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screamingatanemptyroom · 1 month

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The Healer pt 2

Decided to continue this, let me know if you want me to keep going!

Part 1 linked here

Enjoy!

________________________

“What have you done?”

My voice was strained in a horrified whisper.

Jack the Hero was calm despite my obvious distress. He leaned back in his chair, his face smiling but his eyes freezing cold. “That’s the wrong question, Healer. The right question is: what have YOU done?”

“Everyone… they’re dead… you promised you needed it to clear the gate… you told me…”

“I told you a lie.” His smile didn’t change. “You were the fool who believed me. Their deaths are on your hands as much as mine.”

I stood up, checking my inventory and beginning to drop any group items. “I’m quitting your team. I’d rather die alone out there then stay on under you. After what you've done."

“I’d rethink that, Healer.” He held up a hand, and a bright red gleam shined between his fingers.

“You bastard.” I froze at the sight, unable to move, as realization slowly dawned on me of the extent of his betrayal. “You…”

He stood up, not bothering to listen to the rest of my cursing. “Save your energy.” He paused at the doorway, his gaze settling on my tear-stained face without much interest. “You’ll need it. We ride early tomorrow, Healer. Be ready.”

______________________

“JACK!” I sat up in bed, breathing heavily. I was filled with terror and rage, and it took a moment to realize my familiar surroundings. Light blue walls, intricate draperies, stacks of large books on topics ranging from anatomy to pharmacology. My room. I sighed with relief.

Thinking of my dream, and the bad memory contained within, I stiffened again, slowly slipping my hand into my collar and gripping the cold hard surface of the amulet within. I sat silently, clutching it so tightly that the hard edges began to dig into the skin of my palm. Eventually my speeding heart rate slowed, and my breathing normalized. I was in my house, out of Jack’s reach.

As I calmed down, a notice popped up in my vision.

**You have rested through the night. HP and MP are restored in full. Adverse conditions such as fatigue are eliminated. You are encouraged to continue your mission in securing the advancement of the human race! Good luck!**

I waved away the notice with a frown. Since the Downfall, since we had woken up in this strange world crafted after a VR game, there had been only vague references to the “purpose” behind it. The original message had mentioned an “opportunity for improvement” but given little other information. Who was it that trapped us all here? Why did they do it? And are they still watching us?

I shook my head. All we knew was that there were one hundred gates to pass to “complete” this mission. Perhaps then we would understand the purpose behind all of this, the meaning of all this pain, death and suffering.

But we were only on the forty-second gate.

I went downstairs, and paused when I spotted Alton the Great Evil Wizard, looking nothing like his terrifying reputation as he was sitting cross-legged on the floor, calmly sewing a black robe. Hearing my footsteps, he looked up and grinned, waving with the hand holding the threaded needle.

“Good morning, Miss Healer!”

The address caught me by surprise. Jack and the party had always just called me “healer” or “the healer.” The word was always said dripping with disdain. They had hated my profession, hated the embarrassment of having me on their team, made even worse by the fact that they actually needed me around. But when Alton said it… it just seemed normal.

I think my sense of normal has been greatly skewed.

I regained my composure and nodded at him. “Good morning. What are you working on?”

“Repairing my torn robes.” He gestured a pile next to him on the floor. “They have low durability so they break down easily.”

“Shouldn’t you just buy new ones?”

He nodded. “I could… but prefer to save my money for the things I really want. Better to keep it close, since you never know what important things you might need it for… especially in this world.”

“Says the guy who put a 100,000 gold bounty on the head of the Hero?”

“Exactly!” He grinned viciously. “I save my money for important things like annoying idiots like him.”

I laughed at that. After another pause, I sat down on the floor next to him and grabbed a piece of dark cloth from the pile. Pulling a needle and dark thread out of my inventory, I began to stitch.

“You sew?” Alton asked, seeming surprised.

I pointed at his chest, where the stitched wound was still visible. “If I can patch you up, pretty sure I can sew up a sleeve.”

“…Good point… although I guess I didn’t realize the skills were transferable. Did you take on a Tailor side quest?”

“It’s not a skill, not a Fantasy Realm type skill at least.” I kept my eyes on my hands that were picking up speed as muscle memory took over. “I always liked to sew, even before the Downfall… it was a good way to relax. It seemed logical to decompress doing the type of sewing that didn’t have the possibility to kill someone if your stitch came loose.”

“Wait…” He held up his hand, shocked. “Were you a doctor before the Downfall?”

“Yeah, but I was still in surgery residency. So wasn’t like I was operating on my own… “

Alton blinked, seemingly trying to absorb this information. “That’s… impressive.”

I kept my head down, my hands moving smoothly without hesitation. “Not in my family.”

“Ah… familial disappointment. Something with which I am quite familiar.” There was a sad tone in his voice, a look in his eyes that seemed almost close to despair. “Unlike you, I did not go into the family business… making me somewhat of the black sheep of the family.”

“Your family business?” I probed, curious.

“Well, it wasn’t wizardry, that’s for sure.” I sensed he was avoiding the question, and dropped the topic. I didn’t know Alton that well, certainly not enough to push him to open up. I tried to find something else to talk about instead.

“So… what do you think about what I said yesterday?”

He seemed quietly relieved that I moved on. “Which sentence?”

“About finding a couple other people for our party.”

He continued to sew, thinking it over. “I guess it depends…”

“Depends on what?”

Alton looked up, his eyes serious. “On if you trust them.”

I paused at that, before finally answering in a cold tone. “I don’t trust anyone.”

The amulet around my neck felt icy cold against my skin, as always, as if reminding me of its presence, reminding me of the consequence of trusting someone.

“Not anymore.”

Alton nodded seriously at that, and I remembered the title that I saw in his Stat screen. “The Betrayed.” Given the particulars of the system of this world, I didn’t want to know how severe of a betrayal it would have to be to actually bestow a title like that.

Looks like we are both haunted by the consequences of trusting the wrong person. I feel like I already know the kind of person he is... even if it's not been a long time.

As if he heard my thoughts, he spoke up. “We have a lot in common. I’ve been watching you for quite some time. I have a good understanding of the type of person you are… and aren’t. I considered all the options before inviting you into my party. If you have someone you know that well… I would at least be willing to meet them.”

“You were watching me?” I raised an eyebrow at that. “Why?”

“First, I was interested because you were a healer. I didn’t think any had survived. Then I noticed you cleaning up after the Hero’s party’s antics. And then… it was partly because I was scared of you.” He smiled to soften the blow, but I still froze for a moment, before forcing my hands to continue.

“Scared of me?”

“Yeah… since I’m fairly certain that you are the only human in this world who is strong enough to kill me.”

I processed that. “So it’s a ‘keep your enemies close’ type deal?”

“Nah, nothing like that.” He laughed quietly. “It’s just the more I got to know you, the more I couldn’t escape a thought: That I thought you would be a good friend.”

“… You shouldn’t trust me.” My tone was flat.

Alton seemed unfazed. “Why not? Are you planning to betray me?”

I shook my head.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“You don’t know everything yet… even if you’ve been watching… there’s things… terrible, awful things you need to know about me before making any decisions.”

“None of us are saints in this world.” He briefly closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, before meeting my gaze once more. I could see the guilt within. “We were trapped here, forced to survive. We’ve all done things we regret. Don’t forget: I’m not far behind you in human kill numbers.”

There was a long pause.

“What are you thinking?” He finally asked, breaking the silence.

I knotted off the thread as I finished closing the tear, cutting it off with a neat motion. “I think you’re strangely naïve for someone called the ‘great evil wizard.’”

“If you say so.” Alton chuckled.

“I do.”

“So are you going to introduce this naïve evil wizard to your friends?” He finished sewing his robe, tying it off somewhat clumsily.

I froze at the word “friends."

______________________

“I need your help.” Jack’s eyes were intense as he cornered me, my back against a cold brick wall. The solidity of it grounded me, the realness of it reminding me that this strange world I lived in was my new normal.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. If the power gets into the wrong hands…” As I tried to turn away, he grabbed my face, forcing me to look at him. My skin crawled at his touch, but the hard grip prevented me from pulling away.

“We don’t have a choice. The next gate is impossible without your help. If you refuse… everyone will die.”

He finally released me, and I tried to back away, but only succeeded in hitting my head against the brick. After a few long moments, I sighed.

“Just for the gate, right? You promise?”

“Of course…” He smiled. “We’re friends after all.”

______________________

I took a deep breath, ignoring Alton’s concerned look. “No. Not friends. But strong people who might be interested in partnering with us.”

I had no friends. I didn't dare. Not since I stopped calling Jack and his group that.

“Ah of course. `And you think these strong people will be okay partnering with me?” He pointed at himself with a quizzical expression.

I smiled confidently. “I have no doubt.”

______________________

SLAM!

The door slammed in our faces for the third time. Inside the building we could hear a muffled “GO AWAY!”

Alton looked over at me with a smile. “No doubt, huh?”

I frowned. “ I underestimated your bad reputation… or maybe mine.”

“I resent that. My bad reputation is more than enough to scare good prospects away on its own.” He glanced back at the door with a raised eyebrow. “Besides if they are too scared to even join us, I imagine they wouldn’t be that much help in a fight.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry. I’ve run out of suckers… I’m mean strong heroes to ask.”

He grinned at that, as we walked away from the last house and towards the 38th level City. The main road was deserted, this was one of the higher levels, and very few people advanced this far. Many chose to stay in the lower levels, avoiding danger. I kept a close eye on the surrounding forest, tense. The roads were generally safe, but the wariness remained all the same.

“So, just the three prospects, huh?”

“People on the World Leader Board who aren’t already in a party and not total psychopaths?” I shook my head, distracted from my obsessive watching of our surroundings. “You’re lucky I could think of three.”

“Well maybe it will just have to be you and me. I mean we ARE the top two players on the World Leader Board. It could be enough.”

We walked forward as I continued to ponder his words. I had not really seen Alton in action. However, his ranking and reputation as the world’s strongest player couldn’t be denied. “It might be enough, for a while. But I don’t know if that will carry us to the end. The gates are getting harder and harder… “

“Well, it’s not like teammates are going to just fall from the sky…”

“LOOK OUUUUUT!”

Alton and I rolled out of the way of the person falling from a nearby tree, both readying for battle. Alton whispered quietly, activating a dark magical flame that danced around his fingers. I on the other hand, simply stood in place, hands resting at my sides. If there was one thing I was good at, it was killing. I just needed to know if it was necessary. In the corner of my vision I confirmed my filled HP and MP, with some reassurance.

The falling person hit the ground with a loud CLANG and her metal armor slightly deformed from the impact. She the rolled several times, coming to a loud stop on her back at my feet. Her young, bright eyes stared up at me with delight.

“Healer!”

I looked down at her, and sighed. “Hello, Stephanie.”

Alton glanced at her, and then looked at me. “You know her?”

“WE’RE BEST FRIENDS!”

“No.”

Stephanie and I answered at the same time. Alton laughed, and held out a hand to the teenage girl. “Nice to meet you, Miss Healer’s best friend. I’m Alton.”

Her eyes widened. “The evil wizard?” I braced myself for her to scream or run away similar to the prior “strong” people I had tried to recruit. Instead, she smiled with great relief. “THANK GOODNESS!”

“Huh.” Alton seemed just as confused as me. “Never had that reaction before.”

Stephanie in response pointed a group of monsters emerging from the nearby forest, heading towards us. “Can you guys lend a hand?”

I studied the new threat carefully. There were eight wolf like creatures, 5 feet tall with long horns, large jaws and rows upon rows of blood-stained teeth. They moved as a pack, snarling and howling as they closed in on their prey.

Alton shrugged nonchalantly at the sight, and pointed at me. “I’ll help if she says it’s okay.”

“Great!” Stephanie sat up with difficultly, her armor hindering the movement, and placed her hands together in a praying gesture. “Please?”

I pushed up my sleeves. “Sure. I had some energy I wanted to get out anyways. Alton, you take the four on the left?”

He nodded in response and began chanting.

I faced the four beasts on the right with a thoughtful expression. One out of the group was larger than the rest, likely the leader of the pack.

**The Healer has activated wordless incantation. -300MP per use.**

The wolf monsters were racing closer. I sensed the end of Alton’s chant coming and raised a hand, pointing.

**The Healer has cast Immobilization -10MP/sec while active.**

The three smaller wolves froze, tumbling to the ground. The larger stumbled, but shrugged off the spell, obviously having some magical resistance. I moved forward, going at my highest speed. If a spell won’t work… I pulled a syringe out of my inventory. As I reached the leader. I saw Alton finish his chant out of the corner of my eye. A black flame surrounded the monsters he faced, burning them to ash.

**Alton the Great Evil Wizard is credited with 4 monster kills, awarded 160XP and +4 fame. You receive 20XP as a party member.**

The lead monster snapped at me as I leapt over its head, its teeth missing my arm my a hair. I jumped and straddled its back, grabbing its rough, stained fur in one hand, and plunging the syringe into the large muscle near its shoulder joint with the other.

**The Healer has used custom potion – Anesthetic. Patient is paralyzed and sedated for 3 minutes.**

The monster under me let out a groan and collapsed to the ground. Letting out a sigh of relief, I looked over at the smaller wolf monsters and reached out a hand.

**The Healer has cast Debridement x 3. – 60MP.**

Black blood spilled out from large wounds in their necks, pooling under the three bodies, soaking the grass beneath them.

**The Healer is credited with 3 monster kills, awarded 120XP and +3 fame.**

Now that the small fry are out of the way… I waved away the notification and pulled a scalpel out of my inventory, the small blade in my hand reflecting the bright sunlight.

If spells won’t work, then I’ll just do it the old-fashioned way. I couldn’t use weapons, only medical/healing potions and tools. A scalpel although tiny, was the closest thing I had to a bladed weapon. I reached out towards the wolf’s neck.

“WAIT!” Stephanie cried out, causing me to pause before I cut the monster’s throat. “Don’t cut it!”

I raised an eyebrow. “You want me to spare the monster that was hunting you?” I noticed that Alton had kept a small amount of magic around his hand, ready to strike at any moment. It was strangely reassuring to see that he wasn’t always so trusting of others.

Stephanie looked at me, confused. “What? No! I just meant please don’t CUT it! I need an undamaged pelt for a quest. Can you kill it without hurting its pelt?”

I thought it over, still holding the scalpel to its throat in case the potion wore off. “Depends. What about the quest rewards?”

She deflated slightly at the question. “50-50 split? I did spend days tracking them down.”

“Deal.” I put my scalpel away, and pull up a buckled strap. With a quick practiced movement, I placed it around the wolf’s head, and tightened it over the neck.

**Healer has utilized tourniquet. Blood flow to the affected area is cut off. Please utilize caution, patient received 10 damage for each second that the tourniquet is in place.**

I waited patiently.

**WARNING! Patient airway is compressed and is becoming dangerously hypoxic. Please secure airway to continue healing. Patient will receive 50 damage for each second that airway compression remains in place.**

I continued to wait.

**The Healer is credited with 1 level 20 monster boss kill, awarded 200 XP and +5 fame.**

I removed the tourniquet, wiping down the strap before replacing it into my inventory. I glanced over at Alton and Stephanie who stared at me in surprise. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“…Umm… did you just kill a boss monster… with a syringe and a belt?”

“It’s a tourniquet, but yes.”

“Cool.” Alton gave me a thumbs up.

Stephanie shrugged off her apparent shock and ran to the boss monster, using a skill to remove the pelt without any tools. She then paused, and stood in front of both of us, shuffling back and forth slightly.

“So…”

I cleaned my hands with a handkerchief and some water, not looking at her. “What do you want this time?”

“This time?” I waved away Alton’s question and looked at Stephanie, who didn’t make eye contact.

“Well, I guess I wasn’t here JUST for the wolf pelt… I may have also come here looking for you… and remembered to finish the quest when I saw them in the forest on my way over.”

I didn’t change my expression. “What do you want?”

Striking a pose, slightly hindered by her dented metal armor, she answered dramatically: “…I heard you were recruiting… Can I join your party?”

"..."

Alton and I stared at her.

“Wait. How did you know we were recruiting?”

“After you asked three people you are seriously asking this?" She shook her head in disgust. "You both are famous! It’s been all over the world chat since you were first sighted together!”

Groaning, I pulled up the display that I rarely opened anymore. After the Downfall, the people pulled into this game like world had quickly discovered a worldwide chat option. There were many different topics, guides and other discussion available to read through and comment on.

In the first few weeks after waking up in this world, I used to read through the gossip and other new topics daily, hoping desperately that someone would discover what had happened, why we were here, or perhaps some tips on succeeding as a healer. Instead I quickly discovered it was a toxic cesspool of humanity, filled with petty arguments, lies and gossip.

I quickly became a common topic of discussion on the chat board. As the only high level healer, part of the Hero’s party, and the player with the highest number of human kills, I was infamous, with entire forums dedicated to analyzing how I was accomplishing it. The conclusions they often came to were often not very flattering towards me.

There were also fan clubs and forums dedicated to the Hero and his party, and they were also my strongest critics as well, accusing me of dragging the hero and his party down. I flinched from the memories, but quickly pulled up the world chat, noting that the top topic of discussion was about Alton and me.

______________________

“THE HEALER AND THE EVIL WIZARD HAVE TEAMED UP AND ARE RECRUITING NEW MEMBERS!”

The infamous mooching healer from the Hero’s party has officially split from them and joined the Evil Wizard! No one knows what horrific plans they are concocting, but whatever it is must require strong people, as they have been sighted trying to recruit two free agents on the leader board, and were last seen on level 38, likely to recruit Dallas the Barbarian! We’ll keep you posted!

______________________

I frowned at the post, quickly scanning the comments below.

______________________

“ Good riddance! It was always a drag to see her running behind the hero’s party, getting carried by them. “

“That’s terrifying! The Evil Wizard has friends? If you see them, you better run!”

“Who would want to joined such a cursed party?”

“… So who else is shipping them?”

“Weirdos will ship anything with anything. Get out of here with that nonsense.”

“Pieces of trash will always gravitate together.”

______________________

I looked at the last comment, which was posted by Rita the Holy Archer. She was a member of the Hero’s party as well, and not someone I had ever gotten along with.

Alton was staring blankly, obviously scrolling through the chat as well. He made a weird expression and waved his hand back and forth, dismissing it and muttering to himself. I stepped forward, patting his shoulder comfortingly.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a bunch of idiots chattering.”

“Worried?” He looked at me, confused. “I’m not worried about the comments. There’s a whole thread dedicated to taking bets on what sort of horrible death I’ll have. This is child’s play.”

“Then why the weird face?”

He looked away awkwardly, mumbling something I couldn’t hear.

“What did you…?”

“I saw FAN ART, okay? They made fan art of the two of us…” He covered his face with his hand.

“Why would they…?” I paused. “Can I see it?”

“No. No. I would rather die.”

What on earth did he see? Before I could ask further, Stephanie pushed again.

“Guys? I’m still here! Can I join?”

Alton stared coldly at her. “I don’t know you, or trust you. It depends on what Miss Healer has to say.”

Stephanie turned towards me, but only received an eye roll in response to her puppy eyes. “I can vouch for the fact that she’s strong. She’s a barbarian warrior, and obsessed on leveling up her strength stats.”

He looked at the girl in her late teens and her tiny frame. “…If you say so”

I sighed. “Show him your sword.”

“Sure!” Grinning, Stephanie raised her hand, an enormous cleaver type sword longer than her body appearing in it. It looked incredibly heavy, but she waved it around as if it were weightless. Alton applauded politely at her show of strength. Finally, she put it away. “I’m forty-third on the Leader Board, partially due to the fame I gained for my strength stats, which are the highest in the world here.”

“The real question is…” Alton turned towards me. “Why wasn’t she on your list of people to recruit?”

“I told you my list was strong people who weren’t in a party who weren’t total psychopaths.” I looked at Stephanie pointedly. “She is absolutely crazy AND she’s in party already.”

She grinned. “Not anymore, Healer! I quit my party the minute I saw you were recruiting on the forum! I owe you my life, how could I not take advantage of that opportunity?”

“And your fan club of a party allowed that?”

“I had to chop off a hand or two, but eventually they got the point and agreed to let me be happy and follow my dream.” Seemingly unconcerned by the intense violent acts she spoke about, she held out her hand to me with a smile. “So do we have a deal?”

I looked up at the sky. “We do need a tanker…” Crazy or not, she is really strong... I took a deep breath, and shook her hand. “Fine.”

“YAY!”

**Stephanie the lovely Barbarian has accepted your invitation to join your party! She will have access to shared inventory, and her stats will become visible upon medical scan.**

“Should we head on, or are anymore of your friends going to suddenly jump out of trees to join us?” Alton finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Who knows?” I turned to Stephanie. “Where do you need to turn in your quest?”

“Where else?” She grinned. “Winter’s General Store.”

"..." Rubbing my forehead, and trying not to cry, I asked quietly, “Are you out of your mind? You realize he would kill you if you didn’t bring back the pelt?” Alton looked at me questioningly, but I gestured at him to let it go and he remained silent.

“No he wouldn’t!” Stephanie burst out. “He promised that since I was your friend he wouldn't kill me! ... He would only maim me if I failed.”

“You’re not my friend.”

“That’s right, we’re not friends… we’re BEST friends!”

“Heaven help us.” I groaned and pulled up a traveling artifact. “Let’s go see Winter before he decides to come see us.”

______________________

As we arrived in level 1 City, we quietly moved towards the back alleys near the water front. It was a mostly deserted area known for its paid killers, black markets and the most desperate part of humanity. The few people we ran into were cloaked and minding their own business, but I kept my guard up, refusing to dismiss wordless chanting despite the mana drain. I wanted to be able to fight at a moments notice.

“Who is Winter?” Alton asked finally as he followed us through the winding and increasingly dark streets.

“An NPC!” Stephanie answered cheerfully. “A really powerful one. He really likes the Healer too”

Alton was shocked, as I knew he would be. There were scattered being that looked like humans, but weren't that could give quests, termed Non Player Characters given their similarity in role to NPCs in the game. However, since their discovery in this world since the Downfall, their interactions with humans were limited. There were a few that would hand out quests, a few that ran shops, but all of them had one thing in common:

They despised humans.

They treated human players as lesser beings, only worthy of cheap and dirty missions or tasks that they didn’t want to take care of. Many attempts at befriending or learning about them were made in the beginning, but universally they responded with only vitriol and disdain.

No one knew why they were here. If they were part of whatever scheme this was that had trapped us in this world. But we knew one thing: Any attempt to harm them went poorly. They could be harmed. Could even be killed. But any player who did so would find themselves hunted relentlessly by the City 1 guard, who wouldn’t rest until the offending player was dead. After a handful of deaths, this became the new normal and people learned to leave NPCs alone for the most part.

I gave most NPCs a wide berth. I didn’t understand them, or trust them.

But Winter was the exception.

We arrived at the store, pushing it open to the sound of a tinkling bell overhead.

“Winter! Guess who I brought?!!” Stephanie crowed as she pranced in, before coming to a sudden stop. I halted behind her, and Alton beside me as we stared silently at the group already in the store, arguing with an annoyed appearing Winter.

“What bad luck.” Alton whispered, and I had to agree.

It was the Hero’s party.

#writing #fantasy #part 2 #video game world #violence #betrayal #monsters #was fun to continue

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servantofthefates · 9 days

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Spell Ingredients in Traditional Witchcraft

As one would imagine, some of this is now illegal, considered barbaric, or relegated to myth. But others remain. For example, blood magic has stayed.

Human or Animal Fluids and Body Parts

Your blood proves your devotion and serves as your signature. Your target’s blood allows you to manipulate them. Similarly, your saliva, when consumed by another person or an animal, gives you considerable power over them.

Animal entrails are consulted for divination. Their organs are often used in healing balms and all sorts of potions. In curses, the animal that represents a person can serve as a living poppet.

Fruits, Herbs and Other Foodstuff

Then and now, these are staple ingredients. Leaves and eggs are used for divination. Plants, tree barks, grass, crops, and fruits are used in healing ointments, sleeping draughts, teas that induce miscarriage, and worn and edible amulets.

Perhaps lesser known is the use of poisonous mushrooms, flowers and seeds. Simply by being cooked or brewed, they can kill a target from a distance – if fed to an animal, that distance can extend beyond continents.

Religious and National Relics

This list includes the more generic garments of saints, crowns of kings and queens, and armors of warriors, as well as the very specific Holy Grail, Blood of Christ and the True Cross (fragments of the wood from the cross Jesus supposedly died on).

These relics are believed to hold immense power that can be harnessed to heal untreatable illnesses, grab or maintain power, increase beauty and wisdom, raise the dead, and attain immortality. As can be expected, rituals that require them are rarely executed, as these items are rather unusual.

Objects Obtained During a Quest

A common wildflower taken from the top of a specific mountain… A normal fish taken from a particular river… Your typical holy water taken from a faraway cathedral… Ordinary items made extraordinary through the method by which they were obtained.

The logic behind it is that the spellcaster proved the strength of his or her intentions, by overcoming any challenge that came with securing them. Such ingredients are incredibly potent.

Yes, traditional witchcraft can sound weird in this time and age. Click here to find out why.

#Traditional spells #Traditional witchcraft #Witchcraft #Witch tips #servantofthefates #Witchblr #Spells #All About Spells

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f9clementine · 2 months

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prev ⋙ masterlist ⋙ next

enchanted to meet you ⋙ 24. the amulet pt. 3

⋙ written part included 『••✎••』

Minho’s heart lurches, watching you dangle in San’s grasp, little cat eyes dazed and confused. He knew better than anyone that you were probably very lost, mind racing to catch up to the sudden shift to being a cat. His own transformation had been a blur, kicking his fight or flight instincts into high gear as he had booked it out the front door, leaving a shocked Innie behind.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” San declared, holding kitty you a little higher as he forced Minho’s attention back to him. “You’re gonna go get me the amulet and no tricks this time. Or else Y/n’s gonna stay a cat for a long, long time. Do you understand?”

Minho gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay calm. “Just give it up at this point, Choi. You don’t have the upperhand anymore. Let her go and you can just walk away.”

“You’re wrong, Lee. I can’t just walk away,” San sneered, giving you a tiny little shake as he continued to hold you aloft. “Not without that amulet. So, I suggest-”

It seemed the sudden jolt San gave you snapped you out of your daze. With a sudden yowl, you swiped up, dragging your claws alongside the hand holding you up, drawing blood. San let out a hiss of pain, dropping you. Minho darted forward to try and grab you, but the second your paws hit the linoleum, you were gone, a little furry bullet out the door.

Minho let out a curse, about to follow you out the door but first, he turned to San, who was cradling his bleeding hand and looked about to follow as well.

Not gonna happen.

Without a second thought, Minho raised his fist, striking San directly in the face. He winced as his knuckles began to throb from the impact, but watching the taller man crumple to the floor without a sound was satisfying enough to make it worth it. When San didn’t move, Minho realized he hit him hard enough to knock him out.

Even better.

“That's for kidnapping my girlfriend and turning her into a cat.” Min spat, even though he knew there was zero chance of getting a response, before turning on his heel and running out the door.

He watched as you ran down the hallway before pursuing after you.

Minho ignored his phone's rapid beeping, focused on following you as you fled for your furry life. “Y/n, c’mon!” He called, watching you ignore him before adding ‘psspsspss’ sounds, which you also ignored.

“I’m getting so sick of running through this school, Y/n,” He mumbled, turning the corner after you into a hallway ending in a door to the outside.

You slid to a stop in front of it, your tail extremely fluffed up as you paced back and forth, kitty mind trying to figure out where to go.

Minho slowly approached you, holding his hand out as he kneeled down to your level. “Y/n… c’mon jagi, come here and we’ll get this fixed okay?” He spoke to you quietly, watching your ears twitch back and forth as he did. “You make such a pretty kitty but I’m sure you want to be human again, right?”

You took a tentative step forward, slinking low to the ground before taking another step.

Minho let out a relieved sigh and fought the desire to lurch forward to grab you, knowing you’d be calmer if he let you come to him. “That’s it, that’s my girl. We’ll get you right as rain again, okay?”

You were finally within reach, little nose sniffing along Minho’s fingertips, taking another small step closer before your fur was suddenly standing on end, hissing at something over Minho’s head.

Before Min could react, he watched a hand suddenly reach into view, lifting you by the scruff again.

“Woah, Y/n’s a cat now? What did I miss?” Wooyoung asked, glancing from you to where Minho rose to his feet.

“Give her back. God, I’m so sick of you guys kidnapping her, I swear to god.” Minho complained, reaching out to take you back but Wooyoung stepped back, pressing you to his chest as he looked around, frowning. You let out an annoyed sound, wriggling in his grip to no avail.

“Where’s San then?”

“Somewhere knocked the fuck out. Hopefully with some brain damage.” Minho took another step forward, trying to keep his hands steady as he reached out to tug you back into his arms. “He probably needs help. So give me Y/n and I’ll tell you where I left your boyfriend.”

Wooyoung hesitated, glancing between you, who was still struggling in his arms, and Minho, weighing his options. “Okay, fine,” He said after a beat, holding you out to Minho. “Tell me where-”

Both men jumped as the door behind them suddenly burst open, a tall man in a dark coat striding in.

Wooyoung gulped audibly, quickly pushing you into Minho’s arms before backing up further. “Seonghwa hyung, h-hey…”

Minho glanced between Wooyoung and Seonghwa, deciding to keep his mouth shut and instead move out the way as Seonghwa kept advancing on Wooyoung, a furious look on his face.

“Wooyoung, I am going to kill you.” Seonghwa growled, reaching out and grasping the younger man by his shirt, pulling him in close. “I am going to kill you and San both for all the shit I’ve been hearing. And then Hongjoong is going to kill you after I’m done.”

Wooyoung let out a nervous chuckle, holding his hands up in defense. “Hyung, it’s not that bad. A-and you know why we’re doing this-”

“You were told,” Seonghwa cut in, “to wait. We were working on a solution that wouldn’t involve grand theft and fucking kidnapping.” He looked up from Wooyoung, glancing at Minho before looking around. “Where is the poor girl that you’ve dragged into this?”

“Uhm, she’s here.” Minho answered, raising his arms where you sat content, seemingly enjoying watching Wooyoung get chewed out by his hyung.

“...That’s a cat.” Seonghwa deadpanned.

“Ah, yeah, it’s a long story but San turned her into-”

Seonghwa let out a loud curse, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Wonderful. And here I thought this couldn’t get any worse. Where’s San?”

“I-I was about to go get him,” Wooyoung explained, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder. “He’s apparently knocked out in a room somewhere. Minho was about to tell me where.”

“We’re going to get him and we’re going to go back. You’re going to leave the amulet behind. I don’t care.” Seonghwa gnashed, cutting off Wooyoung who looked like he was about to complain. “We’re leaving before-”

“Before the Enforcers get here?” Everyone turned their heads to see Hyunjin and Felix standing in the hallway, Hyunjin with a rather smug look on his face. “They’re already here, so…”

“San’s on his own. Let’s go.” Seonghwa grabbed Wooyoung by the back of his shirt this time, pulling him close.

“No, but-” Wooyoung sputtered, upset as he let the older man pull him. “I can’t leave him!”

“You can and we are. You and San knew what the risks were and you did it anyway. Maybe they’ll go easy on him but you and I are leaving.” Seonghwa glanced at Minho, letting out a little sigh. “I’m sorry for how the idiotic members of my coven have behaved. I hope you can get it all fixed.”

Seonghwa mumbled a few words as Wooyoung hung his head, dejected. A ball of light quickly rose from the ground, swirling around them and before Minho could blink, they were gone.

“Hyung, are you okay?” Hyunjin called out as he closed the distance between them, Felix trailing behind him.

“Yeah, we’re okay… mostly.” Minho sighed, readjusting you in his arms. “But Choi San is the world’s biggest asshole.”

“You’re kidding me!” Felix exclaimed, eyebrows raised high. “This day has been extremely fucked up.”

“I’ll say.” Minho shrugged, glancing between the two. “You still have the amulet, right? Let’s change her back quickly.”

Hyunjin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “About that… I don’t have the amulet.”

“What? Where is it? Who has it then?” Minho demanded.

“We gave it back to the Blackpink Coven.” Minho looked up to see Chan heading down the hallway, Jeongin leaning on him as exhaustion was evident on both their faces.

“I…” Minho trailed off, lost for words as he looked at you in his arms. “Then how do we reverse this? Go back to square one with trying to figure out what spell it was?”

“C’mon, let’s meet up with the others.” Chan said instead, nodding his head towards the doors. He and Jeongin passed by Minho and after looking over his shoulder, Jeongin leaned in towards Min.

“Channie hyung has a plan. Just play along.” He whispered, taking a second to pat you on the head before heading through the doors.

Minho frowned, watching Hyunjin and Felix follow suit before trailing outside after. He followed them around the school, heading to the parking lot where he could see groups of people standing around.

One group he recognized instantly as the Enforcers, the men standing around dressed all in pitch black, down to their sunglasses. He recognized the man sitting on the ground in between all of them, his arms cuffed behind his back as his face was beginning to swell from where Minho had struck him earlier. “They arrested San quickly.”

Hyunjin glanced over his shoulder at him, nodding. “It was crazy; they all ran in and there was so much yelling. Especially when they found San in that classroom.” he winced, remembering it. “It was… a lot.”

Minho nodded, pulling his attention away from the Enforcers and San, instead heading towards he could see Changbin and Jisung talking to a woman with long dark hair. “Who’s-” He started to ask but was interrupted by Chan.

“I can’t believe that someone would curse Y/n!” He declared loudly, everyone in the parking lot turning them as they approached. “That’s awful!”

“WHAT?” Changbin yelled, abandoning his conversation to run over, “What did he do to Y/n?!”

You mewed pitifully in Minho’s arms, tail waving sadly.

“She can’t go to school if she’s a cat! What the hell?!” Changbin lamented, turning to glare at San where he sat, returning the stare until one of the Enforcers lifted him up by his arm, escorting him away.

“We’re unfortunately going to have to wait until the Enforcers can tell us what curse he used before we can change her back, too.” Chan sighed heavily, and Minho frowned, wondering why they were putting on such a show until the woman from earlier walked up, followed by Jisung. “Jennie, this is Y/n, the girl who’s roommate stole your amulet.” Chan said and Minho blinked, realizing who she was.

“I can’t believe the nerve of some covens, y’know?” Jennie rolled her eyes, a hand on her hip. “Theft, murder, kidnapping, and a transmutation curse? Like, when is enough, enough?” She bent down a little, looking you in the eye as she spoke. “Poor thing. I can’t imagine how scared she probably is.” She looked up at Minho, “And you’re the boyfriend, right? Chan explained how you found our amulet and instead of returning it, ran off to rescue your girlfriend.”

“I… uh, well…” Minho stuttered, wondering how to respond when she suddenly flashed him a grin.

“Love makes fools of us all, right?” Jennie reached into her pocket, pulling out the amulet. “I’ll do you a favor, so you don’t have to wait for the Enforcers to speak with Choi San. To be honest, I think you’d be waiting a long time for them to get the info for you. That man is severely cursed so that’s going to be their main concern.”

“San’s cursed?” Felix asked, glancing around the circle that had formed.

“Oh, like I’ve never seen. That explains why he’d go to such lengths for the amulet,” Jennie shrugged, “I just can’t say with what exactly. But they’ll figure it out and then work out how exactly to sentence him. That’s out of our hands, though. But in the mean time, ready?” She held up the amulet and Min nodded, stepping forward.

He watched as Jennie whispered something to the amulet, the center of the stone lighting up before engulfing it completely. She lowered it, letting it dangle over your forehead before the light increased, so bright that everyone turned their heads and closed their eyes.

The weight in Minho’s arms suddenly increased and he grunted, surprised as he turned his attention back to you.

You blinked up at him, arms around his neck as you waited for the streaks of lightning to clear from your vision. You were both quiet for a minute before you let out a small smile, “Hi, Min.”

Minho almost fell to his knees in relief, instead clutching you tighter to him. “Hi, jagi.”

“Oh, damn.” Jennie exclaimed and both of you turned your attention back to her. “It cracked!” She held up the stone and you squinted, but you were able to make out a crack racing through the once smooth stone. “Wow, what kind of curse did Choi use to use that much energy? Or maybe it’s been going nonstop for a while?” She mumbled the last part to herself and you watched as the Skz coven exchanged worried glances before Chan let out a little laugh.

“I-I mean, they probably kept trying to break into Y/n’s apartment, so it was probably on a lot. But hey, let’s give Y/n some space. She’s probably crazy exhausted.” He put his hand on Jennie’s shoulder, gently steering her away as he continued to ramble.

“Thank god for Chan hyung’s charisma or else we’d probably would’ve been busted a long time ago.” Hyunjin mumbled and Jeongin nodded in agreement.

“It comes with the old age.” He snickered and Hyunjin joined in, the two drifting behind Chan and Jennie.

Minho turned, leaving what was left of the group, still carrying you, and walked over to the building, sliding down the wall until he sat on the ground, groaning a little. “I need a nap.”

You giggled, sitting up and pulling away from him as you started to shuffle out of his arms, “You definitely earned-” You stopped as you felt his arms tighten around you. “You can let go of me, Min.”

He shook his head, letting his forehead rest on your shoulder. “Nope. Not gonna happen for a long time.”

“Oh yeah? How long is a long time?”

Minho shook his head again, turning to peek at you with one boba eye. “I was thinking forever, to be honest.”

You blinked, feeling your blood rush to your face as your cheeks burned. “I… that’s a long time.” You mumbled.

Minho nodded, reaching for your hand and threading his fingers through yours. “The longest… unless you don’t want that?”

You shook your head almost violently, “No, no, I-I do, I promise.” You gently squeezed his hand, entranced as Minho gave you a huge smile, his ears bright red through his hair.

“Good.” was all he said before leaning in, gently brushing his lips over yours. His lips were warm and soft, even though they were a little chapped from the day’s exertion, but felt so perfect over yours. You expected your heart to maybe stop, but instead you felt relaxed, like this was where you were meant to be.

Soon you both pulled away, noting his lips were a little swollen and his cheeks bright red. You couldn’t help the little giggle you let out, knowing you probably looked exactly the same. Min chuckled, ducking his head into the crook between your head and shoulder. You took your free hand, gently running it through his hair.

You sighed, "I gotta say, I'm exhausted." You muttered, eyes fluttering shut.

"Getting kidnapped and turned into a cat will do that to you." Minho replied and you looked up to catch his gentle smirk.

"In that case, I definitely deserve to sleep in tomorrow."

You watched as Minho grimaced, the tips of his ears turning red. "About that..." He trailed off awkwardly and you sat up, tilting your head to catch his eye. "I kind of destroyed your room looking for the amulet. Your bed is in pieces and I pulled up the floor boards to find the amulet." He finished, shaking his head. "But I'll put it all back together as soon as we get ba-"

"It's fine." You interrupted, settling back against him with another sigh. "I'll just sleep in your bed tonight."

You felt him stiffen, his head turning to look at you. "W-what?"

You shrugged, unable to help smirking a little. "It wouldn't be the first time, after all."

Minho groaned quietly and you could practically feel the heat radiating off him as his blush deepened. "You're going to be the death of me, jagiya."

"So that's a yes then?"

You felt his hand tighten on your waist, before a soft kiss was placed to your forehead. "Whatever you want."

prev ⋙ masterlist ⋙ next

THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR YOUR PATIENCE! I'm so sorry it's been so long for me to finish this chapter but I'm so excited to finally be able to post. There's just the epilogue which I've had planned since I first came up with this idea so that'll be easy peasy (and won't be another six months before it gets posted)

Tag list: @mal-lunar-28, @kpopsstuffs, @cassidymb121, @brooklynie, @owotalks, @honey-pop, @hanniemylovelyquokka, @chlodavids, @abbiestearsricochet, @maexc, @seungmyynie, @brinnalaine, @kalopsian-thoughts, @jiisungllvr, @asherthehimbo, @pinxeajin, @vampcharxter, @jluvselandabs, @bettybeako, @borahae-reads, @raehawthorne, @yongbbokkie, @skzhoes, @lauraliisa, @meloncremesoda, @cutiespaghetti, @beaann, @thesassy-mia, @sclassstay, @twobluegoldfish, @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad, @hyuneyeon, @hyunniethepooh, @thecararcticmonkeys, @sunnibearr, @miserablywasted, @feybin, @inniescandy-01, @autumn-lv, @mushrooms-moon, @mae-is-cute98, @bada-lee-ily, @amelee23, @caravm, @sunshinessky, @skz-streamer, @realrintaro, @urmomma0324, @redstayrosie,

also I couldn't tag a lot of names on my list 😓 if you were on the tag list and changed your url, please let me know so I can update it!

#stray kids #stray kids smau #stray kids fake texts #skz smau #lee minho #lee minho x y/n #lee minho x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know x reader #lee know #enchanted to meet you smau

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skcirthinq · 5 months

Text

I may have read "I May Be Invisible, But I Still Look Good" by @dandylovesturtles again.

So I drew. Again. (Small spoilers ahead)

The first piece is a little comic adaptation from chapter 2; context is that Leo is cursed out of his body, intangible, and unable to communicate.

And well. His family doesn't know about the curse.

And Donnie's been running some tests on Leo's empty body. They're not. Coming up with good results.

Dandylovesturtles's writing is so much more impactful than what I got here, so like! If you haven't, go read their works!

The other pieces are random scenes from the rest of the fic, with some descriptions under the cut.

Image 1: colored and rendered comic adaptation of a scene from chapter 2 of "I May Be Invisible". Raph is hitting a punching bag, while Leo walks in and watches him. Raph cannot see or hear Leo. They're both upset, with Raph's knuckles splitting open and bleeding, and tears gathering in his eyes over the panels. Leo begins to sit down, as Raph stops punching, and falls to his knees, crying in earnest. Leo turns around to give Raph some privacy, and talks to Raph, who eventually curls into himself and unknowingly rolls into Leo.

Dialogue is taken from chapter 2 of "I May Be Invisible, But I Still Look Good", Leo is the only speaker, and reads as follows: "Well, the good news is, Donnie's wrong about this one." "I know it looks bad. Donnie's not wrong about that, I mean, I saw the EEG, I know it's..." "It looks bad." " But... thanks for sticking up for me in there." "Don't give up on me, big guy." "I promise I'm doing whatever I can think of to get back to you." "I wish I could talk to you. I wish I could tell you not to worry. I mean, I know you'd worry anyway, but at least you'd worry a little less." "You don't deserve this, Raph. I wanted to take some of the weight off your shoulders, but I messed it all up again. And now you're having to deal with it, just like we make you deal with everything, and I'm just... I'm so sorry." "At least, do me a favor, and talk to Dad? Or April, or ... Or someone." "Not Donnie, obviously, that could Not have gone worse. But you don't need to deal with this on your own. I hope you don't deal with this on your own..." "Sleep, big guy. I'm with you, I promise. I'm not going anywhere. "

Image 2: when your cursed brother yeets himself off an overpass and through a van's roof and the artist won't draw cars. (A partially rendered set of drawings featuring a blue, glitchy Leo falling through the roof of a moving vehicle, while an upset Mikey crouches on the roof. It's night, raining, and lights are zooming past at high speed.)

Image 3: Leo activated his ninpo after a character arc, just in time for the final battle! (Partially Rendered; a blue glitchy Leo, holding katanas solidifying from his ninpo, turns and looks over his shoulder. Behind him is a wall of pink-magenta flames being pulled up by the big bad.)

Image 4: Leo's family and friends are seeing him (image 3) for the first time in days. While also beating up some elementals. (Sketch)

Images 5-10: sketches of various scenes from the rest of the fic, except for 7, which did Not happen. But I thought would be a little funny if it had. 5 is Mikey and Donnie playing catch with the cursed amulet. 6 is Raph busting out of a dome made of rock. 7 is April accidentally letting the baseball instincts take over when being tossed the Leo ball. 8 is Raph trying to squeeze through a narrow cave passage, and Leo walking through the cave walls. 9 is Casey Sr. getting one last punch in on an elemental. And 10 is Leo looking up at his overjoyed family, once he gets back into his body.

Obviously, all credit goes to Dandylovesturtles!

#illustration #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt fanart #slapping some color on some sketches~ Im trying to work on like. doing comics? more sequential art. so like. yknow.#i know the dialogue is pretty small. sorry about that! im trying to find a balance between art and dialogue and i kinda. faceplanted on thi #i gotta post now or i will never stop fiddling with everythinggggg

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kuni-is-daddy · 1 year

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cuddling with kabukimono scara

Sub!Kabukimono x Male! Kaedehara clan reader

Fluff + Smut(hint of angst at the end. IF YK. YK)

1.2k words Scara masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

"12.." you took a deep breath while counting another soon to be dead nobushi samurai. "Its truly a shame.. such distinguished warriors as ourselves can succumb to banditry." You raised your cursed blade. preparing to kill the nobushi samurai as the rain drenched through your hair. "Y/n!?..Y/n? are you here?!" You lowered your katana as the sound of pattering footsteps through the forest grew louder, along with a familiar voice. "Kabuki?..What are you doing here?" the shorter man approached you. Unbothered by the rain as his amulet dangled from his kimono. "Well..Niwa said you would be here..So I went looking for you!" You sighed, cursing your brother in your head for bringing your lover all the way out here. "Buki.. Its been awfully dangerous in inazuma. You should be back at the estate, WITH niwa." He sucked his teeth at your remark. "Ugh. Who cares about that Y/N. Cmon.. I wanna hang out with you already~ and maybe have some fun~" He peaked his head over your shoulder to notice the wounded samurai behind you. "Who is this?" You turned around, now holding your blade up again. "THIS. Is the danger ive been trying to tell you about buki.'" Kubuki scoffed andwalked around you Infront of the nobushi. "Looks weak to me." he grabbed the samurai by its helmet, watching as thin streaks of blood could be seen brushing through the outside. He then whispered into its ear. "A pathetic excuse for a samurai like you shouldn't have existed. If it was up to me, I would've killed you already. Humans like you always take up my time with y/n..My everything. Know your place."

The rain picked up, Now turning into roaring thunder and lightning which crackled through the sky. Your primary concern of killing changed once your lover arrived. Now you we're focused on getting him back to the estate safe. You held onto his hand, He turned away from the samurai and blushed as you sheathed your sword. Now walking him through the forest. The walk was silent, mostly consisting of you looking around at your surroundings and Kabuki in absolute love with your dedication to protect him. A simple eep or yell and you'd be ready to protect him in a heartbeat. You then broke the silence. "Our almighty shogun hasnt been doing a good job of maintaining order within inazuma. Day after day things get worse buki. More samurai leaving the clan, more people betraying us. Thats why i keep telling Niwa to not send you on wild chases for me." He frowned while gripping tighter onto your hand. 'The almighty shogun' was his mother. He couldnt do much to change her will regarding eternity. After all, To her. He was nothing but a liability. "im..sorry..I cant do much about my mother y/n. If only I wasnt so..Emotional..Like she said things wouldnt have-" He was cut off when you suddenly smashed your lips against his. Pulling him into a messy kiss then pulling away to witness his dummed out expression, how the rain fell against his shiny purple hair. "Dont be sorry baby. Your perfect just the way you are. Infact If you we're our archon i think id have to put in more work to impress you."

You two eventually made it back to the clan's estate, fingers intertwined together as you both settled into the kitchen. You sat on the couch. Resting and wiping off any remaining blood from your weapon. "Oh Y/n! I was with some blacksmiths earlier and they offered me some tea. I didnt think much of it, but they insisted I tried it and it was really good!" He sat beside you and placed a cup on the table. Seeing kabuki so happy over something as dull as tea made your heart ache. You grabbed the cup and blew onto it before consuming the drink. "Huh...whats this buki?" He smiled at your reaction. Did he like it? "Its bitter black tea! its great right? I took one cup but then i just kept drinking more and more until they had none left! hah hah.. but some old man gave me his recipe so I can make some for you!" "Thats great kubuki, Im glad your starting to enjoy being around everyone."

You sat closer to him. Now placing your hand along his body. "How about..I make you feel even better? Would you like that?" His body shivered at your request. "Y-yes..Id like that.." you got up off the couch and the shorter man followed you to your room. Closing the behind him then pushing him against the wall. "mmm..How about I treat you right here tonight buki? would my baby boy like that?" He let out a small moan at your sudden agression. "Ah~ yes~ I want it." You bit and licked along the side of his neck. Kabuki covered his mouth at the sudden wave of pleasure. "Shit..Bet this cock is so hard for me isnt it?" he nodded his head while still covering his mouth. You slightly pulled down his pants, enough to reveal his cock already covered in precum. "Your such a needy boy buki~" You whispered into his ear. Rubbing the tip of his cock with your thumb "Y..Y/n..~" "Yes baby?" "W-want.. more.." you laughed. "Hmm? what was that buki? Need you to get a little louder f' me." tears began to form in his eyes. He wanted you to push him harder against the wall and stroke him so roughly he screamed for you to let him cum. "Please! Go faster Daddy!!" he yelled out desperately. "Anything for you baby boy~" You grabbed him by the hips, pushing his body closer against your own as he held onto the wall, Crushing him in-between you and it. "Oh fuck~ YES~" You roughly grinded your body against him, grabbing tight on his cock while stroking it. "Fuck...Love how desperate you get for me buki' like a slut." "I Wanna be your slut daddy~ Wanna be your good boy~" he panted hard with how close he felt to cumming, how much his body burned for you. "you are buki~ so fucking good for me. Cum on daddys hand, let me taste you baby~" he yelled out your name with a sharp cry. Ropes of his cum oozed onto your fingers. "hah..Such a good boy buki'" you tasted his cum. Letting him watch as you licked it all off of his fingers. His grip fell light against the wall, falling back into your embrace "Y/n..." "Shh... come baby.. lets relax a little." you guided him to your bed, helping him take off the rest of his kimono and switch into lighter clothes of yours, Rubbing your hands through his hair as he laid besides in bed. "Y/n...I love you, I love you so much..is that okay?" You pulled him into a hug. Letting him sink into your touch by how happy yet sad you we're by his words. 'is that okay?' "Of course it is Buki, I love you more than anything else in the world." He smiled, then suddenly remembering his conversation with your brother. "Y/n..Are you not going to be home early tomorrow? Miwa said you we're going to be busy." he pouted, hoping you could cancel what ever you had to do to stay with him again.

"Im afraid so my love, I have to bring him on a acquaintance he has with a man known as 'the doctor' We're going far out into tartarsuna and I dont want him getting injured on the way there or back. But please, Dont worry about me. I will be back for you. No matter what."

#genshin smut #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin impact #genshin x reader #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x yn #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche #genshin fluff #scaramouche fluff #kabukimono x reader #kabukimono #scaramouche x male reader

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shuunnico · 9 months

Text

Subtly Cursed DnD Items

Gloves of Tumblers [Fumblers] "You always have Guidance (+1d4) on Sleight of Hand checks." [Secretly inverts the effect for -1d4 on Sleight of Hand checks.]

Dead Man's Chest "A small chest with a lock held within a skull inlaid in the lid. Can hold up to 100lbs of treasure, so long as it can fit within the opening. Items within are weightless. The chest cannot be unlocked by any means except with its key. The smell of the sea can be smelled when the chest is opened" [If the chest holds 60lbs or more by midnight, roll a d20 with a DC of 1. If failed, the chest slams shut with a dusty laugh and cannot be unlocked by anyone but a sentient undead. Increase the DC by 5 per additional 10lbs stored within the chest.]

Ring of Lies +3 Deception [Actually +0 Deception. Completely useless.]

Phaseblade "Shortsword. The blade passes through the target, ignoring their defenses. All damage dealt by this weapon's blade is considered psychic damage." [In reality, the weapon makes the target immune to psychic damage for the attack. They do, however, feel extremely uncomfortable.]

Mask of Dark Vision "Wearing this mask gives you darkvision up to 60 feet." [The wearer is only made to think they can see in the dark. Wearer treats all hazards and enemies as if they had failed a Perception check, rather than being naturally obscured.]

Colorful Brooch of Translation "The wearer is able to speak any standard or exotic language. They do not understand these languages if they do not know them already." [The language spoken is done so in such a way that the wearer always appears foul-mouthed and of poor manners. So long as the wearer is using the amulet to speak, they suffer -3 to all Charisma based skill checks except Intimidation.]

Gloves of Disintegration "You may cast Disintegrate once per Long Rest." [When used, the gloves target themselves and disintegrate.]

#DnD #Magical Items

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johnwickb1tsch · 2 months

Text

THE DEVILS' TRIANGLE

A Yandere Tex Johnson x Witness!Reader x John Wick (& now John Constantine) Imagine Part 8 by:

@treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake @johnwickb1tsch and @tammykelly (with honorary dream weavers / shit stirrers @lilspookymeh & @kurai-hono-blog 😘)

Warnings: So many dead doves! Do not eat! Unless you like dead doves, that is. You're in good company here. 😘 Violence, sexual content, blood, murder, kidnapping, possessive behavior, dubcon, yandere sh!t...it's all here! Please take care! 😘

ALL CHAPTERS

PART 8

Johnwickb1tsch:

"Come on, we've got to get you somewhere safe," says John Wick, trying to hustle you down the street.

"No," you protest, resisting. "We have to find John and Tex. They might need us."

You were skeptical about demons and the occult, God and the Devil and everything in between, at first. But after hanging out with Constantine, you'd seen a few things. Just enough that you had sense enough to be scared. You clutch the protection amulet around your neck that John had given you. You'd laughed at him at the time, but now you were glad to have it.

"They're both grown men, honey. I told Tex to leave you alone. This is what he gets."

Suddenly you're angry all over again. "Oh, you told him, huh?" You push John's chest--its like having a disagreement with a brick wall. "Do you have any fucking idea how much I've missed you? How it destroyed me to be thrown away like an old shirt you had no more use for?"

He is still as a mountain as he holds your wrists, preventing you from striking him, but not hurting you. Those dark eyes bore into you, through you. How does he not see you? "Y/n...I did what I thought was best for you."

"But you didn't fucking ask me! Or at least, you didn't listen! But you know what, it doesn't matter right now. John had to put some kind of a curse on Tex in self defense, because Tex is such an asshole, and now they're both in danger!"

"A what?"

You pause to think, and you're pretty sure you know where Constantine would go. There's an old church a few blocks over. Consecrated ground. It's where he's always told you to go if something came after you. It would be a good place to regroup.

"Come on," you say, pulling John in the opposite direction down the street.

For once, he actually listens, a shadow at your back ready to protect you, but he lets you lead the way.

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

The old building looks like it should probably be condemned. It's definitely seen better days, and hasn't seen a congregation in at least a decade. However, the ground is still holy, untouchable for the Unclean, and when you burst through the doors after John has already shot down three demons, you are so relieved to see Constantine and Tex sitting in some of the old pews. They definitely look like they've been through a battle, disheveled and beat up. You wonder how much was demons, and how much they did to each other.

"Thank God!" You run to them, and Tex's expression rises and falls as you go to Constantine, pressing your mouth to his in what you know is a needy kiss, assuring yourself as much as him.

He smirks down at you, well aware of the death- stares he's receiving from both sides. It's possible he makes a show of grabbing your ass, just to rub it in to your two Ghosts.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah. You?"

You nod. Then Constantine rolls his eyes upward, over your head to John Wick. He is quietly forbidding in his black suit, standing watch by the door. "That your other Ghost?"

With a tired sigh you nod.

"Ghosts? The fuck is Harry Potter here talkin' about?"

The urge to punch Tex or kiss him is strong as ever.

"The two of you ghosted me, didn't you?"

"Baby girl, I missed you. That's why I came to get you." He shoots a telling glare over at John Wick, who only returns a disinterested look. Maybe the master assassin had been keeping tabs on you, but he hadn't shared everything with Tex, it seems.

Constantine looks between the two assassins, then you, with an infuriating smirk.

"What?" you demand, more than a little exasperated with everthing.

"Nothing. Just seems like you have a type, angel."

You can't even argue.

"Angel?" Tex snorts at your pet name. "Does he even know you?"

"Does he ever shut up?" asks Constantine, raising one dark eyebrow.

"No, never," you sigh.

There is a howl outside that lifts every hair on your body, an unearthly sound that makes your fingers grip in Constantine's suit jacket.

"What are we going to do?"

"Good question." Constantine tugs you over to a different pew, sitting down with his arm draped around your shoulders. His message is obvious, and it's new to you. Constantine rocks your world on the nightly, but he's never been possessive before. It really shouldn't, but it ignites a warmth in your chest that makes you feel ridiculously, stupidly, giddy inside.

"Seems like we're at an impasse, gentlemen."

Tex frowns. John seems less than impressed.

"Sorry, what's stopping us from killing you and taking her?"

You tense, watching the gun John holds loosely at his side. You know Wick can move like lightning, and your heart leaps into your throat. You are ready to fling yourself between them if you have to.

"John..."

"It's ok, sweetheart. He's not going to kill me."

"No offense, but I've heard that before from lots of people who are dead now."

Constantine snorts. "You can't kill me, because I've put a curse on your friend here, and you need me to lift it."

"So lift it."

"Can't. Got a friend who can though. You'll never see him without me."

You know Constantine must be talking about the famed and powerful bokor, Papa Midnite. A chill runs down your spine. You've met him precisely once. He was polite--and hot as fuck, if you're being honest--but you knew he was not to be trifled with.

"So let's go, then," says Tex, his patience lost about three dead demons ago.

"Hold up, Howdy Doody. We got to talk first."

"Bout?"

Constantine nods down at you. "Maybe I don't know all the details, but I've heard enough. And as much as I've enjoyed filling the hole you assholes left--I can't let you hurt her again. I'll let the demons feast on your souls first."

Almost on cue, that demonic howling sounds again outside, and a chorus of hellish hissing rises. It sounds like you are surrounded.

Tex leaps to his feet. "You smug little fucker--"

"Shut up, Tex." It's Wick who shushes his friend. "What do you propose?"

Finally, Constantine looks down at you. "It depends on what she wants."

Your mouth drops open at that. You have to decide that, now? As though he can read your thoughts, and sometimes you're convinced he can, Constantine pays you an infuriating smirk.

"I...don't want them dead. Or...devoured."

"That's a start, I guess. Do you ever want to be with them again?"

Your eyes go wide as saucers. The simple answer, of course, is yes. You love them. You miss them.

However, answers are never so simple, with your Boys involved. Like an idiot, you dare to look at them, taking in Tex's hang-dog puppy-eyed look, and John's quiet but intense yearning. Then, of course, there is the man beside you, who despite his aloofness and his prickly manner, has been nothing but good to you.

You've never said it out loud, but the truth is, you love him too.

"I don't know."

"Yeah. I figured." He smirks at you, inexplicably smug, and you kind of want to smack him too.

Which always leads to interesting things, with John Constantine, your stupid lady parts sing out. Jesus Christ on a cracker, what a fucking mess.

"You got a point, Gandalf?" demands Tex, paying a nervous look to one of the cracked stained glass windows. Ominous dark shapes are flying past outside. This is not good.

"I want you assholes to accept a Spell of Submission to her."

"The fuck does that mean?" demands Tex with a thunderous frown. John remains neutral as he listens.

"It means, if you ever try to make her do something she really doesn't want to do, again, she can say the magic words to fuck up your world. Pardner."

"No fuckin' way," Tex scoffs.

At the same time, John answers, "I'll do it."

Your eyes meet across the aisle of the church. That he would take such a leap of faith-- for you-- drops the floor out from under you.

Tex, of course, interrupts your moment of soul- searching eye contact with John.

"Wait, so we could be havin' an argument and she can drop me dead with the evil eye or somethin'?"

Constantine snorts. "It would probably serve you right, Hee Haw, but no. Cause you extreme pain? Yes. But it comes at a price. All magic does. I know she wouldn't use it lightly."

It would potentially even the playing field quite a bit between you three. The balance of power amongst you had never been fair.

"What's a matter, Tex? You don't trust me?"

"Only as far a I could throw you, darlin'." But his hawk-like look softens for you after a moment, and then surprisingly he grins. "Got me over a barrel now, don't you?"

You shift a little in your seat, so that you're flush against Constantine. The solid line of his lithe warmth beside you is anchoring. You glance up at him, finding he looks arrogantly amused-- and surprisingly, a little sad. If you didn't know him so well you would have missed it, like ripples in a pool.

You turn back to Tex, an uneasy excitement thrumming in your chest.

"If the curse fits?"

The cowboy sighs, frowning at the hellspawn waiting to rend his flesh and eat his soul outside. "Alright, fine. Guess you might as well take it all." He can't look at you while he says it, but you sense his surrender-- or at least, his resignation. It's not exactly a victory, but it's something, and it pulls at your heartstrings.

"Alright, wizard boy. Hoodoo me up."

Constantine snorts, leaping up from the bench. "First we've got to get out of here. You're going to want to cover your eyes." He starts muttering an encantation and walking in a circle, sprinkling a powder on the ground from his pocket. "When this goes off we'll have ten minutes. Either of you assholes have a car nearby?"

"Yeah."

"Great. Hope you like to drive fast."

His chanting gets louder, and you see he's produced a lighter. He never uses it for cigarettes anymore, but portable fire to a magician has its uses. You can tell he's reaching the crescendo of his spell, and you scrunch your eyes closed. Even through your eyelids you see the flash, and the boom of a magical fireball that should have burned you all to dust.

However, only the things outside incinerate, their agonized cries echoing through the cavernous stone building.

"Let's move."

****

As it turns out, John Wick can drive very fast.

You already knew this, of course. Constantine, however, seems to be regretting his life choices as Wick weaves in and out of traffic, trying to find a hand hold as you are whipped around in the cramped back seat of the vintage Chevelle. He clenches his square jaw and glares daggers as Wick makes a quick left juke, the force of it pushing Constantine into the side of the car furthest from you.

You think it's a coincidence, until you meet John Wick's eyes in the rear-view mirror, and you see a glimmer of amusement. On anyone else, it would be all-out gut-busting laughter. You open your mouth to tell him to play nice, but Tex interrupts you—just like old times.

"3 o'clock," barks the cowboy assassin from the shotgun seat. It's fitting, because he quite literally has a sawed-off shotgun in his lap, something from Constantine's cabinet of goodies with arcane symbols scratched into the barrel. Tex and Constantine fought over this seat like it was worth a million dollars, and only the interruption of the literal Hell’s Angels roaring up on you on motorcycles re-focused their attention.

They’ve been trying to run you down for blocks like wolves on a caribou, and with a whip of Wick's wrist on the steering wheel, now you’re being pursued by one less. It over-corrects and crashes into a concrete barrier. Constantine laughs under his breath at the thing’s demise.

However, there are still three more to contend with.

“The club is just ahead,” directs Constantine. “Good luck finding parking.”

“Hold on.”

There's nothing to fucking hold on to in the bare bones back seat—except for Constantine, so that's what you do. He holds your hand with a white knuckled grip that betrays his nerves far more than his expression does

John tricks the motorcycle-riding demons by suddenly slowing down, then gunning the engine, running one over with a sudden burst of speed, then smacking the other two like a pinball flipper with a sudden shift and drift turn.

The car is totally fucked, but so are the hellspawn, so it feels like a win.

When one of them tries to stagger from the wreckage towards you Tex shoots it from out the window. The sound is deafening—and the ball of fire from the barrel of the gun makes you all jump.

“What the fuck is that, John?” you demand.

“Dragon's breath,” he answers you with a little smirk. “Nice work, Hee Haw. You should hunt demons instead of people.”

“What's the pay?”

“Absolute shit with possible stock options in Heaven.”

“No thank you then.”

The four of you pile out of the car and hustle towards the doors of Midnite's.

“This place is supposed to be neutral ground,” says Constantine, “but it's going to be full of demonic half-breeds, so walk fast and stick close.”

Tex turns to you with an incredulous frown. “Baby, I seriously gotta question your taste. Where did you find this wizard boy?”

Constantine looks at you with a smirk, no doubt thinking about your first animalistic tryst in that alleyway by the bar, and how he’d made you cum on his dick with your back chaffed by the hard bricks behind you, your legs wrapped desperately around his slender waist while he pounded inside your needy little cunt.

It had been glorious.

Just the memory of it floods you with a searing heat from your loins to regrettably, your cheeks.

Constantine loves it when he manages to make you blush, and a wicked gleam sparkles in his jetty dark irises.

“Shall I tell him, dear?”

You can tell that Tex’s head is about to explode.

“Not while he’s holding a fire-breathing shotgun, honey.”

Constantine has never really used lovey pet names with you before. It’s almost the weirdest thing that’s happened today.

As you push through the doors of the club it’s almost like entering another dimension, the red lights and bass thump of hedonistic music beyond, the steps down down down like a descent into a nether realm. The bouncer holds up his tarot card, the entrance exam, that Constantine passes like a breeze. “Rat in a dress.”

Bouncer turns to Wick and Tex with a new card, who look at Constantine with almost comical consternation. “They’re with me.”

“Still gotta pass.”

A beat later Constantine punches the burly bouncer out, shaking the sting off his hand. “Sorry,” he says to the unconscious man on the ground. To the rest of you, “Shit. Move fast.”

He bursts through the doors to the main club, striding with purpose on those beautiful long legs. You always feel too cool for school, when you’re on a magical side-quest with John. His broad shoulders part the crowd around you all, and when you’re with Constantine, everyone is looking at you. Half-breed angels, demons, and who knows what in between. Their eyes glow eerily in the low crimson light of the club.

Neither Wick nor Tex betray any fear or surprise at descending into this eldritch side of the City of Angels, intimidating towers at your back, glowering at anyone who looks your way.

Maybe it’s stupid, but in this moment you feel pretty fucking invincible.

It’s definitely stupid, because the creatures on Team Lucifer start to take an acute interest in Tex, their eyes glowing. Even you can feel them pressing closer around you. Constantine is standing at the tufted leather wall, what you know is an illusion hiding a door.

A tall, unfairly hot half-breed saunters into Tex’s personal space, reaching up to touch his cheek with a sultry come-hither smile. Succubus, is your guess, though the possibilities are literally endless. For a moment Tex seems utterly entranced, and it’s all you can do not to roll your eyes. “Sorry, he’s taken,” you say, pulling Tex back with your fingers in his tooled belt to sandwich him between you and Constantine.

Are they going to open the door for you or what? Any time now would be excellent…

Suddenly the half-breed seems a foot taller, looming over you with glowing red eyes. With your heart in your throat you hold up your amulet between you, and though she doesn’t exactly flinch and hiss like you’d hoped, you can tell she doesn’t care for it, her fine features twisting in a sneer like she tasted something nasty.

“Fine,” pouts the demoness. “Change your mind, handsome, you know where to find me.” She punctuates the offer with a flash of razor-sharp teeth before she saunters off with extra swing in her hips.

Tex makes a small sound of pain behind you as he watches her go, and you know he can’t help it. Desire is the Succubus’s power, and she was clearly hunting tonight. It doesn’t stop you from rolling your eyes though, turning to catch John Wick’s gaze. You can tell he’s keeping watch on the room, but he’s also got his eyes on you; that weighty, yearning look that never fails to tie your heart—and your lady parts—up in knots. A wholly inconvenient throb of lust between your legs makes you shift where you stand; suddenly you are soaked, so aware of the solid warmth of Tex at your back, and John towering before you.

Just like old times.

A part of you wants to reach for him, location be damned, an ingrained urge that would be a terrible idea at this time in this place, because if you touch him you’ll have to kiss him and who knows where that will end.

Jesus, was the succubus’s energy affecting you too? Or is it just…them?

There is a heady weight in the air, like something malevolent is about to descend upon you all. With your heart in your throat you clutch at the talisman around your neck, and though you’re not really sure which deity you’re entreating for salvation, you pray.

At last the door swings open, and Constantine finds your elbow, tugging you none too gently with him inside Papa Midnite’s inner sanctum. Naturally, where you go, the boys follow close behind.

“John Constantine,” says Papa Midnite in his melodic baritone. “Been some time. I see you’ve brought friends.”

“Wouldn’t go that far,” snarks Constantine with a baleful look at the two assassins at your back. “But I need your help.”

“The Great John Constantine needs my help?” mocks Papa. “Must be sometin’ bad.”

You’re not proud of the panic that rises in your throat at the sound of Midnite’s reluctance to help you. You know that pretty much everyone in the supernatural world has been pissed off at Constantine for some reason or another, but you pray this man can rise above his grudge. If not…Tex is fucked, and maybe it’s stupid after everything he did to you, but just the thought leaves a hollow ringing inside your heart.

You dare to peek around from Constantine’s imposing form. “Please, Papa?” you entreat, your eyes wide. You have met once before, and on that occasion the powerful witch doctor seemed to like you, though he didn’t cease to deride what a girl like you could possibly be doing with the likes of John Constantine. “We really need your help.”

Papa Midnite tilts his fedora-topped head to regard you with curiosity. He is wearing one of his delightfully loud shirts with a fur collared jacket. A gold necklace gleams against the dark skin of his throat. “Who needs my help, little girl? You, or him?” He points at Constantine with the jut of his chin.

“I do,” you both answer at the same time. You realize Constantine doesn’t want you to owe the powerful Bokor a favor—but you’re reading the room, and you’re pretty sure if the magic is for Constantine, Midnite is going to tell you all to pound rocks.

Midnite, understanding all of this, sits back in his throne of a chair with a little chuckle, drumming gold-bedecked fingers on the carved wooden arm.

“What is it you need?”

“A curse lifted,” answers Constantine. “And a spell cast.”

Midnite whistles at hearing that, and only then does his attention turn to the assassin at your back. “I can sense the dark mark from here,” says the witch doctor. “Let me see.”

With a grumble Tex pulls at his collar, pearl snap buttons popping to reveal the blackened circular pentacle, its 8 radii tipped with symbols, embedded beneath his skin. At the sight of it Midnite smirks, his eyebrows lifting high.

“Set thou a wicked one to be ruler over him, and let Satan stand at his right hand,” cites Midnite. “That a powerful curse t’set on someone, Constantine.”

“It was a heat of the moment thing,” grumbles the demon hunter.

“I can tell. Takes some big feeling, to conjure a curse like dis from thin air.”

That’s when Midnite looks at you, and that stupid blush of heat ambushes you again.

Feelings were not something you and John Constantine talked about. Sure, they were there, but you never really gave voice to them. You demonstrated them, physically, and often. Midnite seems bent on embarrassing both of you.

“Yeah, yeah,” grouses Constantine, only daring to glance in your direction. But in that single moment, the raw look on his face makes you feel like you need to sit down. “So can you lift it or not?”

“Course I can,” says Midnite dismissively. “What you bring me in return?”

“’Fraid I’ll have to owe you.”

“Hmm. I’ve heard that one too many times from the likes of you, Constantine. I’ll need somethin’ up front.”

“Do you like gold?” asks John Wick blandly, producing five glittering yellow coins from his pocket, setting them on the table in front of Papa Midnite in a neat stack one by one. The pretty tink tink tink of metal fills the air, and Midnite nods with his lips pursed, paying Wick an approving look. However, as he examines the death’s head emblazoned token, it is you he speaks to.

“How did a nice girl like you get tangled up wit Underworld boys like dis?”

A shuddering sigh escapes you, as a montage of the absolute fire you walked through to get to this moment flashes in your mind. The murder, the kidnapping, the chaos and corruption. The passion, the pleasure, and the quieter moments that made you think you might be content to stay with your Boys forever—until they forced you to go.

“It’s a long story, Papa,” you answer, barely able to raise your voice over a whisper.

“Some other time, you’ll tell me, then. Step into my office.”

Midnite leads you to his back room, a cavernous space built in the breathtakingly ornate style of the Moorish palaces of Andalusia. At first you don’t know where to look. The arabesque carved walls, the scalloped arches, the honeycomb vaulted ceilings, or the cacophony of antique relics stacked high on all sides. There are statues and busts and boxes and dolls, this and that and bric-a-brac and every category of precious old junk you can imagine, is here. Your eye is drawn to an old wooden chair against the far wall with leather straps that for some reason gives you chills.

The center of the room is empty, the demarked circle where Midnite performs his workings outlined with bones, half-burnt candles, and rusty lines on the tiles that look like blood.

“Now then,” says Midnite, taking a sip from a bottle of dark rum before offering it to Tex. “Drink up, man. Dis not gonna feel good.”

***

When all is said and done, the four of you all feel like pieces of chewed up gum. You are utterly wiped, and it’s all you can do not to fall asleep in the back of the car with your head on Constantine’s shoulder. Fingering your new tattoo, a mystical symbol that binds Tex Johnson and John Wick to your will, you think on what Papa Midnite said to you before your departure.

“Hard to live with a heart divided in three pieces, girl. You playin’ a dangerous game.”

“It’s not a game to me, Midnite. It’s just…my life, somehow.”

“Dat fair. So you know, I told that silly boy of yours to put a ring on your finger ‘fore he lost the chance. Never seen him like dis, wit any other.”

You’d paid him a grim smile, amused at the thought of Constantine asking you to be his wife. What a laughable prospect. Sweet, but there was no way he felt that about you. “Are you telling me not to break your friend’s heart, Midnite?”

He’d snorted and taken a drink of rum. “I know better than that. But you might tink about what he’ll turn into, if tings go badly.”

Truth be told, you didn’t want to think on that, because it terrified you. All you wanted right now, was to curl up in the bed you shared with John Constantine, and sleep for about seven years.

Midnight had given you a herbal potion that had to be administered to Tex every six hours for a week, and a magical salve to apply to the burn upon his chest where the symbol had, at one point, burst into white-hot flame. You’d feared he’d been at death’s door, until he took your hand with a smirk and mumbled half to you, half to himself, “The things I do for my little rattlesnake.” It had squeezed your heart with a fist, utterly wrecked you, and you knew you couldn’t kick him to the curb just yet.

You were headed back to Constantine’s house, (which you had helped him get together the down payment for, with no strings attached, so…) and the four of you would have to figure out how to co-exist, at least until Tex was back on his feet.

Then…who the fuck knew what was going to happen.

You’d think about that, tomorrow.

Tammykelly:

- a flashback -

Sleep long forfeited to yet another night full of vigorous dance that is the celebration of passion and ever growing connection and affection between two souls who’d found one another amidst chaos that unfailingly enters one’s life book when it flips through the pages onto the next chapter. Gradually, chaos learns the code of order, tamed by the new rules and beginnings, sought after by you and Constantine in an unhasty pace.

You feel the blossom of his soft lips on yours for a while, before you pull away to take a long look at him, running your fingers along his sweaty forehead and through his slightly damp hair. He feels his chest tighten at the way your gaze moves across his tilted up face and lingers on his eyes, entering beyond the physical and reaching for subliminal.

“Hi”, - Constantine croaks, his arms draped around your waist, steadying you, as your heated bodies stay impossibly close.

“Hey, baby”, - you breathe out, your touch leaves traces on his skin in feather-like movements, making his heart flutter.

“You call me that like it means something”, - he wonders out loud.

It must be true, that the eyes are the windows to the soul, for when he says that, you feel the heat of your body grow stronger when his irises light up with an inexplicably warm spark that transforms into the taste of him on your ever waiting lips, while your hips drag out the sensually slow pace. You try to find the perfect rhythm again, having felt yourself folding under the intensity with which your heart blooms and expands every time his dark eyes capture yours.

“I…uh…I’m….”, - you blurt out, the right words stuck at the edge of the said sacred dilation.

Maybe it is love. Love that sprouts across the silver lining that is the tenuous punchline between sanity and deliberate madness of passion. Constantine’s body reacts to yours before his mind has to think about it, as he gently tugs you closer. He doesn’t let you finish, his lips connecting to yours, catching your love on his tongue in a long deliciously flavorful kiss.

He touches your bullet scar, his jawline playing, his eyes darkening.

“They’re gonna pay for what they did to you”, - he quietly tells you again, voice filled with determination that invites more ephemeral warmth into your chest.

“They already did”, - you reply, reminiscence of their absence dissipating into the background of your subconscious when your tongue slides along Constantine’s jaw, tasting tiny droplets of sweat.

“They gotta pick someone their size, yeah?”

His reply makes you smile: “Please, we’ve talked about this, baby”, you feel goosebumps arise at the back of his neck at the nickname, no matter how nonchalant he wants to appear each time you call him a random pet name.

“You care about them? Even after everything they’ve done to you?” - his raspy voice is low but the tone sets a prelude to a gradually boiling point.

“They’re the best I’ve ever had”, he leans back and quirks his eyebrow at your tease, “after you, of course”, you add, smirking.

He lets out a sigh of frustration: “Jesus, it’s like talking to a fucking brick wall”, you feel his fingers dig deeper into your soft skin. You lean closer, your breath over his mouth.

“Calling God’s name when you’re balls deep in me?” your voice akin to a purr, “what a profanity”, a smirk curls up.

“Mhhmm, funny thing is He made this happen”, Constantine’s tone matches your game.

“And is Jesus present in the room with us?” your head tilts.

“Oh, you think it’s funny?” he bucks his hips up.

“You literally just said it is”, an involuntary moan escapes your mouth, lost in the grunt of the man underneath you, when you match his cheat code with a harsh movement of your own.

“It’s an expression”.

“Okay and?”

“Watch your mouth”, - Constantine’s eyes transform into a pair of two burning coals, sending shivers across your whole body, accompanied by the way his fingertips trace down your spine.

You can barely make a sound due to his manipulations: “Can’t read minds, baby”, making it his turn to shudder.

“What, don’t have any better ideas?” he recuperates, the warmth of his arms leave you, as he places his hands behind him on the bed to support his weight. You don’t wait to connect your mouth to his, your teeth sinking into his lower lip before you lightly tug at it and let go. A cocky grin instantaneously leaves his handsome face when he feels your tongue crash into his mouth, which he reciprocates with twice as much force and eagerness, his arms lock back around your waist, and he notices a triumphant smile display itself on your features.

“An angel risen from ashes picked up by the devil reborn”, you answer his question, teasing the idea of which one’s which when you first met. Him - a cancer free phoenix-like angel of death, or you - a devilishly sweet temptress, who, unbeknownst to herself, exchanged two deadly ghosts for the black cat of a man, stuck in between both realms.

You continue: “He always had a rotten sense of humour. And His punch lines are killers”, Constantine’s gaze darkens at the mention of your ghosts.

“Ha-ha, very funny”, his tone less than amused.

“Oh, you find this funny now?” you bite his neck, which makes a deep husky groan erupt from his throat.

“Don’t tell me you believe this fate bullshit”, you say, as you fight the urge to speed up your pace to chase the way his sultry sounds bounce around your insides.

His low growl nearly shatters your self control when he tells you: “Fate or not, you’re mine now. Mine”, you feel his teeth sink into your skin, “you hear me?”, his gaze when he looks up akin to the explosion of a sleeping volcano underneath an already blazing ocean, edging you onto the border of a slippery slope that is the point of no return once you process the 3 magic words that are glued to your tongue.

Instead two short words roll off, as a soft moan:“Yes, baby”.

“Gonna give you everything you want”, you feel his hands roam all over your body, “all of me”.

You lean back.

“All of you?”- your expression flickers with darkness, showing him your devilish desire, as his silent gaze shaves off the outer layers down to your core.

“You son of a bitch”, you breathe out, smiling, after a brief pause, for your racing heartbeat shifts to a contracting and pulsating firework, overtaking all of your senses. You study his handsome face, drinking in all the details you’ve grown so attached to, florescence of affection tugging your lips upwards in a gentle smile.

Constantine’s eyes set the fire in the pit of your belly ablaze on the scale that you’re sure will be the death of you some day, for being with him is like Heaven on Earth and being apart now seems like a cruel tool of a ghostly destruction.

His playful grin pulls you back in: “Calling me a son of a bitch when I got you on my dick? You’re brave, kitten”.

“That’s exactly why I can call you that. You’re my son of a bitch”, you grab his hair and give it a nice pull before you lean down to lick up his neck, placing a gentle kiss right under his ear, feeling him twitch inside you, “and Devil’s right hand, yeah?”

“More like his puppet”, Constantine grunts, as you look down at him, sensing him barely able to maintain the slow[ish] pace you’ve set, holding onto the last threads of self-restraint.

“So, no rewards for that, I suppose?”, you tease further, testing the limits of the mind games he’s been playing with you all day long.

“Afraid not, angel”.

“Let me be the one to send you to Heaven then”, you whisper right against his ear and kiss his temple.

All the blurry lines of will power come tumbling down, when the sound of him sucking air through his teeth enters your inner space, as Constantine’s hand finds its place between your jawline and neck.

Gradually, you encourage his index and middle fingers between your lips, his irises unable to focus anywhere else but the way you take them in, his whole body akin to a molten liquid metal, his fingers melting on your tongue. You giddily lick them, your tongue swirling around them, playing with his digits like lollipop toys, until you let go and take care of the saliva under Constantine’s furnace of a carnally hungry gaze.

You feel your hips stuttering against the increasing pace, when you hear his raspy voice: “Fuck, kitten, you feel like Heaven”, the energy between your bodies and feverish kisses multiplying in increasingly all consuming vehement abundance that can crack the earth open.

“Touché”.

A half smile coats his lips at your cute quip.

“Watch”, you tell him, his eyes shifting to the mirror somewhere behind you.

The heat of his hips rolling against yours at the speed that finds you both panting and sweaty messes is more than enough for him to tip over the edge but as his eyes take in the scene of your power over him, his body proceeds to come apart under you when your fingers wrap around his throat and apply pressure, slightly tipping his face up.

“Open”, you say, your thumb glazing over his soft lips, and he raises an eyebrow, “don’t you wanna cum, baby?”, you sweetly inquire.

“Fuck”, his voice is barely audible, Constantine’s eyes glimmer under your watchful lust, the darkness in the depth of the bottomless abyss that is him transcending what has become of his power over you. His eyelids flutter slightly, as your spit falls on his tongue.

“Swallow”, you reward him with a particularly harsh snap of your hips, seeing his Adam’s apple bobble.

“You’re gonna pay for that”, he growls.

“You’re a drama queen, you know that?”, you point out, leaving a love-bite mark on his collarbone, knowing damn well at the way he’s twitching inside you, he won’t be lasting long. You smirk, as you slow down the pace to a damn near full stop, eliciting a low and deep whine from him.

What the fuck, his eyes show you, roaming over your face hungrily.

“Tell me how much you want me”, you purr, feeling his fingers next to your scalp, tugging you closer.

“Fuck, angel, wanna feel you so bad”, an angelically evil smile plays on your face at his response, “need you on biblical level”, he finishes, the butterflies inside you catching aflame, their fiery wings spreading across every fibre of your being.

Constantine feels like he might go insane without you, your whole existence being the lone salvation he’s been seeking his entire life. He twitches again.

“Say that again”, your sultry tone pervades his mind, the pace picking up just a tiny bit.

“Need you to move, right now”, he begs.

You look at him expectantly.

“I can’t control myself any longer. Please, fuck me”, he looks up into your eyes that have turned into blazingly bright gates to the oblivion that is his path to purgatory. His gaze diverts back to the mirror and your goddess-like form against his.

“God, you’re sexy when you beg”, you whisper, Constantine can practically hear the cocky smirk in your voice, as a loud moan erupts from his throat, while he watches himself get ruined by everything that is you.

“I wanna hear how good I’m making you feel”, you exhale, listening to the way your name exits his lips akin to a gust of wind, blowing across an infinite ocean.

“Cheeky little girl”, he barely replies between the chain-smoke of moans.

“Fuck you”, you breathe out.

“Say no more”, he chuckles, his lips and teeth leaving bruises all over your sensitive chest, his hips meeting yours at an increasingly high speed.

“Fuck me harder”, he growls, his lips soliciting moans from yours.

“What a good girl”, he purrs and smiles against your neck, feeling your speed folding, as you attempt to gain the upper hand.

“My beautiful angel”, Constantine praises, kissing down the valley of your breasts, enjoying every single breathless moan that you leave for him to treasure, “you’re doing so well”, he continues, “I love it when you fuck me like this”, his lips graze yours before another storm of a kiss unfolds itself.

“Oh, yeah?”

“So good, I need you to fuck me like this every day”, his teeth tug your lower lip and let go, his open-mouth kiss then imprinting a picture of his love for you on your tongue.

“Need this pussy for breakfast, lunch and fucking dinner”, - a husky growl of his makes your insides deliciously twist.

“Say less”, you giggle after the kiss breaks apart, only for a yet another wave of kissing, biting, hair pulling and power play, resembling a balanced match, surpass the two of you.

You feel as if the sun that is the man, obeying your all desires, is scorching you with a strong nurturing vitality, meeting you halfway anytime you slip.

The sun, sometimes deadly, shining its light on you and sharing the experience of birth of the stars with you, until all you and Constantine know is that you can’t tell where one begins and the other ends.

“Cum for me, baby”, you whisper, your eyes hazily gazing into his.

“Fuck”, he moans into your mouth, as you and him become one in an endless explosion of lustful starlight.

You both take a moment to steady your breathing, the pulses of your bodies streaming along the lines of your silhouettes akin to the red string of fate. Suddenly, you feel yourself getting lifted and plopped on the bed, the heavy weight hovers above you.

“My turn”, Constantine growls, worshipping you and your body in a form of myriad of kisses, adoring your skin.

“I’m not finished with you”, you chuckle, pulling his face to yours.

“Wanna ride your pretty face so badly”, you breathe out shakily, watching his pupils dilate, turning his dark chocolate eyes into jet-black colour of the night outside your windows.

He kisses you deeply before teasing: “Should’ve said sooner, princess”, and flips you.

Before you know it, his lips are connected to your nether ones, placing sweet kisses on God’s bewitching and intricate creation.

“Oh, fuck!”, a scream leaves your mouth, as you lose control over your limbs when Constantine demonstrates his vicious payback for all of your previous manipulations, the delirious temptation to play him exiting your body like it was never there.

The way his tongue devours you till the last drop like a man starved, you assume you’re not the only one losing yourself to this trick of devilish pleasure, pulling you deeper into the whirlpool that keeps expanding wave by wave until it comes thundering through your body like a tsunami, then crashing onto a shore over and over, the sound of your screams mixing with the magnitude of Constantine’s sonic savouring of your most precious parts till his immeasurable hunger for all divinity that is you is satiated beyond your limits.

Songs for the delulu meal:

The best I ever had by Limi

Obsessed by Zandros ft. Limi

Dangerous woman Call out my name mix

Treedaddymcpuffpuff:

You don’t know if it’s some kind of magic, or if you’re just this petty. But, damn, that succubus did piss you off. Even worse than her, with her silky black hair and sweet milk skin and inviting, rosy eyes and cheeks.. You catch yourself mid thought, determined to pluck her from your brain.

Yes, even worse than that half breed bitch - Jesus, who are you? - was watching Tex suffer and bleed. Blue lips forming around a silent scream; a beg for the ritual to stop. Tan, supple skin turned ashen gray and tented. Dark eyes blown milky and wild with terror.

There’s another memory you have to get rid of somehow: Tex dying a slow, grueling death in some hellish, accelerated time loop. In front of you. Powerless you.

You have his take home medications clutched tightly to your torso as the Johns lug him inside, one under each arm, his feet stumbling and dragging so much that Wick decides to just pick him up.

Why in the world did that make you so delighted? To see John Wick carrying Tex Johnson bridal style across Constantine’s threshold?

Your smile wipes clean, though, when you realize that Tex has not made a witty quip or even grinned at this show of brotherhood. John deposits him on the couch, and you sit on the floor beside, holding his hand. Your stomach lodges into your chest when you feel how cold he is. Your human heater turned ice box.

“Tex,” you say softly, brushing the untamed thicket of hair from his eyes.

He keeps his eyes closed, but that fond little tick of his mouth lets you know he hears you loud and clear.

You swallow your pride. “I missed you, too.”

You hope to God he’ll harass you for saying that, later.

For now, a grunt will suffice.

This man has put you through hell, but fuck, if he hasn’t been heaven all the way through it. You had really thought he was dying back there, and it…. put things into perspective.

Wick is in the kitchen dwarfing the tiny dining table with Constantine. Not talking, not even looking at one another. Some kind of tension exists between them, but at least it’s not the awkward or homicidal kind… well, at least as far as you can tell.

You grab some cold bourbon from the fridge, pour 3 glasses, and dish them out. Then, you hop up on the counter and join this sinewy silence game.

Wick breaks the skin, twin eyes meeting Constantine’s. “Thank you,” he says.

Constantine grins tightly. “Consider it repayment.”

“For?”

Oh, here we fucking go.

Constantine, the bastard prodigy of Lucifer himself - or, he might as well be - doesn’t answer, instead nudging his chin and shoulder toward you, as if you’re some prize Wick handed to him on a silver platter.

Now, you don’t really know what to expect from John. Fiercely protective, aloof John. But it’s definitely not a grin. A fucking grin. Yeah, he really has gone totally batshit. Terrifying.

Constantine looks stumped, and so do you.

“I’m gonna get going,” Wick says, standing and draping his jacket around his arms. You get a strong wiff of delicious leather and diesel and gunpowder.

“You’re leaving?” This comes out of your mouth before you can stop it.

“Yeah.”

“What about Tex?”

“I’ll be near.”

No use fronting now.

“What if something happens? What if we need you -“

Constantine cuts off your increasingly frantic voice. “I think you should stay.”

It’s Wick’s turn to look stumped. He raises a dark eyebrow. Constantine rewords.

“Please. Stay. We may need you.” Constantine looks over at you, giving that you owe me leer.

Your nerves settle when Wick puts his jacket back on the rack and slips his shoes off, looking at you all the while.

John Wick sleeps in the little broom closet turned guest room, and you and Constantine retire to your bedroom. This place is purely a you sanctuary, with incense burners and tapestries and little trinkets you’ve collected from your travels. It’s a souvenir from your limited therapy sessions, and a much needed safe space.

Before you can shut the bedroom door, you hear John’s monotone voice turn doting. It reminds you of being soothed through an orgasm, him cradling you when you cried - the hum that disarms and breaks you.

You go to him, peaking inside the narrow door that he had to duck to get through. Killy is rubbing against Wick’s torso, purring, headbutting, her tiny fluffy body practically vibrating from the attention of his big hand.

He smiles at you. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, meet Baby Killy. She’s so shy usually.”

“Pretty kitty,” John coos, scratching behind her ears as she chirps for him.

Great, you’re jealous of a cat. Which is stupid because you have a whole other man in the next room that can’t keep his hands off you. You’re selfish, you realize.

“Sorry it’s not comfortable,” you tell Wick, looking at his calves hanging off the tiny mattress. “I can buy an air mattress.”

He twirls Killy’s tail softly around his finger. “It’s fine, y/n. Get some rest.”

“Yeah. Night John.” You leave him, pretending it’s not reluctantly.

Constantine is already in his boxers, cigarette nipped between his teeth. You pluck it from him and take a long drag. “Thought we were supposed to be quitting?” Blowing smoke over his lips.

He tugs you down into the bed with him. “I’ve had a long day.”

“Aw, poor thing.” You kiss his jaw, shimmying the white stick back into his mouth.

Your lips trail feather light down his quivering throat, nose pausing, nuzzling against his quickening pulse. A shy, involuntary smile slides into his collarbone divot. Your magic man shivers under you, makes you feel like you can kick God’s ass if it really comes down to it.

He gently fists your hair in his fingers while you suck the hard day off his skin, hand trailing south on his tight twitching tummy, lazily perusing in search of a swelling, sensitive, beautiful cock trapped in cloth.

He smushes the half cigarette out in your little pearlescent ashtray, tips your face up, kisses you soft. Kisses you like you like you’re some being of fleeting, fragile light and hope. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You grin against his mouth, using that familiar formal, ironic greeting that he favors when you’re both wading knee deep into eachother’s personal space already.

You pull away to look down at his tenting boxers, but your eyes snag something on the way. A big, fresh bruise to his opposite collar - wide and diffuse as if from a large hand. It’s normal for Constantine to have bruises, and he did fight demons today. But this mark? Fresh. Just blooming. Plus, the only one on his long, expansive body.

Your mind thinks back to the kitchen, how they were both so quiet. Looking far too innocent. You feel stupid for not expecting this.

“Did John hit you?” You’ve gotten really good at talking before thinking. Just one of many Constantine mannerisms you’ve picked up along the journey of knowing him.

“We talked.”

You go to get up. No plan in mind except hurting Wick. Really hurting him. Either with words or a quicker fist than he can catch. Probably the latter, since John excels at catching fists, but you still think you can slice him just as much with a few well placed sentences. Of course, you could also try out this nifty new spell of submission..

Constantine holds you in place. “I started it.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” You see him wince at the sinister growl in your voice, and your spiked fur smooths a little bit if only for his benefit. “He’s a fucking asshole. He thinks he can just bully people into submission. Let’s see how he likes it.” You’re talking loud enough that you hope Wick can hear it. You know he’s not scared… because it’s John Wick, but, you at least hope he knows you’re coming for his throat.

“Angel.” Constantine’s long, careful fingers cup your face. “It’s alright. Not tonight. Let you kick his ass tomorrow, okay? Right now, I need you with me. Hey, look at me…. There you are. You hearing me?”

You lean into his touch and kiss his wrist. “Yeah, okay.”

“C’mon.” He pats his chest and you lay your head on it. “Now, where were we..”

You give a little chuckle. “In the pit of despair?”

He gathers your hair and pulls it off your shoulder, tickles his fingers over your neck. “I think…” he murmurs.

“Yeah?” It thrills and scares you a little bit that this man can make such a breathy, desperate mess of you from just a tiny touch.

“Think you should put on some pajamas and let me read to you.”

Suddenly, your anger runs dry, replaced by excitement. He laughs at your hopeful, mystified expression.

“You’re gonna read to me?”

“Yeah, yeah. Better hurry before I change my mind.”

You love it when Constantine reads to you, always mesmerized by that smooth, baritone voice, and it’s not often that he’s up for it.

You don’t bother going into the bathroom to get dressed, which you can tell he appreciates. You can also tell that he loves the fact that you bypass your own clothes entirely and instead throw on one of his big flannels.

You cuddle beside him, wrap your arms around his waist and tuck in for your after dark entertainment.

“Hey, hey, Angel.” It takes you a minute to open your eyes. Constantine assists this process with a pleasant rub between your shoulder blades and a hushed voice.

“Huh?” Your voice is groggy, far away, brain still swimming in twilight.

Constantine gives you a patient stretch of time to wake and groan and wipe the spare drool from your chin. The blue dawn outside tells you that it’s early - way too early. You don’t remember falling asleep, and it must have been a glorious one judging by your wicked bed head and sore voice.

“What? What’s going on?”

“Clint Eastwood won’t let James Bond give him his medicine. He says he wants you to do it.”

“Are you serious?” You ask.

Constantine opens his mouth, then shuts it again. He sighs. “Yeah.”

“What the fuck,” you mumble.

Tex, eyes open, sitting up, cat on his lap, looks at you like you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread. Big, appreciative grin. You can’t be annoyed for too long when you see that he has color back in his face.

“Hello, nurse.”

Damn his infectious grin. “What? John’s not a good enough nurse for you?”

“He’s alright. Not very cute, though.” He sizes you up as you roll your eyes and snort.

He gives you a little wink. “See you still hate wearin your own clothes.”

You look down at yourself - at the big cozy button flannel that falls mid thigh with nothing else on under or over it. You really didn’t even think about how exposed you were when you got up and came out here. But, now, you’re flushing and shifting on your feet.

“Oh, don’t get shy on me now, rattlesnake. I’ve had all of it in my mouth anyway, yeah?”

Sinful reels flit through your memories. And, fuck you, but even that makes you so wet you can feel it in the crease of your thighs already.

The reality hits you that this could be a thing, somehow: Johnson and the Johns with you pressed between. You short circuit thinking about it for a solid twenty seconds.

Tex chuckles, pets Killy. “Your momma’s too easy,” he tells her, and the traitor purrs and merrs and pushes into his doting palm as if in agreement.

Great, two treasonous pussy’s in this house.

Plus, you’re about ninety nine percent sure Constantine will do more than curse them if he sees their hands on you in any carnal way. Even though this thing between the two of you is unestablished and unlabeled, your magic man is more than a little possessive.

You remember, fondly, the time he pissed you off, so you went on a date with a nice young gentleman who also happened to be a cop - Johnny, you think his name was. Jesus fuck, you really do have issues - and Constantine blew every fuse in that restaurant with a spell. In the pitch black, no one saw him come pick you right up and carry you out. That night started with “fuck you, Constantine” and ended with “no no agh fuck please m’ sorryjohnsosorry.”

Wick’s nowhere to be found, which you don’t really mind. If you see him again, you might just try kicking him in the dick. You mix Tex’s medicines in the kitchen, heating up the thick herbal soup in a little pot. It smells bad, kinda like fish, draws Killy’s attention really quick.

She brushes against your legs and reminds you that she’s hungry and that oh, that smells good, mom.

You scoop her out a cup of kitty kibble while the stove simmers, then give her a few pets. It’s not often that she’s so doting on you - she prefers Constantine and solidarity over your company. But, she must know something’s up - either that or it’s the fishy concoction steaming up your little kitchen.

Tex winces when you rub the salve into his burn. It looks awful - dry and necrotic, little charred skin flakes sticking to your fingertips.

You scrub them off on a towel, grimacing. “Does this hurt?”

“Numb,” he shrugs. Reaches out to tuck hair behind your ear. Your body reacts violently and insistently. Constantine’s touch, pleasant and warm and diffuse; that’s what you’re used to. You forgot about Tex’s sharp edges, the scary thrill of him. Like the first drop of the roller coaster.

“Tex,” you warn.

“Sorry, darlin. Just so fuckin pretty. Forgot how beautiful you are, is all. How good ya smell. Christ, even with Houdini’s scent all over you.” He pinches your chin in his fingers and makes you look at him, at the sincerity in his blown black pupils and hooded, lustful gaze. “He eatin your pussy right, huh? Need me to show him how to do it?”

“You know,” you say, hating yourself for the thick in your voice, “I have this nifty new spell I can use…”

He chuckles. “Settle down, honeypie, I’m just trying to be nice, is all.”

“Nice.” You glare at him and he lets you go.

The fishy stuff in the mug wipes the grin right off Tex’s face. He chokes and sputters. “Good God, what in hell’s name is this Guacala shit.”

You smile at him and take the empty cup. “Every six hours, cowboy.”

On your way back into the bedroom, he watches you unabashedly. Killy is back on his lap. “You got a shower here, rattlesnake?”

“Bathroom’s down the hall,” you tell him.

“Think I need some help.”

“Uh huh. You can manage.”

“Alright, you got me. I don’t really need help I just wanna fuck the shit outta ya.”

“Sorry, Tex, but that’s-“ you look pointedly at the purring feline in his lap -“the only pussy you’ll be getting in this house.”

You shut your door before you can catch his mumble: “we’ll just see about that.”

Constantine is in his study. You debate going and fucking him on the desk chair, working off this sticky arousal coating your cunt and inner thighs. But, also, you’re still sleepy, and laying down in the bed already has your eyelids fluttering closed and brain going mushy. You struggle between options until your body eventually decides for you.

You wake up to the delicious evocation of salt and fat and heat. John Wick is back. He’s in the kitchen cooking one of those five star breakfasts that are worth letting him live. For now.

Bread pops up from the toaster, startling you. “Hey, that’s been broken.”

“Fixed it,” he says, dexterously flipping his pan. “Got the faucet to work in the bathroom sink. Your drain’s here are built wrong. I’m gonna take a look after I finish breakfast. There’s fresh orange juice and chocolate milk in the fridge. Coffee on the warmer.”

“That’s not my coffee pot.” You eye the expensive looking, silver, sleek appliance with steaming black, delicious smelling brew under.

“I got a new one.”

Are you really surprised at this point? You grab some orange juice from the fridge, and find the once bare shelves stocked and organized with fresh fruits and veggies, eggs and jams, healthy pre-made snack boxes.

The cupboards have also magically filled themselves with canned fruits and veggies, organic breads, high end trail mixes, protein bars.

The place is spotlessly clean. New microwave, an ice maker beside the stove. Real glasses and plates stacked in the cupboards.

Wick has been busy, it seems.

Constantine walks into the kitchen, paying attention to the newspaper in his hand instead of his surroundings until he sees you. “Hey, Angel-“ looks up, takes in the practically brand new kitchen. “What in the fuck.”

#wicked johnson fic #john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick fic #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #yandere john wick #tex johnson #tex johnson x reader #tex johnson x you #yandere tex johnson #constantine x you #john constantine x you #constantine 2005 #john constantine x reader #constantine x reader #keanu reeves

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lilacxquartz · 9 days

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Don't Make Me Feel Alive | Chapter 2

Kenjaku (Pseudo-Geto) × Fem!Reader

[This fic contains Shibuya Arc spoilers and is updated every Saturday.]

ABOUT: Diagnosed at an early age with an illness that slowly deteriorated your body; you went from being a promising sorcerer to a retired husk of your once former self until he found you, offering you an opportunity to live instead—not that you had a choice to refuse.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You’re not sure how, but he did a good job in keeping you up and running, albeit on limited energy.

TAGS/THEMES: (in the future chapters): »yandere, chronically ill reader, forced dynamic, non-con, dub-con, violence, caretaking, unrequited feelings, sorcerer reader, dead-dove, mixed pov, potential interpretations of dubious sorcery«

Previous Chapter.

[Side Note:] extremely dubious sorcery up ahead, after feverishly researching cursed tools in jjk until like 3am, there doesn’t really seem to be any real limit, so we will pretend this all works. also his name isn’t revealed until the next chapter, so he’s just a he for now instead of kenjaku :)

***

2. Trial and Error

Reluctantly, you ended up accepting his help as long as he followed through with restoring you back to life, finding that to his credit, he proved somehow more capable than the hospital staff—his care actually keeping you in check and as a result, preventing the disease from completely claiming you.

His method of keeping you alive initially was through channelling energy into your body, pushing a small fraction into your core, forcing you to live.

However, while it proved effective, it was inefficient and unsustainable, even draining on him.

Luckily, he was quick to devise an alternative, just for you.

“This should do the job better,” he announced as he fastened a chain around your neck, a small item of some sort resembling an amulet weighing it down.

“And what is this…?” you asked, fiddling with the pendant as it rested slightly heavily against your chest.

“It’s a cursed tool containing a looping feedback of energy,” he explained, gently guiding your hand from the stone, not wanting for you to somehow damage it already, “you can draw energy from it and it will give you life, simply returning it to the pendant once you have spent it.”

“That… totally makes sense,” you replied, not following at all.

He rolled his eyes, wondering how to explain it exactly, putting on (somewhat) good behaviour while he still had you in his reach. For as long as you remained compliant, he would be neutral.

“Consider it a bit like breathing; it gives you energy that then returns to the stone that it then gives back to you.”

“And this will… this will cure me?” you asked with some hope.

“Not at all,” he replied rather bluntly, “but, it will prevent you from dying. Your disease, while incurable, won't be the cause of your death as long as you just keep this pendant close.”

“Oh,” you replied, knowing deep down that it was all too good to be true, after all.

“Also,” he spoke, still needing to hold your attention, “surprise, surprise—there’s a catch to it.”

“T-there is?”

“While it gives energy, it also takes away energy as it restores itself,” he explained as he held the pendant in his hand, “so there is a chance you will feel your condition in its raw form as it recharges.”

“Wouldn’t that kill me?” you warily asked.

“No,” he continued to explain, shaking his head, “the energy is constant, but it’s closer to being a battery, if anything. Just like when an electronic device powering down when the battery is low, doesn’t mean it’s nonfunctioning. So, I suggest sleeping during that time.”

“So, my condition will still continue to develop when this… ‘battery’ thing is recharging?” You asked, feeling a little defeated at the thought. While you liked the idea of staying alive, you didn’t like the pain during your down time.

“Correct,” he confirmed as his smile returned, “although there is a chance I might be able to prevent that in the future. Don’t get your hopes up though.”

A deep and heavy silence followed as you processed the words that he delivered, feeling equal parts relieved that you had an opportunity to prolong your existence so you didn’t have to meet a premature end—while also feeling defeated, knowing that the disease will continue to worsen as time passes you by.

All things considered however, you already were in the late stages of your illness as it already had done its damage, so technically speaking, whether it got worse or not, if it was somehow even manageable, then it wouldn’t have been for nothing.

All you had to do was help someone that you probably really shouldn’t. Besides, you felt normal right now, what if he’s able to fix that even further?

“Anyway, I want you to try walking,” he spoke up after a while, his hardened gaze relaxing as he longed for his experimentation to continue—feeling that this method was strangely humane for someone like him, he could have taken a more drastic turn with you, but he played the safer route for now.

The temptation to dissect you was still fresh in his mind though, wanting nothing more than to crack you open to prod and poke at your mind, maybe even finding some sort of anomaly that surgeons couldn’t but it was all too risky. From what he knew about your disease, it was a neurological flaw, so as to not damage your capabilities further, he refrained.

As a compromise, he settled on something simpler. A cursed tool was fine for the time being.

It would do for now, he thought.

Besides, it was actually sort of fun—as long as you were compliant. Had you not been so easy to work with, then he would have done more to make you give in. He almost felt disappointed that didn’t fight back more, wanting to mess with you until you gave in.

But, this wasn’t bad either.

He then observed you quietly as you fulfilled his request, slowly rising from the bed, making a mental note of each and every single movement you made. His eyes continued to glare over you, watching carefully as you gambled your own stability.

You gritted your teeth as you struggled to maintain composure, focusing all of your efforts into hopefully regaining control of your legs—being unfortunately familiar with the loss of sensation from time to time. Walking quickly became something you dreaded as the disease ate away at your core, exhausting you whenever you would try to fight it.

“You can manage a little step can’t you? I’m sure you’re not that weak,” he teased, offering you some encouragement to take a step forward, feeling slightly frustrated as you remained statued on the spot, too cautious to move.

Eventually though, you did finally take a step forward, finding that you could indeed walk, even if your legs did feel strangely heavy but you supposed that it had also been a while since you were last out of bed.

His gaze meanwhile locked on the pendant, observing that while you used up a significant amount of energy, that this might stabilise over time as you continued to train yourself to get back on track.

His end game was to harvest some sort of function from you come Halloween; the night that his long-awaited plans would finally take place. He had just under a year to build on those final details, having already found a set direction with how he wanted for this all to unfold.

This whole thing was just a what if—an experiment, a side project at best, so he had some time to spare, finding it almost fun in restoring a sorcerer, a challenge that he hadn’t yet attempted.

“Can you channel your technique at all?” he asked you, intending to try and test something out.

You nodded as you attempted to channel your own dormant cursed energy, feeling the life energy that you had otherwise lacked before. Your hands drew out wishing blue flames and upon forming the correct sign, electricity crackled at the edge of your fingertips—in turn, his dark eyes lit up with fascination as he continued to trial the limitations with you.

“So you aren’t useless. Now hit me with it,” he requested next, wanting to see if it would actually electrocute him or if it would feel like a tingle.

“Like… attack you?” you warily asked.

“I can take it,” he teased, a small arch forming on his lips.

He thought that it was actually kind of amusing that you were so hesitant to do so, especially considering the strange situation he had you tied up in. In his mind, you should want to grasp at the opportunity to attack him, not question the very idea.

You hesitantly nodded in response, doing your best to channel your cursed energy, locking it into a pointed sign, launching an attack that hit him with a crackle of electrifying energy—initially feeling pleasantly surprised that you were able to do so, but then feeling terribly wrong as something felt violently off.

Suddenly, your body was overcome with sweeping exhaustion; quickly draining you of the remaining energy that the pendant offered, leaving you feeling completely and utterly depleted. Your vision darkened next, pulling—pushing you somewhere unknown, not quite meeting with death but at least mingling with it.

Noticing this quickly, he took a step forward to catch you before you collided with the floor. He grunted as he allowed for you to fall forward with his body tanking the hit, your frame leaning against the front of his own for support—without realising he was doing it, he held you closer, finding that he actually quite enjoyed the warmth.

Perhaps it was the fault of the situation he had placed you under; spending the last couple of days tending to your needs, ensuring that your health wouldn’t continue to deteriorate. As a result, this pushed him unintentionally closer to you, taking on the role of a caretaker whether it suited him or not—and, as he held you close, he couldn’t deny that some sort of connection was beginning to form.

As you otherwise started to slowly stir back awake, he pondered the possibility of surrendering this responsibility to one of his subordinates instead, knowing that they likely had nothing better to do. Yet, the more thought he gave the idea, the more it didn’t sit quite right with him.

After all, they lacked the knowledge that he did, they wouldn’t know exactly what to look out for nor would they know how to lessen the pressure of your condition, should the pendant fail to do so.

It was simply better to do it himself.

This was his project to bear the burden of and he wasn’t about to let it fall into the hands of someone who would likely kill you out of negligence alone.

So no, he thought, settling on a firm decision deep within his mind, dismissing the idea completely. His subordinates would mess it up somehow, he was certain of it.

So as he guided you carefully back to bed, he gently laid you down and focused his attention on the pendant, wondering what exactly could be done to prevent another hiccup like this in the future.

Thinking that maybe he could change the function of the cursed tool, he plotted potential adjustments that could ensure a more steady flow of energy, thinking that it could in theory be an easy fix.

Noticing that you were now at least partially awake, he placed a firm hand down on your shoulder to keep you in place.

Studying the pendant with unwavering curiosity, he spoke up to you in a detached tone, waving you off with the flick of his wrist, “Rest for now. I’ll think of something.”

You listened as the exhaustion encouraged you to do so anyway, feeling the heavy weight of sleep anchor you down.

He watched intently as you surrendered to a deep rest as slowly but surely the tension you harboured washed away. With each and every single breath that you took, your bruised complexion slowly returned to looking healthier again—the pendant in turn glowed, pulsating a ripple of energy as it slowly restored your core.

He took note of the pulsating from the amulet, still not being satisfied with it. Ideally, he wanted for the glow to be constant but that was something else to work on at another time. For now, he focused on the output conducted by you before doing anything else.

His eyes continued to lock onto your sleeping body for what felt like an eternity, his own limbs growing gradually stiff the longer he stood there. He did so in order to monitor your condition and ensure that nothing else would go wrong, but at least for now it all seemed as stable as it could possibly be.

Slowly he kept creeping closer as you slept, intending to work on the pendant while you were out cold. Whether he intended for it to happen or not, your recovery room started to merge with his workspace, deciding that it was better to work on the battery as closely as possible rather than to risk a potential death from letting his guard down and as such, even if it took many hours on end, an adjustment was made.

Whether or not it was successful however, only tomorrow would tell.

And if the pendant was able to actually fuel life when it shouldn’t, then he would have made another breakthrough. He just had to refine it all a little first.

It was then that exhaustion caught up to him as well as he felt his host body reel in from such unrelenting overtime. He yawned as his eyelids fell heavy against his eyes and his movements became gradually sluggish.

Despite such overwhelming fatigue, he couldn’t quite bring himself to leave you alone by yourself, at least not yet, speculating that this early on that failure was right around the corner.

It had been a long time since he had included someone so personally intertwined in his plans and admittedly, he found your company surprisingly tolerable, if even enjoyable.

Not that he would ever admit such a thing to you.

If you ever asked him if he liked you, he would simply leave you alone for days on end just to mess with you.

(Just to make you miss him.)

Next chapter.

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