce finally returned and Tim was welcomed home with open arms. No, they lasted for months--every night a sick remembrance.

____________________

The first time he sparred with Dick after ending Ra’s plot, he used the new skills he picked up at the Cradle. At first they traded blows lazily, wearing down the floor by walking the same steps of a familiar dance. Then Tim dared to spin out--try one little move--and the game was afoot.

Tim didn’t pretend that he was better than Dick--he knew he wasn’t. But he had more range and was the better strategist, so at least their spars were interesting. They danced around the mat, neither submitting. Like all of their practices, it went until someone gave in or passed out. The Waynes never called out.

Dick went for Tim’s shoulder with his escrima sticks, which Tim blocked with his bo staff. By the time he registered the other stick moving toward his stomach, it was too late.

Forgoing all sense of etiquette, Tim roared and swung out with his staff, trying not to relish in the feeling of it connecting with Dick’s head.

“Jesus, Tim, what was that?” Dick’s voice floated from somewhere above. “I know we didn’t specify ‘no headshots’ but it seems like a giv- holyshitareyouokay?” It was then that Tim realized he was sitting on the ground, his head between his knees and his hands protecting his neck. In a way, he looked like the tornado drills they made him do at school, even though Gotham never had tornadoes. His body didn’t feel entirely real, like instead of inhabiting it like always, he was merely borrowing it for a second.

Dick’s voice, no doubt saying something reassuring, murmured in his ear. The words all blended together in a soup of pleasant sounds, one that Tim didn’t even attempt to decipher. Somewhere in the haze, he heard the telltale click of the comms, followed a few minutes later by heavy footfalls.

Bruce’s gruff voice took over for Dick’s soothing one, asking him questions that he didn’t know how to answer. Even if he could, he wasn’t entirely sure his mouth was still a mouth, let alone one that could form words. Instead, his brain gave him a front-row seat for the premiere of his least favorite movie in existence, where Dick stabbed Tim in the abdomen, his face contorted into something evil and totally unlike Dick. The Not-Dick didn’t stop after the first time, of course. Instead the scene rewinded over and over again, like a broken film from a museum about the tragedies of war.

Tim didn’t remember anything past that.

____________________

Tim woke up in his bed at the Manor, his heartbeat thunderous but slow. He opened bleary eyes to see Bruce sitting in the armchair near his window, reading a copy of the Wendy the Werewolf Stalker comic tie-ins Bart had given him last year for Hanukkah.

“Good morning. Or, should I say, evening. You almost slept for a full day,” Bruce said warmly, closing the book.

Tim didn’t return his tone. “Why are you here?” He demanded, clutching his blankets where they fell on his lap.

“Do you remember what happened last night?” Bruce avoided the question with trained ease, something Tim saw much too often in himself.

“I- Yeah. A little.” He remembered Dick stabbing him, but that couldn’t be Dick, right? They were in the desert, and it would take at least a day to get from the Syrian Desert to Gotham. His hand wandered over to his stomach. No open wounds or bandages, but there was a long scar.

“You disassociated. Do you know what that means?” Bruce asked, and Tim nodded mechanically. “We think that something during sparring practice triggered a trauma response.”

Tim heard the words, but he wasn’t sure his brain was following all the way.

“I’m fine, B. I just freaked out a little. No big deal.”

Bruce leveled his dad-stare at Tim. “Tim, with all due respect, that was not ‘freaking out a little.’ You were curled up in a ball on the mat, refusing to speak to us. When we managed to coax you into a sitting position, you attacked me. We had to put you in a safe hold until you calmed down.”

Tim opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“I think we need to talk about this. I understand if you don’t feel safe yet, you’ve been through a lot over the past year. I love you and I want to be here for you, but if a professional would help, we can do that too. Dick knows this guy in Metropolis-”

“No!” The word was out of Tim’s mouth before he could stop it, followed by a torrent of others. “I don’t need a shrink. I’m fine. Can I leave now? Or are you going to keep me prisoner like he did?”

“Of course not,” Bruce said, his voice heartbreakingly gentle. “This is your home, Tim. You can come and go as you please. However, I think we need to talk about-”

“Cool. Later.” Tim rolled out of bed and tugged on shoes and a jacket as Bruce tried to reason with him. They both knew that he could try to keep Tim here, either with logic or the threat of getting grounded, but neither would work. At his best, Tim was tenacious. At his worst, he was stubborn.

Tim traipsed down the grand staircase as Bruce followed behind him. Damian glowered at him from the sitting room, but at least he didn’t say anything. Dick was nowhere to be found. Tim pushed his way out of the manor, a small smile of satisfaction crossing his face when the door slammed and cut off Bruce’s pleas. It reminded him of every bad teen movie he’d ever watched, except the exhausted dad and pushy mom were replaced by Batman. Wasn’t that every kid’s dream?

____________________

He wandered through Bristol township, avoiding the spots he knew the paparazzi liked to frequent. Wouldn’t that be a million-dollar picture: Bruce Wayne’s high-school-dropout-turned-CEO son walking through the sea of McMansions in converse, a kid’s tracker bracelet, pyjama pants, and Cass’s purple NorthFace.

He was on some cul-de-sac where every house looked the same when he heard the telltale swish of someone following him. He didn’t turn around, just kept up his leisurely pace. Either they’d announce themselves, or they wouldn’t.

He got his answer when a hand snaked over his chest and a body pressed against his back, stopping him in his tracks.

“Hello, Detective,” Scarab whispered in his ear, and Tim’s veins turned to ice. Her hand cupped his face, and she slid around to his front. Tim didn’t believe in God, but he had no doubt that she was Satan incarnate.

“I have a gift for you,” she purred, her hands tracing his sides and back. He didn’t dare respond. “It’s from your friend.”

Tim swore his heart stopped. Ra’s al Ghul didn’t send gifts, he sent warnings. And threats. And death. Which is why he wasn’t entirely surprised when Scarab drove a knife into his chest with a sort of tender ruthlessness. She guided him to the ground, left a ghost of a kiss on his temple, and stepped out of view.

Tim lay gasping on the pavement, trying not to bleed out. His fingertips brushed the bracelet, weakly holding down to send out a tracking signal. If he was lucky, they’d see it. If not, then he’d die. It was that simple.

The stars here were dimmer than the ones in the desert. It was all the light pollution, he knew. Same stars, but an altogether different sky. There was a metaphor there somewhere, but he had lost too much blood to focus enough to find one.

His eyelids felt heavy, and it took everything in him to keep them open. Bruce would be here soon. He had to be. He was Batman, that’s what he did.

As Tim staggered through each breath, he couldn’t help but remark the irony of it all. He’d spent all this time worried about one old wound that he hadn’t seen the next one coming.

#whumptober 2020 #my writing #tim drake #bruce wayne #dick grayson #blood tw #violence tw

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writemoment · 4 years

Text

Lovely Monster

Writer: Ellie-Mae (Pen Name)

Part: 1/1

Summary: There isn’t a single monster he couldn’t love. Not even me.

Pairing: Newt Scamander x Werewolf!Reader

Warnings/Rated: Mentions of abuse, comforting acceptance and fluff

Word Count: 2,155

( Reader ) P.O.V.

The darkness outside was nowhere compared to what was held inside my chest. These overwhelming feelings- a nightmare, forever my reality. My father screams out, smashing books into the walls as he lets out his anger. “You’re a freak, just like your mother! At least she had the decency to die!”

My body folds into itself, hiding from the abusive behavior of my father. The moon begins to take it’s effect on me and I can feel my bones cracking, breaking into my horrid form as it goes. Choked sobs and whimpers can be heard as hair sprouts from the pores of my skin, showcasing the freak I truly am.

Realizing I have little time left, I push my way out the nearest exit and away from the house. The pain is immense but I can’t allow myself to be chained and tortured tonight.

Running through the dark, thick forest, I rush until I no longer can. Falling to my knees I howl at the hurt and coil around myself. Then it’s complete. The bones have realigned themselves and my vision is blurred with what I can’t control. My inner wolf taking over.

Trees pass my traveling body in a blur, leaving no recognition for me to follow back. Soon, I’m at the edge of a cliff, overlooking the distant green of plantation and I howl at the moon. What a cliche- something I cannot control.

Contrary to the rush of adrenaline, the cool breeze that brushes over my fur brings a kind of calm over my nerves and slowly, my wolf steadies into a less frantic pace. Every time I’m forced to shift, it’s because of the moon or because of my dad. Rarely do I shift on my own. I’m too scared of what I become to willingly submit to that power.

My mother was the same way. She was too scared of her other nature, so she rarely shifted. My dad, being the human he was, hated us for the things we couldn’t control. When she passed, he didn’t even shed a tear. Anger filled tears ran through my whiskers as I remember his words, ‘good riddance’.

Strolling through the thick of the woods, I imagine a world that didn’t cringe at the things they don’t understand. Everything turns taboo at that point and no longer given a proper chance. For once, I want to be accepted for what I am. Perhaps that’s too much to ask for, but it’s something I harbor in the depths of my heart- both wolf and human.

Bright streaks of light cut through the dark and it catches my eye with its spectacular array of color. Sticking to the shadows and staying covered, I creep to the peculiar scene that’s unfolding underneath the canopy of stars.

Two bodies are running, dodging the spray of light as they round each other. They’re holding out some sort of weapon in front of them, being the source of the colors that had caught my attention.

My heart beats fast in my chest and my paws dig into the dirt, ready to sprint at any indication of harm to come my way. The taller one speaks a foreign word with clarity and I watch as the other falls backward, grunting at the impact.

“Hand over the egg and you’re free to go.” The tall one says, seeming calm and collected in this odd situation.

Grunting, the man offers up, what appears to be, a silver egg with a toss of his hand. Catching it carefully, the taller seems distracted as he coddles the egg while looking it over. That’s when the one on the ground raises his hand, ready to strike the clueless man.

Stepping forward, a deep growl bursts from my chest and they both snap their attention to me. My teeth pull up and I snarl, sending the lower one to chant something before disappearing from his previous spot in the blink of an eye.

Hmph

Whatever was going on, I knew that I couldn’t let anyone get hurt. Even in this form, this freak of nature knew that there was something worth protecting. It was a feeling, an instinct.

However, unlike the other man that had left at the sight of me, this other one remains. His soft eyes study me, his posture unflinching as he slowly lowers himself to a less threatening position.

I feel my haunches rise as I cautiously circle him. “Steady there.” His voice is smooth, accent beautifully rich. “I’m not going to hurt you…” There’s something quite odd about him. Not in a bad way, more like a breath of fresh air.

Everything around me seemed to slow down and the black began to swallow me whole. The last thing I remember is smelling earth and the muffled voice of the man saying something into my unconsciousness.

****

My body feels the shift before my mind does. The cool air forces goosebumps to rise on almost every inch of my skin. I awake to warm-toned light and unfamiliar surroundings. There’s a scratchy warmth heavy over my torso and I see someone had made an attempt of throwing a blanket over my body.

I scan the area for any sign of life but see none. However, I can sense it. I feel that I am not alone. Wrapping the blanket over myself, I groan as I crawl into a sitting position.

That’s when he appears. “Are you okay, miss?” He asks, eyes worried and lips parted in distress. In this lighting, I can fully see his features. Pale skin marked in constellations of freckles, light brown hair tousled in a messy mop atop his head. His eyes; I can’t quite pinpoint what color they are, just that they’re magnificent.

“Yeah… It always aches after I shift back.” I tell him, hissing quietly through my teeth as I reposition my body to face him. His shoulders slump a bit and he comes closer to where I was lain. Out of habit, I recoil into my body to take up as little space as possible.

“I’m not going to hurt you…” He says, quickly pouring me a cuppa tea before extending it to me. “My name is Newt. It seems that you exerted your energy back there. Blacked out from it, I’m sure.”

Uncurling from myself, I slip the mug from his hand. Our fingers momentarily swipe past one another’s and I, for the first time, don’t shy away from the contact. “Thank you.” A moment of quiet passes as I sip the warm beverage. “My name is Y/n. I’m sorry for putting you in this position.”

“What position is that, exactly?” He asks, confused.

“I- I don’t purposely shift into, well, that. I was just trying to find escape. Usually when the full moon comes, I’m…. nevermind that. I just usually don’t lose control like that.” My admission causes me to fidget in my seat. This all around is unusual for me. I’ve never told anyone about this issue.

However, Newt doesn’t seem to mind. “No use in beating yourself up over something you have no say in. Though I’m sure we could whip up a potion to keep your shift from happening during the full moon. That is, if you’d like.”

His voice is so melodic and comforting. It’s the exact opposite of my father’s. I nod, wide eyed. “You can do that?” My entire life has been spent in fear and Newt’s offer is the first hope I’ve had a taste of. To be honest, I’m desperate for more.

The desperation, the shock, must drip heavily from my lips because Newt’s eyes melt into pure kindness as he studies me thoughtfully. He smiles, stretching his lips so thin they almost disappear. Extending his arm he offers his hand to me.

Patiently, he waits for me to accept his invitation. I pause, quite noticeably so, for a moment before slipping my palm into his. They’re warm, rough but oh-so gentle. He leads me to the door and opens a whole new world before me. Magnificent and wonderous creatures are scattered about the expanse. And for the first time in my life, I don’t feel so different.

****

It has been three days since Newt has offered to take me in. He didn’t ask but I know he could sense my dread at the thought of returning to my life before. We fell into a mutual understanding that I just needed time. It was nice to not have anything expected of me.

Newt is shy. That’s an understatement but he is also extremely kind. He gave me space but also let me test my ability to trust. Every moment in the presence of the wizard gave me confidence to seek him out.

He taught me how to care for his creatures by his side. He showed me magic and a world I hadn’t previously known existed. Every time he opened up a bit to me, I felt myself doing the same. I recognized the Occamy eggs as the very same one he had retrieved the night I met him in the forest. It made me realize how much Newt cared about and sacrificed for these fantastic beasts.

Days went by and he began to trust me enough to leave me in his suitcase, which is where I had awoken that first night. Newt traveled a lot and was a very busy person, actually. Even then, he would always return and those were the hours that I found myself eagerly waiting for. Because I, also, very much began to trust him.

One day, Newt found me kneeling outside and cradling my hand to my chest. “Are you okay, Y/n?” His voice was thick with worry as he rushed over to my side.

“Don’t get to close, Newt-” I plead. He stops a few steps away from me, “I-I don’t know what I’ll do if I shift…” Tears pool in my eyes as I try to calm myself down. Pain triggered me sometimes and the last thing I’d want to do is hurt him.

Despite my warning, Newt kneels beside me and peels my arm away from my body. “What happened?” He asks as he begins to examine the cut that’s angry and red on my wrist.

“I cut it on the edge of the feeding pail… I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you, Newt. Please.” He stands up with me and swiftly leads me inside the small flat. With such familiarity and ease, he begins to snip different herbs and pouring mixtures from vials.

I watch him with amazement and a bit of confusion. Before I know it, the pain has subsided and he’s wrapping my arm up with gauze. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

Newt freezes in his actions before throwing a glance at me over his shoulder. “Because you’re not someone to be feared. At least, not for the reasons you’re referring to.”

His way of thinking, the way he perceives the world, is so unlike anything I’ve ever known. The wizard begins to put away medicines and I watch him quietly for a moment. “My dad wasn’t fond of my kind…Actually, that’s putting it nicely. He hated werewolves.”

My fingers fidget in my lap and I keep my gaze firmly fixed on them as I speak. Afraid that if I see Newt’s eyes, I’ll be too self-conscious to tell him. “He didn’t know Mom was one until it was too late. She was already pregnant with me. When she died, I lost the one person who saw me as I truly was. My father… he was violent, cruel and- and scared.

“Meeting you was the best thing that has happened in my life. Because for the first time, I wasn’t seen as a threat or as strange. You didn’t expect anything of me. You saw me as Y/n. Not as a werewolf.”

My forehead creased with emotion and salty teardrops fell onto my clasped hands. I sucked my lower lip between my teeth to stop the slight wobble. Chancing a glance at Newt, I find him standing in front of me.

Newt. His eyes glistening, not in pity, but with compassion towards me. Kneeling down so that his face was parallel with mine, he swiped away the stray tear that lingered off my chin. “There are no strange creatures, only blinkered people.”

With those words, I felt understood and, in a way, loved. Every day that I spent getting to know Newt Scamander, the more I began wanting to learn more. He loved his creatures and never truly believed monsters were born, they were made.

There was time for us to grow together, to grow fond of one another. As we went on, I knew that I’d become more confident with Newt by my side. There wasn’t a ‘monster’ he couldn’t love. Not even when it came to someone like me.

Masterlist Here

A/N: Thank you for reading! xx - Ellie-Mae

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horrorkingdom · 3 years

Text

Blindness

It’s true what they say – that when a person goes blind their other senses heighten in order to compensate. Knowing that, and thinking back on everything that happened to me, I still can’t come to a rational conclusion of how these events unfolded around me without my knowledge. Granted, I couldn’t actually see any of it happening, but I never suspected anything of this magnitude when judging solely on the minor oddities that I had experienced.

Sure, every once in a while I would hear noises, but my house was old and seemed to have a mind of its own. All of its pops and creaks had become just as familiar to me as navigating its interior without the benefit of sight. Even when things began to turn more bizarre, I always found a way to rationalize them away. Looking back, I ask myself, “How could I have been so…well, for lack of a better word, blind?”

My mother had tried to convince me not to move into the house alone. “Sarah, a young blind woman shouldn’t be living all by herself,” she’d said. But I wanted to – needed to. I needed to prove to myself that I was strong enough to do it. Besides that, as a twenty four year old, I didn’t want to live with my parents forever. And I sure didn’t want to wait around for a nice man to marry and move in with. That may never happen.

Having lost my sight at an early age due to a freak accident with industrial strength cleaning chemicals, I knew all too well the nuances of learning to create a mental map of my surroundings.

When I first moved into the old house I used my cane exclusively. I waved it back and forth in front of me with every step I took. I knew roughly where all of the furniture was since I was the one that directed the movers on where to put everything. I employed the cane for nearly a week, using its tip to develop a mental image of the layout. The learning process was slow and clumsy at first, but I eventually got to the point that I was able to shed my cane after several days and began walking cautiously with my arms extended. I progressed further and became familiar enough with the territory that by the end of the first month I was able to walk freely without the use of my cane, or arms or any other aid.

I became quite adept at moving throughout the house freely. Not only that, but the house was located in a somewhat urban area which made it convenient to walk to any place I had the need. The grocery was only three blocks away. There was a department store across the street from that, and a bank and coffee shop just a bit further on. I got used to listening to the flow of traffic and timing the lights in my head so I would know when the “Walk” and “Don’t Walk” signals were lit. Occasionally a kind stranger would offer to take my hand and lead me across. I would thank them and we would part ways once we were safely on the next sidewalk.

In those days I was working from home making phone calls to patients that had recently been discharged from the hospital. In essence, I was being paid by the hospital to administer surveys that were then used to improve their services. The hospital was kind enough to provide me with a laptop computer that contained several different voice-command software applications. I spent my days transcribing the recorded phone calls by speaking the customers’ answers into a microphone, and having the data fields automatically populate accordingly in the program.

The first odd event that I remember was on one particular day when I got up from my work desk for a lunch break. As I was headed into the kitchen, I kicked an object in the middle of the living room floor. I heard it slide a short distance on the carpet. I knew that I hadn’t left anything in the way of my path as I had just been through there not even an hour ago, and there was nothing on the floor.

I knelt down and patted around until I located the object. A book. By feeling its Braille title I recognized it as a book on national parks that I kept on my coffee table, some five feet away. I didn’t remember knocking the book off of the table. I stood there perplexed. The longer I thought about it though, the less frightening it became to me. I convinced myself that I must have simply forgotten about knocking the book to the floor, and I must have stepped over it or next to it during my other passes through the room. I returned the book to its place on the table and went about making my lunch.

That night, while lying in bed, I heard a sound that came from the kitchen. It was almost entirely masked by the usual sounds of the pops and creaks from the house settling, but I definitely heard it – faint as it was. It was a very light humming noise. So light, in fact, that an average person without enhanced hearing may not have heard it at all from this distance. I slowly got out of bed, listening intently, the sound increasing as I made my way down the hallway and through the living room.

As soon as I passed through the threshold into the kitchen I knew what the sound was. It was the compressor motor on the refrigerator, and it was substantially louder than usual. I approached the appliance and found that its door was standing wide open. I eased it shut and the hum returned to a normal volume.

“What on earth? Did I leave this open?” I questioned myself in a whisper. Maybe it didn’t close all the way the last time I swung it shut, I thought. I returned to bed, but had trouble finding sleep. My mind wandered and questioned how I could have overlooked the fallen book and the open fridge door when they’d first happened.

The next morning, I decided to go have breakfast at Espresso Express, the little coffee shop up the road. They served excellent coffee, and you could also get a ham & cheese croissant melt that was to die for. That alone was worth the effort of showering, dressing, and leaving the safety of the house to be plunged into a buzz of whizzing traffic, honking horns, and people clamoring on the sidewalks.

On that morning a gentle stranger helped guide me across the intersection just ahead of the coffee shop. I said, “Thank you!” as they released my arm, but there was no response. He or she was lost in the shuffle of people on cell phones, their conversations momentarily audible to me as they passed in front of and behind me. The tinny sound of a bicycle bell alarmed me, and I felt the breeze left behind when the rider whipped past. I entered the coffee shop to a much more serene environment and enjoyed my favorite breakfast at a seat near the plate glass window, bathed in the sunlight that washed in on me.

That afternoon I took a break from making phone calls to use the bathroom. As I was seated on the toilet, I heard something next to me. It was as if something had brushed against the sink – an ever so subtle sound. My heart rate rose and my brow furrowed as I strained to listen closer. All I could hear was my pulse throbbing in my ears. Suddenly a wall clock in the living room chimed four ‘o clock, startling me to the point that I jumped slightly while still seated there. I regained my composure, washed up and returned to the computer to transcribe the data from my phone surveys.

I closed the laptop and went to make dinner at 6:30. Over the years, I had learned to be extra careful when dealing with the hot oven and burners. Once I had accidentally set a plastic plate directly onto a burner that was still hot, resulting in a cloud of noxious fumes that lasted for days – long after I’d finished cleaning up the mess. I was lucky that it had burned itself out and the damage wasn’t any worse. After that close call, I bought a small fire extinguisher to keep on the countertop next to the oven.

On this particular night, I made my dinner without any risk of fire. However, the undertaking wasn’t completely without incident. As I proceeded to make dinner I discovered that the canned goods I needed for the recipe were missing from the cupboard. I have always kept my canned goods in very specific places on the shelves so that I would always know what was what without the benefit of being able to see the labels. I don’t remember using up the items I needed that night, but apparently I already had. So, I opted to make a casserole instead.

I sat at the dinner table enjoying the simple meal I had made. The television was playing in the background, filling me in on all of the day’s news headlines. I finished the first portion on my plate and reached to dip into the casserole dish once more. I scraped the inside of the dish, the sounds of metal on ceramic echoing throughout the kitchen. It was empty.

“I can’t believe it! I couldn’t have already eaten it all!” I said incredulously. I had thought for sure that I’d prepared a bigger portion than that, and I didn’t remember emptying the dish fully onto my plate. Thoughts ran through my head in an attempt to reason out the matter: Had it baked up to be less than I’d anticipated? Had I spilled some on the table while dishing it onto my plate?

In search of the missing food, I placed the palm of my hand on the tabletop and moved it steadily over the area within my reach. As I was doing so there was a distinct movement in front of me. I gasped and my heart rate immediately quickened. I felt the blood pulsing through my neck. This sound was not as subtle as the others I’d been hearing. It was obvious – a sudden motion of something moving across from me. I continued listening, but all I could hear was the much-too-chipper weather man on TV giving the forecast.

Suddenly I was overwhelmed with a feeling that I was no longer alone at the kitchen table. “Is someone there?” I called out, hoping there was no reply.

Silence.

I felt a shift in the air pressure as if something moved behind me followed by the creak of a floorboard. I froze. Something brushed against the back of my hair, gentle as a feather. I recoiled and let out a squeal.

I shot up out of my chair, made my way to the corner of the kitchen and turned to face the interior of the room. “Who’s there?” I demanded. No answer. By this time I was breathing heavily, practically hyperventilating. My chest and throat radiated heat as my heart raced inside, giving me the sensation of acute indigestion. I thought I might vomit.

I slowly made my way to the doorway leading into the living room. I stood there for what seemed like an eternity listening for something, anything that would explain the circumstance. Eventually I moved on and worked my way into the hallway bathroom. I locked the door behind me.

It took over an hour and a half for me to calm down. While in the locked bathroom, I wrestled with my thoughts. I reasoned with myself. I didn’t want to admit that my mother was right, but maybe I shouldn’t be living alone. It appeared to be taking its toll on me. On the other hand, all of these things could be logically explained, I told myself. If I wasn’t blind, I’d have seen whatever it was that caused the noises and it would be so obvious. I’d laugh about how ridiculous it was to be scared of it, I’m sure. At least that’s what I tried to convince myself.

What finally brought me out of the bathroom was the ringing of the telephone. I admit it startled me at first, but only because it had been so quiet for the last two hours. I cautiously opened the door and entered the hallway. My phone was in the living room. I approached it quickly and answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey Sarah, it’s Jill.”

Thank God, it was just my friend Jill. “Hi Jill, how’s it going?”

“Oh, I’m doing good. I saw you at Espresso Express today,” she said in a playful tone, which I didn’t understand initially.

“You did?”

“Mmm hmm. I saw you in the window when I walked by on the sidewalk.” Still in a playful tone.

“Well, why didn’t you come in and say, ‘hi’?” I asked.

“I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Disturb me? Why would you be disturbing me?”

“Because, silly, I assumed you were on a date. Who’s the lucky guy that was sitting with you?”

My mouth slacked open. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t form words.

“Sarah?” Jill asked, “Are you okay?”

I dropped the phone. I could still hear Jill’s muffled voice even though the speaker was face down on the carpet. I frantically made my way around the house, arms flailing in front of me.

“Who are you?” I yelled into the house. “What do you want?”

I was terrified, but also angry. I felt violated. I didn’t necessarily want to encounter whatever it was, but I couldn’t go on hiding in my own house any longer. I spent hours searching every square inch of the property and found nothing. I finally went to bed after I was able to calm down, but I did not fall asleep until the wee hours of the morning.

A light rustling sound woke me not long after I fell asleep, still in the dark hours of early morning. I wasn’t sure at first if it was real or if I had dreamed the noise. As I was about to get up, I noticed that the sheets next to me were pulled back. I stretched out my right arm into the empty space beside me. It felt warm as if someone had been lying there with me. The events of the previous day flooded back into my memory. My sightless eyes welled up with tears as I began to question my own sanity. Frustrated, I bolted up and out of the bed. I threw on some old clothes and headed toward the front door with the intention of fleeing the house, unsure exactly where I was going to go – maybe Jill’s place. She lived fairly close.

I wanted to take my cane with me as I always did whenever I went outdoors. I searched the house frantically, unable to remember where I’d left it. I almost always left it propped against the wall by the front door, but it wasn’t there. I made my way along all of the perimeter walls, feeling desperately for the cane.

When I neared the kitchen I still had not found my walking aid, but I made a discovery of a much more startling nature – a barely detectable vertical crevice in the wall I had not known about previously. I used all my fingers to follow the crease up the wall, across the top, and down the other side. It was a doorway designed to fit perfectly flush within the wall. I leaned my weight inward against the panel and felt a slight give on its right side. I worked my fingers into the crevice on that side the best I could, eventually prying the panel free. It swung open to the left. I gasped in shock and my pulse quickened. A hidden room right in the center of my house.

How I wish that I would have had sight at that moment. I faced a completely unexplored territory inside my own house with the possibility that someone else was in there with me.

I entered slowly, arms extended. “Is someone in here?” I whispered, afraid to ask the question. There was no response. I stepped forward. To my right I discovered a flat surface – a tabletop. I ran my hands along its surface. On top of the table I was able to make out several unopened cans of food. No doubt these were the missing canned goods I’d been looking for. The table also contained silverware and a can opener that disappeared weeks ago.

My heart rate increased even more and my palms began to sweat. I worked my way forward until I came to a wall that I knew bordered the living room. I found a hole the size of a quarter at eye level. Sweat began to form on my brow as well. I found another similar hole on the next adjacent wall. This wall bordered the bathroom. Tears started to well up in my eyes. I was able to find two more holes on the two remaining walls bordering the kitchen and the bedroom.

I dropped to my knees in absolute horror and disbelief. How long had this person been watching me? How could I have not known? My hands were on the floor in front of me and I felt something soft. I investigated further with my fingertips. It was some sort of comforter or sleeping bag. At one end was a fluffy pillow.

At this point not only was I terrified beyond description, I was also furious. How dare someone spy on me covertly from within my own walls! I knew I had to run out of the house and get to safety immediately, with or without my cane. I decided I would go to Jill’s house and we’d call the police from there.

I made my way to where I remembered the hidden door to be, my arms sweeping the area ahead of me in a panic. Instead of the open door, my hands found the warm torso of a human, a male, standing silently in the doorway. He grabbed both my arms and pulled me out of the hidden room and into the house.

We struggled in the kitchen. I kicked at him and screamed as loud as I could into his ears. I was able to get one arm free and I used it to grasp for the fire extinguisher that I knew would be by the oven. He attempted to pull me away, but my fingers reached its nozzle. I swung it at him, feeling the metal cylinder connect with the back of his skull. He released my other arm and I pulled the trigger in his direction, enveloping him in a cloud of white foam.

I ran into the utility room off of the kitchen where I knew my only advantage existed – the fuse box. I found the box and tripped every lever I could find, eliminating all power from the house. If this perverted psycho wanted to kill me, he’d have to do it on an equal playing field – in the dark.

The intruder had not followed me into the utility room. The fire extinguisher must have dazed him. I remembered the toolbox I kept in that room, and I quickly retrieved the longest screwdriver I could find. I stood in the corner and listened carefully. If he was still conscious, he would not be able to move around in the pitch darkness without creating a noise. I would surely detect his movements.

I held the screwdriver against my chest, gripping its handle tightly with both hands. I felt my wildly beating heart against the side of my fist. After an eternity, I moved forward a bit. I may have knocked him out, or even killed him. I had to make sure.

I left the utility room and entered the kitchen. There was still no sound from anywhere in the house. I passed into the living room and headed toward the front door. Halfway through the room I could feel his presence. Something in the air around me had shifted. Without warning there was breath on the back of my neck followed by a deep whisper directly in my ear, “The showers were my favorite.”

I screamed and swung around, stabbing the screwdriver into empty air. I ran for the door. It was merely a few feet away, but I couldn’t reach it due to the resistance I met when the voyeuristic brute’s arms wrapped around my waist. He wrestled me to the floor and straddled me. I tightened my grip on the tool and plunged it as hard as I could into his side.

I shudder to think about it when I recount the feeling of the steel shaft separating two of his ribs. It was horrid, and I was only able to stomach it knowing that if I hadn’t acted, my life would have ended then.

The man winced in pain and let out a deep, growling grunt. He fell backward and rolled off of me. I turned over onto my chest and pushed up off of the floor, then crawled over to the couch and used it to get back onto my feet. I still held the screwdriver, a warm trickle of blood seeping onto my knuckle.

I could tell that the intruder was writhing around on the floor near the doorway. I would have to exit through the back door. From the opposite end of the living room, I entered the sun room where the door was located. I wasn’t as familiar with this entry point, causing me to fumble around with the deadbolt and screen door locks for longer than I would have liked.

I knew there were concrete stairs there leading to a flat patio. How many steps? Four? Five? I couldn’t remember. I proceeded slowly. The last thing I needed was to fall and twist my ankle. After navigating the steps, I came to the end of the patio, which emptied into a narrow alleyway between the shotgun-style houses behind mine.

My steps were slow and cautious. My hands told me there was a brick wall to my right, and a brick wall about five feet to my left. The sides of the two houses. I was entering unfamiliar territory without the benefit of my cane. My breathing was frantic and the tears continued to fill my useless eyes. I kicked something and nearly fell over. It felt plastic – a child’s toy maybe. I was moving much too fast compared to my level of comfort with the surroundings. But I had no choice as footsteps were approaching behind me.

I picked up the pace, waving the screwdriver out in front to buffer my impending collision with any obstacles. Ten more feet of forward progress and the screwdriver alerted me, with metallic clanging, to the presence of a chain link fence connecting the two houses.

I stopped and cried out, my voice breaking up through my tears, “No.” I turned around, my back to the fence. I began swinging the screwdriver violently.

“Leave me alone!” I screamed.

More hyperventilating.

More tears.

The man approached slowly, and then stopped just a few feet away from me. I got the feeling he could see what he was doing. Either there was an electric light in this alley or the dawn had already crested enough that ample ambient light was available. I didn’t know which one was the case because I had no idea what time it was.

Knowing I was about to die, I just wanted answers. “How long?” I managed to ask. “How long have you been in there?” My voice was angrier than I’d expected.

“Since before you lived there,” he replied calmly, his voice deep. “I got lucky with you – a blind girl. With the others I couldn’t come out in the open when they were home. I couldn’t sit and eat their dinner with them. I couldn’t stand over them while they worked at their computers. I couldn’t go to the coffee shop with them.” There was a pause as he moved even closer. “I couldn’t stand next to them in the bathroom.”

I cried uncontrollably in a whirlwind of emotions. I had never before felt so violated, so angry, and so terrified all at the same time. There was sudden movement again in front of me.

“Don’t touch me!” I demanded as I held up the screwdriver. I don’t know exactly how it happened. I don’t know if he didn’t see the tool or just didn’t care, knowing that he was caught. But as he lunged forward, he managed to impale himself on the screwdriver and pin me up against the fence. My hands were still gripping the handle, but it was so deep inside him that his shirt was touching my fist.

His breathing became gurgled, and his last words to me were, “I couldn’t snuggle next to them in bed either.”

We collapsed together as one unit. The fence tore at my back as we slid down onto the ground. His dead weight nearly crushed me, but I managed to push him off and crawl away. I crawled all the way back to my house, in through the back door and into the living room to my phone. I sobbed hysterically as I keyed in the digits 9-1-1 and fell to the floor.

Credit: moonlit_cove

#explore #horror #follow #beginner witch #creepy photo #creepy #creepypasta #horror community #new to tumblr #journal #horror kingdom #horror stories #murder #death in paradise #death mention #blindness

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certifiedmoth · 5 years

Text

Delicious And Dangerous (Part 1)

Sugar Daddy/Werewolf Duncan x Reader

Summary: Y/N loves her “arrangement” with Duncan. However, the secrets and lies all become a little too much for her after awhile...

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Angst

Notes: I had this idea while talking to @babypinkstyles94 today and we both kind of freaked out over it. So hear me out... we all know that sugar daddy!duncan is hot and werewolf!duncan is mega hot but what if we combined them? AND bada bing bada boom, here we are. Enjoy! (Credit to @spellman for the gif)

You were fed up. Fed up with the lies, the secrecy, the abandonment. All of it. You had known Duncan for nearly a year now, the both of you coming into each other’s lives under special circumstances. The arrangement between you two was an interesting one. One that most wouldn’t agree with. He wasn’t your boyfriend, or husband, or partner, or even friend you occasionally had sex with. He was something else. He loved to spoil you with anything you could ever want. Spending hundreds of thousands of dollars on you, gifting you with the most extravagant of gifts. And then fucking your brains out. You had never thought you would actually be somebody’s sugar baby; you looked down on people who did this kind of thing. Yet here you were with Duncan Shepherd as your sugar daddy and a very changed mindset. You now understood how special the bond you both had was and that people truly just didn’t understand this type of dynamic. The ignorance that most people held was annoying to deal with. That’s why you were used to the secrets and lies when it came to the world knowing about your arrangement. Your special relationship was just for you two. However, now you couldn’t bear the feeling of him keeping anything from you. Which he clearly was.

You see, he was special to you. You didn’t want to admit it, knowing what the two of you had agreed to. But what could you say? After all this time, the man grew on you and you often found yourself thinking about a life spent with your blue-eyed king. He took care of you and treated you like a princess. He was gentle and kind, but also rough and intimidating in a way that had you squeezing your thighs shut frequently. He was a very giving man, too. Extravagant dinners, trips all over the world, and shopping trips he accompanied, which he particularly enjoyed because he got to sit back and watch his girl try on anything his money could buy. Random gifts always found their way to your place, as well. Flowers sometimes took up every available counter space, jewelry that was specially made for you from top-notch designers suddenly appeared in your apartment, and lingerie that you knew to be thousands of dollars made its way to you, always in a box with a red bow on it. Not to mention, your “place” was actually a new apartment he had bought for you. It was immensely bigger than your last one with more amenities than you could ever need. He insisted, not taking no for an answer once you had been in your “arrangement” for a couple of months. He said that he had wanted you in a safer area and wanted to make sure “nothing happened to his baby”. His words which you rolled your eyes at and tried to hide the smile that crept its way onto your face.

You reminisced on old memories as you found yourself hastily walking towards your car. Duncan wasn’t at his apartment and his assistant said he wasn’t at the office, which now had you worrying even more. That morning you had woken up to a knock on the door. Something you grew accustomed to with all the gifts you received from him. You let the delivery man in and he set some roses and a box on the counter before leaving. Smiling to yourself, you picked up the note that accompanied your gifts and your heart fluttered at his words.

“Dinner tonight? I’ll be at your place at 8pm and I’d especially like it if you wore this for me. Love, D”

Inside the box was a lovely dress he knew you would look amazing in. Dark red, his favorite color on you. You noticed the plunging neckline that would show just a little too much cleavage and you smirked at his cheeky ways.

All day you had been excited to see him, which is why your heart nearly stopped beating when you received a text from him midday. He usually insisted on calling you, he was old fashioned like that. So you already knew something was up when you read his name on your phone.

[Duncan]: Have to cancel tonight. Can’t see you. Stay home and don’t come to my place.

You were more hurt than you cared to admit by the harshness in his words and found yourself quickly replying, asking him what was wrong. You couldn’t help but think you did something to upset him. All day you waited by your phone, but he never replied and you felt nearly sick thinking of all the reasons he could be ignoring you. He did this seemingly every month, but you had only caught on just a couple months ago, once you really started to deeply care for this man. You couldn’t help the ache your heart felt every time he rejected you. Most of the time he seemed to love your company and wanted nothing more than to be near you and spoil you, but then suddenly he appears to get bored and wants nothing to do with you. He does this nearly every month for at least a couple of days at a time. He pushes you away and it hurts more and more each time. You didn’t know what to think of it and you couldn’t possibly think of a reason as to why he did this. But this time, you were angry. An emotion you didn’t find yourself having often. But here you were driving fast down the highway, silently cursing the man for doing this to you again.

He wasn’t at his apartment and he wasn’t at the office, so you knew there was only one other place he could be. You turned off of the highway and onto the familiar road surrounded by trees. The sun set an hour or so ago and you always found this place creepy at night, but you pushed that from your mind as you raced through the thick forest on the rough road.

Duncan loved his house out here. He came out here because it was secluded and he could get away from everything. You found it to be just a little too removed from everything and didn’t enjoy the eerie feeling of the forest but always felt safe in his company, so you never had a reason to complain. But now as you pulled up to the front of the modern house, parked your car and got outside, you felt a shiver run down your spine once you took in your surroundings.

The full moon cast an odd glow on the thick forest that surrounded you. The stillness in the air made you jittery and you desperately wished for Duncan to be right by your side, even though you were still angry. Just as you turned from the tree line to make your way to the house, you heard the rustling of leaves behind you and stopped dead in your tracks. You stood there paralyzed, too scared to turn around. Your breathing grew frantic as you willed yourself to face your fears. The first thing you noticed were the piercing blue eyes that almost seemed to glow against the darkness of the night. The animal moved closer to you and you realized you were looking straight into the eyes of a great wolf. Its fur was black as night with the tips of its alert ears fading to a luminescent silver. The sheer size of it scared you to death.

“Are wolves normally this big?” you thought to yourself as your mind raced. Everything you had ever read about what one should do when encountering a wild animal left your mind as you looked into its feral eyes. All you could think to do was run. And you did. You ran as fast as could to the sanctuary that lay behind you. You heard its paws move against the dirt as it chased you, but you steadily focused on your main objective: getting to safety. You were ready to open the door with the keys tightly grasped in your shaky hand when you found that it was already open. You hurried in and tried to shut it close but the beast pushed its way in and you screamed, quickly throwing the decorative bookcase on top of it. You heard a small yelp and the rustling of books as it worked its way free.

You were halfway up the stairs when you heard a small growl that oddly sounded frustrated and almost human? You quickly made your way to the master bedroom at the end of the hallway and shut the door with as much power as you could muster, locking it before backing away. You finally noticed the tears running down your face and the way your body shook from the fear you were experiencing. You heard the beast patiently make its way down the hallway, its paws thumping against the wood floor before you heard it stumble. There was some type of commotion and you couldn’t make out what was happening on the other side of the door. You heard more yelping and a strangled howl as it seemed to be frantically fighting with itself. More animalistic noises could be heard in the hallway before suddenly you heard the beast drop to the floor. The house grew silent and after several minutes you almost considered opening the door to look outside. You stopped yourself when you heard it get up. But, this time you heard a human groan coming from the hallway.

You tried to find a weapon in the room when you heard the footsteps stop right at the door. You heard whatever it was grab the key that lay on top of the door frame and fiddle with the lock, causing more tears to fall from your face as you grew more and more paralyzed by the second. You figured this was how you were going to die. By some wolf, intruder, creature, thing. You had no idea, you just felt that this was your end.

The door slowly creaked open and your mouth dropped as you stared at Duncan with wide eyes. He was fully naked with cuts and bruises all over this body; his hair was messed up and his eyes as blue as you had ever seen them. It was the same piercing blue of the wolf’s eyes. You simply stared at him in disbelief, while you choked out a single sob.

“Y/N… I can explain.”

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd imagine #sugar daddy!duncan #werewolf!duncan #duncan shepherd fic #cody fern #house of cards #my writing

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eightpoundsofhair · 7 years

Text

Lapidot Week Day 2

Hello!

This is my day two sumbission for the lapidot week!

You can read it below or here on AO3

@lapidot-week

Peridot was a reasonable person. She did not jump to conclusions, she did not make assumptions based on faulty data, and she absolutely did not believe in such childhood paranoias as the paranormal. She was a scientist, after all. At least, she prided her self in being a master at the scientific method. No self respecting person of such poise as herself believed in such silly things as ghosts, or monsters, or witches.

So Peridot assured herself that she must be falling ill. That was the only viable conclusion to what she has just seen, and what her brain was concluding.

Peridot found herself leaning against her now closed door, her heart pounding and breathing erratic. She brought a shaky hand up to her forehead, and tried to determine if she had a temperature. She grumbled to herself at her seemingly normal body heat. She began to rack her brain for other symptoms of illness, headache, nausea, chills, sore throat. She found herself even more frustrated when all of the symptoms she thought of were not present in her person.

She shook her head, as she slid down her door, her heart beat obnoxiously pounding against her chest.

There had to be another conclusion.

When was the last time she read one of the Harry Potter books? She struggled to come up with a date, but figured it must have been some time last year. Unlikely.

Had she been watching conspiracy theory videos again? No, she had banned herself from doing so after getting into a fight about the moon landing online-which very much so happened by the way. Besides, she never really liked those too much anyways.

Peridot grumbled to herself again, shaking her head in her hands.

No. Her roommate was not making cups fly into the cupboards from their place in the dishwasher. She was not rinsing off a dish in water that floated above the sink. She was not sitting on the kitchen floor with towels, and pots, and pans, and dishes floating across the room. This wasn't how her roommate did her half of the chores.

Peridot chuckled to herself. This was a dream, obviously. It seemed so silly that she haven't figured it out sooner. She couldn't wait to wake up and tell her grumpy roommate about her bizarre dream.

She waited patiently, and ignored how detailed her dream room was.

Peridot grumbled after a few minutes passed, standing up and angrily kicking her bed, before regretting it, doubling over in pain at her stubbed toe.

"Goddamnit!" She exclaimed as she hopped around her room.

She let herself fall down onto her bed. She started up at the ceiling as she rubbed on her toes, the pain starting to cease.

No. It can't be real.

A knock sounded on Peridot's bedroom door, and Peridot jumped up, startled.

"Come in!" She shouted, as she sat up straight, and the door flung open.

"You okay?" Peridot's roommate, Lapis, asked, walking into the room with her hands in the pockets of her baggy, stained jeans.

Peridot nodded slowly, "Why?" She asked narrowing her eyes, pondering if Lapis knew what she had seen.

Peridot corrected herself, Lapis couldn't have known because what she had seen wasn't real.

Lapis shrugged, "Heard you scream, wanted to make sure you didn't die,"

"How considerate of you, Lazuli,"

Lapis laughed, "Yeah, I'm thoughtful like that." she walked over to a Peridot and sat down next to her on Peridot's small bed, "But seriously though, what happened?"

Peridot shrugged, embarrassed, "Stubbed my toe," she confessed.

Lapis chuckled, and swung her feet out in front of her, preparing to leave. Peridot grabbed onto her skinny arm, stopping her.

"What's up, Dot?" She asked, turning her head back. Peridot rolled her eyes at the nickname but brushed it aside, needing to ask Lapis about what had happened.

"Lapis," Peridot's voice strained, "Do you believe in magic?"

Peridot felt wildly embarrassed at first, as Lapis started at her with a blank face. But, after a moment Lapis's expression fell, and her eyes darted across the room in paranoia.

"Do you believe in magic?" Lapis asked with a forced laugh, looking away from Peridot.

"Of course not," Peridot insisted, embarrassed again for asking such a stupid question. She however, noticed Lapis's nervous looks dissipate after Peridot shot down the idea, and she began to become curious, "You didn't answer my question though,"

Lapis coughed, "What question?"

"Do you believe in magic?" Peridot insisted. As Peridot asked, Lapis's eyes darted across the room.

Lapis chuckled nervously once more, "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," Peridot shrugged.

Lapis stared into Peridot's eyes for a long while, and Peridot felt herself blush, uncomfortable with the situation and feeling incredibly stupid, Lapis's dart of eyes and uncomfortable looks were because she was confused as to why someone so logical would ask something so stupid.

Lapis let out another uncomfortable chuckle, scratching the back of her neck, "I don't know,"

Peridot starred at Lapis expectantly, not convinced by her answer. The longer the silence lasted the more Peridot convinced herself that Lapis could preform some type of magic. Peridot quickly placed a hand on her forehead again, which once again was of a normal temperature.

Lapis scratched the back of her neck again, looking away, "I should go,"

She made to stand up, and once again Peridot grabbed her arm, and pulled her back down so she sat on Peridot's tiny bed.

"Lapis, I need you to answer me honestly. I promise I won't freak out or make fun of you,"

Lapis stared into Peridot's eyes again, her expression like a deer in the headlights. She let out another uncomfortable laugh as she stood up, "I really have to go now, Peridot,"

"Lapis!" Peridot followed Lapis out of her bedroom and down the hall, she was met with Lapis's bedroom door slamming closed. She knocked on the wood a few times, angry at the lack of an answer, but she soon gave up. She stomped over to her room and sat back down in her bed.

And that's how Peridot found herself awake at two in the morning writing a frantic blog post about her magical roommate.

She had worked herself into a state of near panic, and she couldn't talk herself out of Lapis being a witch.

She spent another hour doing research, and she found other accounts of people knowing witches who could use telepathy and teleportation, among many other things. She wanted to press Lapis further, but was convicted she'd come off as crazy, and loose her roommate whom she admired so much incredibly quickly.

She threw herself dramatically onto her bed, frustrated and exhausted, and tried to go to sleep.

When Peridot awoke that morning Lapis has made her breakfast, an odd and unusual gesture. Peridot gladly accepted however, tired after getting little sleep over the course of the night, begging too caught up in her thoughts to get much rest.

Lapis was silent through breakfast, and she quietly took Peridot's plate when she was finished and washed it at the sink. Peridot tried to casually watch Lapis do it, trying to act as if she wasn't intensely stating at Lapis's every move to see if the plate would float back into the cupboard.

Instead, Lapis finished washing the plate, and turned to meet Peridot's eyes. They stayed like that for a few moments before Lapis made an uncomfortable expression and walked away, rubbing her temples.

Peridot flushed, worried that her staring came off as creepy. She got some unpleasant memories of when the pair had first moved in together. A time in which Peridot learned that she couldn't not function well around pretty girls without forcing herself to not stare. She felt heavily embarrassed and she drafted a "sorry for staring at your boobs I am very gay and not used to this situation" card in her mind.

As the week went on, Lapis continued her kind gestures. Cleaning the bathroom when it was not her turn, taking out the trash unasked, vacuuming Peridot's bedroom, and the rest of the house, while Peridot showered. It was very odd, and Peridot was suspicious.

Strange things continued to happen as well. A plate that Lapis dropped and broke was mysteriously fixed and held together on its own the next day. An assumed dead house plant brought back to life. Peridot's lost hoodie, which she swore got left at the museum, returned to the laundry room after Peridot had been complaining about it.

Peridot's single frantic post about her possibly magic roommate turned into a series. A weekly "here's the weird ass shit that's happening in my house that my pretty roommate is probably doing" update.

Peridot felt like she was going mad as Lapis continued to walk on eggshells around her. The odd events were always pressed by Peridot, arguing adamantly that something weird was happening and questioning Lapis about it. Lapis tended to shrug it off, and made sure to be extra nice to Peridot the next day.

Suddenly, the stick hung prettily above Lapis's door was not merely aesthetic, but a magic wand. Or the crystals and old books that littered Lapis's room were no longer just collections, but magical items.

Peridot clicked her pen, sitting at her desk on a cloudy October day.

She prided herself on being logical, on being incredibly intelligent and a master at the scientific method. She was reasonable, and based conclusions on data, not fantasies.

She scribbled into her notebook, writing a list of evidence to conclude that Lapis was a witch.

Initial viewing of floating plates.

Suspicious behavior.

Fixing of broken things immediately.

Stereotypically "witchy" things in Lapis's room.

Refusal to talk about magic.

She read through her list, and added a few more observations before she flipped to a new page.

She titled it 'experiment number one'.

#lapidot #lapidot halloween week #my writing

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