#Fic: The Darkness Within

[shadeysprings]

Within the Shadows

—Curtis Everett x F!Reader

Summary — Secrets are revealed amidst the celebration of your brother’s ascent to underboss. 

Warnings — unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), established relationship, graphic violence, character death, betrayal, hurt no comfort, implied kidnapping, entrapment, Mean!Curtis is in the building.

A/N — This is written for @the-slumberparty's April Monthly Challenge: Mob AU and the prompt I chose was "I don't love you. I own you." I do ask you to be gentle with me as it's my first time writing for Curtis and I'm still trying to get a hang of him.

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️

Standing at the side with the walls and champagne being your only companion, you observe the events playing out in front of you.

Your father’s friends, several of his trusted associates, and family members have gathered in your home to celebrate your brother’s success. He not only passed the challenges that were thrown to him by the leaders, but he also impressed them, giving more than what was being asked of him and utterly exceeding their expectations. It not only convinced them to bestow upon him the title of underboss but deemed him worthy of being your father’s successor in the syndicate. 

You’re happy for him—truly you are for you’ve supported him every step of the way and did nothing but encourage him to make your father proud. It even came to the point of helping him in one of the jobs when he caught himself in a tight situation. Giving him a plan of action on how to face the problem which eventually worked in his favor and allowed him to slip through it easily. 

Though such a feat, when presented by your brother to your father, was simply brushed off.

“Her words are nothing but a meaningless babble of a jealous child.” Your father sneered in your direction. “You, my son, are still the one that did all the work.” And praised your brother.

“Don’t listen to him, sis,” Gabriel said after your father dismissed you both from his study. “He knows I wouldn’t have succeeded without your help. Besides, I’m underboss now and you can be my consigliere.” 

Despite his encouraging words, you still felt defeated, knowing well that no matter what you do to help the family, the way he sees you will never change—a burden, someone with no caliber to the family, and the worst of all, the reason for your mother’s death. 

“He’s the child any parent would be proud to have!” 

The cheers that echo throughout the main room pull you away from your thoughts and you watch as the guests gather around your brother, clapping him on the back and giving him another round of congratulations. While you, the other child, remain unseen in the background. 

Not wanting to endure further any more of the festivities, you finish the remaining contents of your champagne flute in one gulp and set it down on one of the tables before making your way up to your room. You know no one will be looking for you or asking of your whereabouts. Hell, you doubt your father would even care if you left home right there and then.

Staring at your reflection in the full-length mirror, you begin taking off your jewelry and make to reach for the zip of your dress. But the sound of your door opening and closing draws your attention, a small smile grazing your lips upon seeing Curtis’ reflection when he stands behind you.

His usual black long-sleeved shirt is hidden underneath a black coat jacket. You also notice his beard is freshly trimmed, making you adore the way he looks—still gruff but with a splash of class.

You stare at his sapphire eyes as they grow serious with intent when he starts unzipping your dress. Rough hands move delicately over your skin and he pushes the straps from your shoulders, the fabric cascading down your body and pooling around your feet, leaving you only in your shoes and panties.

“You left the party.” He drones, arms slowly circling your middle before he leans down to press a kiss on the crook of your neck. 

“No one would look for me.” You sigh and turn to face him, leaning against his touch when his large hand cups the side of your face and his thumb rubs small circles on the apple of your cheek.

“I would.” he breathes, “I did.”

You close your eyes when he leans down and you lean up to meet him halfway, pressing your lips against his. He kisses you softly at first, exploring, gentle, and giving then you feel him pull you close, your hands pressing against his solid chest, and a soft moan leaves your lips when he deepens the kiss.

It wasn’t easy getting to where you and Curtis are now—remembering the day he joined your father’s men; a newbie to the syndicate and assigned to watch over the boss’ daughter.

His silence and grouchy exterior caused you unease, making you unable to trust him and simply go along with your father’s wishes just so as not to upset him. But as the months turned into a year, you grew to know him despite his lack of enthusiasm to talk and you slowly found a friend in the lonesome world of the syndicate.

He’d accompany you to errands your father would give you, an act of pity or a means to give in to your brother’s requests, and you felt nothing but safe in his company. Always standing guard even with no threats visible but you knew better than to question his judgment. He’d even lent a listening ear each time you would ramble on your frustrations about the lack of trust the family gives you and would give small words of comfort, telling you that you’re better than the leaders that run the business.

Eventually, your relationship blossomed, although in secret—Curtis sneaking into your room when you would call upon him or spending days with you at the family’s vacation home when your father would have you nowhere near the mansion when he had his capos over for meetings.

Aside from your brother, he’s the only one you trusted. A confidant you’ve always wanted and a lover you never knew you needed.

Your arms circle his neck, pulling him closer as you reciprocate the intensity of his kiss, tongues, and teeth clashing against each other. A giggle slips from your throat when he carefully, blindly walks you toward the expanse of your bed.

As your back hits the mattress, Curtis kneels on the ground, lifting your leg as his lips trail butterfly kisses down its length before wrapping his fingers around your ankles, one by one, taking off your heels and dropping them to the floor. 

Instinctively, you hook your leg over his shoulder and welcome him into your heat. His name leaves your lips in a series of soft moans, fingers skimming over his shoulders and then through his buzzed hair when his lips press against the front of your panties, tongue soaking through the fabric as he rolls it around your clothed clit. 

You feel him push your panties to the side, the cool air of your room kissing your heated skin, and your pelvis bucks against his mouth when he laves his tongue slowly against your slit and connects with your clit once more, flicking on the bud before wrapping his lips around it to suck on it hard.

“Curtis—!” you gasp his name, uncaring as your voice bounces against the walls of your bedroom, pulling him closer and slowly grinding your pussy against the warmth of his eager mouth. 

He doesn’t hold back and you don’t want him to, loving the way he takes and takes but at the same time gives you the pleasure that has been an addicting sensation each time he’d bury his face between your thighs. 

His beard only adds to the lust-filled sensation running through your veins, rubbing your sensitive skin raw and sending a wave of pleasure down to your toes. Your back arches and your breath hitches when he slips his tongue past your pussy folds, licking, tasting, and lapping up the nectar that pools at your core, a gift you willingly give and desire for him to take.

You feel the stirring at the pit of your stomach and you urge to pull away, to stop him from his worship. But he doesn’t relent, hooking his arms around your thighs, growling against your cunt that makes your skin shiver and you do no more but succumb to his control, whining as you feel yourself reaching your limit. 

“Curtis—please,” you beg and try to lift yourself by your elbows but the way he looks at you, piercing blue eyes meeting yours, have you convulsing, the intensity of the orgasm taking you by surprise that you tip your head back and call out his name, fingers digging into the duvet as your essence rushes out of you.

“Sweet as ever, princess,” he rumbles into your cunt and gives your clit one last kiss before licking you clean and pushing himself from the ground. 

You’re panting heavily, a smile of satisfaction etched on your face. It’s what you’ve needed to release the stress from the evening’s event and forget about the humiliation and dejection from your father. 

As you lay on the bed, limbs weak from the pleasure, you smile once more when you feel Curtis join you. He’s naked and warm and you immediately wrap your arms around him when he hovers over you, parting your legs wide to enfold them around him as he positions himself between them.

“Curtis—I need you.” you whimper, feeling the tip of his rub against your folds. “Please—”

“I know, princess,” he whispers, lips ghosting against your cheek before he presses his forehead against yours. “I know.”

-

With Curtis kneeling on the bed, his arms wrapped around you possessively, you gasp for air with your fingers scratching his skin raw while he sucks on your breast, his cock impaling you repeatedly and making you bounce against his thighs. 

He’s made you come twice now and it’s the third time he’s having his way with you, giving you no respite to have you breathe and only switching the position to take you once again. He’s eager and full of passion, a feat you’ve never seen before and you bask in it, allowing yourself to fall into his demands. 

He thrusts into you with pure hunger, teeth grazing against the nipple that makes you whine and meet him with each thrust, feeling his cock slide deeper and deeper into you as your cunt slickens further from the lust that cocoons you both.

You look down at him when he pulls away from your tit, sapphire eyes dark, blown wide, and laced with carnal desire. You lean down to kiss him and he meets your lips with a fiery intensity, laying his back on the bed and effortlessly pulling you on top of him. 

He swallows your moans when his pace quickens, fucking into you hard and fast, the sound of your skins slapping against each other filling your ears with the unrelenting tempo of his hips. You try to move your hips but he doesn’t let you, keeping you still as his arms tighten further around you.

He’s movements are frantic and reckless and you pull away from the kiss to take in air. But it only makes him latch his lips onto your neck, sucking on the skin and bruising it with his teeth, the sensation making you moan loudly when you feel yourself, once more, reaching your peak. 

“You’re mine, princess," he groans when he pulls away from your neck, his eyes boring into yours as he circles his hand on your nape. “You understand? You’re mine.”

“Yes,” you choke, pressing your forehead against his. “I’m yours.”

You feel his cock throbbing against your walls and your breath hitches, hands gripping him tight when the dam within you finally breaks, and your pussy walls flutter around him, your body spasming as you come hard and coat his cock with your essence. He doesn’t take long to follow after, the air in your lungs leaving you all at once when he gives a hard thrust, your name spilling from his lips in a form of a growl when he spills his seed deep within.

Exhaustion finally takes over and you lay limp over his solid chest, soft whimpers escaping your lips as he keeps grinding his pelvis against yours, fucking more of his come into you. You keep your eyes closed, too tired to even move a muscle or appreciate the post-sex haze. But a smile makes its way to your lips when he presses a kiss over your cheek, moaning softly when he wiggles his hips, keeping his cock snug inside your swollen cunt.

“Sleep, princess,” he mumbles against your hair, hands gently caressing your skin. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” His words act as a soothing balm, a comfort you desperately need and you snuggle in his hold, basking in his muscular scent and the warmth he gives you before your consciousness dwindles and you fall into a sated slumber.

But he’s nowhere to be found when you stir from your sleep, a vast bed and a muted darkness greeting you instead of the face of your lover. Though it doesn’t take away the peaceful smile that forms on your face and the delicious ache that sings deep in your bones. 

You try to hear if the party in the main room is still up and swinging but the time displayed on the clock says it’s way beyond midnight. You only hope that the festivities have been long over and that everyone has gone home and called it night but still, you don’t put it past your father to hold one of his private meetings with his capos now that your brother has joined the fold. 

Walking toward your closet, you put on a pair of pajama shorts and a night shirt before leaving your room, wanting to look for Curtis and grab a glass of water before heading back to bed. But as soon as you climb down the stairs, an odd feeling drenches you with the halls being eerily quiet and your father’s men that usually walk around the house nowhere to be found.

You make it to the kitchen, still set on your intent when a peal of chilling laughter sounds from the main room. The voice is somewhat familiar, one you’ve heard in your father’s meetings with his boss. But that can’t be—despite your lack of involvement in the syndicate, you know the rules that had been laid out for the others to follow. 

“Let’s see if these moves fuck!” The voice says with amusement.

An angry shout follows after followed by a pained grunt and you can tell it's your brother. Immediately, you run to the dining table and snatch the gun tied under it before stalking over to the main room, keeping to the walls to check on the unwanted visitors. But what you witness makes the bile crawl up your throat, a massacre of your father’s associates, the strong scent of metal wafting through the air as lifeless bodies are scattered across the floor. 

The walls of the room are painted crimson and men you don’t recognize stand still at the sides, armed and stoic while they watch the scene playing out before them; your father tied to a chair, gagged and beaten while your brother stands in front of him, protecting him. Blood trickles from his head and his left eye swollen, he holds up a knife, grip tight on the handle while he faces the enemy that taunts him. 

Lloyd Hansen is never supposed to set foot on your family’s territory. It’s the rules the elders have given when your father was gifted the city. But there he stands, looking pristine in his black turtle neck and blood-spattered white jeans with only the cut on his cheek and his disheveled hair giving away that he’s been fighting. But still, he holds himself in that cocky demeanor, the hair on his lip twitching when he smirks and taunts your brother. 

Before he could get close to your brother, you stand away from where you’re hiding and pull the trigger, a loud bang resounding through the walls as the bullet meets the marble floor by Lloyd’s feet, making both men flinch and Hansen’s men stand on alert, all guns pointed at you. 

“What the fuck?!” Lloyd shouts, his head turning and anger etched on his face when he faces you. “You almost shot me!”

“Stand down.” A voice calls in the room and you stand in shock when Curtis comes out from the shadows, a hand resting on Lloyd’s shoulder before walking over in your direction. “You’re not supposed to be here, princess.”

“Curtis—” you say in a rush, panic surging through your veins when he nears you. “What’s going on—”

“Stay away from him, sis!” Gabriel shouts, grunting in pain soon after when one of the men clad in black hits him in the back with a gun, making him drop to his knees. “He—” he wheezes, “he’s a traitor.”

“What—” you flinch when the gun is snatched from your hand, the firearm sliding across the floor. Curtis stands so close, his sapphire eyes laced with darkness as he rests his hands on your shoulders. “Curtis?” your lips quiver upon saying his name, the easiness slipping from your lips and replaced with fear. “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is that we’re taking over this worthless city, sunshine.” Lloyd answers from behind him, a smirk playing on his lips as he runs a hand through his hair. “Why don’t you tell her, boss?”

“Boss?” You blink in surprise and step back from Curtis, disbelief running through your head as you try to piece everything together. Your brother’s warning, Lloyd’s words and Curtis looking unscathed despite facing the enemy. “You’re—” anger surges through your veins and you ball your hands into fists, lunging at Curtis and beating at his chest. “You liar! You fucking used me!”

But you’re fighting a losing battle as he easily grabs your wrists and you yelp loudly in pain when he turns you around, twisting your arm and bending it behind you, your shoulder straining from his strength. 

“You let her go!” Your brother shouts in rage but Lloyd kicks him in the stomach, making him bowl over and drop himself on the floor. 

Curtis walks you into the vast room, having you stand over your brother and you cry when you see his condition, battered and bruised as he struggles to push his feet under him. But you only shout in agony as Lloyd kneels over him and continues to beat him, fists raining down on your little brother’s face, blood spilling from his mouth. 

“Watch carefully, princess.” Curtis drones, his other hand framing your chin as he forces you to face forward. “This is all thanks to you.”

“Why are you doing this?!” You shout as you continue to struggle against his hold. “Please—let him go! If you love me, Curtis, you’ll let him go.”

You feel him tense behind you and you’re washed with relief when he commands Lloyd to stop. 

Lloyd’s fist stops mid-air, a huff of annoyance leaving his lips before he stands and Curtis’ grip on you slackens, allowing you to stagger forward and kneel before your brother. You cradle his head as you try to wipe away the blood from his face. your tears flowing continuously as you stare down at him, watching him cling to life as you grab his hand and press it against your cheek.

“I’m here, baby brother.” you whisper, lacing your fingers through his. “I’m here.”

You see a faint smile form on his face but a loud bang echoes in your ear, making you recoil in fear. But as soon as the chaos dissipates, you face your brother to check on him but stay stock still when he stares up at you with lifeless eyes, blood trickling from his head and staining your hands, seeing a bullet lodge in his head.

You scream in shock but more in agony as you shake him, and beg for him to be alive. But nothing comes out of it, not a sound or even a movement, making you cry out harder as you hold him to you, your baby brother—gone.

Another shot sounds and you snap your head to the side only to see your father slumped forward, his restraints holding him from falling off his seat. But he, too, met the same fate as your brother. You turn to see Curtis standing over you, the gun you previously had in your hand now in his and you pounce at him, rage taking over you as you try to attack him. 

But he easily fends you off by smacking the back of his hand against your cheek, making you drop down where your brother lays. You then wince when you’re pulled by your hair, making you look up to face Curtis who crouches in front of you, the hand holding the gun reaching over to caress your cheek that swells from his assault. 

“Why are you doing this?” You cry, defeat drenching you cold. “I thought you love me—”

“Love you?” The low drawl of his voice sends a chill up your spine, pulling away when he leans closer and presses his forehead against your own. “I don’t love you. I own you.” he spits and you feel your heart break at his words, all the comfort you felt with him shattering into dust. 

He did this—fooled you and your family, disguising himself as a bodyguard only to get information on the ins and outs of your father’s business. And the worst part? You showed him the way. With all your complaining and mindless ramblings, you were feeding him information that no one should have known. 

So, his words bear some truth, that this was all your doing.

“And along with that, everything your family has.” He smirks and your stomach rolls in disgust when he presses a kiss on your forehead.

underboss - 2nd in command to the boss

consigliere - trusted advisor of the boss

I no longer keep a tag list but if you want to be kept updated on my fics, follow my side blog @springlibrary and turn on notifications.

#curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #dark curtis everett #navy and roo's sleepover #dark!curtis everett #snowpiercer au #within the shadows #dark fic #shadeyspring fics #mafia au #mob au

[animasola86]

The Darkness Within: A Fateful Meeting (Part 1/2)

Notes: The lovely @amberlide gave me an amazing idea: to recreate a scene from my Seb+MC fanfic The Darkness Within, and here we are: Auror Sebastian meeting Death Eater Genevieve after seven long years of looking for her, somewhere in Knockturn Alley. (After the screenshots you'll find the accompanying excerpt of Chapter 5.)

She had noticed him the moment she had left the shop. A black shadow in the darkness around. He was very good at concealing himself, but she had still spotted him, even more so when he started moving. She continued through the narrow streets, yet the more she walked, the tighter she clutched the wand in her pocket.

“You are here,” he said, ignoring her question. “You are really here... you are back... you are –” He stopped his muttering and tilted his head with a small sigh, the smile faltering a little. She saw him swallow hard. “I can't believe it... I can't believe I finally found you!”

“Genevieve! Wait!” she heard him call after her, but she turned another corner and kept running.

[ (SEBASTIAN +) MC MASTERLIST ] [ Part 2/2 ] [ THE DARKNESS WITHIN MASTERLIST ]

End notes: Knockturn Alley is actually the “basement” of the Quidditch Pitch and some corners of Hogsmeade (where there are surprisingly few dark alleys).

I dressed Auror Sebastian like this because the scene plays in 1960 and this looks the closest to what I imagined him to look like (just pretend he's wearing a hood). Genevieve is of course very obviously a Dark witch.

If you'd like to read the scene that inspired these shots, keep reading!

Excerpt of Chapter 5 (2k words):

She had noticed him the moment she had left [Borgin and Burkes]. A black shadow in the darkness around. He was very good at concealing himself, but she had still spotted him, even more so when he started moving. She continued through the narrow streets, yet the more she walked, the tighter she clutched the wand in her pocket. She wasn't afraid of being attacked, she knew quite well that she was able to defend herself. Tom had taught her enough. What she was a little wary about was being captured by an Auror.

(…)

From the corner of her eye she could see her follower halt, yet he didn't blend into the shadows completely. She turned around and slowly bent down to pick up what she dropped, and her eyes wandered up the stranger's dark form. His face was no longer covered by shadows, and she could see him pretty clearly.

He was young, younger than Tom at least, maybe her age even? His messy brown hair was only half-hidden by the hood of his black cloak. And he was tall, very tall. Lean, but muscular from what she could see. His cloak was not revealing much, but it sat quite snug against his form. His face was hard, a very defined jawline, lean cheeks and high cheekbones, no beard, the slightest hint of freckles on his skin. When she moved her eyes to his, she saw him staring at her out of deep, brown eyes that felt warm in the cold of this late autumn night.

Something inside her soul stirred.

(…)

He didn't move, he just stared. And she was beginning to find this encounter rather creepy. She narrowed her eyes at him and waited another second for any sort of reaction, but he wouldn't move. So she inhaled deeply and turned around again, starting to walk away. He followed her almost immediately.

Slowing her pace slightly, she turned a corner and the moment she noticed him following, she pounced on him. Her wand was out, and she grabbed the front of his cloak and pushed him against the nearest wall, staring up at his tall form, only a little bit intimidated by his height. Pressing the tip of her wand against his throat, she rose to her tiptoes and made herself a little taller.

“What do you want?” she hissed through her teeth and watched him closely, bringing her face closer to his as she leaned against his chest, trying to keep him in place. She knew she didn't have the physical strength to do anything to this man, but she had learned that even the smallest person could be intimidating when she was carrying a wand and was very eager to use it.

He just stared at her, and his eyes moved over her face as if he was looking for something – and then he smiled. His lips curved upwards and his eyes started glowing almost, he seemed really happy all of a sudden. She frowned at that and quickly leaned back, letting go of his cloak and only pressing her wand harder against his skin, her arm outstretched.

“What are smiling about?” she asked quietly, genuinely confused by this reaction.

(…)

Instead of replying, he only smiled wider and suddenly he moved, completely ignoring the wand pointed at his throat, and he was so swift that she was too surprised to react. He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her all the way to the other side of the narrow street and suddenly it was her back pressed against the wall and the strange man leaning over her. She gasped in slight shock and quickly raised her wand again.

“I'm not afraid to use this, I have you know,” she said through gritted teeth and breathed a little heavier. His tall form loomed over her, and she had to admit, she felt a little anxious.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” he then said and the soft tone in his voice made her frown. “I just want to... make sure...”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What?” she asked, really confused by now.

When he raised his left hand and moved it towards her face, she leaned back against the wall, realizing just how trapped she was. Her heart started accelerating, and she was ready to use any hex on him, but then his fingertips gently touched her cheek, and she not only dropped her wand hand but also her jaw.

His touch was soft and his long fingers slowly pushed aside her long, red hair and revealed the right side of her face. She swallowed hard. His hand cupped her face, his fingers sinking deeper into her hair, while his thumb caressed her cheekbone – and the scars running alongside it.

“What are you doing?” she whispered breathlessly.

He raised his other hand and slowly pushed off the hood of her cloak before he stroked her hair almost affectionately. His smile was even wider now, and he looked happy and sad at the same time. She stared up at him in complete bewilderment.

“I knew it...” he then said quietly, his voice shaking a little. “I knew it worked...”

She saw him pressing his lips together for a moment, and there was turmoil within his eyes. He kept caressing her face, and when his gaze met hers, she felt a shiver run down her spine.

“What are you talking about?” she hissed, growing a little irritated by now.

“You are here,” he said, ignoring her question. “You are really here... you are back... you are –” He stopped his muttering and tilted his head with a small sigh, the smile faltering a little. She saw him swallow hard. “I can't believe it... I can't believe I finally found you!”

He seemed really ecstatic by now, smiling and looking her over, his fingers running up and down her face and her hair, while she just stood there, positively dumbfounded.

“What in Merlin's bloody name are you talking about?” she eventually broke her stupor and raised her wand again, pressing it against his jaw forcefully.

He stopped his touching for a moment and looked at her, as if he only now realized she was a real person and not some kind of weird sex doll the way he was fondling her face. His dark eyes bored into hers, and the smile on his lips caved a little, until it was completely gone.

“Can't you remember?” he then asked, quietly, almost timidly.

“Remember what?” she hissed.

“Remember me? Us?” Concern washed over his handsome face (yes, even in this moment of what the hell is going on, she could recognize that he was rather handsome, despite everything).

“Us? What –” She stared at him. “I have never seen you before in my life!” she replied harshly and narrowed her eyes. She would surely remember if she had.

He leaned back a little and lowered his hands to rest on her shoulders, still keeping her from running away. His eyes grew a little darker, some sort of sadness settling within them. “Really? Have you really forgotten me? Have you forgotten our love?”

Her mouth opened when he mentioned the word love. She blinked slowly. “Love?” she repeated dumbly. “Are you mental?” She was starting to lose her nerve with this man.

He looked a little offended at that and leaned back even more.

“Look what you are doing here!” she snarled darkly. “Following an innocent girl through the streets at night, cornering her, pressing her against a wall, touching her, talking to her about bloody love? Where did you escape from, huh?”

He tilted his head slightly at her words. “I'm sorry,” he then said and caught her quite off guard at that. “You're right. This was not the proper way to do this. I apologize.”

She gaped up at him.

He sighed deeply and then retrieved his hands, letting them hang loosely by his sides. “I... had hoped you would remember me.” He soundly genuinely disappointed now, no more smile, only a sad look on his features, his eyelids lowered as he looked down. He reminded her of a puppy, and she couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit of sympathy.

“Who are you?” she then asked and blinked at the fact that she was still somehow intrigued, or at least curious to find out what this was all about.

He looked up at her question, and an eager look pooled from his eyes. “I'm Sebastian,” he said and watched her closely, hoping against all odds that the mention of his name would make her remember. She looked at him and frowned, then shook her head, and the hopeful expression on his face faltered.

“Who do you think I am?” she asked quietly, her eyes wandering over his face.

He smiled at that, a bit of warmth returning to his cheeks. “You're Genevieve. My beautiful Genevieve...”

(…)

Something dark crossed her eyes. “Who sent you?” she then spat under her breath and remembered that her wand was still pressed against his jaw, and she poked him a little harder.

Confusion washed over him. “Sent me? Nobody sent me!”

(…)

He was an Auror, a member of the Magical Law Enforcement – and this badge was proof enough that he was indeed sent here by the Ministry. They were closing in on them, she realized, and something cold rushed through her veins. And he knew her name, did he also know about what she had been doing as of late? She looked up at him and squeezed her fingers violently around the Auror badge, her jaw clenched.

“Why are you here?” she asked coldly. “You really shouldn't be here, you know? All by your lonesome...” She halted at that and quickly looked left and right, listening intently to her surroundings. He was alone, right? Her heart beat faster.

He watched her closely. “No need to threaten me,” he said quietly. “I thought you were just an innocent girl. What are you so afraid of?”

She stared up at him. “You are still a man cornering me in a dark alleyway, I am just being cautious,” she replied a little sultry. “And I heard you people like to abuse the little power you have...” She pressed his badge against his chest and let go, hearing it clattering to the ground below. He didn't move.

“You have a very bad image of us,” he said softly. “There is really no need to be afraid.”

“Afraid?” she scoffed and took a step back, her wand leaving his jaw, but still pointed at him. “I'm not afraid of people like you!”

“Are you sure? You look a little pale right now,” he teased. “Why should an innocent girl like you be afraid of us anyway?” He watched her very closely. “We are the good guys, believe me.”

“Are you now?” she breathed and took another step back. Her heart was pounding inside her chest by now.

“Believe me, I am. And I don't mean you any harm,” he said and raised his hands in a surrendering fashion.

“Why were you following me then?” Her voice was cold.

“I just wanted to make sure...” he started, then tilted his head. “I wanted to make sure a girl like you would get through this alley unharmed.”

She raised her eyebrows at that. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I am.”

“And you want me to believe that?” She let her eyes wander over his body for a moment, then looked at the Auror badge lying on the ground. When she looked back up at him, she felt another wave of adrenaline rush through her veins. The Mark on her forearm started itching a little. She took a little step towards him, her shoe stepping on the badge in the process. “I don't believe you,” she then whispered and kicked the badge along the street.

The small clattering noise caught his attention for a second or two, and she used his distraction to move away, quickly falling into a fast run as she tried to bring as much space between them as possible.

“Genevieve! Wait!” she heard him call after her, but she turned another corner and kept running.

[Read the full chapter here]

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow screenshots #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy screenshots #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow x mc #my screencaps #genevieve belette #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow fic #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fic #hogwarts legacy mc #the darkness within

[hecketernal]

Everyone Thinks Jak Is Dying AU (Aka everyone miscommunicates to some pretty ridiculous and angsty levels but Jak's totally fine) ((pls read I swear I still have some comfort with this hurt some funny with the tragedy pls hear me out))

Explanation: I had had this weird impression that Jak was flat out dying from dark eco poisoning, when I was a kid. It seems kid me had made some assumptions from listening to Baron Praxis' propaganda stations where he flat out says, "The dark eco inside you will eventually kill you, Jak," and the way Jak first reacted to getting light eco.

Everyone else seemed to die in the Dark Warrior Project. Hell, they flat out acknowledge Jak should be dead himself from the amount of dark eco pumped into him. Even if a slow death via eco poisoning isn't what the games were going for, it would still make sense lorewise. The game will insta kill you for falling into the stuff.

Buuuuut for a moment just consider...applying that misconception to Damas and Jak's growing paternal bond.

Jak, in his freshly betrayed wariness, decides to hide his dark eco abilities. He's tired. He can't trust anyone except for Daxter, but Daxter is The Exception in capital letters and everything. Jak has found a force he can't or isn't equipped to beat within the long, hot stretch of the desert with no Keira to build a contraption to get them out. He doesn't even know... if Keira cares enough to build some zoomer with a heat shield or whatever would come to her mechanical mind for them anymore. None of his "allies" spoke up very loudly to defend Jak, so Jak stashes his otherness away. Well, he hides it to the best of his abilities. He'll never be a spy, but he can manage a few marauders in some Arena of Death with just a gun and some effort. Transforming had always been last resort anyways. With fear from his betrayal instead of anger leading him, he never transforms in front of all of Spargus to see. He's doesn't want to be Baron Praxis' renegade weapon, the man made monster that slipped its leash. He wants a moment without that. He can't go back to the kid from Sandover. He doesn't want to, but the idea of being just another exile like everyone else is...heady.

Jak doesn't know that he can't hide what's already been seen. Dark eco scars are distinctive, and Jak's were very visible during his stint with unconsciousness and heatstroke. The monks had attended to the two boys, but they had not done so silently. Precursor monks did not care to censor their muttering about dark eco corruption. Their prayers for salvation or less pain for the boy were easily overheard by the alert King of Spargus. It's likewise impossible to hide the way dark eco skitters towards Jak. The way it sinks into his skin. The way his pallor goes white. His face pained. The way the newest recruit sometimes clutches an arm, angling it away from view. Jak does manage to hide the growing claws with this action, so good for him. Bad for Damas.

Damas is under the impression that Jak is dying. Dark eco poisoning is an unpleasant but often inescapable death sentence for even the strongest warriors. He's known good Wastelanders that had to be buried after just a brush with the energy. It might be slow with this new recruit, but it will come all the same. Won't it? Damas tries his best to remain distant. His heart has already been shattered from the loss of one child, but it seems those broken shards are destined to break a little more. Jak is so damningly earnest for someone who tries to act jaded and tough. Damas can't remain distant. Every wall Damas builds is blasted away by the young warrior's newest actions. Damas is doing his best to hold himself together, but inside he is a mess. He doesn't want to lose another son. When Jak spoke of not knowing his father, Damas realized there was one thought more agonizing than losing another son, a lonely son dying fatherless. It catalyzes the father for he cannot stop thinking of himself as anything but a father. Isn't this what he always told himself he would do anything for? Another moment with his child? Damas will not squander the time they have left. Besides, the desert is rough and fickle, and violent death has come for all of Spargus' other kings. He might worry for naught. His death might come for him sooner than Jak's.

#jak and daxter au #jak and daxter #jak #damas #everyone thinks jak is dying au #jak is living in a comedy with more and more ridiculous shenanigans to hide his dark form #damas is meanwhile living within a tragedy #but he's used to that #lmao sorry #i keep twisting the knife #normally im a huge fix it fic girl #but technically i like some hurt with my comfort #and baby im planning for this one to hurt a lot #but dont worry i cant control myself there will still be comfort #jnd #jak 3 #damas jnd #also shenanigans shall be there as i remain silly #my aus

[chelleztjs18]

The Monsters Within (N.R) Pt. 1

Dark!FemReader! x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: You like Natasha and you are keeping her to yourself.

Warning: This is a Dark Fic. 18+, a lot of swearing words. Graphic and gore descriptions, kidnapping, mind manipulating / brainwashing, blood, death, violence, bone crushing, Stockholm Syndrome (Let me know if I miss anything)

A/n: Hello! It's me again with the first part! I'm excited for you to read it! Yaay! Like I said in the announcement, thank you @imdoingsortagay , @marvelwoman-sugarbaby and @honey-sweet-hiraeth for the support, patience, and brainstorming with me. Happy reading!

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

You were hiding in plain sight and your eyes were carefully lurking for your next victim. Some people walked around you until this one particular redhead caught your eyes, she was serving the table across yours. Her wavy medium red hair looks flawless and her voice sounds so alluring to you. When she passes by you, you can just get a faint whiff of her perfume, a mix of soothing and refreshing touches your senses. That was all it took for your wicked mind to come up with the idea of how her scent would smell if it collided with the blood in the air. You instantly got intrigued by her.

Since then, your focus was only on her. You learn more about her in your own way. It gives you a different kind of rush everytime you secretly follow her, especially to her home. Her life is like an open book in social media. The more information you get about her, the more you want her.

So here you are, in your basement sitting on your chair, waiting for her to wake up. Natasha slowly opens her eyes, the light feels sharp to her eyes despite how soft it is. Her mind ponders where she is, the all white room complete with glass walls around it.

“Well, hello, gorgeous.” She hears a soft voice and she turns her head to see the owner of the voice she heard, you.

“Who are you? Where am I?” She asks with a huge confusion mixed with gradually growing fear.

“You are in your room now at my place, Natasha. I have food and water for you on the table. There is a little bathroom in that corner you can use. I will take care of you from now on.” You explain calmly.

“What did you do to me? I was walking to my car and woke up here? How did you know my name?! I don't even know you!” Panic definitely rises in her. She quickly tries to open the door and she fails.

“I know enough about you.” Your five word answer rings an alarm in her mind.

“Get me out of here! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!” She screams as she bangs her hands hard on the thick glass then tries to pull the locked door with all the energy she has. All she wants right now is to get away from you. Her heart drummed.

“Oh sweetheart, this basement is sound proof. Nobody will hear you. This basement was built for a reason, so save your pretty voice. I love it and I don’t want you to lose your voice, do you?”

Natasha’s heart beats faster, her stomach turns into a knot after she hears what you said. “Who are you? Why me?” She asks in a lower voice, subconsciously following what you told her yet almost breaking into a cry.

“Hmmm. You can call me y/n. Why you? I don’t know why, you are just so tempting for me in a very different way. The day I saw you, I was actually looking for my next one to kill—” 

“Please, don't kill me. Let me go. I won’t tell a soul, I promise. I beg you.” She begs desperately for her dear life the second she hears the disturbing word. Her chest feels tight from fear.

You stand up and walk closer to her, the corner of your lips curves up to a sinister smile. “ but I like you so I’m keeping you alive. Here, with me. You look even better when you beg, darling. Just don’t upset me or I’m gonna change my mind and you know what I meant by that.” compliments and a warning flows out at the same time in a stern tone as you look at her green eyes through the clear glass then you walk away, leaving her by herself there.

_____

A week has passed easily for you like usual but for Nat, it was a dreadful seven days. Her eyes are red from crying, her hands are sore from hitting the glass door multiple times, let alone her throat stings in every swallow and talking by now from screaming for help. You like how determined she is but you are very unamused by her non-stop attempts to get help or begging you to let her go.

You try to talk with her every time you bring her food but she refuses to engage in any conversation with you.

Surprisingly, you have patience with her. If she was someone else, she would probably be dead by now. You really like her and keeping her with you really fills the empty space in you despite her rejection of you.

"Let's get to know each other better, shall we? Come on, Nat. I'm not that bad." You ask in hope she will slowly open up and talk with you.

"I don't want to know about you! Just get me the fuck out of here!” Just like that, her voice escalated in volume with such exasperation as she slammed the chair to the glass with a great force coming from her. Unfortunately the chair had no chance against the thick glass and broke.

You didn’t even flinch from the impact and you reminded her calmly instead. “Be careful there, sweetie. I don’t want you to get hurt. I always thought some blood will look good on your pretty skin but not yours though, I prefer somebody else’s.” you take a sip of your ice tea as soon as you are done with your words.

“What do you want from me?! Just let me go!”

You let out an annoyed sigh, putting down your ice tea. “You need to start to listen to me. I want you. I’m keeping you, so I won’t let you go.”

“I will find a way to get out of here! And I will get your ass to jail, y/n!” She threatens followed by another hard bang to the glass from a kick.

“Alright, I’ll do the hard way, Nat.” you get up from your couch and walk to the stairs. "Where are you going? What did you mean you'll do the hard way?! Y/n! Y/n!!" Natasha gets silence from you.

Natasha fell asleep after hours of wondering what you meant with the hard way you mentioned.

"Nat! I'm home! Natasha!" You call her and call her again when you don't hear her respond. Your voice woke her up. Her eyes automatically caught at the two arms of the clock that showed 12.30 a.m.

She got out of the bed and searched for you only to find a terrifying view.

You drag a dead body of a random woman with multiple stab wounds through the back door, leaving a long trail of blood.

"Is she — dead? Oh my god! What did you do to her?! You killed her!" She asks you with a stunned expression. Natasha's eyes are rounded, her heart jumps up to her throat from the shocks she gets. The pit of her stomach fell, she is terrified with what she is looking at.

"Of course she's dead, sweetheart. She was so obnoxious. Her voice drove me crazy, the worst part was she kept talking and talking." You casually tell the thunderstruck woman while doing what you need to do.

You drag her to the part of the basement that's already all covered with white tarps then you walk away for a few minutes and come back, pushing in a claw footed bathtub to where Natasha can see it.

“I normally don’t do this here but I want you to see everything.” You add with a panting breathing from dragging the body and the tub.

Natasha watches you in terror and disgust. A little splash of blood on your face as you give her a mischievous smile. Your victim lays on the floor lifeless with more blood pooled. Her heart thudded, fear twisted her gut. “Why are you doing this?! You PSYCHO!” Nat screams hysterically.

“Why am I doing this? I want to show you and remember that this could be you, IF you try to run away or IF you don’t stop asking me to let you go, because I won’t.” You answer her without hesitation.

She watches where your bloody hands move. You hum a song as you wash your hands as if they are not covered in blood.

“Please, take the dead body away. I don’t want to see whatever you are going to do with it.” She begs.

You ignore her plea. “Perhaps, listening to some music can make you feel better, my dear?” You pull out a record and play it in a soft volume but enough for Natasha to hear it and notice that it’s her favorite song. Her eyebrows furrowed, trying to figure out if you do this on purpose. You stand in front of her, your eyes adoring her even though grimace looks clear on her face as she looks back at you. Tears fill her eyes.

“Every Wednesday after work, you always go to the record store. Love your music taste, by the way. I also love that you stay at home every Saturday even though you are pretty enough to pick up a dance partner at the club.” You slowly touch the glass pretending to rub her cheeks followed with a little chuckle.

Natasha quickly connects the dot from everything you just said. It disgusts her and pisses her off at the same time.

“You have been following me?! You are SICK!” A hateful shout comes out of her. “I was just keeping a watchful eye.” You shrug your shoulders then you turn around and walk away with no remorse. Only a few steps later, her words stop you.

“You are a MONSTER!!”

You turn around. You give her a look, your gaze moves slowly from head to toe. You chuckle a little, even shake your head a little. You are not gonna lie, you feel a little…bothered, that the woman you admire calls you a monster. You take a deep breath, gather yourself shortly before you return her deep remark at you.

“Oh Natasha, everybody is a monster in their own way. I can see that we are the same exact ones, maybe that’s why I like you…so much.”

“NO! I’m not! I’m not like you! You are one sick fucking monster!” Natasha denies wholeheartedly. “Oh you are, Nat. You are. Now, watch and learn. You’ll need it someday.” You let out a chuckle and proceed to where the body is. Natasha shows her refusal by turning her back.

“I can find people you love very easily, Nat. Don’t make me go and get them. Turn around and watch everything.” You command her with a threat. It feels like a hard slam in her gut when your threat forces its way to be heard. She closes her eyes and clenches her fists at the same time. Her breathing quickened and her heartbeat doubled in speed. With a heavy heart, she follows what you want and turns. Forcing her eyes open to watch what you are doing.

Dragging sounds follow right after every step you take. Horror-stricken, she stares at you with frightened eyes. She closes her eyes right after she sees you start to pick up the lifeless woman that’s drenched with blood by now. Natasha flinches as soon as she hears a loud thud sound and it makes her open her eyes again only to find the dead victim in the tub and one of her hands is hanging out of it, blood slowly dripping one drop after another from the fingers..

“Okay, Natasha. This is why I put the tarp around so the blood won’t go everywhere, plus it’s easier to clean. You can just pull everything away when you are done and burn it.” You casually explain to her then you shove the bloody hand back into the tub. The smell of blood starts to roam free in the air and fill up the room. You take a deep breath. “Do you smell that, darling? Smells like victory and power. It makes you feel that you have someone’s life in your hand. You’ll understand that someday.” You patch a satisfied smile.

The more of the smell evokes her senses the more Nat wants to scream. She turns her head away from you.

“Ah ah ah. Look at me here. I want to show you the next thing to do to get rid of the dead bodies.” Your erie command reminds her of your previous threat, forcing her one more time to avert her eyes to you. You love how you slowly have control over Natasha.

“We have to dissolve the body with acid, it usually takes two days or so. It doesn’t smell like anything.” You speak as you take a few jugs of acid and pour it into the tub. “Oh Natty, I wish you could see how blisters start to show up on the skin from the acid.” A sinister giggle escapes as you tell her what’s happening. You feel a rush of blood go all over your body, giving you excitement.

“Stop. Please stop talking.” Her head hangs low as she begs under her breath. “James helps me every now and then.” a new name floats out of your lips. She hears you snap your finger and loud heavy footsteps echoes.

A big tall man gets caught in her field of sight. His expression looks cold as he pushes the bath away to another room with no question asked.

You wash your hands again, smudge of blood on your clothes but it doesn’t bother you at all. What you are doing next lures her curiosity more. Her mind questions what machine you just reached. Her eyebrows furrow when she sees James bring back a quite large clear bag filled with bones and put it next to the electric saw and bone grinder machine.

She hopes that it’s not what she thinks it is but too bad it was indeed bones. Natasha instantly recoils in horror once you turn on the machine and cuts the bone in half. “This is what the bones look like after the acid dissolves everything for two days. So–” Natasha’s words didn’t let you finish yours.

“That’s… Those are the bones from— from another dead person?” She stuttered, swallowed the lump of fear in the back of her throat.

“Oh, honey. Do you really want me to answer that? I’m sure you know what’s the answer.” You coo tauntingly, making her take a step back in revulsion.

You continue speaking as if it’s a usual thing for you. “So fingerprints are gone now, the next two things you need to get rid of are teeth and bone marrow. They can get you caught if the cops find them.” Your face is as serious as a teacher teaching her students.

You start to grind all the bones, piece by piece. Cracking and clattering sounds loud. Like it or not, Nat hears it loud and clear. “Now the teeth are gone. Last but not least, the bone marrow.” You look at her while you scrape it off the bone and put it in the bowl.

“Please, don’t tell me that you eat those.” Grimace creeps up on her face and her stomach churns.

“I’m just a killer, not a cannibal, love. I feed them to the dogs. They love it.” You stated.

Bitterness filled her mouth and she wanted to puke. She runs to the bathroom and barfs. “Don’t worry, Natasha. You’ll get used to it.” You reassure her unemotionally.

“Then James will spread the ashes to the ocean and cleans the rest. Voila! How to get rid of dead bodies 101. All done.” You proudly announce with a big smile. Natasha sniffs and looks at you standing in front of the glass room.

She storms to you and screams in front of your face with her fists slamming the glass that’s standing tall between the two of you. “Let me go! I will send you to hell, you evil!” Her pulse slammed in her neck.

“Sssshhhhh..” You put your index finger in front of your lips as you try to shush her. Weirdly, it subconsciously calms her down slowly but surely. Natasha starts to notice how you can put her in a huge wave of emotion yet you calm her down too. She doesn’t like how you can have control over her mind and emotion so easily. She hates it, she hates you. She takes another step back from you.

“Oh Sweet Natasha.. I AM hell.” Your bone chilling whispers slithers into her ear. With that, you walk away to the stairs. “Just keep it in that little mind of yours, that could be you.” You warn her one more time.

_____

It's been two months. You have been doing the same whole blood curdling process to your next victims in front of her every other day over and over on purpose, to get it into her mind. All she sees are your victims even when she closes her eyes. Those lifeless bodies that were forced to turn into ashes and dog food. All she hears is the sounds of the bones crushed and grinded. It drives her crazy. She can’t run away from all those views and sounds that haunt her every night. Natasha refuses to eat since your first gruesome warning. Her skin turns paler and paler. Until one day, she gets too weak and passes out. You have to admit, it got you all worried and all you want to do is take care of her. Luckily, you are a doctor, you know what to do.

“Please stop. Please.” A soft plea slips subconsciously, her head moves left and right slowly as if she is having a nightmare. Her eyelids slowly open, she blinks slowly. A weak whimper escapes her lips. You have been waiting for her to wake up, sitting next to her bed after you give her what she needs. Empty bags of IV and liquid food are hanging on the corner of the room.

She lays her hands on her head from the headache she feels. You can see from her movement that she feels so weak but her color has come back. Soon, she notices the band aid on the back of her hands from the IV needles earlier but her mind thinks it was from something else and panic starts to land on her. She feels your presence so close to her and her head turns quickly following her instinct. “Get away from me! What did you do to me?!”

“You passed out for quite a long time but you had enough IV to rehydrate you and liquid food to give you back your energy.” You answer with a relieved smile but it wasn’t enough to gain her trust back on you.

The weak woman in front of you gets off the bed suddenly despite how weak she is. She trips yet quickly crawls away from you to the corner. Your heart wrenched from seeing her like this. You didn’t want to make her like this but you know you had to, so she won’t run away from you. Oh the irony. You never feel like this before, you even think that you want to redeem yourself in front of her but still keep her under your control.

Her body curls up in the corner. Her knees are folded up to her chest, hugging them closer. Her body rocks back and forth. You walk slowly towards her. Your footsteps sound closer to her and it triggers her even worse reaction towards you. Your eyes search for hers but you fail miserably, she buries her face on to her knees. You can hear her muffled words. “Get away from me! Please! Stop everything!”

You crouch down to her level and her body flinches as your touch lands on her shoulder and she cries harder. She tries to move away as far as she can but the walls trap her.

“Ssshh.. It’s okay. I’m here. Don’t worry.” You try to hug her but she starts to fight you. Her hands try to push you away, to hit you or whatever she can do to you to prevent you from getting closer. “Don’t touch me! I don’t want you here!” Your strength defeats her and you wrap your arms around her.

She still tries to get out of your arms for a few seconds. “Please stop! I can’t take it anymore. I beg you.” She cries. You feel her body shake. 

The second you rub her back and rock her slowly and whisper “Sssh. Okay. Okay. Don’t worry, darling.” Natasha starts to calm down. Her cries start to fade and that makes you feel better. “I promise I won't ever try to escape ever, I won’t ask you to let me go either. Just please stop making me watch what you do to those bodies, to those bones. Please.” You feel her body start to get warmer and sweats trickle down her spine. Her tears soak your shirt.

“Good girl. That’s my good girl. I will stop doing it. Just don't ever leave me and do as I say, okay?” You confirmed. She nods in your hug. You love it when she even snuggles up more to you. Oh the things you would do for her and how far you would go on things only for her. You are obsessed with her, it’s not even funny. Natasha doesn’t know what is happening to her. She hates your touch yet it comforts her. The overwhelming feelings took her energy despite the IV and the food you gave her. You carry her to the bed. Part of her wants you to stay, the rest of her wants you not even an inch close to her. She hates everything that’s happening now but she hates the fact how one simple touch of a killer like you, let alone the hug can give her a whiplash of feelings and emotions by now. Her eyes are heavy the second her head lands on the pillow. You get back to your seat next to her bed. She sees you hold her hand, the hands that were covered with innocents’ blood. 

“Go to sleep, darling. You’ll feel better soon. I’ll be here. Sssh..” A whisper from you easily sends her to slumber as her eyes close slowly.

_____

The day after Natasha’s mental breakdown, she is quiet. Your plan worked. She doesn’t beg you to let her go anymore. From her eyes, you can see that she is traumatized and defeated. You feel less resentment from her against your presence. She eats the food you gave her. Just like you promised before, you didn’t bring any dead victims home nor make her watch you get rid of them.

Days turn to weeks and weeks lead to a month then two. Your effort to talk with her finally shows some progress. The unexpected solace she got from your touch and hugs crumbled her invisible wall from you. Both of you start to tell each other more about yourselves. Sometimes you even spend time with her in her glass room, talking about a lot of things. Sometimes you give her space and you sit outside.

One day, the conversation got a little deeper. You ask her about the past and what that is really going on with her life before you keep her to yourself..

“Well, I work three jobs so I can make enough money for me and to help my sister’s college fund.” She answers. “Yelena?” You ask.

“How did you–ugh why am I surprised that you know, you stalked me for crying out loud.” She ends her confusion with a sarcastic remark and an upset eye roll. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I had to. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to steal you away and you wouldn’t be here.” A mischievous smirk appears after your casual response.

“So, it must be hard for you to work three jobs.”

“It pays the bill and I can save extra money for myself too. I like all the jobs I have, except..” A frown quickly appears followed by a helpless sigh.

“Except what, Nat? Tell me.”

“Except, my boss at the restaurant. He’s a pervert asshole. His hands always get so touchy to me, I hate it.” It’s obvious to see that Nat really hates the mentioned man.

“Disgusting son of a bitch. Quit the job, Nat.” You demand dominantly. “I can’t. That job pays the highest compared to the other two. I need the money. I’m stuck. He threatened me that if I quit, he would give bad references to other restaurant owners he knows. He knows my landlord as well, he would easily tell him to kick us out. We have nowhere to go.” She looks down to the floor as she takes in a deep disappointed breath. She knows she should’ve quit no matter what but like it or not she has to stay.

Anger rush through all your body. Your lips pressed in a straight line. You bite the inside of your cheeks. Silence rapidly dominates the room. What you just heard from Natasha causes a huge ripples of jealousy in you. One of your hands clenched into a fist. No one can touch her, not even an inch or a gentle tap. She is yours only. You slowly sipped a drink while in deep thought. The silence is deafening until you say something that literally has a lot of meaning in it.

“Quit the job, Nat. I will take care of everything. Everything.”

_____

A scream with agony woke Natasha up. She knows it wasn't yours. It's a familiar male voice. "Aargh! Let me go! Who are you? What do you want from me?" The man rambles, his loud panting shows distress and pain.

"Oohhh Natty! I got a surprise for you." You call her with an excited sing-song tone and all giggling.

The noises and the commotion evaporate her sleepy state and she gets up to check what's happening. She quickly recognized the man with ease. It's her pervy boss.

"You want money? I will give you as much as you ask. Just let me go!" The wounded man pleads. Her heart drops when she sees him all wounded and has bad scratches. His clothes are ripped in some parts with both hands tied together in the front and his ankles are tied up as well, bruises and some blood shown around his lips and some part of his skin.

"Dreykov? Y/n? What are you doing? What did you do to him?" Bewildered, she questions you about his very existence right now kneeling in front of you.

The older heavy set man drags his gaze to where Natasha is and surely he soon recognizes her face.

“Natasha? Is that you? Do you know this crazy sadistic bitch? She dragged me around with her car! I don’t even know her. Help!” You can hear his voice sounds so scared for his life, you always love hearing the fear from your victim’s voice. You grab a wine bottle from the counter nearby and hit him, hard enough to give him pain but not deadly just yet.

“Shut up, you pig!” You yell at him, he fell down from the impact..so weak..and helpless. “Please, what did I do to you?” He asks once more, his curiosity demands answers from you.

“Y/n..” she calls you but it goes straight over your head.

You lean down and pull his head back by his hair. “Oh you didn’t do anything to me but you made her life horrible. You disgusting motherfucker. Nobody touched my sweet Natasha.” You answer him with gritted teeth. Guilty and realization appears on his face eventually. He knows what you meant despite his confusion. “Yeah, you know what you did, didn’t you?” You utter creepily.

“Y/n..”

“Yes, love?” you finally respond to her call. You light up a cigarette and hit a few puffs as if nothing crazy is going on right now.

“Why did you bring him here? Did you really drag him around with your car?!” She is close to done waiting for your answer as she asks you one more time with a panic tone. Deep down, she can’t believe that you found him. Fear quickly builds up in her, Natasha knows what would you do to him, how far and how bad you can be.

“Oh just for a few miles, Nat. Juuust enough to let him feel the pain and the burn on his skin.” you describe nonchalantly, your hand casually moves a gesture with a cigarette between your fingers. As much as you want to drag him to death like a lit cigarette, you think it’s too soon. You want the man to suffer a little more.

The dark haired man panting in fear and pain. You put the cig in your mouth as your left hand grabs a loaded revolver gun and pull the hammer back then point it at him. “What if you can kill this douchebag, Natty?” The click sound from the gun and your question send panic to Natasha and Dreykov in a split second.

“Y/n? No, I don’t want to kill him. I don’t want his blood getting on my hand! Let him go!”

“Please! Please! Don’t shoot me. I promise I won’t do anything to her anymore! I won’t say anything about this! Please! I beg you! I have a wife and a kid!” The Russian man begs for his dear life. The more you hear his voice, the angrier you get. His pleas didn’t help at all, it made the urge to kill him stronger.

“Y/n!” Natasha screams your name, trying to distract you as her hands hit the glass multiple times, frustratedly.

You chuckle a little while you ignore her. “Do you think telling me you have a wife and a kid will make me feel pity for you??!! It’s even fucking WORSE!” You push the gun’s barrel into his temple.

“Y/N! STOP IT!”

“OKAY OKAY! I’m sorry! PLEASE! PLEASE DON’T!” He trembles, his body shakes in terror from how close death is right now..

Screamings from all three of you overlap and quickly fill up the room but suddenly shattered with the much louder sound of a shot you pulled. Natasha flinched and her heart beat faster. She sees the man that she hates now screams in great pain on both his tied up hands. Blood is all over his hands after a bullet went through both of his palms. “That was for every time you touched her.”

All Nat can do right now is standing there. Helpless and can’t stop what you are doing to the older man. 

“Arrgh! You shot my hands! What the fuck!” He screams with agitation as he rolls around. “Get on your knees facing her!” You instruct him as the gun still points at him, this time it’s back to the direction of his head. Dreykov struggles to do as he’s told but finally manages to do so.

You can see his face gets all red from trying to handle the pain. You love it, this is what you want. “Nat, I can drag him into your room so you can kill him. Are you sure that you don't want to do it?”

He clenches his jaws, his breathing is faster than a sprinting runner. The satisfaction you have in seeing him suffer is priceless yet insatiable. “No! y/n! I don’t want to kill him!” She refuses angrily and turns around to avoid seeing Dreykov’s dead end fate.

Natasha is angry with herself and the conflicted feeling. Part of her, she loathes him wholeheartedly. Another part of her, she wants you to let him go. Then your offer caught her attention faster than it shouldn’t be.

“Will you love me if I kill this piece of shit for you, Nat?” Your question made her skin crawl but she turned to you anyway.

“I see that I caught your attention, sweetheart. I will do the dirty work for you if you are not ready to kill yet.” You give her a smirk. “Y/n, I’m not gonna kill anybody! Ever! I’m not LIKE YOU!” She denies it aggressively. Her voice turned raspy from screaming her lungs out.

"Okay then, how about…we play a little game? I will count to 5 and all you need to do is say the word STOP and I will let him go BUT… if you don't say the word until I'm done counting, I will blow his fucking head and off he goes to hell. Does that sound like fun? Hmmm?" Your gaze jumps around from the wounded weak Dreykov and Natasha back and forth, waiting for an answer.

"No. No. Please. I'm sorry for what I did to her. Just let me go." The man begged your forgiveness one more time, his hands shaking from the trauma that your bullet had brought and left a hole in his hands. Blood slowly flows out of the wound. His busted lips tremble.

“Ready? Remember, Natty. One..simple..rule.. Say the word STOP, not “Don’t kill him.” or “No.” or whatever other words you want to say. Don’t even bother calling my name either because it won’t stop me from turning his brain into a mush. It’s very easy. Say STOP. “ Natasha sees your remorseless face from the corner of her eyes while you are talking about your twisted game.

“And you, be nice to her. Beg her if you need to.” You whisper as your devilish knowing smirk turns into an ominous laugh. The tip of the gun gets closer to his forehead.

“5..” You count out loud.

“Why are you making me do this?!” Nat asks hysterically.

“4..”

“Romanoff!! Please don’t let her shoot me!” Dreykov desperately begs. The beads of sweat start to roll off his forehead. He tries to move his head away from the gun but you follow wherever it moves.

“I don’t want you to kill him, Y/n!” Natasha screams, she knows time is running out. She feels her mind is spinning. Her eyes flooded with tears of frustration.

“3..” Your voice sends the number out even louder.

“Natasha! I’m sorry! I’m sorry for everything! Just please say THE FUCKING WORD!” His voice breaks. He breathes faster from screaming his pleads out. Taking the air in so he can beg louder hoping it will wake Nat’s sense.

“I hate you! I hate you!” Natasha cries her anger out. She doesn’t even know who the words are for. She hits the glass as hard as she can, multiple times. Loud bangs echo in the room. The pain on her hands and the sting in her throat don’t even bother her anymore.

“2..tik tok Natasha.”

“ROMANOOOOF! I will give anything you want! Please let me live!!!! STOP! STOP!” Dark clouds of fear for his life forcing him to say the word himself even though he knows it won’t save his life.

She turns her back on you and Dreykov, she slides down weakly and starts crying. The coldness of the glass touches her back. She breaks down. “I can’t! I can’t do this anymore! Please, don’t push me! I don’t want to hear it!” Her hands turn cold and shaking. She covers her ears, her fingers start to pull her own hair. Her eyes are closed. Her knees weaken. She is terrified of herself! One easy word is so hard to get out of her lips. Her tongue refuses to form the word, no matter how hard she tries. Her heart drummed.

Adrenaline rush blasts all over your body, feeding the repulsive black hole in you. Every count pulls the tip of the gun barrel closer to him. His jaws are tightening. “Aarrrrgghh!” he screeches hopelessly, forced to accept his death sentence from you, or from Natasha, to be exact.

“1…” The metal sticks to the skin of his head, you push as hard as you can, it hurts him. He closes his eyes from his last anticipation.

“BANG!!!!” You shout in front of his face. You push a short hard jolt on his forehead with your gun at the same time you shout and make the man flinch. No triggers were pulled nor bullets blasted its deadly shells. You laugh maniacally. Obviously, you are poking fun out of his trepidation. Soon, Dreykov realizes that he is still alive, he opens his eyes.

“How does it feel to be helpless, huh?! That’s how you made her feel! You make her feel helpless, you disgusting bastard!” you asks in an eerie angry tone.

Natasha stands up and turns around. She can’t deny that disappointment sagged through her but of course she won’t admit that to herself. She still convinces herself that she didn’t say the word because she knows your game. She thinks that she didn’t say the key word because you won’t shoot him that soon because you want to torture him more but was it really the reason?

She is disgusted by herself. She remembers your face and your voice telling her that she is the same monster as you are. Her eyes rounded, her chest rising and falling from the intensity in the room and the war in her mind.

“Y/n, please put the gun down. You don’t have to kill him. I forgive him.” She lies. She lies to you and herself at the same time. She despises her lies but that’s the only way for her to trick her mind.

“Did you really, nat? Did you?” You know what’s going on in her head from what happened, you know your question bothers her. Waking up the unease feelings she tries to tame. Once again, Dreykov's voice brought her back from her daze.

“You fucking bitch!!!! You think you are cool playing with my mind and my life?!! Soon, my family will look for me and the cops will find you! You will rot in jail! And you, Natasha! You try to kill me by not saying the fucking word! I swear I will make your life and your sister’s life horrible as long as I want because I can! I will—” Trap in great terror of losing his life pushed Dreykov to the edge and furious. Forcing his rambling out followed by threats but another loud blasts break the sound barrier and the hot bullet forces its way through Dreykov's head. Natasha flinches from the sounds. Her ears ring from the gunshot blare.

In a split second, he falls back, lifeless. Blood stains splatter all over and drench his head. You didn’t allow him to finish once you heard him attack Natasha with his menacing words and when you heard Natasha cry her apology.

Her heart falls down to her stomach. “WHAT THE FUCK! Y/n!”

"Such a shame. I didn't want him to die that easy. I was gonna drown him alive in the acid. Oh well." You comment out your disappointment in a flat tone as you shrug your shoulders casually as if you didn't just kill another person.

"I didn't want you to kill him, y/n!" She exasperates.

"Then why didn't you say the word, Nat?"

And there it is, the ugly truth finally comes out. The one that she didn't want to hear. Like a slap in the face, it alarms her yet catches all of her words. She doesn't know what to say yet perhaps she knows the answer to your question.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." You mumble under your breath as you proceed to what you have to do next…to Dreykov's dead body.

Pt. 2

A/n: Welp, that's it for today! I hope you enjoy the intense rollercoaster ride! Let me know what you think. Reblog, comment and input are always appreciated. Follow me for more and see you in next!

Cheerio!

Taglist: @madamevirgo @musicinourlips @unstable-sapphic-hoe @fanboy7794 @chloe7076 @b0mbdotc0m @trikruismybitch @ichala @californianwhiterabbit @honey-sweet-hiraeth @imfuckinggenius @sxfwap @chaekhan @daenerys713 @luvmcgrath @stupidsapphicsstuff @pattypavo @frvny @franfineashell @heyyoweveryone @ygtft-chen @yaaskasey @sweeet-likeeee-cinnamonn @paumxmff @dopeyouth @beaniejennie @ineedafinghug @idkwhatimwriting @lucydiibi @mainly-rebloging-fics-i-like @gloriousfoxruins @grxvitye @mcubreakdown101 @aos22 @wandanatstan @paulawand @yeeterthekeeper @femalehomosexual666 @snowdrop1026 @modernmonalisa @nothingisrealanyway @idamaemann @sweeterlust @royalityofmultifandom @playboysaleen @peabrain112 @gwhaley127 @harleyswanda @bodhi-j @darth-rain @cristin-rjd  

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x reader #dark natasha romanoff fanfic #dark natasha romanoff #dark natasha x reader #black widow #black widow x y/n #black widow x you #black widow x reader #dark fic #the monsters within au

[lunaelume-n]

has anyone here read herringbone?

#hannibal #hannibal ao3 #hannigram #will graham #hannibal lecter #hanniblogging #nbc hannibal #hannibal edit #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal fic #hannigram fanfiction #hannigram fic #asking bc i’m uncomfortable with some of the content in the fic #i know it’s within the hannibal verse so it’s going to be dark #but i mean very specific parts #and it kind of triggered me?? #but i had a question for anyone that’s read through it in its entirety

[firein-thesky]

i can litcherally connect every issue people complain about within fandom in recent years to late stage capitalism

#i fr need to finish my essay on capitalism within fandom #i’m telling you. every single complaint. from lack of interaction to only short fics/blurbs being far more popular #to people being soooo scared to create dark content or create dark content that actually explores the horrible repercussions and trauma #that comes w said dark content #like all of it #give me a complaint/issue and i can pull the mask off of it and it will still be capitalism #i just think ppl misdiagnose the reason for these things a lot!!! and don’t realize when capitalism creeps into their own thought process! #not condemning just saying this is why it’s important to be diligent with yourself #and analytical with your own thought processes and who you’re pointing fingers at #or why #it doesn’t fix anything either #just furthers to individualize you in a place that requires community #pointing your fingers at bigger ‘clique’ blogs or even readers who don’t interact…..isn’t going to get you far #bc the issue is still capitalism #and until we can all acknowledge that……….🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ #cielo rambles!

[cleric4vampire]

Ill at Ease

But Aune tried not to think about these things. Thinking meant dwelling and dwelling meant fascination meant fixation meant obsession. She could not afford to turn him over and over in her hand like a well-worn worry stone, because that meant thinking about how he would feel beneath her hand, how it might feel to place it over his twisting mouth, how he might fight back, would he try to bite, yes, she would hope so, she would hope he would chew her up and she would return the favor, just—

click here to read on ao3

Summary: Anxiety and unease weighs heavy in the air as the party settles down for their second night together. Astarion's habit of antagonizing tests Aune's patience and self-control.

Explicit (for descriptions of gore and violence; canon typical). 3.2k. Angsty conversations. Slow burn.

#''chapter'' two is up now!! #Aune is Not Okay #👍 #Next installment will be Astarion's POV which I am very very excited about #should be out within a week hopefully! #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #durge #the dark urge #durgestarion #bg3 #oc: durge!aune #series: carrion comfort #my writing

[transingthoseformers]

I just love the idea of Megan first hiding his pregnancy, then hiding his sparkling in his pouch. I can imagine being so large helped to hide any physical signs, and he's probably used to hiding any discomfort. And he's more than likely armoured enough for the baby to be safe in his pouch while he fights.

And then I guess he gets captured or something? The sparkling is revealed, and that probably has some major consequences.

(Ofc it's Oppy as the sire, but just for fun imagine it's Ratchet)

Okay but that'd be so fucking funny if he was sparked up before his space jaunt by Ratchet, and then he came back and is just. Absolutely hiding all of it lol.

Oh I'm rolling around the idea of megaratch here because it's a fairly neat rarepair. Plus, I've always had fun considering these two working together aaaaand wait a minute. Consider: Megaopiratch. I've read a few spectacular fics with both of them, it'd be an interesting dynamic, and my brain is instantly giving the ultimate scenario of both of them being the sire. Am i trying to figure out a scenario where this even happened? Yes. I feel like it was during one of those temporary "We're only going to work together to get this done, and afterwards we're going back to fighting" situations like the unicron thing. I got derailed lol

Plus, you can completely justify this as Megatron avoiding Knockout like the plague, which? I mean, you can consider the idea of checkups having a pretty long amount of time in between, and i think it was mentioned that yes Knockout and Breakdown were on their own adventure off world as a vacay. For such long lived beings i can see there easily being decades to even vorns between each one, i mean these guys live at entirely different time scales than us. So, that'd be a reason.

#personally i prefer to give Cybertronians longer time scales for carrying as it just makes sense to me #I've seen a decade being used in more than a few fics #maccadam #transformers #tfp megatron #megaopiratch #megop #megaratch #implied opiratch #plus i mean if the cons can (kinda) capture optimus why not Megatron? #i actually can see the concept of him subtly reducing his time on the battlefield because we actually don't see him on it a lot in canon #he tends to send one mech (well until m.e.c.h. got breakdown) or a small group of them to do stuff #when he sends more than a few it's usually vehicons which let's be real have a disadvantage on the battlefield #i may ship megop a lot on this blog but by far that doesn't mean other characters are off the table #oh in my head i feel like it'd be fun to also explore just. an entire lack of dark energon for funsies #I'm gonna be thinking a lot about this now #oh I'll probably lose focus on it within a day or two which i apologize in advance for #tfp knockout #tfp breakdown

[monkiebois]

i did it-

#danny phantom au #dp x dc #the darkness within #oooooh new fic tag weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee #batman #danny phantom

[loveofaddy]

Dark Rey and her twins Kira and Zyan ✨️ based off the amazing fic Darkness within by becsgrey on wattpad ✨️

#dark reylo #dark rey #reylo twins #darkness within fic

[animasola86]

THE DARKNESS WITHIN MASTERLIST

STORY OVERVIEW:

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!mc x Tom Riddle

Genre: Angst/Smut/Dark!Romance (NSFW!)

Synopsis: He's an Auror, she's a Death Eater, yet in a former life they were lovers. Can they rekindle their love now that they're mortal enemies?

READ ON AO3

SCREENSHOTS:

A Fateful Meeting (1/2)

A Fateful Meeting (2/2)

Auror!Sebastian

Dark!Genevieve

Auror!Sebastian + Dark!Genevieve (A love rekindled?)

Auror!Sebastian + Dark!Genevieve (I remember you)

Sebastian + Genevieve (in Hogwarts)

Sebastian + Genevieve (complementary/new hair)

Sebastian + Genevieve (on the stairs)

Dark!Genevieve (AI edits)

The Red Minx (AI edits)

CHAPTER EXCERPTS:

Chapter 6 (fluff)

Chapter 7 (smut)

Chapter 8 (angsty smut)

Chapter 9 (TomxMC smut)

EXTRAS:

Genevieve's Backstory and Headcanons

(HL REWRITE FANFIC) Diary of a Snake Lover (how they met)

(ONESHOT) Just another Adventure (their first kiss)

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow screenshots #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy screenshots #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow x mc #genevieve belette #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow fic #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fic #hogwarts legacy mc #the darkness within #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy smut

[chelleztjs18]

The Monsters Within (N.R) Pt. 4

Dark!FemReader x Natasha Romanoff (Modern AU)

Summary: You like Natasha and you are keeping her to yourself. Natasha's true self slowly shows up.

Warning: This is Dark Fic, 18+. A lot of swearing words. Graphic and gore descriptions, kidnapping, mind manipulations / brainwashing, death, violence, bone crushing and stockholm syndrome, blood kink (if you squint). Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: Hello hello! I'm back with the last part of this series then next is the epilogue! Thank you Lou @honey-sweet-hiraeth for helping me n for the brilliant ideas for the ending. Also thank you for encourage me to step out of my comfort zone on writing it. Happy reading! and forgive me..

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

After you let Natasha go, the house feels empty. She left a hole in your heart. Just like her, you miss her immediately but you love her and you want her to be happy. You were sure that she would come back but you start to doubt it. It has been a month she hasn’t shown up to your door. You are mad and disappointed, not to her, but to yourself.

Missing her is already hard to deal with and all these other feelings are just making it harder for you. You have nobody else. This is just another “Wanda” all over again. You killed for her but just like Wanda, Natasha left you. All the special moments both of you had, did it mean something to her? What about the kiss? You asked the same question about it.

A similar internal fight happens to you. Part of you doubts her that she will come back and make your hope disintegrated. Another part of you still believes that she loves you and will come back.

All this leads you to your old coping mechanism even though you doubt that it will fully do its job but you still do it anyway. You are on a killing spree. Like the angel of death, you take souls more often than usual. Like a judge, you give death sentences to any random people you pick to feed the unending blood thirst monster in you.

Without any question, James helps you and he tries to keep up with you on getting rid of the soulless bodies. The loyal man stands by you every night you are dismembering your victim and passes him limb by limb so he can squeeze them into the bathtub before soaking them in the pool of acid.

You usually drown the whole body in the bath of acid but tearing them apart to pieces before that, helps you a little to let out your dismay and keeps your mind busy from thinking about Natasha.

The feeling when the big sharp steel knife forces its way through the skin, cutting through the muscle until it reaches the joints drags out your anger of you slowly but so relieving for you. It makes you feel that you gain back the control over your emotion.

The rusty blood scent spreads strongly when it flows out, shakes your senses and triggers the hemoglobin flow rapidly in yourself like it’s a shot of steroid that keeps your adrenaline rush going crazier. The slicing sounds of the cut tendon and that weird yet satisfying noise right when the joints are separated forcefully playing around through your ear releasing something indescribable in you.

Victims after victims and no matter how many limbs you cut, you still feel empty. None of them can tame the insatiable urge of killing nor the feeling of having Natasha around you.

_____

Natasha’s eyes are watching the T.V but not her mind. Her body is there sitting with Maria, watching the news but her thoughts are busy thinking about something else, or you, to be precise.

Her mind ponders the questions of how are you and what are you doing right now. She can’t lie to herself, she has the wanting feeling to know if you are okay after she left you for over a month. Her heart is barking orders at her to go back to you.

She is far lost in her thoughts. The sounds of the TV flew past over her head right away. Her eyes look empty, staring at one spot of the screen without even following what’s on it.

Maria’s voice that’s calling her name and a nudge on her arm drag her attention suddenly. Her gaze shifted to her friend next to her. “Huh? What is it? Sorry I didn’t hear what you said.”

“Are you okay? I was talking about the news. Look, they are talking about the number of missing people has been increasing in a little over a month.” said Maria in concern.

Her stomach turns into a knot and lungs are emptying on their own without her permission as soon as she hears Maria’s words. “Oh yeah, that’s horrible.” Natasha lets out her sympathy as her response.

“Do you remember our regular customer, Ms. Harkness?” Maria asks.

“Oh yeah. She is a cop, right? What about her?” the redhead returned a question back.

“Yeah, her. This is supposed to be classified but she told me that they might be all dead and the suspect might be a very smart serial killer because there’s no trace found until now.” more details flow out of Maria’s lips.

Natasha starts to feel unease from everything she hears as she swallows her nervousness down. Her brain connects all the lines of information straight to you. She knows that it was all your doing.

“Did–did they find any clue who it was?” The Russian stuttered in her question.

“Unfortunately they didn’t. Not yet. Why Nat? Do you want to tell me something? You haven’t told me about everything that happened to you while you were gone. Are you ready to tell me more?” Maria asks back to back, pushing Natasha to an edgy point.

“I–I–need more time to talk about it, Maria.”

“I know, Nat but the earlier we tell the police that you are back the sooner you get the help you need. I don’t want to get in trouble for letting you stay with me without reporting the cops that you have been back for over a month now. Did you see the face of your captor or what they did?” The more Maria asks, the more anxious Natasha gets.

“No, I didn’t. It was all dark, no window. All walls. I couldn’t see the face and the person didn’t say anything at all whenever she came to give me food or clean clothes.” she rambles whatever false answer she can give to her curious friend so she would stop asking immediately. Her heart wants to protect you. She internally doesn’t want you got caught.

“Wait..wait.. She? So it’s a woman? She gave you clean clothes? I thought you said that an old lady found you on the side of the road, gave you a lift and helped you clean up? So the suitcase you brought wasn’t hers? You also told me that the clothes are some of her daughter's. I’m confused now, Nat. Which one is the right story?” Confusion and suspicion gradually grows in Maria’s thoughts when she recalls some part of the story that Natasha told her doesn’t match at all.

Maria tries to look at her eyes but she avoids them and her face slowly turns white pale. Natasha knows that she is on thin ice right now. She realized that she told Maria false details. Small unmatch details with the previous one and that definitely digs her own graveyard. All she can do right now is to cover the lies with another lie. “I don’t know, Mar. Okay? I don’t know! Please don’t push me. I need more time, damn it!” her voice was raised against Maria.

"Okay.. okay.. Nat. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

Without answering her bewildered friend, Natasha rushes to her room, locking her door and hoping that Maria won't demand the truth.

As silence dominates the whole bedroom, you easily come into her memories. Shortly, you are all she thinks about. She misses you, a lot. Internally, she is longing for you. As she is sitting on her bed while trying to calm herself from the pressure that Maria’s question gave her, her suitcase got caught in the corner of her eyes.

She remembers that you mentioned the burgundy envelope then opens it as soon as she finds it. There are some numbers that are indicated as the front gate and front door lock code of your house right after your address.

She proceeds to the lines of words you wrote.

“You can always come home to me whenever you want.”

Her heart wrenches yet warmth soothes inside her. She can’t deny her feelings any longer. She misses you and wants to be with you. Without any assurance whether Yelena is still alive or not, now you are all she has. To Natasha, you are her home now. Living with Maria won’t make her life easier if she wants to keep your secret safe. Sooner or later, Natasha will be trapped in the corner of truth.

Without a doubt, Natasha decides to run away from everything and come back home to you. She packs her only belongings in the suitcase you gave her and waits until the right time for her to leave.

She sneaks out in the middle of the night and takes a taxi ride to you. The closer she is to your residence, the more sure she is that she made the right decision. Her doubt and denial evaporate. She is leaving her past life behind to be with you willingly. Filled with thrills, Natasha can’t wait to be in your arms again.

As soon as she gets off her ride home, she quickens her steps towards your gates. The beeping sound as the gate automatically unlocked right after she pressed the numbers sending a dash of feelings that made her walk even faster to the front door.

She presses the other lock codes and she opens the door right away. She scurries to the living room but you are not there.

With a smile, she naturally led herself to your shared bedroom by passing the kitchen. Her heart wrenches yet warmth and joy bubbling inside. She can’t wait to see you, give you the hug that she actually craves.

As soon as Natasha's feet led her to the kitchen, her smile quickly dropped and turned into a frown. Her excitement and the joy in her shredded into pieces in a second and they are quickly replaced by anger. The warmth that bubbled in her is now turned into a hot boiling jealousy mess.

Her heart pounds and her face feels warm from how she is feeling right now. The redhead is furious right after her green eyes catch another woman in your house with you. A brunette who is slightly shorter than you is standing in front of you with her hands touching all over you and her lips catching yours in a kiss.

Her body feels like she just got hit by a huge wave that weakens her knees but her anger supports her to stand strong.

Both of you and the woman don't see that Natasha is in the kitchen and she takes advantage of it.

Natasha doesn’t make any sound no matter how much she wants to scream. As the silence shut her mouth, her mind and eyes were moving fast in a few seconds. Her brain is thinking what she is going to do as her eyes are spotting the kitchen knife that she knows where it is.

Natasha goes ballistic and marches furiously towards the brunette right after her right hand grabs the sharp huge kitchen knife. The redhead is livid and she quickly grabs the stranger that pisses her off so badly by the hair, dragging her away from you. The startled woman screams from the pain from the pull of her hair.

With all the energy she has, Natasha pins her to the wall then her left hand quickly chokes the woman in front of her as hard as she can.. She looks at her with so much jealousy and hatred while the woman gasps for air and speaks at the same time. “Let..me..go. Who are you?” as she tries to pull Natasha's grip of death.

Everything happens too fast. By the time you try to grab Natasha, she tilts her head and watches her gasp louder as she stabs her and pulls out the knife right away out of her abdomen. Blood flows out of her wound and drips off the sharp weapon that sliced through her. From where she stabbed her, you know it’s fatal and too late to save her.

Natasha watches the crimson fluid out of her mouth and overflow her hand as she loosen up her grip then throw her to the ground.

Natasha turns her head to you but she hears the dying voice call your name. “Y/n. h–help”. SHe hates her calling your name and it drives Natasha crazy into a whole nother level. She quickly turns and straddles on her bloody and wounded lower body while the woman tries to fight weakly.. With both of her hands Natasha raises the knife and stabs her once more and that's when she took the first life out of someone.

You watch Natasha stab her again..and again..and again. Burying the knife in any part of her body she can. She doesn't even care if it thrusts into the same wound.

The sound of every lunge mixed with her grunts sound so clear in your ear delivers an indescribable feeling in you.

Blood pools around the now lifeless body and splats around the cabinet doors. Natasha's hands are now drenched in deep red colors.

You are appalled yet proud of her that she finally releases and accepts the monster in her. You just didn't expect who would be the first person she killed.

After the 16th stabs, Natasha finally stopped. She is trying to catch her breath as she stands up and turns around to you. She tossed the bloody knife away and wiped the splattered blood off her face with her forearm only ended up leaving some more smudges on it.

"Fuck, that feels so good." She said it casually and in a relieved tone as her forest green eyes looked at you.

You always knew she would look a lot more attractive with someone’s blood on her skin. Your brain is stunned with not just how she looks and what she did but it is also thinking what to do next to the dead body on the floor. You can’t deny it, no matter how proud you are of her, you are still a little shocked.

You look at her and finally break your silence. “That was Wanda.”

As soon as she hears the name out of your lips, Natasha quickly looks at the dead body with wide eyes as she bites the inside of her cheeks shortly before she asks “Are you mad?”

“I probably should be.” you answered as you glanced at the body as well then looked back at Natasha.

Silence covers the atmosphere in the kitchen along with the rusty blood scents that slowly spread. None of you say anything. Natasha is waiting for what you will say next while you are thinking.

After a good few minutes of silence, you start laughing a little. Her lips slightly open in a pinch of surprise from your reaction. She sees you walk closer to her. “Let’s clean this up.” you suggest slightly before you kiss her lips and you can taste a little bit of Wanda’s blood off her lips then you walk to do what you have to do next.

Natasha smiles from the giddy feelings your kiss gives her.

_____

You could’ve dragged Wanda’s body to the basement by yourself but Natasha insisted on helping. “This bitch..She touched and KISSED you and now even when she’s dead, she’s still a pain in the ass to get rid of.” she complains in between grunts as she helps you on putting Wanda into the tub.

“Watch it, Natty. She’s Wanda. No matter what, she’s part of my life.” you look at her in a teasing smile but there’s still a pinch of seriousness in your words.

“What? It's true. She is a pain in the ass. She’s so tall and it’s hard for me to put her in this freaking bathtub.” another complains out of her pouty lips, complete with a frown on her face.

“How did she get here anyway?” she asks in a more irritated tone yet curious as she shoves Wanda’s hand into the bathtub.

“I saved her from her ex-boyfriend and she didn’t want to be alone.” you shrug your shoulders at the same time you give her your answer. “Vision? What did he do?” Natasha pitches back another question.

“Turns out he is abusive just like her father.” you explain as you gather a bunch of big jugs of acid next to the claw footed tub.

Natasha lets out a sarcastic chuckle. “Funny world. Anyway, did you kill him?”

“Unfortunately, no. We were in public.” you let out a disappointed sigh with your answer while you open each cap of the prepared jugs. Natasha can see and knows just from your sigh how much you wanted to kill him. A question popped up in her mind.

“Will you love me more if I kill him for you?” she questions as her eyes search for yours, waiting for your answer like a little puppy.

You can’t help yourself letting out a little laugh. “Cute.” It was the only word that you said.

“I’m serious. I will kill him for you, Y/n.”

“Oh believe me, darling. I know you will.” You give another quick kiss on her lips then you grab the acid.

A second before you pour it, Natasha stops you. “Wait! Allow me to pour it on my first victim.” Natasha expresses her bone chilling request in a disturbing playful proud tone along with a small giggle then takes it from your hands.

You smile and let go of your grips. She takes it as a yes from you. In silence and with gentle eyes, you look at her pouring the dangerous liquid. Amazement screamed so loud on her facial expression as her eyes rounded with thrills while watching the effect that the chemical substance gave on Wanda’s skin, slowly..inch.. by..inch.

Natasha even makes sure that she doesn’t miss any spot. A soft satisfied gasp crack the silence and flew straight to your ears as soon as she watches it burn the skin and forcefully rip its pores.

As soon as she thinks she is done with it, Natasha takes a delighted deep breath and exhales. She turns her head to you with a smile. “So, any other ex’s I need to take out?”

You laugh. “You are horrible.” and shake your head while you fill up the bathtub with more acid.

“I’m no worse than you.” she replied with a smile. And just like that, both of you casually talking and teasing each other as if nothing happened in front of Wanda's slowly dissolving dead body.

You smile at her with such adoration.

"Then we are just a couple of monsters aren't we, Natty?"

"Yes, we are." Natasha finally accepts the monsters within.

Epilogue

A/n: Welp, that's it for today! Let me know what you think. Feel free to come to my ask or message. Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Follow me for more and see you in the epilogue or my other works.

Cheerio!

Taglist: @madamevirgo @musicinourlips @unstable-sapphic-hoe @fanboy7794 @chloe7076 @b0mbdotc0m @trikruismybitch @ichala @californianwhiterabbit @honey-sweet-hiraeth @imfuckinggenius @sxfwap @chaekhan @daenerys713 @luvmcgrath @stupidsapphicsstuff @pattypavo @frvny @franfineashell @heyyoweveryone @ygtft-chen @yaaskasey @sweeet-likeeee-cinnamonn @paumxmff @dopeyouth @beaniejennie @ineedafinghug @idkwhatimwriting @lucydiibi @mainly-rebloging-fics-i-like @gloriousfoxruins @grxvitye @mcubreakdown101 @aos22 @wandanatstan @paulawand @yeeterthekeeper @femalehomosexual666 @snowdrop1026 @modernmonalisa @nothingisrealanyway @idamaemann @sweeterlust @royalityofmultifandom @playboysaleen @peabrain112 @gwhaley127 @harleyswanda @bodhi-j @darth-rainbow @cristin-rjd

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x reader #dark natasha romanoff #dark natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow #black widow x y/n #black widow x you #dark black widow #black widow x reader #dark fic #dark mcu #the monsters within au

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets Thursday

An entire chapter of the Faulty Info au where Sig rescues Jak from Errol, sees that he still uses a kind of Spargan sign language, and mistakes him for a recently kidnapped Spargan...which began as mental storyboards and two drawings and now is six somewhat disjointed chapters and I'm not sure what happened. Inspiration strikes at the most random times.

Warning for Angst

When the landing ramp came down, Damas was prepared -- or so he told himself.

He knew in his heart that if this lost Spargan really did look like Mar, look like his baby, he was going to have a hard time controlling his emotions. But he had to see for himself. A morbid curiosity he just couldn't stifle insisted that it had to know.

"What the-?!"

Ah yes. He had also neglected to inform Sig that he would be the one waiting at the oasis.

Damas shrugged and decided not to explain himself in the slightest. He was king, after all. He could keep his secrets.

On the ramp, Sig tipped his head back and sighed. "Alright," he muttered, "Let's get this over with."

Then he turned to face the cargo hold. 

"Come on, rookie. Watch your step."

Damas wasn't prepared after all.

The boy who crept warily out of the air train was small. Scrawny, even. He looked ill-used and underfed. And he looked astonishingly like Mar.

It was true that he was the wrong age -- by a good ten years at least -- but his eyes-! 

Pain and fear had darkened them, and bruises shadowed them, but they were the exact same blue as Mar's eyes. And though the ends of his hair were light enough to look blonde, much of it was an unbearably familiar shade of green. 

Pain swept through his heart like a blade, prodding and poking at the fresh wounds within. It felt cruel, seeing such a stark reminder that his son was gone, that he'd failed to protect him. Just as someone had clearly failed to protect this one.

Damas told himself it meant nothing. He told himself that they, like thousands of others in the world, may have had a common ancestor some hundred years back or such. That the resemblance was mere coincidence. He told himself that he would keep his distance until Mar was found, to keep some semblance of sanity. He told himself all of these things and more, until the father in him rose up from his heart to strangle those thoughts into silence.

Look at him! he snarled to himself, He is a child, wounded and thrown away by the very city that discarded you! Had their places been exchanged, you know that you would hope someone would treat Mar with compassion. You will not ignore this boy for the sake of self-pity.

Damas tightened his grip on his staff and his emotions and stepped forward.

"You are Jak, yes?" He spoke slowly, so as not to startle him. "Sig has told me that you use a kind of sign language only found among our people."

The boy blinked in surprise and made a questioning expression. "He said there were others like me?" He pointed back at Sig. "He said I must have come from your city where people can read hands -- before I lived with the Explorer."

Damas set aside the question of an explorer taking a Spargan child to ponder later.

"That is the most likely explanation," he confirmed. "It is fortunate that Sig found you; very few people taken by raiders make their way home again."

Jak looked around quickly, as if he worried that he wouldn't have time to take everything in.

"But I don't remember this place," he stated plainly. Damas thought he looked a little disappointed.

 "I don't remember raiders, either."

"Hm. If you were taken very young, your early memories might well be hazy." Damas leaned on his staff and gestured with one hand. "Start with the place you were taken to before the Baron captured you. Retrace your steps. What is the first thing you recall?"

The boy shook his head, then paused with a confused expression. He tugged at one of his ears, thinking, then timidly answered.

"A big light. I remember a big light, and then a beach. Then the Explorer said my name was Jak and I could live with him in Sandover and be his nephew now."

Damas glanced at Sig, mouthing Sandover?

Sig shrugged helplessly.

"Do you know how old you were when this explorer took you there?" Damas pressed.

If he could establish a timeline, they would have a better chance of working out whether Sig’s tagalong had any living family still in Spargus.

"Maybe five...?" Jak's hands dropped, and a troubled look replaced his confusion, as if he'd never truly contemplated it before. "But the Explorer didn't take me there. He just brought me home from the beach. I don't know where I was before that."

"Definitely not from the Black Raid then," Sig remarked. "Where is Sandover, anyway? I've never heard of it."

Jak shrugged, but seemed distracted. "It's the beach. Over the mountain from Rock Village. But..." Another recollection passed over him and he bit his lip. "...but when the Precursor door opened...the gem monsters came out."

Gem monsters? That sounded familiar.

"Metalheads." Damas said knowingly, "The big ones with heavy armor? Or the small flying ones?"

The boy shivered in the cool evening breeze and wrapped his arms around himself. He nodded and shut his eyes. "Both."

Well. Wherever this "Sandover" had been, doubtless it was long since destroyed now.

Sig blew out a breath and knelt in the sand in front of Jak. 

"Jak," he said, as gently as he could, "I don't think this Sandover place is there anymore. When...when metalheads swarm a place, they don't leave anything behind. I hate to say it, but you and whoever else went through that transport ring are probably the only ones who made it."

Jak didn't seem to understand at first. But slowly, a dawning horror filled his eyes.

"They’re...all dead?" he asked. His hands began to shake.

"Most likely." 

There was no good in sugarcoating the truth for the poor kid, but the sight of the despair crushing his expression would haunt Sig.

"No no no-" Jak shook his head rapidly.

He knew that the Sages would have been able to defend their own villages. But Sandover's sage had been teleported with Jak as the monsters arrived. And Jak wasn't so optimistic as to pretend Samos wouldn't have sent him to do the brunt of the fighting to save the villagers -- none of whom were proficient in combat.

He'd lost his friends, he'd been tortured, he couldn't lose the only home he had, he couldn't! 

His Uncle? The fisherman? Bird Lady? All dead? Dead like Gol and Maia? Dead like all those Lurkers Samos sent him to fight? Dead like the "Subject 001" Errol had made Jak fight? But where would he go? Was he truly alone?

Please please please no, I can't go back to that place-! I can't, I can't- Uncle, come back! Please come back!

"I'm sorry, kid. Really, I am. But we're gonna look after you now, I promise," Sig tried to reassure him.

Jak barely heard him, by the looks of things. His face crumpled, and he fell into a crouch beside the water. He stared at nothing, eyes glassy and uncomprehending. His hands came up to grip fistfuls of his hair, but other than that he remained frozen.

He looked so very young, huddled like that on the ground.

"Kid-" Sig croaked, "Aw heck, kid. I know; I...I've been there too. I'm sorry."

He reached a tentative hand towards the boy, but faltered. He'd just made it worse.

Damas clicked his tongue. In spite of his own grief, the fear and sorrow that ripped through him with every breath he took, he found he could still move. When he could focus on his people, focus on their troubles, it took him out of his head enough to function. Right now, this lost-and-found son of the desert bore a grief as potent as his own. He could put aside his own emotions for the sake of duty. He could drown out the agony in his soul by seeing to the needs of Spargus, beginning with the boy in front of him. 

Damas touched the boy's shoulder and cleared his throat. "Come. Night is cold in the desert, and you are not dressed for the weather. We will return to my city, and decide what to do with you there."

Jak made no move to obey. His fingers tightened in his curls and his breathing quickened. Gone. Everything was gone. For one brief moment he'd let himself hope that Sig would be able to take him home. That he would be able to pretend none of this had ever happened.

Should've known better than to hope. He had nothing now. He had no one. Not even Daxter.

Sig reached out to gently grip his elbows. "Come on, Jak," he said, and lifted him to his feet. Jak locked his knees to keep from falling, but he was mostly still limp.

"Hey now, cherry," Sig murmured to him, "Remember what I said on the way here: Damas is king. Don't give him any trouble, and he won't give you any trouble. He's trying to help you, okay? So you have to listen to him."

"There are more metalheads in these dunes," Damas added bluntly, "And you are unarmed."

At the mention of more metalheads, Jak finally tore himself out of his stupor and started to shuffle after Damas. He paused, and looked plaintively back at Sig.

Sig shook his head. "Sorry, kid. I need to go back to Haven. I'll keep an eye out for your orange friend, and radio if I see him."

"You promise?"

"Yeah." Sig's cheek twitched in a half smile, but it didn't quite reach his eye. "I promise."

With that, Jak nodded, took a quivering breath, and followed the king to the buggy. He fumbled with the safety restraints for a few seconds before clicking them into place over his chest. It was nothing like The Chair, but he still found that he disliked any kind of restraining belt or cuff. Was it even that necessary if there weren't other vehicles to run into?

The answer, he quickly discovered, was a resounding yes.

Sig's friend, or king, or both, drove way faster than Sig did. Granted, there weren’t other drivers to be cautious of so far. And there was a lot of open space. The speed was a comfort to Jak in a strange way. He wasn't confined to one place, forced to be still, when he was on a fast-moving vehicle. He didn't have to be a hero or a test subject or anything to anyone when he raced. All your focus had to be on the vehicle and the terrain, or else you could end up crashing. It was...meditative, in a sense.

Damas accelerated over a particularly large dune and for three seconds they were airborne. Jak's stomach flip-flopped, and his pulse roared in his ears. It was dulled, compared to the excitement he used to feel, before he had learned how cruel the world really was. But some of the crushing weight on his heart lessened, just a little, as the buggy landed, rolled, and tipped back onto its wheels.

"Alright there?" Damas asked, glancing to one side.

The boy stared back at him with huge eyes. Solemnly, he nodded once, then signed,

"Do it again."

In spite of himself, Damas snorted. "In general, I try not to roll the Dune Hopper. It's not good to get that much sand in the mechanisms. But there are a lot of bumps on the way to the river. Don't worry, we'll be airborne plenty more times."

Satisfied with this answer, Jak nodded again. He settled back into his seat and gripped the restraints almost eagerly. The rapidly cooling temperature hardly fazed him as they sped over the sands. The bite of the wind against his face, the hulking silhouettes of rocky pillars, the sounds of desert birds calling to each other rose up in Jak’s chest, filling in some of the empty places the prison had left.

There was still beauty in the world. He could hardly believe it after what he had survived, but there were still places as open and as free as-

As home.

Jak felt himself shatter just a little more. He tipped his head back and looked up at the sky. Strange. The stars looked...different, somehow. The Lombax Major constellation was as bright and clear as Jak remembered it, but it was further to the south. Not by much, but enough to be noticeable to a boy who'd always watched the stars each night before sleeping.

Even the stars weren't the same anymore.

"You'll be going directly to the medics when we arrive." Damas broke the silence in a no-nonsense tone. "It is unlikely that you've been given all your immunizations. And Sig believes we'll need to give you something to counteract dark eco poisoning."

Immunizations. Jak didn’t recognize that word. What was he supposed to be immune to? And how would they make him immune? He squirmed in his seat as a particularly jarring landing made the harness dig into the dark eco scars across his torso. A small, pained sound escaped him despite his efforts to suppress it. 

Even with the roar of the engine, Damas heard the sound. One ear twitched, and he spared a sharp glance to the side. 

"There are two more large hills like that," he said apologetically, "Next time, I will warn you before the jump."

Jak saw the tower first.

It loomed above the rocky spires and dunes like a monolith, scattering light a surprising distance with a fiery beacon. For reasons Jak couldn't readily explain, the word "lighthouse" came to mind. Without thinking, his hands formed the shape of the word as he peered at the towering structure. Damas had glanced over to check on him as they had approached, and smiled faintly at the observation. 

"Yes, good," he said, trying to sound encouraging, "that is our lighthouse. It's also our water filtration system -- and where I live -- but when you are outside of the city, its most important function is to guide Spargans home."

"You live there?" Jak pointed to the tower. 

Well, he supposed keeping the beacon lit was an important job. Being king was like being mayor, but of hundreds more people, right? Of course maintaining the water and beacon would be Damas’s job. That just made sense.

Seemed strange to live up so high, though. Too far from the water. But at the same time, the idea of looking out of a window and being able to see everything did have a certain appeal.

"That is where all rulers of Spargus reside. At present it is my home. Someday it will be someone else's."

Damas spoke casually, and matter-of-factly. As if the idea of someone else eventually taking his place was such an established fact of life that it hardly bore remarking upon.

The Mayor of Sandover would have been appalled by the attitude.

But considering that the Mayor never really did anything besides collecting taxes, Jak thought that maybe he wasn't a reliable example.

The remainder of the drive went smoothly, and the buggy pulled through a massive set of iron gates. A second set of gates opened just beyond them -- a security measure against foes and weather both -- and Damas drove the vehicle into a circular hub of garages. There were more buggies in the little hangars: some small and lean like predators, others bulky and covered in spikes. Jak's gaze flitted from car to car as if trying to memorize each one. His fingers itched to try the controls, and test their top speeds.

But...without Daxter, where was the fun in racing? And after six months without seeing the sun, or being able to move freely at all, could he even still race?

"Come."

Damas shut down the engine and stepped out of the vehicle.

Jak swallowed hard, and with clumsy fingers he unhooked the seatbelts. He still wasn't used to walking long distances -- Sig had said it would take some time to rebuild his stamina after so much forced inactivity -- and he could only hope they wouldn't be going far. At every unfamiliar noise he stopped, looking around wildly. If he couldn't see it, couldn't identify it, then it was a threat. 

The sand still retained some of the heat of the day, pleasantly warm under his bare toes. He could guess that it wouldn't feel nearly as nice once the sun rose. Maybe he could find something to trade for shoes...

"Oi, lordship. Thought you were pickin' up one of ours from the big smoke."

Jak turned to see a massive man exiting one of the hangars. Moonlight glared off of a very bald head, hooding the man's eyes in shadow. He was as broad as he was tall, and Jak suspected he was probably a formidable fighter. The man stopped in front of Damas and tugged one end of his long mustache.

"Who's the runt?" he asked. 

Damas drew his staff from the back of the buggy and stepped past the man.

"We'll find out shortly. He may be one of ours."

A small, desperate part of Jak hoped that these fearsome men would decide that he was "one of theirs". Even if it was only so that he didn't have to go back to that horrible, horrible city. Even if it was just so that he could pretend for a moment that he had somewhere to belong.

He flinched when a hand fell on his shoulder.

"Easy," Damas said softly, but he withdrew his hand.

"Follow me. The medics need to assess your condition."

Jak followed, but he folded his arms over his torso and gripped his arms tightly enough to leave finger marks in the skin. Medics were doctors. And doctors had needles. And scalpels. And examination tables. Jak tightened his grip to keep his hands from shaking.

This wasn't going to go well.

#jak and daxter #jak and daxter au #jak and daxter sig #jnd damas #jnd au #snippet thursday #free day thursday #angst #tw angst #references to past trauma a la Dark Warrior Program #king damas #dadmas #within eight weeks he'll have adopted Jak without knowing his true identity #faulty info au #haven't thrown straight up angst at y'all in a while so welcome back to the Angst Train #fic prompts #writing prompts

[fyrewalks]

RP TIERLIST !

tagged by: @heartsbreaking tagging: @nursc @parameddie @amreality @bledsoul @tricords and you, the cutie on the dash!!

#ooc #mun tag #this was actually a lot of fun to do #and is a nice little reference sheet for plotting #also ~dark fic~ within reason #like i hate how general that term is

[void-writing]

What is the relation between ghosts and magic in CiM? Or does it depend on the universe?

For between universes, for the sake of my sanity, magic is fairly one-to-one. The exceptions would be in the cases of those who continuously get powers directly from specific entities that are native to a specific universe (though there certainly is some overlap). For example, Poison Ivy's abilities would be much more limited in the DP universe on account of her getting her power from the Green--which doesn't exist in the same way there, if that makes sense. Her power has precedence in the DP-verse with entities like Undergrowth, but I can't see her powers working the same way there as opposed to the DCU. I'm thinking that at the very least, Ivy would have a much harder time getting the plants to do what she wants because the plants of this universe haven't been commanded like that before and aren't inclined to intrinsically respect Ivy.

As for ghosts, I think of ectoplasm as energy and emotion given substance, and magic is essentially energy that can be influenced and shaped by emotion, so magic can effect ectoplasm--and by extension, ghosts--in ways that other substances can't. It's why Freakshow was such a threat to Danny and other ghosts. He has access to magical knowledge and resources that have otherwise been forgotten or lost (i.e. his staff and the Reality Gauntlet) and as such can use it to strike further past a ghost's defenses.

The Fentons get by because they've taken a very "fight fire with fire" approach by powering all their weapons with ectoplasm. It's like if two people got into a bare-knuckle fist fight, more or less. It can still effect ghosts, but the range of effects are more limited; those effects being "touch" and "contain" which is really more than enough for the Fentons.

Fighting ectoplasm with magic is like bringing a sword to a fist fight. There's still a chance for the bare-knuckle fighter to win, but there's higher chance for them to take a lot of damage and the fight is more stacked against them. That metaphor is a bit reductive though since with magic, there's a wider range of effects the wielder can have on ectoplasm and ectoplasmic entities like "control," "bind," "banish," or "reshape" to name a few off the top of my head.

Basically what I'm saying is that if one Danny's rogues decided to pick a fight with a DC magic user, the fight wouldn't be too unbalanced. Of course, my thinking is that there are several magic systems in the DCU that are all layered on top of each other and have their own sets of rules and abilities. From a meta perspective, it can almost be viewed as something akin to the comic canon in how every run is has a different tone, theming, and rulebook. You have to keep in mind the era, writer, and general place in the Gordian Knot that is comic continuity to know fully what you're looking at.

Point is, DCU magic is a tedious mess of technicalities and rules layered on top of each other that can run the full spectrum from "whimsical fairyland" to "unadulterated nightmare fuel" and it's not always easy to tell the difference between them.

It's why Batman dislikes dealing with magic so much lol.

#void answers #change in management #dc #danny phantom #dc x dp #my fic #hope this makes sense #my thinking is that the dp universe doesnt have many magic users rattling around in modern times as there were in ancient ones #dk really why but its probably a combination of persecution towards magic users; technology outstripping magic in effectiveness #and the withdrawl of the magical/supernatural on account of most of them just not wanting to deal with humanity's nonsense anymore #granted i bet pariah dark also played a role in that too #both in keeping the denizens of the infinite realms within the realms and decimating the living world's magic user population #cant imagine someone like pariah dark would have wanted humans to be able to fight back against him when he decided to take their stuff #idk im honestly coming up with this as i go rn #tag rambles

[neixins]

another work week has begun huh? kicking and screaming i don’t wanna i don’t WANNA

#i need to find a way to work on my silly little fic on the clock today or a darkness will begin growing within me