#....heh

The setting, regardless of the context, of Sieglinde screaming in agony and curled up, absolutely broken, and Wolfram trying to run to her, BUT SEBASTIAN MICHAELIS SPECIFICALLY INSTANTLY ZIPPING OVER TO BLOCK HIM FROM REACHING HER

this is true. fartman is a fatass this is true but also heh kyles a little insecure hes just a lil guy

Really.

But like-

Do his cocks knot too, or is it just one, or like- 👀 I need to know what we're dealing with here-

listen idk if everyone's gonna vibe with the idea I have but-

maybe... perhaps... one cock releases a liquid of hormones and pheromones to get you nice and happy and submissive and breedable- it's always kind of drooling for you- nice and sticky and wet-

My boys as dragons <3

Chapters: 10/30 Fandom: The Umbrella Academy (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Diego Hargreeves/Klaus Hargreeves Characters: Diego Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves Additional Tags: No Incest, But I don't want antis here so I'm gonna tag it incest anyway, Sibling Incest, Detective Diego Hargreeves, Slow Burn, Sober Klaus Hargreeves, Sex Work, Past Drug Addiction, Serial Killers, Gangs, Domestic Fluff, Idiots in Love, Eventual Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added Summary:

Detective Hargreeves is just living his very normal life as a homicide detective, when a serial killer starts to leave bodies around the city. He's doing what he can, when some drug addict ("former drug addict, thank you very much"), right, former drug addict keeps showing up at his crime scenes. He's kind of weird (and very pretty), and Diego is relatively sure he's not the serial killer…

Oh, and apparently this former drug addict can talk to ghosts.

So this was originally going to be another Newt’s Jump drabble, but SOMEONE gave me a better idea for this one. So, have this. A 250 drabble had to happen eventually, right?

Better to ask forgiveness than permission.

Where had he heard that phrase? Who said it to him? Had it ever been said to him?

Fuck, his head hurt.

Air wasn’t moving right. The bloody…blood was stuck in his throat. He tried coughing it up, but that just made his throat burn.

He gasped for breath, whimpering, sobbing. It hurt so bad. He couldn’t go on like this. Couldn’t let them go through this with him. This was his battle, not theirs.

Just leave me, please, please, just leave me.

Minho stood. Newt grabbed his wrist. There was so much he needed to say. But he was slipping, sliding, falling, he didn’t have long.

“Thank you. Thank you, Minho.”

“You just hang on. You hear me?”

Those words. The same words whispered under a dark sunrise to a fading life that never finished fading. Better late than never.

Minho left. Tommy hovered over him, keeping watch. The lights were too bright. The booms of the explosions made his head pound. Too much noise, too much light. Anger, fear, pain…so much pain…

“Newt!”

It hurts so much, please, just go.

“We gotta move, now, let’s get you up.”

“No, Thomas…”

It won’t snap. It won’t fucking snap.

“Later, we really gotta go.”

“Take this.”

“Newt―”

“TAKE IT!” He couldn’t breathe, could barely see, it was too much. “Please. Please, Tommy. Please.”

It came out in a breath. He held onto Thomas’s hand like a lifeline, passing the necklace. His final words. His dying wish.

“I need you to give me everything you got.”

He was pulled up, his arm slung over Thomas’s shoulder. They were moving too fast. His leg had given out. He couldn’t hold on, he couldn’t do this, too late, too late…

Alby. Winston. Chuck. Tommy.

Alby. Winston. Chuck. Tommy.

Alby. Win… Tommy?

Pain.

So. Much. Pain.

It just stood there.

It was in the way.

He wanted it gone.

He charged. It pushed him back. He growled, charged again. It spoke.

“Newt, it’s me! It’s me!”

TOMMY!

He came back, fought it off, blood dribbling from his mouth. “Tommy, kill me!”

“Newt, I’m here.”

He charged again. They fell. He didn’t want it here. He wanted it gone. He grabbed, tugged, tore, fought. It wouldn’t stop.

He blinked. Everything came rushing back. He straddled Thomas, hands around his neck, Thomas desperately pushing him back.

“I’m…I’m sorry, Tommy.”

I’m sorry I failed. I’m sorry they died. I’m sorry Minho was taken. I’m sorry Winston got sick. I’m sorry Chuck was shot. I’m sorry the Grievers got Alby. I’m sorry Teresa betrayed us. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.”

I’m sorry, Tommy.

He grabbed the gun.

I’m sorry, Alby.

He put it to his head.

I’m sorry, Minho.

“NO!”

Thomas knocked it away. Newt plummeted.

He punched, kicked, bit, snapped. It kept fighting back. It knocked him away.

There was another way. He had a knife. He could end everything right now, just slide the knife…

It still wasn’t dead.

He sliced, swung, moved forward. It needed to die.

TOMMY!!

Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me.

He turned the knife, and everything slowed.

Please forgive me.