Tw Implied Noncon - Tumblr Posts

"Don't believe the narcissism

When everyone projects and expects you to listen to 'em.

Make no mistake, I live in a prison

That I built myself, it is my religion.

And they say that I am the sick boy;

Easy to say, when you don't take the risk, boy.

Welcome to the narcissism

Where we're united under our indifference."

~

-Sick Boy, Chainsmokers

Whumptober No.2

Not even the one with the most walls built was immune to the enemy's will.

(Click for better quality)

Possessively in love

Chapter 3 ( Ch 1&2 Here)

2.7k words

Trigger warning: Cursing. threat (one, and its not serious) Implied sexual assault/rape.

I would like to make it very clear that there is no rape or sexual assault that happens (nor will there ever be) the trigger warning is there because in this chapter characters accuse each other of such act. Nothing graphic the words aren't even said, just hinted , but i would like to make it clear that nothing happens or did happen in this chapter/in-between chapter. Please be cations and don't read if you are uncomfortable with such topic or would become trigger from the hinting of such.

Let me know if I missed a trigger or if you spot any spelling mistakes.

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Denki

I began to stir awake, not opening my eyes just yet, but my other senses are more awake. I can feel the weight of my stuffed animal in my arms, as I always do in the morning I go to squeeze and pull the comforting item towards me. Though the instant I squeeze the plush, it’s not … well plush. Whatever is in my arms it’s not my cozy companion, instead of the soft animal I expected, it felt more like a muscle-like substance, it was also warmer than what I normally slept with. It smelled better too, I wanted it to be closer to me, so I tried to pull it towards me.

“Oi, stop squeezing me.”

Bakugou. It was Bakugou. The thing replacing my stuffed animal is a person, not just a person, but the one and only Katsuki Bakugou. The guy who explodes at every minor inconvenience, especially at me, the boy who calls me rude names and yet makes my heart flutter, that boy is in my bed. Yeah, we’ve had sleepovers before but never the two of us alone, and we never cuddled. I would have never expected Bakugou to smell so good, but I’m also surprised I never noticed the sickeningly sweet smell before. I still haven’t opened my eyes but I can feel him turn, I don’t know which direction he is facing.

“Open your eyes, dumbass.”

My heartbeat becomes irregular as always, even if he took a stab at my intelligence. His morning voice didn’t help my heart in the slightest. I slowly open my eyes to see the ruby eyes of the angry boy in my bed. I watch as his eyes seem to sparkle for a split second when I open my eyes. I then see his face become pinker, he looks cute like that, well he always looks cute but it’s a nice change of pace. I expect him to say something so I keep my mouth shut in case to avoid any ridicule. I give him a minute, waiting for his mouth to open and for words to flow out, but it never happens.  All of a sudden the sweet smell becomes stronger along with my body feeling warmer, realizing Bakugou has pulled me into his chest. The sudden realization of how close we are makes me nervous laugh, the laugh most have come off wrong to Bakugou because as soon as it left my mouth, he pushed me away, and tsk as he always does, trying to pretend it doesn’t bother him. I became distracted by the sunlight on his beautiful light fluffy hair, as I normally do, I act without think. Raising my hand and brushing it through the soft-looking hair, confirming that it was not an illusion. I don’t realize the boundary I broke until I fill the head, that the hair is attached to, turn away, along with a hand on my wrist. I took that as a sign and removed my hand, as Bakugou got out of my bed, even with ]my blanket still on, the warmth followed him out and leaving me cold and alone. He began to walk towards the door, seemingly rushing to leave my room. He opened the door but before he closed it he stuck his head in and in a threatening voice said.

“Tell no one about this or last night, or you’ll be ash!” 

Which isn’t surprising. Bakugou didn’t seem like the type to be into physical contact or cuddling, let alone with me.

With Bakugou gone I think back to last night. Most of what I remember was falling asleep on Bakugou, which was a dream come true. I was then struck with the memory of my friends calling us brothers. It was a gross thought, I don’t understand these feelings, but I don’t think it would be appropriate for someone to feel them for a brother. I decide it’s time to get up. Trying to think of what outfit to wear to impress Bakugou, I think of multiple combinations in my brain wondering.

“Would Bakugou like this?”

 For each combination. I then remember that I shouldn’t dress for others and that the answer to my question is no,  no matter what combination of clothes I think of the answer will always be no. Stepping out of my brain I realize that what I was thinking was pointless because I’m in Bakugou’s room. How did I not realize sooner that this wasn’t my room sooner, it probably had to do with the comforting feeling it gives me . . . like nothing could ever bring me harm while I’m here, a feeling I’ve only ever felt in my room. I head for the door believing I waited enough time after Bakugou left, so no one will ask questions, or so I won’t run into Bakugou, cause it would cause my nerves to skyrocket along with making my blood rush to my cheeks making it obvious how I feel about the other blonde. I reach for the handle, but before I’m even able to touch it I hear Bakugou.

“Because you and me are both bastards and he is one of the closest things to an angel I have met. And he deserves so much more than people like you.”

I’m a little jealous of whoever he’s talking about, then the second voice chimes in, the deep soothing voice is easy to recognize, it’s Shinso.

“Well I like him and I thin- know that I could treat him the way he deserves. And I’m going to try hard to show him as such. And Bakugou or bakubro isn’t going to stop me from pursuing a relationship with Kaminari.”

Kaminari, but I’m a Kaminari, I don’t have any relatives that he knows. Oh god, it’s me. I mean good for me to be able to make a tall glass of water like Shinso to fall for me. But I don’t like Shinso, I don’t think but I also can’t pass up an opportunity to be loved, especially by someone as amazing as Shinso. Maybe I could make myself fall for him, it can’t be that hard. I then hear Bakugou call him a villain and then heavy footsteps, that I assume are Bakugou’s.

Suddenly there’s a knock at the door I’m currently leaning on I jump back, silently, to avoid being caught eavesdropping. Then the calming voice of the purple boy echoes through the room.

“Kaminari, want to join me for breakfast?”

I gather myself and then yell out a response.

“Yeah, give me a sec!”

I didn’t actually; need any extra time, I just didn’t want to seem too ready, or something. After waiting a few seconds I opened the door.  Shinso had a small smile on his face, I would like to assume it’s because of me, which makes me happy. I greet him with a simple, hey and we begin to walk toward the elevator. I want to comfort him and tell him that he’s not a villain but then he would know that I was listening and know that his crush is no longer a secret.

I’m taken away from my thoughts when Shinso starts telling jokes, which is a luxury few get to have. It makes me happy to think that not only am I one of the few he likes to joke with but also that he romantically likes me, which isn’t something I ever expected someone to feel towards me. My happy mood was pushed down a few pegs when Shinso tried to nudge me with his elbow as part of one of the jokes he was telling. I flinched back, and though some people may assume the worse, that’s not what it was. I’m not as comfortable with touch as people assume, well at least not all the time. Most days I feel uncomfortable being touched, 4 out of 7 would be the statistic, if I had to give one. There was also the fact that I now know that Shinso likes me, and it made me a little unsure of the type of touches he gives me, all of which are small and never broke boundaries for me, but now I know that he may feel differently about such touches. The biggest reason was I was still hanging on to the feeling of Bakugou’s touches, I wasn’t awake for most of the cuddling and I was disappointed he left so soon, and I wasn’t ready to let go of the warm feeling, no matter how small it was, and something in my ditzy blonde brain told me that if I was touched by anyone else that feeling would leave, and even worse never come back.

“Why did you flinch?”

Shinso’s tone made me feel like I did something wrong. Like I was a criminal and he was the interrogator.

“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about.”

I don’t want to explain anything to him, so I gave him that half-assed answer. Shinso came to a full stop and I did the same, what he was going to say seemed to be serious enough to stop in the middle of the hallway.

“Does it have something to do with Bakugou? I know he threatened you but you should know that your friends, including me, wouldn’t stand by if Bakugou or anyone did something to you, so don’t, be afraid.”

I wasn’t sure what he was implying, but it sounded more serious than what I was thinking about. At the reminder of spending the night snuggled up to Bakugou, I began to blush. After a while of not answering, I realized that it’s more suspicious if I don’t answer so I start to frantically deny Shinso’s accusing tone and questions.

“No it doesn’t have anything bad to do with Bakugou, we just cuddled, I just get uncomfortable being touched on some days, and it’s just one of those days. Sorry though.”

I didn’t want to lie and say it had nothing to do with Bakugou so I tried to just insist it wasn’t bad, but then I let the cuddles slip.

“Ok, I’ll believe you but what I said still applies.”

He looked me in the eyes, this was something very serious to him, so I nodded. He looked away and started walking again, I followed suit. His tone changed again, he sounded shyer and yet irritated.

“So you and Bakugou cuddle a lot. You must enjoy them.”

I had a hard time trying to figure out if those were questions or not.

“No, last night was the first time I cuddled, with him that is, I’ll have you know I am no cuddling virgin, I consider myself quite experienced actually, just not with Bakugou.”

I used humor to hide how embarrassed I was about cuddling with Bakugou. When I finished talking Shinso made a surprised sound.

“Why are you surprised?”

I asked, I mean I was curious about what made him make such a sound.

“Well, boom boom boy told me that you two cuddle all the time and that you love it. I should have guessed it was a lie.”

We reached the elevator and we stood waiting for it to stop at our floor. I couldn’t think of a reply, partly because I was too busy pondering why Bakugou would tell Shinso such a lie. By the time we got on the elevator and down to the first floor and the kitchen, I still hadn’t found a reason behind his lie. 

“This is amazing bakubro!”

I heard Sero use the new nickname they gave Bakugou last night. It made me cringe at why he was gifted that nickname, but it also gave me the reason for the lie he told Shinso. He was protecting me from a possible love interest because in this story he resembles the protective older brother. At that moment I decided that I would play out my role as the younger sibling and fall for one of the last people he would want me to, Hitoshi Shinso.

Bakugou

“Tell no one about this or last night, or you’ll be ash.”

I yell into my room, aimed towards Denki. I then close the door and lean against said door allowing me to finally relax. Then I realized that my zombie of a neighbor was leaning against his door, facing my direction. His presents were annoying enough but I’m hoping he’ll walk away and leave me in silence. Of fucking course he wouldn’t though.

“What the fuck did you do?”

His voice was dripping with venom. It was disgusting, both his voice and the fact that he was implying that I did something worth such a tone and question.

“None of your fucking business, but I know it’s not what you keep trying to accuse me of.”

I think the answer was enough to get him off my back, but he’s too stupid to realize it.

“That’s not enough to convince me. So I’ll rephrase my question. Did you touch Kaminari?” I knew he assumed I did something bad, and I know he thinks I’m a bad person but I didn’t think he would think I was that low of a scum.

“Of fucking course not, I know you think lowly of me but that’s just bullshit.”

“And why should I trust your word, you know I heard you threaten Kaminari to keep his mouth shut. That sounds like something a r--”

“YOU SHUT THAT FILTHY MOUTH OF YOURS!!”

I couldn’t control my anger knowing full well what he would try to call me.

“I’m not stupid Bakugou, unlike the rest of your friends I know that your feelings towards Kaminari are less innocent than acting like his brother. I know that you like him, and I also know that you don’t deserve him. You know that too, which leads me to believe that you would use your status as a friend along with your strength and quirk to control him.”

He made it sound like I wanted to use Denki for his body in some way, sure I don’t want to be just a friend, and definitely not his brother. I wanted to build a real relationship with him, not whatever this purple pervert was thinking.

“That’s rich coming from the bastard with a mind control quirk. You could have him do anything you want without a fight, but here you are trying to accuse me. I know I don’t deserve him, but I would never steep as low to become a monster. Also, you don’t deserve Denki any more than I do, so don’t fucking think about it.”

“And why is that, and why is it that you decide who is worthy enough to be with him?”

“Because you and me are both bastards and he is one of the closest things to an angel I have met. And he deserves so much more than people like you.”

“Well I like him and I thin- know that I could treat him the way he deserves. And I’m going to try hard to show him as such. And Bakugou or bakubro isn’t going to stop me from pursuing a relationship with Kaminari.”

I was done with this conversation before it even started, but hearing him call me that dumb-ass nickname, I know he’s just trying to piss me off, and it’s working. I want this conversation to end.

“And you’ll fail because you're nothing more than a villain.”

I stomp off to the elevator. I know that the villain card was a little harsh but he tried to accuse me of something so heinous I want to throw up thinking about it, so he rightfully deserves it. I can understand where the purple freak is coming from though, if he was carrying a sleeping Denki to his room, I would have knocked him out faster than Denki can produce electricity. I understand the concern. I just didn’t think he would try and call me such a word. I try to block everything the bedhead is connected to for the rest of the day, which will include Denki, but it is better this way. I’ve known for a while that I should separate myself from Denki, I don’t want to taint him, but it’s harder than I thought, and it's not my fault the boy is just so damn persistent.

TW: venting about my whole ass panic attack. So yeah

So I'm literally in tears rn. My acne flared up really bad. My nose is to big. My lips are too small. My hair just won't work with me. I may be skinny isn't good when your face looks like God hit you 1000000000000000000000x with the ugly stick.

My brother decided to say, "It's not that bad. Why are you upset?"

Easy to say when you have every female in the world falling at your feet.

Like all my siblings got the attractive gene & my genes decided I'd be the ugly one.

My teeth are messed up to. Not lined up, under bite. Got scars lining my body so that's another flaw to add.

Why would anyone decide to date me.

The guy I was dating kill himself. I would to if I was dating me.

He didn't even leave my ugly ass a note. Such a shame ig.

Got ADHD, Bipolar, ODD, Generalized Anxiety, Depression, PTSD, & now possibly falling on the Autism spectrum.

Ugly af

Annoying af

Always fall in everyone's shadows. Only this person's younger sister or this persons older sister maybe this other person's daughter.

Can't even make a name for myself. Sometimes I wish I'd disappear. I was suppose to have a twin. If she made it maybe it'd be better.

School is stressing me out. I somehow passed last year. Kind of tired.

I'm just tired.

No matter how hard I try or how hard I work. Nothing will ever be enough.

Not for me, my mum, my siblings, my friends, my teachers, no one. I'm never enough.

I have a panic attack my mum decides the cry.

What gives her the right. She looks great. She's witty, kind, independent, knows what she wants. So why is she crying. Literally nothing happened.

You're crying cause I'm upset & making everyone else upset. Literally not my fault I'm having a panic attack while looking in the mirror.

Hell now I've started starving myself. Afraid of weight gain ig

I lie. Say how cool my family is. How I don't care whether I am skinny or not. Lie that I'm not ugly or pretty. I lie. Straight through my teeth.

I pretend my life is so great.

No.

I never have been close with my mum. I've always wanted to. Seems everytime I start to I get pushed back.

My mother is proud of all my other siblings.

I gave up on art. I was like 12 or 13. I went to show my mother a drawing.

My mother told me to shut up as my older brother & sister were gonna sing. She couldn't even wait one second to take a glance.

When she decided to look. After praising her oh so talented children. She just said my drawing was cool.

I flushed that drawing down the toilet.

I've decided that I'll just not try.

I'm 16 atm. I try to impress my mother. Be a oh so good kid.

Never one glance.

Where did I go wrong.

My ex boyfriend gave me hope. Maybe someone could love me. Someone could find a way to look past all my flaws & see some beauty that I just couldn't see.

But the rope he hung from could say different.

No goodbye, no letter. Nothing.

Last words were him breaking up with me in a group chat without notifying me .

Having to find out through someone he hates.

Someone who he despises knew.

Then when I joined. He just ridiculed me. Put me down. Kept saying cruel words. Just to break up. Then leave this world.

I know I wasn't the cause. That his world came to an end. But why?

I've only ever looked at the bright side. Wanted to help others. Sit by those who hurt. Helping others gave me purpose. Hope that maybe I one day could.

My mother's name is Hope though. Even she couldn't believe in me. How ironic. The woman who gave birth to me is named Hope. Yet any hope she could've had in me never met my eyes.

I would leave the world as well. I guess I just like the challenge. Tried to leave a couple times. Each one a fail. For 6 minutes & few seconds. My heart stopped. I was at peace. Then my heart decides to beat again. Body decides to work again.

October 23rd 2018. Was my near death experience. Was great honestly. Sadly death just won't take me. No matter how much I've tried. Even death doesn't want me.

How ironic. Death takes everyone. Yet not me.

Take people I care about. Not me though.

I gave up on attempting suicide. Never leads me to death.

I just kind of exist now.

Mother won't let me get a job. Won't let me pierce even my ears.

She says she cares yet victim cards Trump all.

I weirdly love my family though.

My mother saved me from going to foster care. Plus my father was abusive. The memories that'll never leave haven't grown because of her.

Yet it seems I really was just part of the package.

To care for any of the others. I was just the con.

She showed up to my football practice in 8th grade.

She looked so proud & congratulated me on knocking guys 10x my height down. For once she was proud.

One of my matches she showed up to. I was knocked down by a kid. Are team lost. Any hope she had in me. I could see disappear.

She lectured me after. Saying how I could've done better.

I quit the team. Coach said that I shouldn't. It just wasn't as full filing when the person who gives birth to you. Well the one you spend all your time trying to make proud. Look at you with cold eyes.

I had a choir concert not even a year ago. I did the whole thing. Hoping maybe she walk in. See that I was overcoming my fear of singing on stage.

She texted me once I was done. She waited outside the entire time.

Didn't take the time to come in. I thought maybe she was doing something. Shopping or riding around. No. She just sat in the parking lot.

It hurts. I lost my childhood. Lost someone I loved. Lost any hope of my mum being proud. Lost my pride. Lost any love for myself. Lost any meaning for my life.

I've given up. Won't kill myself.

Wouldn't give myself the satisfaction. Plus I've tried to many times. Shot my shot. Missed everyone besides one that I rimmed & missed.

Guess I'll live just to survive. Then die peacefully in life.

Maybe I'll die saving someone. That'd be good to. Be remembered as someone who saved someone .

Well thx for reading ig

slip

Feitan x Reader drabble // word count 1.5k

In which you dream about someone you shouldn’t, and talk in your sleep.

Tags/Warnings: yandere, kidnapped reader, mention of blood and gore (past and imagined), knives, implied noncon, implied threat of death (to reader), implied murder (not reader), reader is gonna be fucked up over this forever

A/N: first time writing this man, not sure how I feel about it but it’s either post or stare at it forever

As always - 18+, read the tags, if you don’t like the tags then don’t go below the cut. Thank you and enjoy.

There is a knife against your throat, and you barely know how it got there, much less why. You didn’t do anything. Didn’t run, didn’t try to shove your tormentor away, didn’t tell him that you wished he was dead, or worse. You wouldn’t have had the time to do these things, even if you wanted to. You hadn't been awake for a second before his hand stirred from where it had lain on your waist. And now - the blade twitches, slightly. It doesn’t press quite hard enough to make you bleed, but certainly enough to make you picture what would happen if it did. If it kept going, long past the point where red rivulets stained the threadbare sheets beneath you.

A small noise escapes your mouth. You get nothing in response. It takes time for Feitan to speak, when there’s something on his mind.

It’s taking too long, even for him.

Last night, you thought you were safe. He kissed you, after meticulously washing a stranger’s blood out from beneath his nails. He watched you fall asleep, kept a hand on you until exhaustion finally forced you to nod off in the early hours of the morning. The strange affection he gives you is worse than any cruelty you could imagine, but not nearly as bad as the thought that somehow, you’ve managed to lose it. There are no words in your mind, now, only scattered images of what might happen, what you might become, the barely-recognizable thing strewn out across the floor -

“What were you dreaming about?” Feitan’s voice is dull and quiet, as always. Like he’s asking you this over breakfast, and not on what could be your deathbed.

You don’t remember, and you don’t answer. There is no air left for you to speak. 

“What were you dreaming about?” he repeats. It’s almost the same voice, but there’s a hint of urgency, now. The barest hint - but you’ve grown used to interpreting the faint indications he gives you. “Talk.”

“I don’t”- You gasp, but seem to take in nothing. “-don’t remember”-

“You were talking when you were sleeping.” 

Statements like these are dangerous. He expects you to understand what he means, always. He does not like to elaborate.

“I…” You screw your eyes shut, try to forget where you are just enough to remember where you were. “It was night. In the dream. And I was…” Oh. No. You can’t say that part out loud. Never, ever, ever. When you open your eyes, your vision is blurry. They close once more, of their own accord. “I was sitting with someone. Talking.” Someone. Someone has no face, no name - you pray that he’ll let you leave it at that. That he won’t ask for more.

“You said…” His face is close to the back of your neck, and yet, you cannot feel his breath on your skin. “When you were sleeping, you said I love you.”

Your stomach threatens to infringe upon your throat. You curse your sleeping mind for giving you something beautiful to dream of, and for letting it slip out of your mouth. Beautiful things do not survive here, and your mouth is always better kept shut. 

“Who?” 

You’d think, in your present situation, that you wouldn’t have enough room in your head to feel terrified for anyone else. But you do. Terrified enough to try something stupid. 

You’re sure Feitan can feel the tension in your body, the instinctual way it readies itself for a fight (you would lose instantly) or an attempt at escape (you wouldn’t make it an inch). “It wasn’t about”- you choke on your own breath, try again. “It wasn’t about anyone real. Just a dream-person.”

“Bad liar,” he accuses. You do not protest. It was pointless to try. 

And yet, you try again. You know that your answer matters. Enough for you to force more lies across the blade that still presses against your skin. “Someone I used to date. A long time ago.” Really, it was only a few weeks before Feitan….found you that things ended. But time is subjective - it certainly feels like a long time has passed since then. 

“Oh.” If he suspects that you’re lying again, he doesn’t say it. But he does tend to leave a lot of things unsaid. 

“He”- You suck in a breath as the knife twitches again. The movement is not an accident. It’s never an accident - his hands are unnaturally steady, when he wants them to be. “He ended things. I don’t think he thinks about me anymore.” This needs to be true. He needs to believe that it’s true, or-

“But you still think about him.” 

Your stomach churns. “It was just a dream.” Technically not a lie, either. You’d have to say no for it to be a lie.

Feitan pauses for a moment. You’d have expected him to be furious, to take this out on you in some unimaginably awful way. Instead you hear a single sigh, feel it soft against your skin. “He let you go.” He sounds almost confused, his muted voice drawn out just enough to make his resentment clear. The knife turns slightly, and this time, you’re not sure if it was on purpose. “He must be stupid.”

You bite down on the inside of your lip, sharp and hard enough to tear a bit of the lining away. It’s awful when he says these things. Words that could be sweet, if you removed everything around them.

“I can’t control what I dream about,” you whisper, almost too quiet to be heard. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” He withdraws the blade, swings his feet off the bed - the floor, decrepit as it is, should creak when he stands, but it never does. “You don’t need to tell me anything else.”

You know better than to be relieved, so you turn over, to your other side, and fix your gaze on the floor. Watch him carefully, indirectly. You listen, your breath almost as silent as his, as he picks up his jacket from the end of your bed, puts it on. 

And he smiles. His face is covered, but you see it in his eyes. “I can figure out the rest.” 

The rest. 

Your heart hammers, but your blood stands still. Frozen in your veins. You know why he’s put on his jacket. Why he’s leaving. Where he’s going.

The knife still dangling from Feitan’s hand catches a shard of your reflection, a smudged picture of a terrified eye that disappears before you can look any closer.

The rest. Name, face, address - all too easy. There are clues in your confiscated possessions, in the place where you used to live. 

It’s as if the knife is still held to your throat. No. It’s as if your skin has already broken beneath it. You do not think in words. You think in gory pictures, infinitely clearer than the haze you see before forcing your eyes shut. Your blood, mixing with what you’re sure will be on that blade by day’s end. Skin-gushing-red-bones-out-something being buried, dirty hands returning to you, staining your face, your clothes, the things underneath, silent breath coming alive, painfully soft in your ear -

You open your eyes. You want to scream at him to stop, to stay. But your mouth stays shut.

“I won’t draw it out.” For a moment, he looks down, and you swear you see his face color. Like he’s said something overly sweet, and can barely stand it. “I promise.”

It’s enough to make it real. Enough to unseal your lips. “Don’t…” You should be yelling. But it’s all you can do, finding enough strength to make a near-silent, desperate appeal. “Please. You don’t have to. I’m not going to - to run. To him or anyone else. I’m not gonna do anything. I don’t - it was just a dream…”

“Stop.” His smile drops, eyes narrow. Voice even quieter than usual, deathly calm.

You go silent. Perfectly still.

“If you keep trying to save him, I’ll break my word. I already want to.” 

You forget how to breathe. 

This can’t be a choice you have to make. This can’t be in your hands. There are words in your head, finally, and you can’t say them. 

You have to say them.

“I’m sorry.” 

"Okay." He stares at you for far too long, unblinking. For seconds, or maybe hours, or maybe days - they’re all the same, to you, now. “It’s okay.”

No. He is unforgivably wrong. Nothing will ever be okay again. You’re in some other world, in your mind, and it’s going to take more than you have to yank you out of it. 

You can barely see him in front of you. His voice reverberates strangely in your head. But when he moves, it’s like your senses pull themselves together. You realize that your eyes are wet, that a tear is rolling down the bridge of your nose, that you can breathe after all, but only in ragged gasps…

“You look…nice…when you cry.” He drops his gaze once more, tugs up on the cloth that covers his face. His smile is back, creasing the corners of his eyes, and it is the ugliest thing you have ever seen. “Wonder if he thought that, too.”

Dark Currents (Intoxicating Fear Fanfic)

III: Between the Lines

@chaotic-orphan

TW: stalking, drugging, implied noncon, intimate whumper, intimidating whumper, disoriented whumpee.

Kit stared up at the cracked ceiling, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. Ambrose’s presence was a weight that pinned him to the bed, but it wasn’t just physical. There was something else, something darker that twisted between them, something that made Kit’s skin crawl and his pulse race.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched thin, taut like a wire pulled to its breaking point. Outside, the city was waking up, the distant sounds of traffic and early morning bustle filtering through the window. But inside the apartment, time felt frozen, suspended in the crackling tension between them.

Ambrose’s grip on Kit’s wrists loosened, but he didn’t move away. He stayed there, hovering over Kit, his eyes still locked on his with a fierce, burning intensity. Kit’s mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of the night before. The bar, the drink, the way Ambrose had watched him from across the room like a hawk circling its prey. And then… the blackouts. The missing hours.

"What the fuck did you do to me?" Kit finally managed to choke out, his voice hoarse.

Ambrose’s lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "I didn’t do anything you didn’t want, Kit."

Kit’s stomach twisted at the implication, but there was no time to dwell on it. The fog in his mind was beginning to lift, and with it came a flood of memories—disjointed flashes of the previous night. The dimly lit bar, the feeling of eyes on him, the cold touch of Ambrose’s hand on his arm as he’d leaned in, too close, whispering something that Kit couldn’t quite remember.

Kit’s jaw clenched. He pulled against Ambrose’s grip, and this time, Ambrose let go, sitting back slightly, though his knees still bracketed Kit’s hips, keeping him in place.

"I want answers," Kit demanded, his voice stronger now. "Why are you here? What do you want from me?"

Ambrose’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing. "I already told you. This is about survival. Do you think all of this is some kind of game?"

Kit shook his head, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Survival? What are you even talking about? You show up out of nowhere, drug me, drag me back here, and now you're talking about survival like I'm supposed to understand what the fuck is going on?"

Ambrose’s gaze flickered, something unreadable passing over his face before he looked away, his jaw tight. For the first time, Kit saw a crack in the armour—a flicker of something deeper, something vulnerable. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the same cold, unrelenting intensity.

"You don’t know what’s coming," Ambrose said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. "But you will."

Kit’s frustration turned to anger. He pushed himself up, forcing Ambrose to shift back slightly to avoid being knocked off balance. The movement was sudden, a surge of adrenaline cutting through the lingering fog in Kit’s veins.

"Enough with the cryptic bullshit, Ambrose!" Kit snapped, his voice rising. "I’m done playing whatever game this is. You want to talk about survival? Fine. Start explaining. Now."

For a long moment, Ambrose didn’t respond. His eyes flicked to the window, then back to Kit, as if weighing his next words carefully. The silence stretched on, the tension between them thick and suffocating.

Finally, Ambrose exhaled a slow, measured breath. "There are forces at work you don’t understand. Dark forces. And you… you’re in the middle of it, whether you like it or not."

Kit blinked, his anger momentarily faltering. "Dark forces?" he echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Are you serious?"

Ambrose’s expression hardened. "Deadly serious."

Kit shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "This is insane. You expect me to believe—"

"I don’t expect you to believe anything," Ambrose interrupted, his voice sharp. "But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s true. You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The strange things happening around you? The sense that something’s been watching you, following you?"

Kit opened his mouth to argue, to deny it—but the words died in his throat. Because the truth was… he had felt it. For weeks now, there had been an odd sense of unease gnawing at him, a feeling that something was just out of sight, lurking in the shadows. The lights in his apartment flickering for no reason, the strange cold spots that made his breath fog in the middle of summer, the nightmares that left him drenched in sweat, heart racing.

And then there was the strange encounter in the alleyway a few nights ago—the way the shadows had seemed to move, to shift and twist as if they had a life of their own. He’d written it off as a trick of the light, a figment of his imagination. But now…?

Kit swallowed hard. "What… what are you saying?"

Ambrose’s eyes bore into his, the weight of his words heavy with truth. "I’m saying that the world isn’t what you think it is. There are things out there—things that want you, things that will stop at nothing to get to you. And if you don’t start taking this seriously, you’re going to end up dead. Or worse."

Kit’s breath hitched in his throat. Dead? Or worse? The room felt suddenly too small, the walls closing in around him. He shook his head, trying to make sense of it all, but it was like trying to hold water in his hands—everything kept slipping through his fingers.

"I don’t understand," Kit whispered, his voice barely audible. "Why me? What do they want from me?"

Ambrose’s expression softened, just for a moment. "It’s not just you. It’s us. We’re connected, Kit. More than you realise. That’s why I’ve been watching you. That’s why I’ve been trying to protect you."

Kit’s heart skipped a beat. "Protect me? You drugged me and dragged me back here against my will!"

Ambrose’s lips pressed into a thin line. "I didn’t have a choice. They were closing in on you. If I hadn’t intervened…"

He trailed off, but the unspoken words hung heavy in the air.

Kit felt a chill crawl down his spine. "Who are they?"

Ambrose hesitated, then shook his head. "It’s better if you don’t know. Not yet."

Kit’s frustration flared again. "I deserve to know what’s happening to me!"

Ambrose’s eyes flashed with anger, but it wasn’t directed at Kit—it was something deeper, something simmering just beneath the surface. "You’ll know soon enough," he said, his voice tight. "But first… you need to trust me."

Kit let out a bitter laugh. "Trust you? After everything you’ve done?"

Ambrose’s gaze softened again, and for the first time, Kit saw something like regret in his eyes. "I know I’ve made mistakes. But I’m trying to keep you alive. You don’t have to like me. You don’t even have to forgive me. But if you want to survive this, you’re going to need me."

Kit stared at him, his mind racing, torn between disbelief and the growing sense that maybe—just maybe—Ambrose was telling the truth. The strange occurrences, the feeling of being watched, the sense that something was closing in on him… it all lined up, even if Kit didn’t want to admit it.

But trusting Ambrose? That felt like a step too far.

"I don’t know if I can trust you," Kit said finally, his voice quiet but firm. "But I’m not going to let you call the shots anymore. If we’re going to do this, we do it on my terms."

Ambrose studied him for a long moment, then gave a slow nod. "Fair enough."

Kit exhaled, the tension in his chest easing just slightly. "So… what happens now?"

Ambrose shuffled off the bed, finally giving Kit space to breathe. He crossed the room to the window, looking out at the city below. "Now," he said, his voice low, "we get ready. Because they’ll be coming for you soon."

Kit’s stomach twisted with unease. "Who?"

Ambrose turned, his eyes dark and serious. "The shadows."

Continued here