#its the death stranding cake :-) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

softmangoes · 2 months

Text

cabin fever | eden x defiant!pc

18+ only

summary: you finally slip free from your leash. eden finds you not long after.

includes: defiant!fem pc, captive to lovers, violence, animal death, pov switches, blood, first-aid, a very touch-starved eden

author's note: this is my very first DOL fic and of course it had to include my favorite forest husband. this was so fun to write, so please let me know what you think! 🧡

the large man pushes you back into the cabin before he falls to the floor with a dull thud. his hunting jacket is dark with blood flowing from an angry gash in his shoulder. you watch him, your knees stinging from scraping against the wooden planks, but he does not get back up.

behind the strands of his dirt-caked hair, you see one of his eyes trained on you.

"is this what you wanted?" he says, voice strained. "to run away?"

a part of you still wants to. with him in this vulnerable state, you're pretty sure you can.

ever since he had first dragged you into the cabin, you had spent hours weakening the leash with a flint arrowhead you managed to find near your post. finally, after days of being fucked against your will, you managed to slip free out of the cabin and into the woods.

it had not taken him long to notice you were gone. in your desperation, you did not think things through. he was a hunter, after all. of course he would find you.

and when he did, he had yanked you from the forest floor, kicking and screaming, gripping you so tightly that your shirt had ripped and your skin became bruised with his fingertips.

and now he's here in front of you, half conscious. you look at him, panting softly and bleeding out onto the floor. despite the pain he must be in, he's still staring at you.

"get away from her," he had growled to the onslaught of snapping teeth. "she's mine."

you had watched the wolf lunge onto him, sinking its teeth into his skin. in the scuffle, he had lost his grip on his rifle. you picked it up, the metal cold in your hands, before training its sight at the writhing struggle between beast and man.

in that moment, you could have ended it all. but before you could pull the trigger, you heard a sudden snap of bone. the great wolf went limp, its last breath a pained whine. with a huff, eden pushed its body off of him and took you by the collar.

"you had your chance," he said, voice hollow. "but i won't die that easily."

right now, you could get up. he could watch you leave. in his current state, it would be impossible for him to follow you.

a part of you wants to hate him, but there's something in the way he looks at you - like he's afraid, ashamed even - that makes you get on your knees and crawl to him.

"what...?" he manages.

"don't make me regret this," you say before tearing off a piece of your shirt and pressing it to the wound.

he does not cry out. blood, warm and red, wets your fingers but you do not stop. you feel his hand wrap around your wrist and for a second, you think he's going to snap it just like he did with the wolf's neck, but he just keeps it there. his palm is rough with calluses, his knuckles silvery with scars. you keep the pressure steady all while he watches you silently.

once the bleeding has stopped, you wipe your hands on your shorts and go to the kitchen to retrieve a jar of poultice and a jug of water. on the first night you spent in the cabin, you remember that he had applied some of it to cuts you sustained during your time in the forest. they had healed quickly after that.

gingerly, you unbutton his shirt to expose the wound. seeing him bare isn't anything new to you, but this was different.

"an hour ago, you wanted to kill me," he says. it's a statement, but also a question. you don't give him an answer.

his chest is sticky with drying blood, but you manage to peel away most of his shirt from the gash. he winces as you do this, grunting softly under his breath.

at the orphanage, you would bandage the little ones whenever they came crying to you with cuts and bruises. one time, robin had slipped into your room, tears in his eyes, as he held up an arm marred by a deep cut from biking too fast down a hill.

all of them had hissed in pain from your ministrations while trying to heal their affliction, but not eden. he was silent, giving you nothing else more than breathy huffs.

you wash the wound with water, watching as dirt and debris flow away. once it's clean, you apply the poultice, tearing off another strip of your shirt to wrap it around the torn flesh.

there is no fear you sense from him, no anxiety at this angry wound - only a weary resignation. it's an exhaustion that you can't help but find familiar.

eden was not afraid of death, but he had a hard time trying to figure out why he was still alive.

hours later, as the dawn light filtered through the window, he felt rather than saw your attempt at giving him first-aid.

it was shoddy work, but satisfactory: the result of the exhausted desperation he saw in your eyes as you worked to patch him up for reasons he could not understand.

but why?

at this point, the pain had significantly lessened due to the poultice and he could finally gather his thoughts. eden expected that your kindness would end at the last knot tied for his dressing. if there had been any moment you could have chosen to fled, last night would have been perfect.

instead, he was surprised to see your sleeping form curled up in front of the fireplace. something like relief made him relax at the sight of you, dirty but uninjured. but there. still there.

"you didn't leave," he says, his eyes still closed.

you blow into the wooden cup, sending curls of steam into the air. it's a simple broth you made with mushrooms from the barrel, herbs from the garden, and leftover rabbit bones and gristle leftover from a previous meal - nothing special, but nourishing enough.

"open your mouth," you instruct, bringing a spoonful of the hot soup to his lips.

earlier, you had somehow managed to prop him up with some cushions without disturbing himself and his injury. it had been a challenge - the man was so huge - but whatever was in the poultice must have kept him asleep.

he opens his mouth and lets you feed him, groaning in satisfaction as he swallows. a lock of his hair falls over his face, so you push it away and let your hand rest on his jaw to ready him for another serving. the pad of your thumb presses against a slash of soft scar tissue.

"are you okay?" you ask when his breath hitches.

eden's eyes open. they bore into you, wary. you can feel them shift from your face to your bare skin. the events of last night had ruined your shirt, so you were only in a pair of shorts and a sports bra.

"i'm fine." he licks his lips. his gaze falls on the old scar sliced across your neck, a memento from bailey. it's something the hunter would stare at often whenever he would take you. "just give me more."

hours later, you're still not sure why you're keeping him alive. perhaps you felt sorry for him, a man all alone in the wilderness. perhaps it was because if you left, there was hardly any life for you to go back to. at this point, you were definitely behind on your weekly payments, and bailey would not let that slide without making sure you would regret it.

you dip the wash cloth into the warm water, wringing it before gently wiping the hunter's face. blood and grime disappear to reveal scattered scars, a mole, and tawny skin made golden by hours in the sun.

in the weeks you had been held captive by this man, you had never seen his face this close. his features are strong - a sharp jaw, a nose that looks like it had been broken once, and cheeks framed by long locks of dark hair.

despite all the reasons he's given you not to think so, you find him beautiful.

you don't want to admit it, so you tell yourself that the heat that spreads across your face is not from seeing the strong, corded muscles of his bare chest, but the fatigue earned from another day of caring for him.

that was it. that was all.

when he comes to, eden sees an angel. her skin is sweet, warm. her touch is gentle, a perfect palm pressed against his forehead. she is beautiful, ethereal. a blessing.

she is everything he has never deserved.

when she opens her mouth, soft lips like fresh petals in the spring, she says, "eden, you're burning up."

the sound of his name is nothing short of salvation.

"fuck!" she says, voice drifting off into the distance. "fuck fuck fuck!"

something like glass presses against his mouth. he turns away.

"why aren't you swallowing it?" she curses. the next thing he sees is her tipping a small amber bottle to her face.

then: warmth. soft petals press against his lips and he gasps at the closeness, at her scent encompassing all of his senses. a tongue probes at his teeth and he opens himself to receive her offering.

sweet liquid fills his mouth: valerian, oregano, echinacea, honey. the taste is similar to the antibiotic tincture he keeps in his pantry.

he takes his good arm and steadies her against his body, pulling her deeper into the kiss. she makes a sound like she's surprised and he feels her hands cup his jaw. he does not deserve any of it, but he wants more. he wants all of her.

"eden," she breathes, pulling away. the angel wipes her wet mouth with the back of her hand, scarlet coloring her cheeks. she rolls off of him.

the absence of her warmth is agony, but before he can call for her, sleep takes him once again.

the next morning, you're on top of eden with the flint arrowhead pressed against his neck.

you do not think about the kiss. you do not think about the way he held you as you forced the medicine into his mouth.

in fact, you could end this. right now, you could take the cabin for yourself. there are enough provisions to last you until you find a way to figure out how to live here. all you have to do is -

"do it," he says, eyes clear and watching you. they look like storm clouds. like morning fog. like the water of the crystal lake where he found you.

you pause, hesitant.

for the first time since he brought you here, his eyes soften.

"someone did that to you, didn't they?" he asks, voice thick with fatigue. "they hurt you."

somehow, you know he's talking about the scar on your neck. you remember bailey pinning you to the wall, his pocketknife carving your skin after you bit him for daring to lay his hands on robin.

"i know what that's like," he says, averting his gaze. there's a note of shame in his voice. "to feel helpless."

you see the silvery scar along his jaw.

and then you break. because in the end, you are both just two animals with the same wounds.

you toss the arrowhead away and it clatters on the wooden floor. then you replace your hands at his neck with your mouth against his.

there's a moment of hesitation before he kisses you back, hungry and desperate.

"more," he growls, and you obey by pulling your bra off over your head.

you lean over him and he takes your breast into his mouth, lapping slowly at the soft bud of your nipple with his warm tongue. you mewl, tightening your thighs around his torso.

when he sinks his teeth into your skin, you gasp, taking his hair into your fist. it's going to bruise, but you don't mind.

"more," he says again, licking between your breasts. you feel his fingers tug at the waistband of your shorts and after a moment of shuffling, you oblige.

he grips your thighs as he lowers you down to his face, his breath hot against your wet slit.

moments after he brings his tongue to your clit, you come shaking and whimpering.

although he's fucked you more times than you can count, this is different.

before, he would never take your pleasure into account and would ram into you until he was satisfied. even then, it would not be enough for his appetite. he'd pull you to him for more, no matter how sore or hurt you were.

but now, he's licking small circles in this part of you that aches for his touch, pulling you deeper into him as you shudder. it's exhilarating. you can't get enough of it.

"eden," you breathe, your voice trembling from coming undone once again.

"mm?" he pulls away. his eyes are hazy with lust - storm clouds rolling through the sky, rumbling with thunder.

"i want you inside of me," you tell him, ready for the lightning.

gently, he guides you onto your back. the floor is still warm from his body, the cushions you placed a few days ago soft against the back of your head.

he sheds his shirt, careful not to undo the dressing. you help him unbutton his pants. there's a scar on his hip and you think about biting it.

"are you sure you'll be okay?" you ask, worried that the wound would reopen. "i don't want you to get hurt."

"i'll be fine," he says, trailing kisses along your neck. "as long as you're here to take care of me."

there's a gentleness to his voice, an implied question. you're tempted to say yes, but you're not yet quite sure.

eden presses into you, his length brushing against your clit. you grip his arms, his muscles tight under your fingers, as you moan.

"let me hear them," he breathes. his voice is soft, tender - this is not the roughness of the man who became your captor. "you were always so quiet before."

eden groans, thrusting himself into you with one long slide. his dark hair cascades over you as he lowers his body to meet yours.

"take me," you say, biting your lip at the sheer pleasure curling hot within your core. you buck your hips towards him, meeting him at the hilt. "all of me."

it's his turn to gasp. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his face to yours as he rocks his hips into you.

you kiss the scar on his jaw, tangle your fingers in his hair. the scent of him is earthy, like the forest. you wouldn't mind getting lost in him.

eden huffs, pleasure building within the both of you. you're holding him like that when you begin to come, his name whispered between your lips.

it's not long after that he climaxes, too, burrowing his face into your neck once the shaking stops.

there are a few moments of silence. you hear nothing else but the wind howling outside.

"don't run," he says. so quiet, just barely louder than the crackling of the fireplace.

your bodies are warm and sweat-slicked, glistening with the glow of your embrace.

"i'll protect you." his lips trace the scar on your neck. "i'll provide for you." his mouth brushes yours. "all you have to do is stay." when he lifts his face, you see his eyes shining in the firelight. he's desperate, and you get the sense that he will not ask again.

you think of the life you had before you were taken - the beatings, the stealing, the lying you had to do in order to survive. was it really worth going back to? could you hope to build a new future, one warm with firelight?

your hand finds his. his fingers are strong, callused, but they're gentle. they could be yours, if you want it.

to your surprise, a blush colors your hunter's cheeks. in this moment of tenderness, you find your answer.

"i'll stay," you tell him, like it's a promise. like it's a vow.

#dol eden #eden the hunter #eden the hunter x pc #dol eden x pc #degrees of lewdity eden #degrees of lewdity fic #my writing #i just really like the thought of eden and pc building their relationship slowly #also i know this man is hella strong but thinking about pc patching him up makes me weak #scarred pc

80 notes · View notes

00angelyoon · 8 months

Text

𝐒𝐧𝐮𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 (𝐫𝐮𝐠)

“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯.”- 𝘞𝘰𝘯𝘸𝘰𝘰 :𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦

𝙒𝙤𝙣𝙬𝙤𝙤 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘸𝘰𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳??

ᴇꜱᴛᴀʙʟɪꜱʜᴇᴅ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀:reader wears makeup, mentions of sickness, worry and stress not proof read.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 were looking through the dimly light bakery in the local grocery shop, You didn't shop there often as it was expensive but this particular day you were tired and craving a cheap red velvet cake.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 had just gotten off the bus excited to spend the night with your boyfriend curled up in the warm bed reading the second last book of the heroes of Olympus series while sharing the cake together.

𝐖𝐨𝐧𝐰𝐨𝐨 had gotten home from the recording session about 2 hours ago.He too was also excited to read with you, it was the only thing he could think about you were the only thing he could think about your scent your presence your everything only you nothing else.

𝐖𝐨𝐧𝐰𝐨𝐨 was there washing his dish he ate dinner from then he heard your keys jingle fondly remembers when you guys were window shopping in the mall on of your dates a year ago you bought a keychain photo card holder you first put a Mingyu photo card inside to tease him but after you were satisfied you put your favourite Wonwoo photo card its still on of his fondest memory’s of you ever.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 door slowly opened you were there with your a strand of hair faintly aligning with the side of your eye, your face slightly blushed you slightly were dripping from the light rain outside your, fingers were slightly shaking from the cold, your neck and hands were exposed otherwise than that you were covered however you weren’t wearing a coat only a blazer, you were breathing heavily your mascara and eyeliner was slightly ruined, you were holding a light green supermarket holding something in a square shape, to say Wonwoo was worried was an understatement.

“𝘏𝘦𝘺.” you murmur out of breath “𝐇𝐞𝐲.” His voice laced with worry also with a tinge of anger how could you go out without a coat or at least an umbrella or just cover your neck or button up your blazer were you trying to catch a cold to make him worried about you was that your plan because you were succeeding.

“𝘐 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦?” what followed was you having warm soup with rice while Wonwoo stared at you intently, you didn’t mind you thought it was a bit comical.

𝐻𝑒 snatched your plate to wash it himself he made you were a hoodie then covered you in thousands of blankets then read to you you guys were on the part where Percy and Annabeth get to the doors of death, then he put aside the book, “𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧.” “𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳.” “Do what?” “𝘎𝘰 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘫𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯.” “𝘠𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘧.” You giggled “𝘐’𝘮 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘺/𝘯.” “𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘐’𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵?” You chuckled airily as the sound echoed throughout the room wonwoo got up to turn off the lights whispering about stressing him and how hes going get grey hair at 27 then the lights turned off he hugged you then you moved closer into his embrace soothe into his scent of washing liquid and that chocolate deodorant he swore by

“𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶.”

“𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 .”

ᴀ/ɴ:ɪ’ᴍ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ʜᴀᴅᴇꜱ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴀɴɪꜰᴇꜱᴛɪɴɢ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴏᴡ ɪᴛꜱ ꜱᴏ ᴍʏ ʟɪꜰᴇ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴡᴀɪᴛɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ᴡᴏɴᴡᴏᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴍʏ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴛʏ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴏᴡ

149 notes · View notes

kenphobia · 6 months

Text

YOUNG AND RECKLESS!

"here's an idea! let's buy a cake, lure Elias out and throw it off a cliff. watch him get it."

summary. when the new hire and the hottest archival assistant become besties, all hell breaks loose.

contents. really really old content; somewhat ooc since i was too lazy to fix dialogue; wholesome, general fluff; there's not much of a plot tbh; not edited

The job were boring, you knew that from the very start.

When you first stepped into the Magnus Institute, a weird feeling had crept up on you like a snake slithering pass the halls and jumping at you with fangs sinking into your shoulder. Yet after the terrible, terrible interview with Elias and getting accepted into the job, that funny feeling slipped away once you settled into the notion of things.

You worked in the Institute for far longer than you would've liked, always having to look around corners because that sense of dread and foreboding death trickled in at the worst times possible (AKA when you're idly standing in the corner, waiting for the printer to finish its job). But the pay was good enough to pay your stupidly costly london rent AND your necessities at the same time, so you had to room to complain.

Though, you wish your boss wasn't so weird and creepy all of the time. Makes sense since this is an Institute known for collecting statements and artefacts regarding otherworldly, and dare you might say 'spooky', beings and events. And also for holding the highest MIAs/deaths record among all other academic institutes, but you digress.

Working in the library department was fine, nothing really big like the artefact storage or the achives. Like you mentioned, it paid a hefty amount and the place was quiet enough for your introverted self to get comfortable in.

Well, until you were brought into the archives and met the one and only (and possibly the hottest person in the archives), Tim Stoker.

After another excruciatingly awkward meeting wth Elias regarding your sudden promotion, you sighed in relief as you pass those doors and hear it close on you. You tried shaking off the feeling of being watched, but the loud pounding of your heart echoed louder than what your mind is trying to tell your body.

As you try to silently pass through the halls, squeezing yourself into tight corners despite having no one but you around, your body suddenly came into contact of another. You stumbled, nearly falling to the floor until a hand grabbed you and pulled you closer by your arm.

"I get that I'm charming, but really is no need to fall head over heels for me." You looked up and saw a man with bright hair. He was tall, taller than anyone in your family and his colorful outfit choice really made stand out from the boring, nearly barren hallway.

You raised a brow at his words. "Oh please. With how you bumped into me while being in a spacious hallway, I'd say you're the one who's head over heels here." You played along to his sudden flirtatious move, rolling your eyes and flipping off a strand of hair with the back of your hand. "You seemed like the type of guy who'd pay someone just to have a mary sue moment with their crush."

"Oh, you wounded me!" The man cried out dramatically, putting a hand on his chest and letting you go in the process. You were alreayd standing on your two feet and yet you still nearly stumble backwards. "But yeah, maybe I was or maybe I wasn't. I'm Tim, Tim stoker by the way."

Tim offered you his hand and you gladly accepted it, shaking it gently but firmly. "(Name) (Last name), it's nice to meet you, Stoker."

"Please, call me Tim. And the pleasure's all mine." He laughed, winking playfully.

And from that day moving onwards, you and Tim were practically stuck by the hip at every hour of the day. Wherever he went, you were there as well. And wherever you ended up at, Tim was closely following behind you like a unassuming bodyguard with a few tricks up his sleeve.

Oh, Tim's at the police getting evidence for a report? You were there as well, merely for fun and also you can secretly record police officers fucking up for laughs. You're out in the woods for a camping trip, getting wood for fire? There's Tim guarding both of your tents, rehearsing alpha male jokes to tell you when you come back.

It was almost impossible to split the two of you up. Well, almost impossible.

"Hey, (Name). Did you see the email Elias sent to everyone?" Tim called you from across the room, sitting relaxed in his chair while you turn your gaze away from the bright screen of your laptop.

"Hm? No, not yet. Why?" You asked him, despite knowing it was either about you and Tim or random changes being implemented into the Institute.

The bright-haired man struggled to contain his laughter, even bringing up his wrist to bite at his cuffs but even still he wheezed through his teeth. "Hgh— Listen to this!" Tim coughed, breathing in before displaying a poor impression of Elias.

"May I remind everyone that bringing in alocholic beverages are strictly prohibited in the archives, as well as bringing in any lighters or any item alike that could potentially set fire to 'important materials'. Sincerely, Elias Bouchard."

You raised your brow in amusement, chuckling all the while Tim stopped himself from bursting into laughter when he was impersonating Elias. "Is that so? Surely, no one has been bringing in alcohol or lighters into the archives. Right, Tim?" You teased, poking him with your words as to hint him to cough off his crimes.

Tim composed himself. "Yes... No, of course not. I mean, that would be stupid, wouldn't it?" He sighed, leaning on the office chair. "But... If you hide it well enough, then it's not so stupid anymore." He grinned mischievously, pulling out a flask from his pockets. It looked a lot like a calculator in his hands rather than a little alcoholic bottle as the metal shimmered under the buzzing, yellow-ish lights.

As he shook it, he didn't realized the looming shadow over him until you divert your eyes from his form and hold back a snicker. Tim looked at you with confusion, closw to saying something before he turned and saw no other than Elias' percing pale blue eyes.

"Is that so, Tim?" Elias spoke callously, though a wide smile was attached to his face, stretching skin across his facial bones like plastic covering. "Why don't you meet me in my office for a little chat, wouldn't that be lovely?"

Tim shrinks in his seat, averting his gaze down to the ground. "Yes. of course, sir."

You watch in half amusement, half concern as Tim is dragged out of the office by Elias. A familiar face peeked out of the corner, carrying a tray of tea and donning a blue cloud-patterned sweater.

Martin raised a brow as he settled the tray down. "What just happened?"

You pour some tea for yourself and drink from it, doing a dramatically loud slurping sound before smacking your lips. "The cycle of life, Dear Martin."

notes. this was supposed to be for a request but hhhh i need to fill the space somehow oopsies i'll do the req later maybe

#ken writes！#tma x reader #the magnus archives x reader #tim stoker #tim stoker x reader

72 notes · View notes

kiritella · 7 months

Text

Series: Sehnsucht, Chapter Three: Within Arm's Reach

Pairings: Geralt x Teen!Reader, Yennefer x Teen!Reader

Warnings: near death experience, very cold temperatures, mentions of severe child abuse, intense loneliness

Words: 3.5k

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

—Five Years Ago—

The strange woman appeared suddenly. She dropped out of a circle of twisted light—an ocean of condensed air and smoke. Old, vibrant runes curled along its outer edge when she fell, panting, her raven hair loose and damp. A potent stench wafted through the air before the portal closed behind her. The woman knelt on her knees, catching her breath as she held her side.

The little girl grimaced from her hiding place as a small line of blood seeped out from between the woman’s fingers. Pressing her lips into a thin line, her brows furrowed and she shifted from foot to foot, a war amongst her thoughts. She should run. She should place as much distance between herself and this new woman. It wouldn’t have been any different than what she had been doing for quite some time now. But more blood pressed out from beneath the woman’s hand as she sat up and groaned. Her breaths were sharp and heavy as if she had been running from someone, ans sweat beaded along her hairline. Carefully, the child emerged from behind the tree and crept closer, one hand on the dagger at her waist as the other reached out to tap the woman’s shoulder.

The woman’s head snapped up, eyes piercing her with a glare, but the girl was too fond of their color to pay any mind to the harshness behind them. That same harshness extinguished just as quickly as it had formed. The woman groaned as the child knelt beside her and touched the woman’s ribs.

“What are you doing here?” the woman asked, her voice soft if filled with a terseness of exhaustion. Her black hair framed her face perfectly, drawing even more attention to her purple eyes. She was really pretty.

The girl shrugged, and instead of answering, whispered beneath her breath the start of a spell and laid a hand over the woman’s ribs.

“Use another source, child,” D’ao reminded her, a whisper in her thoughts so familiar and close. She smiled weakly as she continued the spell, dipping her hand into the grass beneath her. The soft blades around her palm grew dark, the shadow stretching from between her knees and out around the both of them. They shriveled and twisted, turning brown as they died and finally, crumbled into dust.

It wasn’t a bad injury, she realized.

The woman took a deep breath and her eyes were wide as she stared at the child. Checking beneath her palm where her skin had once been cut open, she found her side completely healed with only a small, nearly imperceptible scar to show for it.

“Where did you learn to do that?” she asked with a soft voice. The girl only shrugged. “Where are your parents?”

At this, the girl offered a distasteful grimace, and the woman softened. Sighing, the woman motioned her to come closer. “I’m Yennefer. What is your name?”

The girl crept closer, as if asked to approach a coiled snake in a bed of flowers. Slowly, Yennefer reached out and caressed the girl’s cheek, and her purple eyes wandered over the child’s features. She remained stiff as a board and silent, to Yennefer’s wonder, and only when Yennefer’s hand sank into the girl’s hair did she flinch. Her fingers caught on the growing matts and caked mud as they tried to brush thorough the strands. The heat of embarrassment crawled up the girl’s neck and into her cheeks. She was dirty, and she didn’t want the woman to be dirty too. She backed away.

Frowning, the woman stood to her feet and held out her hand. “Will you come with me?” she asked, and the child hesitated. “I hear a river nearby. I’d like to wash the sweat and stench off my skin. Do you know where it is?”

She nodded and slowly grasped the woman’s pointer finger. Yennefer smiled and started them along their way toward the sound of the river. “How long have you been out here?” she asked and was offered a shrug. “You don’t talk very much, do you?”

She shook her head.

“Is there anyone I can take you home to?”

Again, she shook her head. Glancing up at the woman, she bit the corner of her lip before she pointed to the small tear in Yenn’s dress, the healed scar beneath it. Yenn smiled softly.

“I was running from a horde of Drowners, almost got out unscathed, but one nicked me before I could get the portal open. I got what I needed from them though, so it is no matter.”

The girl hummed and scrunched her nose, making a dramatic shiver shake her spine. Yenn chuckled.

“Yes, it was frightening, I suppose,” she said, mindful of the girl’s young age. “Where have you been living?”

The girl raised her hand and waved it about the forest surrounding them.

“Out here in the woods?”

She nodded.

“I bet you’ve come across a monster of your own,” Yennefer commented and the girl laughed, shaking her head, but in the end, she shrugged. “A beautiful dagger you have. Catch rabbits with it easy enough?”

She nodded, then pointed up at the sky, but Yen raised a brow in confusion. The girl whistled, mimicking the sound of a swallow, and Yennefer smiled. “Birds?” she asked, and the girl nodded.

“Do you like it here?” she asked, and the girl shrugged. “If you’d like, I can take you to the nearest town—” she was cut off when the girl tore her hand from hers, small vibrant blue eyes widening with terror as she shook her head violently. “Hey–no, it’s alright, it’s alright,” Yennefer rushed, kneeling down to be level with the girl’s height. “I won’t take you there if you don’t want to go,” she said, reaching out her hand again. A sad frown dipped her lips when she wouldn’t take it, watching her with such trepidation.

“Do you not like people?” she asked and the girl nodded. “Did they hurt you?”

Biting her lip, the girl hesitated, then nodded.

“Was it because of your magic?”

The girl stepped further away as her hands began to tremble and grief overtook the older woman. Yenn swallowed the knot in her throat. “You know…I understand a little bit about that too,” she said and the girl narrowed her eyes. “I am not welcome in some places either.”

Softly, Yennefer whispered beneath her breath, and the budding flowers of spring began to bloom. The girl’s eyes widened in wonder as she whipped her head about, watching small blossoms pop open all around them. A smile grew on her face and Yennefer softened, reaching out to pluck one of the flowers and offered it to the girl.

“They see it in our eyes,” she said after a long moment as the girl came closer, taking the flower and holding it against her chest. Once more, she let Yen take her hand. “Can I teach you something? A little magic?”

The girl nodded.

“Alright. You’ll have to talk again, like you did earlier. This is an illusion spell,” she said, and reciting the words slowly, her appearance changed. Her purple eyes shifted into a beautiful dark brown, like soil turning over after a rain. “Do you think you can do that one?”

The girl shifted, hesitant, but after Yennefer spoke the words to her again, she attempted. Then again, because it didn’t work, and again, until finally, the girl’s eyes shifted. Yenn’s breath caught when she saw the purple enveloping them, so similar to her own, and her head fell to the side with a smile, though the girl frowned at the dead flower in her hand.

“Well, you’ve certainly gotten the spell,” she said, standing up once more. “Why don’t we try and find that river now, and maybe while we clean up we can try to find a color for you that…” Yenn trailed off and hesitated, looking down at the small child clinging on to her pointer finger, her big purple eyes staring up at her with such wonder. “One that can hide the fact you have magic, yeah?”

The girl nodded, and led Yennefer to the river. Unprepared as she was to see Yenn remove her arms from her dress to wash her back, she was still more surprised when she asked her to do the same. The light brush of this woman’s fingers over her skin left behind a sensation so strong it overcame her. It left something within her and edged her to tears.

Yennefer washed the mud and grime from off the girl’s cheeks, from her clothes, the woman’s breath catching as she washed the child’s neck, finding markings along her shoulders. More still, when she helped her peel out of her dress. Her fingers trailed over the marred, butchered skin of the girl’s back—the welted ring over her left shoulder. Yenn was awfully quiet after that, but as her fingers sank into the girl’s hair, combing out the knots and mats, the girl couldn’t find it in her to care. She cried as an ache overtook her chest and melted into the woman’s hands, unsure of why or what had come over her—as if something in her heart was trying to reach out and hold the woman, cling to her. She didn’t see the unshed tears hidden behind Yenn’s eyes as she hugged her.

The feeling remained when Yennefer stayed with her that night, telling her about magic and teaching her the spell she’d used on the flowers, and though she could not perform it, the child held on to each Elder word with wonder. She left only in the morning after they had eaten, and even still, there was something in the woman’s eyes that lingered in the girl’s mind— sadness, and–and something, well, she didn’t know what it was. She disappeared in a portal of milky air and smoke, and no matter how much time passed, the sensation of warmth remained imprinted on her bones like a tattoo, leaving her craving more.

—Currently—

“Hurry, child,” D’ao said with urgency. “The storm is growing.”

The pit in her stomach grew as she kept Roach at a gallop. Her eyes were burning, begging to close, and she could hardly find the strength to keep Geralt on the horse. D’ao had led her up the Gwenllech, through the gap in the granite rock—which she never would have found without him—and passed the gorge and now, as the sun began to lower in the horizon, she came into the valley. A path circled the outside of the valley, almost bowl shaped, but turning, she followed the small stream into the forest. It barely trickled, and ice covered the outlines of it. The path was exceedingly difficult, clearly not meant to be taken by many, and certainly not by those who did not know it.

Her head nodded against her chest as Roach carried them around corners and massive boulders, and over fallen trees. The stead, at the least, seemed comfortable with the landscape and sure of her footing. After hours, the sun began to set, and the sky grew even darker than it had been by the thick layers of clouds, but alas, there it was. The sight of Kaer Morhen’s stone walls peeking through the thick, monstrous trees sent relief shooting through her like fisstech.

Struggling to remain awake, she pushed on, trying her damndest to stay ahead of the growing snowstorm. Snow had already begun to fall, numbing her fingers and legs. She could hardly even feel the reins in her hands, and Roach was left to do much of the leading. Even the red scarf bundled around her head as a hood couldn’t keep her cheeks from the bitter cold. Winter was well enough here, especially so high up in the mountains.

At last, the sound of hooves beating against stone blessed her ears, and opening her eyes, blinked away the blurriness of her vision so see an old road leading to the main entrance of the castle. It was much larger now, up close, and the heavy wooden gate towered over her head as she approached. She did not have time or energy to pay for the disarray of the castle walls. The arches and towers slowly crumbled high above her head, and wooden beams from old bridges or gateways rotted through. She rather took the time to shove on the wooden gate, praying it would open as Geralt’s breath against her back came out heavy and tortured. Its iron lock clanked against her efforts. Her heart sank.

What if it was a trick?

“That is nonsense,” D’ao assured.

What if it was all made up by a ghoul-bitten Witcher struggling to maintain his consciousness?

“He wasn’t that far gone, child.”

What if Vesemir isn’t actually here?

“That…is more realistic…”

“What if no one is here?” she asked D’ao, and the following silence was bone chilling.

“Oh God,” she whispered, looking back and forth about the wall for some sort of entry way. The wind blew in harshly as the snow grew heavier. Thick snowflakes touched her eyelashes, and she blinked them away quickly. Her chest seized as she whispered, and the vines about her body and Geralt’s slowly let him onto the ground. She jumped off the horse, feet landing beside Geralt’s unconscious body, his pained face and struggling breaths. He groaned.

Roach became antsy, shifting from side to side as she tried to press further into the doors. Whether it was from the storm or something approaching behind them, she didn’t know. Her legs strained with each step as she limped up to the gate, a hand on the hilt of her sword, though she doubted she would be able to wield it properly. Shoving the door again, the lock clanked in the courtyard behind. Fuck.

Her breaths came in sharp as panic crawled out of her chest. Geralt had quit coming back into consciousness yesterday eve, and his mumblings had grown incoherent to stopping entirely. All that remained was his breath and she didn’t know how to save even that for him. She had taken too long to get there.

If Geralt died—

If she had just—

Her head spun as she crouched down, her hands tangling with her hair as she tugged on the strands. Her chest grew tight. She didn’t know what to do.

—[Flashback]—

“What’s your name?” she asked, wide eyed and wondered as the white-haired man carried her.

“Geralt.”

“Are you a Witcher?”

He sighed. “I am.”

She smiled and her small hands held onto him a little tighter. “You have really pretty eyes, Witcher Geralt.”

“...” he hesitated, looking at her strangely and adjusting her in his arms. “So do you.”

“Really?” she asked, lighting up, “Do I?”

He grunted with a short nod and she giggled, resting her small head against his shoulder.

“Witcher Geralt?” she said after several minutes of walking in silence.

“What is it?”

“...thank you for saving me.”

“......you’re welcome….”

“Did…” she stopped, trailing off.

“What is it?”

“Did it…did the monster suffer?”

“....” the witcher fell silent for a moment. “No.”

“Good.”

—[End]—

Her hands trembled as she grit her teeth. Launching herself to her feet again she banged on the door until the sound of the lock echoed in the valley. She was numb, tired, her leg was hurting, and she could barely keep on her feet anymore. A pit hollowed out her stomach and crawled out like spiders through her limbs. There wasn’t anywhere else she could take him. This was it. This was the most she could do. And if no one was here, then Geralt was going to die—

“Vesemir!” she shouted, it tore through her lungs so loudly it shook the air and trembled the ground beneath her feet as she beat on the door incessantly. It echoed in the valley with such desperation that even the trees were swayed by it and reached out as if to help her. It carried through the walls of the fortress, into the mountain until it gripped the stones at their very core.

“Somebody, please!” she cried again, and this time, it was followed by a metal shift of the lock. The gate opened.

“Who in the goddamn—” started the ginger-haired man now standing before her. She was focused more on the second of the three men, his one eye blue and the other brown. She melted into her red scarf. Wolf medallions hung around each of their necks and something warm spilled down her bones and settled the panic.

“Is that Roach—”

“He needs help,” she whispered, pulling Roach to the side to reveal Geralt lying motionless on the ground.

“Geralt—” started the third as all three of them rushed forward. She was unceremoniously pressed out of the way by Sir Ginger, but it was more in urgency than dispute.

“What happened?” the third man, older with silver hair, asked as Ginger and Two-eyes hauled Geralt into the courtyard, each arm tossed over one of their shoulders.

“Ghoul,” she answered, “Wrist.”

“How long?”

“Three days.”

“Fuck.”

“Potions?”

She shook her head. “Broken.”

Sir Silver shoved open the set of doors leading into the castle, and before them came a great hall. Tables were set up and a large fire pit sat in the back. Geralt was lifted and rested onto one of the tables near the fire.

“Damn he’s cold as ice,” Two-eyes said.

“It’s about to come down as a blizzard,” Sir Ginger said. He then glanced at her, “And who the hell are you? A Mage?”

She flinched.

“Not important right now,” Two eyes said sharply, then glanced at her as he removed the bandages she had wrapped around Geralt’s wrist. “No offense.”

She shook her head and shrugged, anxiously watching Geralt’s chest quake up and down. “None to be taken.”

Sir Silver checked Geralt’s eyes, and his face grew pale. “Coen, the Golden Oriole,” he said and Sir Two-eyes left, “Lambert, she brought Geralt home. Try not to insult the child.”

Lambert huffed, wiping away the poultice she had made, grumbling something about healers. Sir Silver handed him a cup of what she assumed was either water or alcohol before he turned to her. She swallowed thickly as her stomach twisted.

“Was he already unconscious when you found him?”

She shook her head quickly. His eyes trailed over her figure carefully, seemingly searching for something, when they jumped back to hers.

“You’re hurt too,” he said, reaching out toward her, but she jerked out of his reach, limping away. “Ghoul?” he asked with a furrowed brow, slowly retracting his hand and taking a step back.

She shook her head.

“Are you alright?”

She nodded as Coen rushed back into the room, two vials in his hand. Sir Silver turned back to Geralt, holding his head as Coen poured the vial of golden Oriole into his mouth. Lambert snatched the other vial and poured it over the bite. White foam erupted over it as the skin crawled with red tendrils up to his elbow. His whole arm seized and a groan slipped past his lips. The scent of spoiled meat grew pungent in the air and she tried not to gag as she crept closer, only an arm’s length from him.

She hovered despite the looks, her breath stilling as she waited. Slowly, after what she felt to be hours, though it was only a few minutes, his skin morphed back into its natural hue. It grew on him like a sunrise and she exhaled sharply.

“What are you thinking Vesemir?” Coen asked, and Sir Silver hummed. Vesemir.

��I think it was close,” Vesemir said. “And he needs rest.”

A soft laugh fell so unexpectedly from her even she was surprised, but her knees gave out and she collapsed onto the seat beside Geralt. Three days of no sleep had caught up to her, and there was nothing left to keep her going.

“Woah—hey,” Coen started, his arm leaping out to catch her, but she was far too gone to be able to recognize it. Geralt was safe. He had the help of people who knew what they were doing. Now, she watched Geralt’s chest as his breaths began to even out, no longer short and choked, gurgling in her ear as his lungs filled with fluid. He may not have opened his eyes like she had hoped, but his features had relaxed. He no longer seemed pained.

The relief flooded her so intensely she trembled, and she drowned in the sensation as her eyes fell closed. She was done.

“What the hell?” Lambert asked as Vesemir laid a gentle, hesitant hand on the girl’s shoulder. Shaking her softly, they realized quickly she was asleep, completely succumbed to the warm room beside Geralt. Questions, Vesemir decided, could wait until she had woken up.

“Let’s get them to proper beds,” he said quietly, fully taking in the child’s appearance with a frown. “And someone tell Yennefer and Ciri when they get back from their lessons.”

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

72 notes · View notes

sunghanne · 1 year

Text

STAR RACER － ENHYPEN GREASE AU SERIES | PART 3 🚦

racer!enhypen & flaggirl!reader

PARTS: PROLOGUE, PART 1, PART 2 , PART 4. coming soon...

TITLE: ST★R-RACER : PART 3. MAKING ENEMIES

feat. ENHYPEN, TXT, STRAY KIDS?!

PLOT: in a small town during the 1950s, seems the only thing keeping careless teenagers entertained are drag races where only the elite participate. and those elite are known as star racers.

WARNINGS: coarse language, sexual themes, sexist remarks, ooc idols, illegal acts, violence, tba...

TAGLIST: @lalalalawon , @strvlveera comment your @/user to be added!

WORD-COUNT: 8.5k

NOTE: heyy, in hopes to keep the 1950's setting authentic, there are sexist jokes so please watch out for that. because the reality is, that mindset was not rare to come across during those times. this chapter is NOT EDITED at all. i'm sorry if its not my best one. likes, reposts and comments are all heavily appreciated, thank you and enjoy!!

"ow, that hurts y/n! you've never done this before have you?!" the whining male cried out as you shushed him with a harsh tug of the tuff of his dark hair, his yells echoing off the bathroom walls.

you shot him a death glare through the mirror of your bathroom, standing behind riki's sitting figure with foil and bleach encased around his head like someone's grandma with a head of rollers, "no, but i know what i'm doin'! i saw this on a commercial, it's a piece of cake," you reassured, even snorting quietly in your throat at the stupidity in your words. riki wasn't sure whether to be even more terrified than before at such unhelpful guidance.

"if i come home bald, you're gonna tell my folks exactly what you'd done," he huffed as you painted a thick coat of hair dye on a handful of his strands. you tutted at his childish nagging and focused on the task at hand.

"the ladies are gonna be all over you," you sang while lifting a foil-covered bunch of his hair and waving it in the air for him to see in the mirror. his dark eyes shot open at the new colour enveloping his virgin hair, "look at that."

"shit, how many times do i gotta do this?" he asked when a concentrated yellow appeared from his roots to the ends of his hair.

you hummed at his inquisitive question and with a cheery smile you replied, "only around four times." his head was thrown back while he wailed out with a mocking cry, like a child on his first day of school. you nudged his head back forward with the bleach applicator in your hand so the foil wouldn't fall out of place.

"i better win this upcoming race," he sulked while sitting up properly as you enforced harshly. you giggled and immediately started teasing him if he didn't win, he'd be on a permanent ban from racing ever again. except, when the day arrived. you didn't know what kinda racer yang jeongin really was.

"shit," you cursed out aloud, having to almost yell it to be heard over the jostling barracks, feeling guilty, "we missed riki's takeoff," your eyes searched for sunghoon's and he ducked his head low am tousled some of his light silver hair in a fluster. you originally wanted to be cheering your heart out for riki's first race back in action but you were so lost in your conversation with chan and felix that you forgot all about it.

"right, yeah," sunghoon plainly responded, eyes scanning the scene of the flag girl skipping off to her side of the track, "he's made in the shade. let 'em be," he nonchalantly finished while the crowd's volume gradually decreased and currently in a waiting period.

definition:'made in the shade'. > success guaranteed.

"yeah, she'll be right," felix grinned, most likely referring to his mate, jeongin. you were curious about brace boy, particularly that last conversation he looked like he held with riki where riki held his pinky up and did a promise in the air. your attention was placed back onto felix who has turned away with a hand tucked into his pocket.

definition:’she’ll be right’. > he/she/they will do fine.

"you're a star racer?" you questioned the freckled-faced male diagonal from you and he shone a proud smile at your acknowledgement.

"that's right. why is everyone always surprised when i tell them this?" felix asked while turning his head to his familiar, chan. his voice uncertain and high-pitched at the backhanded reaction from you.

"you're just so friendly, the other stars i've met are too busy touching their gearsticks to come up to another star and chat," you explained and his nose scrunched at your misleading metaphor of gearsticks. sunghoon snickered beside you quietly, silently agreeing in his mind. you weren't entirely off the mark saying that, hell, soobin never cared for his opponent at the beginning or end of the event. too busy stroking his machine on wheels to unsuspecting girls from his side.

"aw, that's real peachy of you. where's this star of yours?" he wondered while pressing a flat hand above his brow bone and squinting his eyes, deliberately looking over sunghoon during his theatrical act. of course, only chan found this bit funny. sunghoon on the other hand was driving forward to brush his hand on felix's shoulder to spin him back around to where hyunjin stood.

"cut the gas. i need another weed," sunghoon demanded the childish counterpart of his, hiding his internalised annoyance for being overlooked. felix let out a toothy laugh and called out for the red-haired male several metres from where we stood.

definition:'weed'. > a cigarette.

hwang's fierce eyes faltered at the outlandish male calling his name in a deliberate baby voice and reluctantly came to his heed. leaving the makeshift spotlight of the lamp post behind him, his charming features were illuminated in the natural moonlight, half of his face hidden in the shadows. and as he approached even closer, he was surprisingly almost as tall as sunghoon.

"what is it?" he grizzled out, annoyance evident in the way he spoke at felix's antics. the male in question patted his disgruntled friend on the back and gestured towards sunghoon with his free arm like a tour guide.

"a cig for the gentleman here," the playful boy announced and hyunjin's dark pupils shrunk upon landing on sunghoon.

"park, where's your little groupie?" the newcomer asked, their voice tainted with boredom like he didn't care about the answer regardless. you were curious about their history together so you kept a keen eye on their interactions. hyunjin's slim hand hid in his jacket's pocket and when he retracted it, a cigarette was flown at sunghoon in an instant. your friend paused and reeled forward to catch the stick, startled. "need me to light it for you too, eyebrows?"

sunghoon's brows dipped at the name-calling from his opposite, ignoring such disruptive teasing and lighting his cigarette smoothly. he sighed peacefully, blowing smoke that lapsed the red-haired male in spite. the misty effect around the said boy with the mole beneath his left eye made you want to jump out of your sneakers and hope to catch a ride with him home. he had no reason to look so effortlessly gorgeous. eyes starting to water from the lack of blinking, a carefully placed hand spun you around towards the upper slope of the concrete walls.

"hitting the road so soon? tell lee i said hello," hyunjin's voice poured and you felt sunghoon's nails almost dig into your fabric-covered arm in frustration. he couldn't answer why the other men weren't with him, it'd only open more holes for the opposition to pry. so for your safety and his, the only thing he could do was turn his back and exit without a word.

"want a drink?" he questioned to break the defeating silence on the way up the slope. it felt like it was the two of you against the world, a familiar feeling with you and sunghoon being placed in difficult positions to crawl out of. it was so lonely, jungwon and sunoo didn't come with you and jake was somewhere in the crowd preparing for his upcoming race.

if you weren't sure which of the two boys from earlier would be against jake, you'd be safe to assume ruby locks. chan the creep was a close competitor but something about his appearance didn't scream racer. the reason you weren't familiar with this handful of boys was that they were not in town often. why? because they were from a nearby suburb and only came to your drag strip because it was better than whatever set-up they had. this only lead you to ponder what kind of people they were.

"yeah, please," you agreed to sunghoons suggestion and he changed directions of your footing to a nearby huddle of people around a foldable table, impatient hands of money held out to whoever was running the alcohol-selling get-up.

the rumble of an engine, the screech of tires, the painful sting of car oil and your sweet face amongst the strands of hair flying behind you. that's all heeseung could recall in his last moments of racing before everything turned cold.

when he saw you and sunghoon running away from him, getting chased by soobin, beomgyu, taehyun and kai, he knew he was at a loss. he fidgetted with his door lock, hands soiled in grease resulting in his fingers being slippery with the hard surface. then, with a dip in his legs, he limped out of his messy car and turned right back around to look at the state it was in. just his luck, the white shine of his vehicle was ruined by a clear brown slick splattered inside and outside it.

"fuck. fuck, what am i gonna do," he cursed while his wet fingers came in contact with the back of his hair, jostling his strands in frustration. he had two options, go to you and the mobs surrounding yeonjun or hit the road. he couldn't go home like this, and neither could he relish in humiliation from everyone. so, weighing his options, he began his journey up the closest slope with heavy footsteps.

he loathed the way his favourite jacket was now dirtied with car oil and his footsteps left marks on the dry pavement behind him. he just prayed to god that they would dry up by the time anyone else came to find him.

this side of town for heeseung was unexplored. the neighbouring school's turf, that's all he took in as his head turned while walking past the tall, brick building. the school for the higher-ups. the school where students probably didn't spend their after-school time in gas-ridden garages as he did. he had made quite the change in progress from the race track he crawled out of and now found himself deeper in the bramble bushes on the opposite side of town.

he smelled awful, like a gas station set on fire. he still wore his damp jacket, knowing it was a smarter idea to throw it off but the evening breeze was way too cold to discard it so easily. and, part of the boy believed there'd be a chance to save it when he got himself out of the mess.

a deafening beep of someone's car brought the boy out of his clashing thoughts when he found himself crossing a road, green appearing on every street light around him. his eyebrows furrowed and he clenched his teeth in annoyance, throwing up a middle finger to the driver as he picked his pace up while meeting the other side of the pavement.

he wasn't the type to dawdle stupidly. he was irritated at his thoughts tuning him out of the real-world enough to make him senselessly cross a road. also half irritated at the scare and the loud beep made his heavy shoulders flinch. he was wondered what was going on in the drag strip right now. the other school was having their bash and you were probably with the other boys heading home or to sunoo's diner for burgers and shakes.

just his luck, the neon wiring on a shop's board spelled '24hrs' stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the dark windows of already closed establishments. he'd found a 24-hour dry cleaner and maybe he didn't hate the previous rage road for rushing him to it. the entrance bells rang as he stepped in, his hand leaving a thin coat of car oil on the door handle.

the cleaning service smelled of lavender-scented washing detergent and the warm smell of an iron pressed to clothes, a nice change from his burnt tire-smelling 'cologne'. behind a run-down service desk was an employee, looking up from her newspaper, glasses tilting up her nose bridge. her face was partly distorted behind the tip jar that only had two coins in it. the stranger's mouth was parted, most likely surprised a customer even came in at this time of night or maybe at the appearance of heeseung who looked like he'd crawled right out of some swamp.

heeseung was just as surprised to see a girl his age working, assuming it was a family-owned business and she was most likely forced to stay late nights as punishment for bad test results. but, he knew he would be able to use this to his advantage.

"pick up for, er, nathan," he fibbed while fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket, praying to whatever god above that there was a customer named nathan. the girl's eyebrows raised, realising she actually had to do her job. so with the fold of her newspaper, she jumped down from her seat and tiptoed towards the long hanger racks with a collection of clothing hanging.

heeseung tailed behind her, proceeding to the opposite side of the two stripes of clothing racks and clicking the hangers together as he frantically sought clothes that could do the trick. long floral nightgowns, tuxedos, and even a wedding dress yet, no clothing fit for a teenager. "i'm sorry, no clothes under the name nathan," the employee fret while turning around to look at heeseung's opposite spot to hers.

he clicked his tongue in annoyance, not replying but only heightening his pace in scrolling through articles of fabric till his hands paused at someone's long pair of coveralls, clean and freshly ironed. he unhooked it and held it to the girl observing and smiled, "found it," he responded and the girl pushed her glasses up her nose bridge at the awkward feeling of being bested by a customer.

"really? oh, there we go then," she replied without a console and padded back towards her counter, leaning her elbows on the surface while picking her newspaper up. heeseung was silently celebrating in his mind at his successful act, treading towards the girl whose stationed right at the exit.

he calmly slid off his oily jacket and threw it on the edge of the counter she didn't lean on, a few rolling coins with it, "thanks, buttercup. i'll pick this one up next," the boy spoke with a wink at the broad. then, he pressed forward and left the building, stolen coveralls folded over one of his arms. as he disappeared from the store's large windows, he couldn't help a long arm of his being pulled back to his side in a celebratory dance, hoping on his light feet to an imaginary beat in his head as he skipped past dimly lit buildings.

you and sunghoon were regretful forgetting to watch riki's departure. because when he rolled in a fraction of a minute after jeongin, that's when hell broke loose.

you leapt up from your sitting position and pulled sunghoon with you to the middle of the track where riki had just parked. before getting a word in, the protruding male shoved through the circle of students encasing jeongin and raised a fist to the unsuspecting boy's face. about to strike, he was roughly pushed to the floor and met with the untamed clashes of three pairs of shoes.

"watch it, greaser!" chan yelled before laughing and settling his foot right on top of riki's reddening ear, earning a hiss of pain from the younger. your eyes widened in worry while you mirrored riki's shoving tactic to maneuver the crowd out of the way for you and sunghoon. you'd never expect such a rocky entrance from your friend.

"beat it!" you yelled while trying to shoo off hyunjin, felix and chan who had been kicking and stomping on riki's fetal position. sunghoon aided you by rutting his shoulder into the trio of men to make space for you. you placed your drink on the floor while ducking down to help riki up. he was roughed out, swipes of dirt in the pattern of shoe prints all over his clothes and face.

"what's the big idea?" sunghoon grumbled while glaring at the prosecutors, chan swiped his nose, sniffing inwards while his eyes searched the crowds like he was expecting someone. the look in the other two boys echoed the same reaction and sunghoon was taken aback by their behaviour. they were waiting for everyone else, jay, jungwon, sunoo and heeseung to interfere but no one came. sunghoon could tell, another light of pride flickering off in his mind. they weren't here.

only jake was running down the concrete slopes while his dark leather jacket flew behind him with every airy step he took.

"what's our prob? like you didn't just see your yoot strike ours first," hyunjin replied while his shoulders seemed to relax at the lack of our crew members. your head turned to riki as he grappled onto your hand and slowly unfurled himself, wincing during the gradual motion.

definition:'yoot'. > a younger sibling.

he wasn't looking at hyunjin, nor sunghoon at that. he was only staring at one boy. the boy with a sadistic grin spread across one cheek to the other, braces shown and all, "what happened, riki?" you questioned lowly in case you'd tripped on a wire that lead to the alarms going off in his head. his eyebrows furrowed while he wiped the back of his palm against his nostrils, a crimson fluid left behind on his pale skin.

"take a look at it yourself, this brute just dented jay's ride," he explained while your head flicked back to the boy's car he had borrowed from jay to use. jake positioned himself next to riki and viewed the area like a radar, a serious scowl on his face from his usual sweet smile.

"no rules in drag racin'," jeongin spoke up, and it was the first time you'd ever heard him. he sounded youthful and the cruel smile still on his face only added to it.

"you wanna pay for your damages? go ahead," riki rasped, a clothed arm against his nostrils to try and soak up his bleeding nose. the boy opposite to him only raised an eyebrow, looking over to his older peers like riki had just told a bad joke.

"i'm not the one losing the race, why would i?" jeongin rhetorically questioned while his smile finally dropped and only then did he finally give you the creeps. riki seethed through his teeth and stepped forward with hunched shoulders before he was stopped by sunghoon's hand.

"relax, he's just tryna bug you. ts'only the first race. jake and i got this," sunghoon reassured and rubbed his hand on riki's shoulder. the younger affirmed with a nod of his head and took a few steps backwards, almost bumping into you if you didn't move away at the right time.

"come on riki, let's get you fixed up," you persuaded the other and tugged on the cuff around his free hand. he reluctantly turned around, his eyes being the last of his body to disappear from the four boys.

"his mom came to pick him up, ain't that nice," you heard jeongin mock, only earning a small snicker from the crowd here and there. but you didn't care. cheaters would never have real skill and that's that.

you lead riki back towards the slanted pavement, in hopes of finding some tissues or an ice pack around somewhere. as you left lightly, you heard jake's voice question sunghoon about what happened and the crowd slowly disburse in preparation for the next race.

with a cold glass of beer against riki's sore face, his eyes never lifted off the concrete you two sat on. you clutched onto your long skirt and bit your bottom lip while mindlessly tracing your eyes on the tire tracks left in the dirt as jake and hyunjin already started their race.

"so... what really happened?" you asked the boy gently and he groaned at the forming bruise on his cheek that hurt every time he tried to speak.

"that son of a bitch' decided to play dirty when i was ahead of him for half the race," his voice was nasally due to the two twisted tissues stuffed up his nostrils and you could laugh at his state if it wasn't such a serious situation.

"he just rammed into you?" you questioned in uncertainty a boy so sweet looking like jeongin could be so fierce on the racetrack. but riki wanted to prove you wrong.

"yes. before the race, he told me no hard feelings for whoever won. so much for that act," he spat in betrayal, his gold locks draped around the sides of his face like a curtain. you assumed that's why riki held his pinky up before his race, motioning a promise to that flawed oath. you lightly chewed on the insides of your mouth, thinking his outrage seemed justified.

"what a joke," you commented while tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear and looked off towards the distance to not pile on the shame the boy was already drowning in.

"ts'tough. i wanted to win so badly. now everyone still thinks i'm a joke," he vented while continuing the shield on his expression. you immediately consoled the doubtful boy, a gentle hand stroking his back soothingly.

"that's not true. shit, i doubt anybody could handle the stress of being crashed into during a race," you pleaded while trying to cheer the boy up. he lifted his face slowly and his bangs fell to their correct placement, eyes lightened at your encouraging resolve.

"think so?" he asked in a low voice and you nodded with a small grin at his change in attitude.

"keeno," you responded and he sighed in relief while closing his eyes and rocking his head back.

definition:'keeno'. > keen, sure.

"this little kindness thing you do, is this what you learn in bible study, y/n?" his tone suddenly changed as he teased you with his usual banter. your eyebrows furrowed before you abruptly tore a tissue down from his nostrils and he cried loudly at the sting and the gush of blood that came out with it.

jake won his race. you were glad to see the smug grin wiped off of hyunjin's face upon his arrival. this glimmer of hope made your shoulders lift at the chance your crew could still win the night. it was you, jake and riki sitting together along the pavement waiting for the winner. riki's previous beer was now being used for its actual purpose and he gulped it down without a care in the world once his bruise stopped hurting and his nose quit bleeding.

jake was talking about how some pack of girls kept crowding around him like flies when he first arrived, hence his disappearance when you and felix first met. you thought it was a little funny why jake was always trying to run away from his group of fans every time he raced and riki made some comment about how jake probably swung the other way which he immediately denied.

the topic changed, rotating between what holiday jay was forced upon by his father, whether riki's voice had dropped yet and if heeseung was going to come back or not. where would he be? what could have taken him two weeks of his life from racing? not only was the absence at his desk at school starting to grow a pit in your stomach but also the doubt whether he was coming back or not.

you and the seven boys were childhood friends, in preschool, middle school all the way to high school the seven of you were inseparable. heeseung wasn't the kind of person to throw away years like that just for some hurt pride. so he had to come back.

the loud echo of an oncoming vehicle's radio sounded from atop the slope opposite your side. it was a roofless, bright blue automobile but the pack of men inside it is what surprised you the most. the two boys in the backseat were standing up and cooing like wild animals, fists in the air that held bottles of liquor. the people sitting on the concrete slope had to jump and run out of the road for the vehicle barging through them to avoid being squashed flat.

the men standing up only held onto the top of the front seat headers to retain their balance as the car veered forward down the slope dangerously to the point it could almost tip over. the air out of your lungs was socked out at such a stunt as the rolling vehicle came to a halt once it met the flat ground. the bass of the radio reflected off the pavement and you could hear your ears thumping to the same rhythm of the music before it clicked off and the four men jumped out.

"yeah, the boys!" chan's loud voice yelled while he ran from his previous viewing position to greet the other individuals with bear hugs and handshakes. your head steered towards the two boys beside you, curious about their reactions as well. jake's lips were parted and with clenched teeth, he fidgeted in his position steadily. riki's eyebrows were raised far enough for his forehead to crease in interest to what the appearance of these newcomers entailed to the event.

your eyes squinted while watching the figures below where the three of you say upon and their interactions. they behaved like sleazy, booze-infested apes who only knew how to communicate by yelling and wooing at everything. "who are they?" you questioned, not directed to either of your friends but jake took the initiative.

"that's the rest of their gang," he cooly replied and his lips licked out of habit and discomfort. if sunghoon didn't win, he would be the bud of jokes between the just-arriving men.

"shit, there's a mob of them," you cursed while counting up the numbers of your crew. four to eight did not look appealing to you at all.

"they're bad news," jake quietly continued while his eyes traced the furthest he could of the race track for any sign of sunghoon or felix. and you believed him. the appearance of such a feral group muddled with the only familiar handful of men you knew from them completed a perfect puzzle in your head. they were much worse than yeonjun and his group. way worse.

heeseung didn't have anywhere to stay the night. but when the company of his worn coveralls found him tiptoeing in the night, they invited him in. the owner of the repairman company, an old, balding man asked heeseung where he found the uniform which the boy answered shamelessly. unexpectedly, the old man laughed at such brutal honesty and offered heeseung a job.

so for the upcoming days, heeseung spent every day and night on the job, using the telephone outlet to call home and promise his temperamental mother that he'd be home soon and was just out with the boys. the owner of the establishment loved heeseung and his surprising work on vehicles.

"you seem to know a lotta 'bout cars, son. your old man a mechanic too?" his low antique voice asked while heeseung lay on a creeper on the undercarriage of a car, toying with something. a bead of sweat rolled down his dirt-staining temple while he licked his lips to answer.

"nah. just a knack i picked up," he lightly responded in such a bent-over position, his voice was coarse and throaty.

"impressive. skilled with your hands, aren't ya," the old man chuckled at his gag and heeseung just softly chortled at the dirty joke.

"no sweat," heeseung replied while focusing back on his work. that was the domestic dynamic he held with the owner who so generously offered food, shelter and a job to him. but all things come to an end and heeseung had a group to return to and a race to win.

and that's where heeseung found himself, sprinting out of the joint with nothing but a cigarette in his mouth and handfuls of scrunched cash stuffed into his pockets and crowded against his stomach as he ran away with the infuriated man behind him. of course, being at such old age made the owner give up easily and retreat to inside the store and to the nearest telephone for the police.

heeseung was smiling, laughing breathlessly at such a successful act that merely took a week and a half to achieve. the loud steps of his black converses came to a stop in front of the only store with a neon sign at this time of night. the dry cleaners where he could finally collect his jacket.

he swung the door open, ignoring the glare of the same girl at the run-down counter as he raced to the hanger racks to find it. the loud scratch of the girl's chair bounced off of the poster-ridden walls when she stood up in disbelief at the return of the boy who left her with a hand of dirty pennies and a destroyed jacket.

"nathan?" she abruptly spoke up and heeseung's pace faltered for a brief moment while he ignored her calling. she had a lot of questions in mind as to why he was running with wads of cash glued to him and why it took him to long to collect his jacket. "those aren't yours, are they?" her glasses adjusted on her nose bridge as two shakey fingers pressed against them. she was referring to his coveralls now soiled in stains. he had almost forgotten the fake name he used so he didn't even realise she was referring to him.

"s'course they aren't mine. you realise this world is full of cheaters," he rhetorically asked through messy heaves of his chest while still flicking through articles of clothing. he was drenched in sweat and, motor oil and dirt, almost as dishevelled as the girl first saw him. her hands, once preoccupied with the newspaper she once read grasped onto her long red polka-dot skirt, uneasy with such a mean response.

the brief moment of silence broke at the relieved sigh that left the tall boy's parched lips as he found his beloved jacket. before he could pad back towards the entrance, the bright flash of red and blue reflected off the windows as police cars drove past at a deathly slow pace. they were searching for him. heeseung's dark eyes widened and he ducked down in an attempt to hide before his vision was clouded by red and white polka dots. "nathan, behind here," the gentle voice above the endangered male brought him back to reality and the crisis he was in.

the employee gestured to behind the front desk and he complied, side shuffling on his aching knees behind it. the girl was like his reflection, mirroring his positioning to take light steps and use her wide skirt to cover his face while he made haste getting to behind the desk. he met with the grim dusty table legs and leaned his back against it with a clamouring heartbeat. the unnamed girl returned to her usual position, reading a newspaper but all the tiny printed letters were too blurred by her adrenaline to actually process anything.

police cars swarmed by, their loud tires burning rubber against the road outside and their brash sirens singing out. heeseung was more than grateful for the little helping hand as he would've been toast if he was still out in the open. the only thing he thought about was the son of a bitch who ratted him out and sent a flock of police after him. he'd understand one or two cars but half a street full was asking for too much. it wasn't like he robbed the man's entire life savings, only a till full.

his partner in crime only took the flashing reflection in her glasses as a signal that the police cars had finally passed by and she craned her guilty head down to the man below her. his pearly white teeth shone, smirking in his pleasing tactic of avoiding the authorities, "thought you were a good girl. turns out y'not," was the only sentence he formed as his nerves calmed as his breathing regulated.

the quiet girl suppressed the tint of red growing from one of her cheeks to the other at his words, turning away in an instant to not blow her cover. "hit the road, hood," her voice changed while she referred to the criminal acts of the boy and now realised the kind of character he was.

the smoke of heeseung's cig left an imperfect line in the air as he stood up cautiously, eyes darting through the wide glass panes to see if the coast was clear. once he confirmed it was, he graciously stepped out of the desk and back on his previous path to the exit. the nickname 'hood' amused the boy, as well as the sudden fierceness in the girl he only thought was innocent.

"thanks, sweetheart. my name's heeseung," he revealed through a light whisper before he ducked out of the thrown-open door and to the opposite direction the police cars came from. the employee raced to the doorway upon his departure and leaned her head out of it to watch as the male escaped to an alleyway hidden in the shadows.

a knot in her heart snapping at the thought it would be the last time she'd ever see the boy. she knew from the beginning the coveralls weren't his and she knew his name wasn't actually nathan. because the tag on the jacket he left behind was claimed with blue pen that spelled his real name. all she knew about the dangerous boy was that she had fallen head over heels for him.

heeseung swerved past tight corners, cautiously avoiding the open from the fuzz that was most likely circling the area. he was trying his best not to move so violently and risk papers blowing out his pockets so he stopped once and found himself in an alleyway between some grocery store and two large skip bins where the stink was more detrimental than being caught by the police.

fortunately, there was a telephone hooked to the wall of the grocery store and as long as it wasn't hooked up to the services of the actual store, this could be his one-way ticket out of this muck. so, within two beats he held the phone up to his ear and dialled the only reliable service he knew. park jay.

sunghoon lost. the ear-defeating celebration from the pack of animals in the middle of the track only rubbed salt in the wounds when sunghoon exited his vehicle and scrambled his hair in his fingers out of frustration. jake stepped forward and rubbed the dishevelled male on the shoulder out of encouragement but he didn't bite into it. the cold winds brushed against the equally cold atmosphere and it sucked having two losses in a row.

you stood beside riki and began to turn away as sunghoon and jake were an inch past you when felix's loud voice yelled, "that race was child's play. i thought you had more fire in you, but i guess you put out," he mocked cruelly, indicating something unrelated to racing.

"s'got a broad with 'em. whaddya gonna do on the way home? this a gangbang?" another male you never met before slurred out, clearly mixed with alcohol. the disgusting comment made your nose scrunch and riki's steps froze.

"ey, let me tap in then," another one drunkenly laughed while his arms were slung around chan and the previously spoken male.

"what'dya meant to do the other 23 hours and 45 minutes in a day, han?" hyunjin teased immediately and han was laughed at while the other boys yanked his clothes mockingly.

the laughing group of hyenas in contrast to your silent crew made you grow embarrassed by the inappropriate remarks. well, until riki's fist banged into han's snickering face and made the boy almost collapse like a folding chair. your eyes shot open, sunghoon and jake immediately spun back around to stop the incoming throttle the seven active men were about to induce on riki.

the mobs of drunken teens were reeled around the scuffle, making it almost impossible for your two friends to pull their youngest out of the rut. your fingernails seeped into riki's shoulders as you attempted to help them hold riki back from going any further than a punch against han and the other men did the same with the said male.

"bust a gut, but you'll be blown off when i get my hands on you-" riki hissed out, voice hindered by the violent thrashes he used to try and get out of the lock sunghoon and jake had on him. han's lips were sneering in anger, cheek reddening while fought against his kind.

definition:'bust a gut'. > laugh out loud.

'blown off'. > defeated in a race.

"bite me!” han yelled before getting shoved to the ground by felix and chan, the two men who were slightly guilty for their friends' behaviour having met you beforehand. you stole a glance at felix, eyebrows furrowed in anger at the switch of personalities the men had around their friends. you thought they were cool at first before their true colours showed.

"cool it!" chan shouted while han was still itching to get his hands on riki. riki finally complied with the grip on his arms, calming down his heaving chest that was so clouded by anger and humiliation.

"i'm warnin' you ever utter a word about y/n," sunghoon rasped, for once his pink lips not clouded by the smoke of a cigarette between them. felix gulped down dryly, eyeing you through the gap between jake and riki's shoulders sympathetically.

"these chicks're only good for one thing," the male with dark hair who previously brought up the idea of the 'gangbang' spoke so confidently and your stomach turned at his controversial words. riki's body jerked at the immorality of the other and sunghoon called out for him to relax.

"fuck up, changbin, for fucks' sake," felix cussed in irritation while turning to his aggravating companion who never got the hint of the situation. you hand rubbed at riki's warm back to continue to settle him down as a blanket of intense silence ensued, consisting of death glares being shot from one boy to another.

"if you're cruisin' for a bruisin', this is our turf and we can get you kicked out anytime y'want," sunghoon warned lowly and felix's head angled downwards at his threat. before he uttered a word, hyunjin stepped forward with his red hair stealing the attention of everyone else.

"how 'bout we settle this? let's cop this side of town so you looneys can't reach us," hyunjin suggested and it piqued interest with his clique nodding in agreement.

"this s'not your turf and neither is it ours," sunghoon retaliated referring to the other side of town owning it. and to be exact, he meant yeonjun and his lackeys' ownership. hyunjin's head tilted in amusement, one eyebrow raised at the correction.

"well then, better defend their turf or you'll be bruised by 'em too. lets race. same spot, same time, tomorrow," hyunjin gambled and for one, you knew bets like these never ended well. you bit your lip uneasily and stole a glance at sunghoon. his eyes didn't falter, and neither did he move an inch from his position when his hands clapped against hyunjin's in a passive-aggressive handshake.

"winner takes the turf," he concluded while he released his hand from hyunjin's robotically and started to turn around to his vehicle parked behind him. you, jake, and riki copied his mannerisms and with hunched shoulders, you refused to return the sorry gaze felix conveyed to you. the tension in the air broke and was followed up by the loud celebration of the opposition's win.

sitting on four leather seats, you and the three others leaned on the counter, chewing your nails anxiously at the upcoming rumble in 24 hours. "i mean, surely you can bring your salt shakers and maybe sprinkle it in their eyes," jake humoured while looking over at sunoo who burst out laughing at the idea.

definition:'rumble'. > a fight among gangs.

"effective, don't you think? five bucks if i land it in jeongin's eyeballs just for you, riki," sunoo joked, previously hearing all about the events thirty minutes ago. riki just sighed out a less than enthusiastic laugh, clearly still torn on jeongin and his personal fight.

"you learnt better than that to set up bets again," you spoke with upturned eyebrows, staring at sunoo with a smile on your face to try and get him out of the habit.

"five bucks is not gonna empty my wallet," he replied while pouting his lips slightly to exaggerate his pronunciation.

"you paid your debts back?" you questioned, sounding a little more surprised than you intended to and the male was almost insulted.

"yes, actually," he rolled his eyes at your tone and then shifted his gaze to sunghoon whose head was in the clouds somewhere, only the fog of a cigarette blowing out of him. your eyes traced the long, slowly wavering line of smoke all the way up to the ceiling that danced before it disappeared into the air.

"sunghoon," you called his name and only his eyes moved to the direction of your voice, which you flinched in your seat, "oh my god. he's possessed."

sunoo and make cracked up quietly, not wanting to bring the male back to his right senses by being too loud. because for some reason, sunghoon's spaced-out periods were entertaining to watch. "must be heeseung's ghost. hey hyung," sunoo piled to the humour and you chewed the inside of your mouth not to giggle as well.

"stop," you begged while silently laughing while tugging sunoo's wrist to try and stop his hand from waving like a robot at sunghoon as if he were greeting heeseung.

finally, sunghoon's eyes blinked and he awoke from whatever curse was placed upon him, "fuck. we are so canned this rumble," he groaned while his hands clawed at his roots, palms drowning his eyes in darkness while he covered them.

"cool it, hyung. we've got weapons," sunoo calmly reassured while sliding a bottle of ketchup to jake which the male effortlessly caught and raised in the air playfully.

"'m being serious. six of us and eight of 'em, if they don't bring any other hobos with them, we're dead," he responded while his hands dripped from his anguished face and resided on the table.

"it was your bet, jackass," jake's brows crossed as he placed the bottle on the table and crossed his arms. sunghoon grunted while he slowly looked back at the other.

"yeah, i know that. how else would i have gotten them off us," his dark faze darted to riki's unsuspecting face next, "some fucker decided to strike 'em first, not once but twice."

riki's mouth fell open in treachery at his scolding, "lay off, hyung. you saw the way they were talkin' to y/n," he retorted while his blonde hair bounced with every word he spoke.

"i saw, we were jus' outnumbered. it was a bad move," he explained as quickly as he could before you got the wrong idea. his reasoning made sense but riki still thought he was getting heat for shit.

"whatever," the younger scoffed, pride partly hurt when he recalled the amount it took to calm him down from lashing out at han further.

"hey, riki. you wanna drop jay's ride at his garage for jungwon in the morning?" you asked the other to change the subject and ease the growing pressure in the room. the boy nodded his head and jumped up from his stool without another word and you trailed behind him to the entrance, "catch you later."

"i don't get it, he would've done the same for you," riki opening complained, hair grasping at his roots in stress as he steered with one hand. you leaned your chin on the back of your palm, listening intently to his worries while the gusts of cold night winds blew past you through jay's roofless automobile.

"no one was in the right in that situation," you responded and riki's eyes flicked up to you in the rearview mirror for a split second while he tried to piece together why, "i don't care about the shit they said. i know the only girl they'd ever kissed is probably their moms so why should i," you grumbled and a quiet noise in riki's throat signalised that he was laughing just a tiny bit.

"so you agree with sunghoon hyung then?" he mindlessly questioned as he turned a corner and the come and go of neighbourhood lamposts illuminated him briefly.

"i didn't say that. riki, he would've done the same if heeseung or jay was also there. but they weren't. can't you see that their absence is affecting him more than you think?" you asked with a simple reflection and riki's lips closed while he thought about it for a second.

"you're confusing me," he blabbered while his eyebrows furrowed at your complex analogy. you hummed for a second to piece together a version that maybe he would understand.

"i'm saying that he was trying to keep you outta trouble. he was scared of them and scared you'd get hurt even more," you finalised and riki released the grasp he had on his blonde tufts while he sat up straighter.

"hyung doesn't get scared, y/n. we could've taken them, easily," he contradicted whilst he pulled up to jay's father's abode. you clicked your tongue at his stubborn disregard and unlocked your door to step out.

"you didn't see it but i did," you swore before knocking on the garage door a few times and awaited a response. jungwon was usually still here at this hour so you had nothing to worry about. riki stayed inside jay's car and tapped his long fingers on the steering wheel to an imaginary beat. the garage door finally revolved upwards and you saw the expected boy alone in the empty garage. your eyes widened at the lack of heeseung's car that left behind a few splatters of oil in the centre of the room it used to be in.

"where's heeseung's car?" you asked the boy and furrowed your eyebrows at the last remnant of the boy being gone. jungwon's cat-like eyes peered back at you and stepped to the side of a wall to make way for jay's car.

"what do you mean? i gave it away," he quietly muttered while carefully scanning your shift in expressions. your heart panged at the very words and although you expected it since it was a race for the pinks and all, this just revealed that the only reason jungwon spent late nights at the garage was to clean the vehicle for the enemy.

your mouth pursed and you steered your gaze away from jungwon, hurt, "oh. right," you mocked remembering the bet. you tried to hide your solemn expression through a thick lie, "i forgot."

riki turned off the engine of jay's car and stepped out after parking it in the middle of the garage, he tapped the hard metal of the vehicle and looked up at jungwon, "it's dented. when i took it out for a spin, i didn't know if be racing with some psycho," riki explained while jungwon walked away from you and towards the rear of the vehicle to see the damages.

"that's totalled," jungwon's eyes widened at the large vacant indent captured just beside the boot of the car. he slipped his white thick gloves off and placed them in the pocket of his coveralls, "you guys win or lose?"

"lose," you softly responded laced with a layer of anguish and defeat. jungwon's lips just downturn at the disappointing reply.

"i was about to catch some z's so i'll head out nd fix it tomorrow, cool?" he questioned the male who was striding closer towards him from the hood of the car.

riki's eyes show up and he immediately shook his head, "you gotta fix it sooner or later, i don't want jay to flip when he sees i've broken his car," he wailed while he put his palms flat together as if he were praying.

"don't flip y'lid, rug rat. jay isn't coming home anytime soon," jungwon conceived while he buttoned down his coveralls and took his arms out of the sleeves, revealing his clean white tee in comparison to the dirty pair of coveralls he wore. he linked the two sleeves of his coveralls and tied them around his waist, settling on his hips. from the lack of fabric around his forearms, you could finally see what laid underneath that baggy fabric. well-toned biceps formulated by the tired labour of car work.

"first thing in the morning," riki pleaded next and earned the eye roll of the older male as he turned on his heel and began to walk the other way.

"they still at the diner?" jungwon asked, knowing the usual routine of the guys after a race and completely disregarding riki's whining.

"i'll tell you if you promise to do it tomorrow!" riki yelled out from within the garages jungwon was already skipping towards the direction of the diner anyways. you just gave the asking male a nod at his question and that's all he needed to go. the male now left with you sighed through his nostrils and you made haste in clicking the automatic door button to start to close the door, leaving the boy inside. he screamed out and jumped out of his frozen position to meet you outside, making you laugh out at his skittish behaviour.

sunghoon was worried about being outnumbered. if sunoo and jungwon came with us tomorrow, that would be six to eight. it would be fine if the race really was just a race. but from the intense atmosphere where the bet took place, you knew it would most likely result in a rumble regardless of who won or not.

rumbles happened every blue moon or so. your crew never really thrived on gang fights but only did when it was necessary. and to get these stray kids off your turf was definitely needed. so you needed allies, at least a handful of them for undeniable succession.

that's where you found yourself outside snob-high. the place where you wanted to find the very man you dread. choi yeonjun.

85 notes · View notes

wing-ed-thing · 11 months

Text

Honey Cakes (Shino x Reader) Chapter III

Synopsis: You were stupid. You made a stupid choice; it left you with the first real heartache of your life and you could safely admit that you deserved it. But then the war came. And as quickly as it came, it was over. So what about you and Shino? Sequel to Honey Stand.

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings/Tags: Gender Neutral Reader, Post War, Slow Burn, Slight Canon Divergence, Fake Tech Talk, Aged Up Characters, Fish, Drowning

Notes: It’s finally here. After 9 months of writer's block and having written myself into a corner. If you’re sensitive to mentions of suicide or mild talk about suicide, please beware.

You approached the crashing river, finding sanctuary in the branches of the gigantic trees of the forest. Water from the river spilled over the bank violently. The sound of the rushing current tore through the air, muffling out all other sounds. The overflowing water raced through the forest, shaking the trees. Even the wind had been whipped up into a gale around you. A large trunk lumbered through your line of sight, floating on what used to be the forest floor. The rushing river carried the fallen tree, tearing off its branches. The surface of the water was white from the brutal motion.

Despite being the circumference of a full-sized office desk, the branches shook beneath you, causing you to almost plummet into the turbulent waters below. You reinforced the chakra output at your feet, barely catching yourself as you grasped onto the tree trunk next to your head. Shino crouched among a bundle of leaves on an adjacent tree as the both of you took in the destruction for yourselves. If the bridge hadn’t been destroyed in the war, it certainly would have been gone now.

You looked off into the distance to the other side of the forest. The land was flooded as far as your eyes could see.

Shino didn’t tell you that it was this bad.

“It goes on for miles…” He muttered.

“What?” You cupped your ear, the roar of the rushing water completely drowning out Shino’s passive voice. The leaves around you rustled. He turned to you, one hand anchoring himself at the trunk as his tree trembled beneath his feet. Shino made a curt gesture down the river.

“It’s flooded for—”

“I can’t hear you!” You cupped your ear, strands of hair whipping around your face.

Shino frowned, features as unreadable as ever. The water crashed below. He looked down at the crashing water as a feeble tree tumbled in the distance before leaping over to you in the blink of an eye. The weight of his landing shook the tree limb just as the rushing river below made the entire trunk rumble from below. You and Shino stumbled together.

Your hand instantly shot out in front of you to stable yourself as you dropped to your knees. And in the same instant, Shino’s stable grip wrapped itself around your arm. One hand settled at the crook of your elbow and the other hovered over your opposite bicep. He knelt in front of you as the both of you redirected your chakra output back towards the bottoms of your feet. The material of his tactical jacket felt heavy and rough on your palm. You could barely feel the padding of his vest on his shoulder.

You didn’t notice that you hadn’t retracted your death grip on Shino even as the shaking settled. He rested his forearms on his bent knee as he watched you from behind his tinted shades. Your eyes darted wildly around the canopy.

“What the hell could’ve caused this?” you wondered aloud.

“There’s a broken dam about a half mile west,” Shino answered. Your eyes widened the slightest bit in realization and you quietly retracted your hand from Shino’s shoulder. He rose to stand, shoving his hands in his pockets. “With all the fighting from the war, I wouldn’t be surprised if the landscape has changed completely.”

You scrambled to your feet, adjusting the straps of your equipment pack on your shoulders. Shino’s beetles swarmed like a cloud around his head.

“Let’s continue to follow the river until we find a crossable part. Hopefully, the base will understand our delay.” Before you had the opportunity to speak, Shino was already on his way.

The river was vast, far more vast than you expected. Despite the hour and a half of travel, the scenery around you didn’t look much different. The trees, for their height and girth, trembled from the unyielding current of the water. They fell every so often, succumbing to the changing landscape as you and Shino scrambled to jump out of the way.

You seemed to have more luck by the time night fell.

As the sun began to set, you started a small fire on a newly formed bank of an alcove just off the river. The waves were violent, but compared to the rushing water that threatened to level the forest earlier, the current seemed calmer. The alcove jutted into the line of the forest where the tide seemed to almost lap at the ground. The tide rocked back and forth on the ground like dogs barely held back by a tether. You sat back against a log as you studied the map in your lap. Two modest-sized fish roasted on sticks on the fire. The kunai holes through their bodies were larger than you would have liked, but they made for decent roasting.

Given the obstruction of the river, you and Shino surpassed the base’s location on the opposite side. Once you crossed, the two of you would have to travel backward. You didn’t know how much longer Shino wanted to travel down the river, but any farther would surely delay your journey more than either you or Shino wanted.

“Should we just cross here tomorrow morning?” you asked. You didn’t even have to turn to sense Shino’s presence as he emerged from the forest. The two of you had split up not too long ago for a brief break.

“It’s too turbulent.” He knelt somewhere in your peripheral vision, washing the vegetation he brought back with his supply of fresh water. Despite your supply of field rations, the two of you seemed to think alike. You supposed Shino didn’t like the taste of food pills either. You looked back at the river, the sides of your lips tugging downward.

“It looks fine to me.” Shino huffed, causing a nervous pang to echo in your chest. You looked back at your map, dragging a finger down the length of it. “If we travel any farther, we’ll have to make up that distance by traveling backward on the other side.”

Shino let out another, louder huff as he stood. A bowl of greens fell into your lap, obscuring your map. Your eyes shot up to his brooding form as he made his way over to the opposite side of the small fire.

“Fine, don’t listen to me then. Just like usual.”

You made a motion to stand, moving your map and the bowl from your lap before you bit back your tongue. You took in a deep breath. You were an adult, not a teenager anymore. Flying off the handle at the first passive-aggressive comment wouldn’t solve a thing.

“I’m trying to figure this out for the mission.”

“And I already told you that it’s not possible to cross here.” Shino shook his head. At that point, you finally rose to your feet, map gripped in your hand. The fire between the two of you shrunk back as if trying to hide from the fight it found itself in the middle of.

“And I’m asking when you think we’ll be able to and you’re not giving me an answer.” You jutted out two fingers, the paper of the map crinkling between your ring finger, pinkie, and thumb. “You think I want to be on this mission any more than you? I thought you’d be ecstatic at an opportunity to speed things along and go home.” Shino’s shoulders heaved. He didn’t even bother to face you.

“You’re asking your scout what he thinks and I gave you an answer. I don’t know what more you want from me.” He turned, hands in the pockets of his jacket as he made his way back into the forest. You stared at the back of his head, jaw clenched and lower lip trembling. Your nose contorted up into a snarl.

“Shino Aburame!” you roared, marching forward. You threw the map to the ground. He turned at the sound of his name, scowl ever-present and deeper than you had ever seen it before.

“Are you trying to get us k—”

“You’re still holding a grudge, aren’t you?” Your question held the intonation of an accusation.

With those simple words, time seemed to stand still.

The rushing of the water fell silent behind you as you stood, staring a hole into the back of Shino’s head. He seemed to freeze, tensing up under his hood. You tried to talk to him before. Perhaps you weren’t forceful enough then. He gritted his teeth but didn’t make a move. With his hands in his pockets and his hood obscuring his face, Shino hid from you, his defense of aloofness unpenetrable.

“I’m not holding a grudge.” He accented his words with grit as he brooded, sinking deeper into himself. “You’re the one making things more difficult than they need to be.”

“You are clearly holding a grudge, Shino, and one from when we were teenagers no less.” You half-heartedly made an effort to move towards him, but your feet stuck where they were in the rocky sand and dirt. “It’s been long enough. Fuck, you’ve been treating me like I killed someone.”

“I said I’m not holding a grudge.”

A single moment passed before he began to walk away once more. The physical distance he took made your heart pound. The two of you spent so much time ignoring each other and you would be dammed if you were going to let a stupid bet and a botched teenage romance haunt you for the rest of your life.

Your body moved on its own.

“Shino…” You reached to grasp the back of his jacket.

“Did you request me?” he accused, spinning around swiftly, causing you to withdraw your outstretched hand. Shino took a step forward, tall form physically imposing, causing you to take a step back. “Did you request for me to be on this assignment so you? To confront me because you can’t handle the fact that maybe someone just doesn’t like you?” The confusion hit you like the blunt end of a sword. It melted quickly.

“For fuck’s sake, Shino, get your head out of your ass.” The gestures around your head were curt as if trying to grasp his reasoning out of the air. You wanted him to push you so you had an excuse to punch him. “You knew about this mission before I did! And if I remember correctly, the last thing you ever told me was to fuck off anyway—”

“Another time you didn’t bother to listen…” He gestured within the small distance between the two of you. Shino’s arms coiled tightly across his chest.

He stood, more imposing than you had ever seen before. Shino had always been one for stiff posture, but it was then that you truly realized how much he had grown. You remembered times in the Academy when the two of you were the same height. Now, he towered over 6 feet tall. The swarm inside of him buzzed with enough fury that they were audible.

“Get over your stupid grudge and be a grown-up,” you grunted. You turned and walked a few steps away, shaking yourself out as if to physically rid your body of the interaction you just had. You snapped the map up from off the ground. You stared at the paper, but your swelling frustration prevented you from reading.

Shino stood for a moment, staring. You continued to pretend to read your map, hoping that he would continue to leave. He snorted, shifting in your peripheral. You could still hear the buzzing of the hive.

“Fine. Drown yourself. See if I care.”

You didn’t even bother looking up from your map.

“Fuck you, Aburame,” you spat without hesitation.

Shino disappeared into the trees just as the fire went out.

***

After a certain amount of stillness, you put your map down with a huff. With your emotions so high, the symbols and words weren’t making sense to you anyway. You soon realized that you couldn’t sleep without someone to keep watch, something that Shino didn’t have to worry about. The food the two of you prepared still sat out, now cold or otherwise wilted.

You stared at the mixed, wild greens in the collapsible, field bowls. The memory of the meals you took to the honey stand transported you back to times you would rather forget. With a frustrated grunt, you kicked the bowl into the forest. You cursed to yourself, dragging a hand across your face as you walked drudging circles around what used to be your fire. Given the time of day, you probably would have wanted to put it out anyway as to not attract anything unsavory.

The moon glistened off of the water, casting a white light across the rushing water. You stood at the edge of your alcove, watching as the ripples of the river ran in the near distance. Portions of the water poured calmly into your alcove, having been stopped by a bar of land that jutted out into the rushing current. You watched as the water swirled from your spot on the bank, Shino’s last words to you echoing in your mind.

“This is stupid…” you muttered to yourself as if defending what you were about to do to the critical voice at the back of your head.

You stepped onto the calm water that collected in front of you, humming to yourself as you met little resistance. You walked over the unagitated surface, watching as a few fallen leaves swirled around at the center. As you made your way towards the river, you could feel the current push stronger underneath your feet. Stepping onto the small bar of land, you surveyed the path in front of you. Slowly and deliberately, you placed your foot onto the surface of the rushing waves.

The momentum of it shook you and you recoiled, stumbling the slightest bit onto the bar from a lack of balance. Determined, you tried again, this time getting both of your feet onto the surface of the water. Shino had been right; the current was faster than it looked. Eyes glued downward, you began to make your way across the river.

Water crashed into your ankles, causing a wet spray to splatter across your calves. Your jaw clenched, tongue poking against the inside of your teeth as you took another step forward. You glanced to the side as the trees from the dying part of the forest grew farther away. You kept moving, trying your best not to overthink your actions. You exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding just as you took your next step. The opposite bank had to be only ten feet away…

With your next step, you glanced behind you.

Looking back, as you probably should have foreseen, served to be an unwise decision.

Shino made direct eye contact with you from the bank. For as stoic as he kept himself, he couldn’t stop the frozen look of surprise and horror that washed over his face. Shino ripped his hood off, throwing the overcoat to the ground completely as he ran forward onto the water.

“You… dumbass…”

You hadn’t even sensed him come back, but it only took a moment of distraction to make you lose focus. Shino must’ve seen your impending doom before you did. You stepped forward, unaware of the wet rock that jutted out just barely above the surface. You barely had time to process your fall before your vision became distorted by the rushing water, a sharp pain ringing from the side of your skull.

Immediately, your hand shot out over the surface. Chakra ignited frantically over your palm as you tried to pull yourself back up. You struggled, only having a fraction of a second to gasp for air before the violent current pulled you back under, tossing and hitting you against more river debris.

Everything became jumbled.

You trained your eyes on the bottom of the river as best as you could as you were swept along. You kicked your legs out, hoping to push yourself to the surface, but your shoulder slammed hard into a sunken log.

You reached out, mustering all of your energy. Working on pure adrenaline and instinct, your hand wrapped around a sturdy root and with all your strength, you heaved your head out of the water. The current pushed against your shoulders, water splashing in your face as it tried to carry you downstream once more. You wrapped your other arm around the root, eyes flinched away from the spray.

In an instant, you were heaved out of the water by the back of your vest. You collapsed on top of an uneven pile of branches and roots. A mass of warm water spewed from your mouth as you coughed. Shino slumped back against an adjacent tree with a thud. He breathed hard, hands leaving his bent knees to run across his face.

“What were you thinking?” he asked, sounding more exasperated than angry.

“Uh…” Your voice cracked, breathing still labored. Blood poured out from the side of your face. You sat yourself up, leaning against a tree trunk as you couldn’t help but crack a semblance of a smile. “I mean you did tell me to drown myself. Can’t ever say I never listen.”

Shino didn’t say a thing. The two of you sat in silence.

Notes: The last exchange was a JOKE

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V

#Shino x reader #Shino aburame x reader #shino #naruto x reader #naruto #naruto x you #naruto x y/n #Shino aburame #honey cakes #honey stand #naruto fanfic #naruto fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #x you #x reader #reader insert

58 notes · View notes

theeyoungalabastor · 1 year

Text

Technoblade And His Apprentice: The Shattered Totem- Kill or Be Killed (Part 2)

Part 1, Part 2 (Fin)

(Art by: Jammie on Twitter)

Where does this take place?: The Arctic Empire, New L'Manberg, The Greater SMP

What event takes place?: Technoblade's and (Y/n)'s execution

Character pairing: Piglin!Hybrid!Technoblade and Bear!Hybrid!Reader

Information on chatacter(s): Both hybrids have a human like form but when feeling threatened both are able to shift into a bigger more animal like form that will add onto both strength, agility, and height (height to look more intimidating)

WARNINGS: Blood, character death, descriptive but mild gore, angst, explosions, murder, manipulation, foul language, freezing, Character Death

Status: Platonic, Angst, Fluff, Familial (Technoblade sees reader as a sibling)

Pronouns: They/them

Word count: 2,419 (2k)

Page count: 7.1

Summary: Having been included with the aid of destroying L'Manberg with Technoblade both the Piglin man and dear reader soon become the main target for a certain quartet. Nailing wanted posters to the wooden poles around New L'Manberg the ensemble set off with the intent of having the duo pay for their crimes. Public Execution.

"What do ya think about this?" Lifting the object in your hand you raised the other to fix the large crown that you had appropriated from your dear mentor. Presenting it to the man who sat at your side, long Infared strands were unbound from the loose braid he often wore, leaving them to wave elegantly with the invisible digits of lady wind to rake through. Technoblade hummed in response as he turned his head to peer at your perched figure whose small round ears flickered in excitement, a few content huffs leaving your nostrils in small puffs of air.

"Hm, I thought you'd have more blue's in there but it's nice, I guess." He shrugged, fixing the hook of his mantle to hang limp on the soft fur that lined the base. He'd caught you a few more times than not, ruffling the soft mane, a childish grin spread across your lips. Despite everything that was happening and what was to come, you never lost those childlike innocents, but he knew under that façade you effortlessly hid behinds, was a killer just like himself. Honestly, the older male saw himself within you, the way your eyes glinted with malice when the mention of blood was brought into a conversation, or when you'd hum content melody's when reading (You caught him a few times doing the same thing). But what struck him the most was your violent urges.

The fur that limned your spine would bristle like a cat frightened out of its wits, top lip pulls into a nasty snarl to reveal your pronged trenchant canines that looked as if they could tare through the roughest of flesh and the strongest of bone. Your padded fingers would shift and contort as your dull talons soon grew blunted and keen at the tip-

It was honestly terrifying when he witnessed your full rage.

Blood caked your snout, painting your teeth a spoiled scarlet that dripped from your chin like thinned cheese, affixes knuckle deep in the beast's carcass that lay limp at your feet.

The Ravager had gored its pronged horn in the flesh of your side that was revealed from between the plates of your netherite armor which ended up puncturing your ribs quite bad-

"You look weird without your crown on," tilting your head to slide the said object from atop your dome shifted, resting against the cartilage of your rounded ear. Technoblade rolled his vermillion hues before shaking his head. "Well, I wouldn't look weird if you'd stop taking it." He barked.

Your brows furrowed slightly at his words, Technoblade, your dear mentor was gifted with a monotone voice, which also meant that at times you couldn't completely compute what emotions he was expressing, if it was any at all.

"Well, Mr. I'm-gonna-be-bitchy-over-a-crown; I wanted to do something." Standing from your spot you turned to him. Turning away he again shook his head.

"I'm not 'bitching' over the crown, it's just that you've got one hell of a pair of butter finger-" His words died on his tongue as a sudden weight atop his head became known. His body turned jagged as you fixed a few silk petals to sit on his hair better. With a nod of approval, you strode away to gather another bundle of long-stemmed flowers.

The blonde stood atop his windowsill; mangled wings pressed tight to the little of his back that ached slightly as he gripped at the windows wooden edge, his ankle sizzled with a small volt of electricity, but his mind wasn't focased on the device that kept him bound to the home to which he resides, but his attention was dead struck on the group. There, being pulled along the wooden oak path, was them.

"You actually got them..."

Technoblade's piglin ears perked at the sound of his friend's voice, desperation sheeting his crimson eyes as he cried out defenselessly. "Phil- PHIL, WHAT DID THEY DO TO YOU!?" But as he turned to face the Elytrian a harsh shove jerked his torso, a sign from the battalion to keep moving, and he did, biting the flesh of his lip till a coppery taste painted his tongue but his words still cut through the air. "You guys leave Phil alone, leave him alone, you already have (Y/N), leave him alone!"

With that being said, Philza's sapphire hues shone with utmost concern when his eyes lay upon your tattered form, your matted hair, split lip that revealed the now dry gums, a single ear presented with a split that would most likely never heal back together, blackened eye, and bruised form, gods you looked sickly, normally bright (S/T) skin now tainted with a dull grey hue.

Your eyes were cast to the wooden walkway that to you- felt as if it were going to go on forever. Your muscles twinged and bones ached after being forced into the harsh weather of the frigid tundra where Technoblade resigned even though now you weren't as cold as before, but you still you felt as if you were to pass out at any moment when waiting to be revealed to your dear mentor as a 'prize for our hard work.'

throughout the whole boat ride to the man in charge, Quackity, would force a finger under the bear hybrids bruised chin, forcing your exhausted half lidded eyes to look at his own earthly hues that glinted with corrupt. Technoblade, every time would let a guttural- almost protective growl would leave his throat when he watched the man handle your beaten form so carelessly as if you meant nothing, but every time he did, Quackity would snap at him with the point of his diamond axe pointed at the man as he spat threats on how he was going to toss the young teen over the edge and watch them sink helplessly into the inky abys of the ocean.

And with your already dampened mental state you kind of hoped that he would. So that you didn't have to sit, back pressed to the boats wooden walls that rocked, sending waves of nausea to wash over your aching body. You looked absolutely pathetic, once a great fighter akin to their mentor now sat, broken and tattered.

A yelp of pain left your lips as the hilt of an axe dug into the fractured bone of your ribs that had been kicked in by yours truly- Fundy shoved your shoulder harshly only to gain a sympathetic glance from the enderman who strode widely beside the small battalion of men and the two captors.

Finally finding the strength to cast your gaze from the floor you glanced up. Just a few feet away stood a towering machine with an iron bared cage beneath, from the top of the crane, hung an anvil from a rope that began to fray from the objects weight. If you weren't as cotton minded with pain and grogginess the thought of how the hell, they got that heavy ass thing to hang from there without accidentally killing one another. But alas, you were tugged to a nearby seat within the two rows of raised seating accommodations, the fox hybrid tightening his hold against the laceration of your forearm, to which you hissed, stumbling into a corner seat, teethed bared at the burning sensation of his fur tugging at the raw meat of your wound.

To your left, Technoblade was led to a nearby poster located directly in front of the elytrians home. The poster- surprisingly- didn't have the two of you back-to-back, weapons held high as if to strike a fatal blow, but just Technoblade.

With furrowed brows and scrunched nose- it struck you.

There WERE no posers around New L'Manberg that contained your photo. You weren't wanted. You weren't needed. But then why where they doing this you may ask?

You were being used for leverage.

They fucking knew that you were one of the few things that the pink haired shapeshifter cared for, including Philza: Who clung to his windowsill, unfastidious wings ruffled and untidied as he watched with helpless eyes as one of his two closest friends were forced carelessly into the iron caged walls, a sheet of thick glass welded into the front for perfect viewing pleasure.

"Technoblade, if you hadn't noticed, this is not a trial, this is not a trial." Quackity mused as he leaned against the iron bars, the ones that Technoblade clung to with white knuckles.

Anxiety devoured hungrily at the pit of his stomach as Quackity continued with his cocky monologue. "You see down there," the duck pointed in a nearby location as the other of who was encaged, looked. " When we press that lever down there, what that anvil is going to do, is it's going to drop on you, and it's going to fucking kill you!"

The larger hybrids heart thumped against his chest at the sight of the heavy object that dangled from just a single rope that looked to fray at the ends. A part of him wondered how the hell these assholes were able to hoist that thing all the way up there.

"But!-" Technoblade looked back at Quackity.

"You're not going alone you see, right there next to you?" He turned, glancing towards the large pole with a decent sizzled platform that elevated the bottom. "Fundy, will you be a king an bring them here for me?" Quackity's voice dripped with honey flavored venom.

Maybe you were wrong, maybe they really were going to kill you.

Fundy, the grandson of Philza Minecraft grinned wickedly as his grip again turned taut, almost bruising, before yanking your stumbling figure along the path, towards the stand where Technoblade was being held.

A harsh shove sent you stumbling, knees hitting the hard wood with a harsh thud. Fundy's hand was then replaced by another, a bit more calloused and firmer than the foxes. "Thank you, Fundy, now, go and enjoy the show huh?"

With a curt nod, the male cast a weary glance towards the encaged piglin who's eyes never left the pathetic looking figure. "Quackity, what- what are you doing with them? They had nothing to do with my actions! Leave them alone!"

"Oh no, no, no, Technoblade, you are not sweet talking your apprentice out of this, they strictly helped you destroy the very foundation we stand on today! Just like we did theirs! BLOWN TO PEICES!" He shouted the last part, yanking the rope that now bound your hands assisted by the copper cuffs that kept you from shifting, a handy cap of sorts.

You were too weak to even struggle.

Quackity dropped from the stands surface, not even bothering to use the stairs that were directly next to him, his wings flapping, an attempt to slow his fall before his netherite boots hit the wooden floor with a clunk. "Neither of you are getting out of this alone, even if it kills me." He hissed, continueing. "Now, you must be wondering what this is yes?" The man crouched next to the lever that would soon bring the blades impending doom, his earthy eyes glinting with malicious intent as he lifted the weapons form their spots, tossing one to his fellow hybrid, Fundy.

In their hands sat two cross bows, both loaded with arrow tipped fireworks. An idea cheekily crafted by Quackity himself after remembering the young presidents unfortunate demise to the same weapon.

It made Tubbo shudder seeing that again.

You just stood; knees buckled towards each other, breathing heavily, so hard that it felt like a wheeze.

It broke Techno's heart seeing you like this, all tattered in worn because you inderstood his intentions unlike most others. All because you wanted to destroy the very thing that drove his brother and your best friend off his rocker.

This corrupt ass government that held one of the youngest members of the SMP and the most feared Anarchist to await their doom.

"I'm sure you recognize these baby's, yeah? I got them from your houses after we caught you!" He chirped happily. "But enough of this, Tubbo, can you please do the honors of explaining to our whole and entire team, of what's going on here?"

With a nod and hum the boy glanced back towards the two exclusionists. Technoblade's lips pulled into a hateful snarl, and (Y/n) who lifted their head to rest against the pole's stature.

His voice wavered. "Technoblade and (Y/n) have robbed this country, of everything that made it special. Of everything that defined what it was. The two stepped in when they shouldn't have-"

The ram hybrid's voice faded into nothing, but murmurs as (Y/n) lifted their head, swollen eye peering at their mentor.

"Techno?"

He turned with the snap of his head, boar ears perking at the sound of their hoarse voice, despite its roughness it was still music to his ears.

"Yes Artemis?"

"Thank you."

This took the man by surprise, no one ever really thanked him, genuinely at least. Other eyes when thanking him of his helping hand had a thin sheen of light in their eyes, just as they were made to be. But theirs shown absolute sincerity, that blanket of light that enveloped their swollen eyes as tears gathered at the ducts. "Thank you for everything. For being a shoulder to lean on, for helping me when I was at my lowest."

The tears began to flow down the bear's face. "Hey, we're gonna get out of this, I promise."

(Y/n) shook their head.

Chaos ensued beyond the heartfelt conversation between the two that seemed oblivious. "No, no I'm not, I'm at least 74 percent sure that I won't make it, but you still have two lives to waste. I'll be nothing but dust."

"AIM, AIM YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

"PULL THE LEVER BIG Q, PULL THE LEVER!"

A shadow cast over the pinettes head as (Y/n) pulled their shoulders to their ears, the tip of the arrow tipped firework approaching rapidly.

"But most of all, thank you for being the dad I never knew I needed."

(Y/n) went out with a bang of color

Technoblade has reached the goal [Postmortal]

________

Unedited

105 notes · View notes

witchersmistress · 1 year

Text

Stolen by the monster part 4

hello my darling creatures!!! i have brought part 4 to you, it is under construction much like my rainstorm and hate sex series so if it is mismatching, im on my way to mend it. but in the mean time enjoy this portion.

Warning: my usual for this style!

word count: 2K

as a reminder, i do not give permission to use my stories or work without asking. if you do ill haunt you for the rest of your days...

Walking back to my office, it wasn't my intention to go that far with you but I was on a timeline, one that I wasn't eager to miss. My plans to ruin Ethan Hunt were still the same but you being pregnant would just be icing on the cake. Imagine the look on his face when he learns that the daughter, he never met, was defined by the very monster he was meant to stop and you, being the sweet loving girl you are, would never get rid of that baby no matter what anyone told you.

My balls ached with the thought of you swollen with my child. There was a small voice in the back of my head that was telling me that it was wrong to use you this way but I didn't care about that when you said that I could use you anyway to get back at your father. I lost control which is something I normally don't do. Placing the sedative back into the safe I made my way to my bedroom, nothing out of its place, I walked into my ensuite bathroom, turning the shower on as the steam filled the room. I went about my nightly routine, as I crawled into bed with my little black book. Trying to read and i couldnt focus on anything, my thoughts drifted back to you, knocked out in your bed, your thighs slick with my cum, fuck, your moans bouncing around in my head. My cock was at half mast and I could barely stand it. With a frustrated sigh I closed the book. Giving up on trying. Yanking the blankets off my legs, I swung them and stood.

Moving through the hallowed hall towards your room. Pushing the door open, I found you in the center of the bed. That cat of yours on a pillow, its yellow eyes glaring at me, that stupid creature. I moved closer to your dresser, opening drawers to find some kind of sleepwear for you. I'd be far too tempted if I left you naked. I may be a monster but that's a line I will not cross. Finding a plain spaghetti strapped black nightgown, I pulled it over your head, pulled each arm into each strap and pulled it down your lush body, stopping at your hips. I saw the dry cum on your thighs, walking to your ensuite bathroom. I grabbed a washcloth and ran it under the warm water, adding a small amount of soap.

Walking back to your bed, I spread your thighs and cleaned up the mess I had left. I never regretted my actions of taking you from your home, and keeping you captive, even trying to force you to carry my child. I regret that I lost control. wiping the soft flesh of your lush thighs, you let out a soft moan.

Drying your thighs and grabbing you a pair of underwear and shimmied them up your hips, giving your ass a gentle squeeze, as i went to pull the night gown down i say the tell tale signs of bruises forming, fuck you bruise easily. You could see the outline of my hands forming on your hips. Pulling the duvet backup and

laying on the other side of you and pulling you closer to me. Pressing your back to my front, your warmth spreading across me, I feathered kisses across your shoulder blades as you snuggled close. “Your going to be the death of me little one” i made eye contact with that cat on your pillow, it was purring and was watching me. That damn creature. Ignoring it as we settled in. Tucking a long strand of your hair behind your ear, you rolled over and pressed your face into my chest and gave me a few kisses before settling back into a deep sleep. Suppressing a groan deep in my chest, laying on my back and pulling you with me. Goddamn you really will be my downfall.

Your POV

I felt unusually warm, and a heavy weight on my mid section. Cracking open an eye, I looked up to see Jess looking at me, “Hi sweet baby” reaching out a hand to pet her. She rolled over and showed me her belly. Someone shifted behind me, I rolled over carefully to come face to face with August. I jumped back a little. What in the actual fuck was that man doing in my bed. He still had an arm wrapped around me. I lazily drew a finger across his exposed pecks, tracing the scars he had, this particular one, I think was from the fuel burn from my father, in his attempt to stop August. he was built like that dude from the witcher. A grumble vibrated deep in his chest, “What are you looking at, little one?” while i fumbled with my words, he quickly shifted, and pulled me underneath him as he settled between my thighs. “Curiosity killed the cat you know.” he stated as he nipped at the soft flesh of my tender breasts. I gave him a small smile and tried to wiggle my way out from underneath him.

Hissing as he settled more of his weight on my lower half. My abdomen coils and throbs from the pain settling and his weight on me. Showing the displeasure and discomfort in my face, August cocked an eyebrow as he moved off me. I slid off the bed and tried to make my way to the ensuite bathroom. “Sweet girl what's wrong” his big hand encircled my wrist stopping me from going “August, i don't feel well” he looked me up and down before settling on my legs and his eyes grew wide. I looked down and saw the blood running down my leg. “Verdammt” I hissed, my body sometimes can just be a wicked bitch. He was up and out of bed before I could speak, he grabbed a dark towel from the bathroom and folded it before placing it back on the bed. “Sit” he said, it wasn't a suggestion.

Still at the door, he says, “A bath is waiting for you. Take your clothes off and I’ll be in shortly.” When he closes the door, I do as I’m told, skating my fingers along the wood as I make my way into the bathroom. In the center is a free-standing bath with shiny claw feet. Breathing in deep, I strip and step into the warm pool of water as steam drifts from the rippling surface and hangs in the surrounding air. Sinking down into its depths, the water rising to just over my breasts, I lean my head back on the lip and close my eyes. The warmth and buoyancy lessen the pain in my abdomen. I hum my enjoyment. Hazing through my mind are sparring emotions, wanting to both be in awe and love but also curl up in silence until I don’t feel so raw about everything that has transpired. “You’re a survivor,” I mutter to myself. It is not long before I hear the wooden door rattle on the hinges as it opens, and footsteps move in that graceful, measured way that only August Walker can pull off with a six-foot-one physique. “You do not have to do this,” I say, opening my eyes and sitting up to find him pulling a chair over to the bathtub. He is still in his dark pj bottoms, still shirtless revealing cords of veins, curves of muscles.

“I know, sweet girl.” He picks up a loofa and lathers it with soap scented like coconut before brushing it gently down my shoulders and chest. I shake my head in amusement, I can't quite figure this man out.. As he washes me, I can’t stop noticing how I used him as a scratching post and how he has more evidence of our steamy night than even me. I reach out and grab his forearm, inspecting the gashes that would have wept with blood. He holds still, letting me look. “You look like a feral cat attacked you.” “A sweet little wolf, actually,” he says, his voice deeper, more gravely, while afflicted with fatigue. I presume he hadn't slept long before i woke him

It’s an incredibly sexy sound; sleepy August Walker. Gruff. Husky. Yummy. “A stray wolf,” I mutter, releasing his forearm. His hand dips, breaching the warm surface, sinking to cup my abdomen.

Even as tiredness moves in waves through his irises, they are no less controlled, no less attentive. “Is that self-deprecating behavior going to return?” he says. “I thought we were making progress. Do you need a repeat of what happened a few days past” His hoarse tone, wrapped in sleepy huskiness, reaches deep inside me. I still think about the sting as he spanked me.I shook my body, sending waves of sensation to my already beating clit. Then I remember the way I felt in the wake of that moment. The subtle burn. A feeling of safety. Accountability. The way I trusted him that little bit more... “Do you think I need it, Sir?” He strokes my empty abdomen as though his tenderness can fix the hollowing of my womb. “Perhaps. Are you cramping?” “It feels better in the water.” He lowers his hands and massages my thighs, deep tissue pressure that loosens and comforts. He’s strong, dominant in the way he touches me, but in no way rough or overstimulating. My eyes bat close, and I melt beneath the meticulous hands of the most intense, dangerous, and beautiful man I have ever met.

While his hands slowly work around my entire body, he talks to me. “When I say you belong to me and that I will take care of you, this is what I mean. You are not a stray. You are owned. I warned you once to tell me to stop. I warned you what it meant to belong to me... True, I didn’t plan on keeping you then. I do now. There will be times when you hate me. For what I have to do. I am sure of it. That will change nothing between us. I want you to know that if you try to leave, I will hunt you down. I want you to find comfort in the fact that you have no choice. You are mine. Because ever since I laid eyes on you, sweet girl, that is the only place they have wanted to be.”

I look at him. Moaning as he palms my breasts gently, I feel my nipples pebbling against his palm. “You will hunt me down, Sir? Why would I want to leave?”

“I am a sinful man.”

“A dangerous man,”

I agree, pridefully, without a hint of care for the rest of the world. I swallow hard. “I wish I was a dangerous person.” A grin coasts across his lips. “My affections for you make you the most dangerous girl in the country,” he states seriously, and I exhale, a flitter of contentment moving into my chest, finding comfort in his darkness. It is potent, that flitter, spreading out like stems, curling into each cell. I remember my mother talking about reincarnation. About how we turn into a vibrant, uninhibited butterfly after this harsh existence as a weak, humble caterpillar. But I don’t want to wait until I am dead to experience my own reincarnation. I want it right now. In a cocoon of August Walker. I hope that in my second life, I am a monarch butterfly.

They are graceful.

Beautiful.

And poisonous.

#henry cavill #august walker imagines #august walker #august walker fanfic #august walker fanfiction #henry cavill characters #henry cavill x you #henrycavill smut #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill thirst

50 notes · View notes

avatarvyakara · 10 months

Text

Presenting the premier Addy Brock collection from Strands of Webbing!

Starting out with diversion of a canon event because, honestly, [bleep] that noise:

52. React

"DON’T!" she screams. But Ven#m is already halfway towards the M.O.R.B.I.U.S. device, a look of determination on its electronic inFace—

Until, with a grunt, all three point one five tons of SP//dr shoves the other mech out of the way of the beam of light just in time. A nearby building fuses into a twisted mess of metal and glass, like a Vonnegut crystogram.

"What the hell was that for?" comes the angry voice of Addy Brock from Ven#m's modulator.

"Rule number one on this team: you don't get yourself killed to prove a point!" snaps Peni.

Ven#m's inFace expresses strong shock.

"…we're a team?"

"I didn't say that."

That chirpy expression looks really weird in black and neon white. It probably doesn't help that the teenager inside has a much more…smug face, and that Peni can see both of them quite clearly.

"You implied it."

"Shut up. Now help me figure out this thing's weak spot. And don’t you dare die."

(Addy survives. But Peni's not sure, after the loud squeal at the end of the fight, whether her eardrums are going to last the week.)

60. Introductions

“You’re welcome to stay longer,” she tells Gray with a little hesitation, as they sit atop the New Chrysler eating putty-cakes from a street vendor below. “You could actually come over.”

His eyes shine, but his brow wrinkles—for once he’s got the mask off. He looks like Peter Parker. He looks nineteen. (Thirty. Eighty.)

“I don’t know if your folks would be okay with that.”

“You already met Addy.”

“Well, yeah.” Admittedly, she did threaten Gray with a fate worse than death and a mech. Neither of which seemed very effective to the other Spider, who had just laughed. One Saturday she’d be very happy to forget, honestly. (But he laughed, so there was some success that day.)

“I’ve been trying to explain this to them, the whole multiverse thing,” she says, and huffs. “They still think I’m crazy. Or that I’m lying and that I’ve actually just gotten myself some shady lowlife koibito to spite them.”

Gray’s face hardens. “If that word means what I think it means, then they should know way better.”

But it softens again when he looks at her. “But a six-foot-three-inch-tall nineteen-year-old with a face like a darned sock isn’t going to be much help to you, kiddo.”

“You’re literally from another dimension—”

“And I look scary. I won’t be making it easier for you on my own, not with how you say your aunt and uncle are. Maybe you can get Miles and Gwen in on this?”

She wants to protest, but then he says: “Maybe Ham and Peter too, Make an outing of it for the whole cluster. That way the others can distract them a little.”

“...I guess that makes sense.” He’s her best human friend, and she wanted to recognize that. But even so...maybe that would be better. She was able to pass off Miguel as a Mercurial pen-pal with a cosplay addiction (most Earthers will believe anything about the decadent and obscenely wealthy and more-than-slightly inhuman Spacers), but the rest are going to be harder—her black-and-white and cartoon counterparts especially. Telling the whole story, with proof, becomes easier if there are kids her age to help soften the blow. (Plus, Peter B couldn’t look threatening if he tried.)

Still.

“You’re not scary, though,” Peni insists. “Not to me.” She grins. “You’re too much of a dork for that.”

He squeezes her shoulder, and gives her a smile no less warm for being in monochrome. “Whereas you frighten the life out of me, doll.”

She hugs him. This time around, he doesn’t resist.

“...seriously, though, what’s in that crispy paste stuff?”

“Sun-fried seaweed, Mercury-style.”

“...it’s not too bad. Tastes kinda like latkes. Like a latke dough, but you can eat it.”

“It’s pretty good. My favourite’s yungay potato.”

“Ah, a lady of quality.”

She laughs at that.

80. Comrade

Adelaide Brock is fourteen when she makes her first two real friends. People who actually get it. Who understand the thrill of the ride, and the joy of the psychic link.

They have their differences, of course. Peni’s more of a drill sergeant in the field, always efficient, applying incredible precision. Addy’s always been more of a performer at heart, and her spider (her spider), Weying, seems to sympathize. Ven#m likes the spotlight, isn’t really up to just fighting and heading home, prefers to mug for the crowds and crow over a few muggers. (And occasionally fantasizes about trapping and eating the monsters they defeat like the oversized prey they are, but that’s spiders for you.) Maybe it’s showboating a little, but hey, if you have a ship, why not display it?

But at the end of the day...Peni saved her life. Soon after, she saved Peni’s. They’re a team. They’re actually talking. And she and Weying have been working together for ages now, and New York loves them. Life is good.

Now, if only Peni would actually let her know who she keeps talking to on that weird 2D group chat of hers...

170. Hardcore

“...until ultimate termination.”

Peni blinks.

“Are you sure we’re the same person?”

Other Peni rolls her eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. Even if your SP//dr is a bit...”

“A bit what?”

“You know...impractical? For fighting bad guys?”

Peni frowns. “Mostly kaiju, actually.”

“You sit in a glass cockpit and punch giant monsters and somehow you’ve survived as SP//dr for...how long now?”

“Three years. How about you?”

“Two. ...oh, no, there is no way you’re older than me. You look twelve!”

“Uh...I’m sixteen.”

“Ah, Peni! I see you’ve met Peni?” says Ham, striding through the workshop with a sandwich and out the other side. “Have fun!”

“I guess,” mutters Other Peni.

“...Dad’s death still bothering you?”

“What? No, that was ages ago.” Other Peni sighs, which helps Peni feel less like yelling at her dismissive tone (which would be counterproductive). “Mostly it’s just the job. It...kinda grinds down on you after a while.”

“...I guess I can relate to that.”

Other Peni coughs. “So...you like listening to music while you work?”

Peni lights up. “Do I? Come on, let’s get the sound started. Have you heard anything by Karam Heiwa?”

For the first time in the entire conversation, Other Peni smiles.

“I can see you’ve got good taste.”

“It’s probably a Peni Parker thing,” says Peni, conversationally. “Gray’s stuck on swing, Peter B’s more Silver Age Electric, and Gwen’s into punk, but you just can’t beat KH for tunes to work with.”

Other Peni cautiously goes through the playlist on the holographic display, as though she’s worried about breaking something. Then her faces lights up.

“Hey, is this ‘Nuke-ular’? I haven’t heard this album in ages!”

...of course Other Peni would choose the most depressing song in the mix. Still, baby steps.

183. Talk

The first time Addy stops by the workshop when Other Peni is there, Other Peni is furious at Peni for suggesting she come and say hi. Genuinely furious.

The second time—after some prompting and a long discussion where Other Peni Parker cries for the first time Peni remembers—Other Peni is there to greet her.

“Uhhhh...Peni? Is that you? You look tired. And...older.”

“...hey, Addy. It’s me. This is gonna sound weird, but...I’m from another dimension and I just...kind of wanted to see you again.”

She sounds so tender.

Addy blinks.

“It’s okay,” says Peni, coming around to the front of the space. “She’s...a friend. Sort of. But you have to keep this a secret. This is beyond mech stuff, it’s insanely important. Swear?”

Addy nods, wide-eyed.

“Good! You two have fun!”

“Peni, you weren’t supposed to—” Other Peni growls, but Peni’s already wheeling herself out.

It should help. She knows it would help her. And she’s about 90% certain Addy will forgive her, and has fifteen different prospective options to hasten that process.

...figures that when she steps back in, Addy and Other Peni give her rather evil grins.

“You know,” says Other Peni casually, “the nice thing about being the same person? It means you’re already well aware of a fair few...embarrassing incidents.”

“...you didn’t.”

“Me? No, no. We just traded life stories. If they match up, it’s just a coincidence, right?”

Addy cackles.

“I’ve created a monster.”

“Aw, lighten up, Choking Hazard.”

“Adelaide Brock, you swore not to tell a living soul—”

“Actually I just said I’d only talk about it with you. And, well...”

Other Peni laughs.

(The sacrifices one makes for the good of one’s fellow Spiders...)

238. Rudolph

“If you think I’m missing this, Peni Parker, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Addy...I don’t know. I mean, yes, you got bitten, but...I’ve never met another Addy Brock out there. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Addy tosses her head back and offers her friend an easy grin. “Then I won’t get hurt. Simple as that. Trust me, Peni. I know when to pull back now.”

Peni sighs. “Fine. But be careful, right? Follow my lead.”

The red SP//dr enters the hole in space just before the black Ven#m does, and leads the way.

And on the other side—

“Hey!” calls Miles happily, coming over to meet them. “Glad you could make it!”

“...hi,” says Addy, blushing quite pinkly all of a sudden.

Peni rolls her eyes. “Excuse my friend. Addy, this is Miles Morales, Spider-Man. Miles, my best friend and coworker Addy Brock and her Spider Weying, alias Ven#m.”

“...how are you pronouncing that?” asks Ham. “Hey, I thought me and Mister Egg Cream over there were your best friends.”

Gray looks like he’s trying not to grin. Peni can feel a blush coming on herself. “I’ve got four best friends. Addy’s the only one you guys haven’t met yet.”

“Well, welcome to the team,” says Miles easily. “And Happy Hanukkah!”

(“Should I tell him you’re a Zuhariyya Muslim?”

“Nah, it’s okay.”)

297. Tea

“So, that’s one Earl Grey for Billy, one Boba for Peni, two Green for Hida and Other Peni, one Black for Cindy, one Lemon Grass for Roshni, and one Masala Chai for me,” says Pavitr, taking notes.

“I feel like we’re inviting stereotypes here,” says Roshni.

“I don’t reckon so,” Billy replies, preemptively reaching for the sugar.

“For Peter...coffee. And a reminder of what civilization looks like when you don’t commit blasphemy.”

Pauker glares. “I told you, that was in Boston!”

“And a Peppermint for Addy.”

On her shoulder, Weying the spider bounces excitedly.

“...no, Addy.” That’s from both Peni Parkers at the same time, exasperated in different ways.

“Aw, man...”

322. Mitosis

“Don’t count on it working,” says Other Peni. “And be careful.”

Peter cracks his knuckles.

“Just gotta give it the ol’ college try.”

And he walks up to the bulky form of Ven#m. Not as nice-looking as Addy’s, honestly. And a cannibal at that. Joke about it though he may, he doesn’t much like cannibalism.

Peter doesn’t entirely know what he’s doing, but there’s always such a thing as giving it the ol’ college try.

(Granted, he never went to college.)

—what are you?—

“Me? I’m just a good buddy here to annoy you into spitting out my friend’s loved ones.”

The capsule opens, revealing a tangled mess of cable-like tentacles that snake towards him.

—is Peni so desperate that she’s sending in cartoons to aid in her futile endeavours?—

—hahahaa—

—don’t make me laugh, little piggy—

—we are Ven#m—

—what are you going to do?—

—“huff and puff and blow my house down”?—

Peter pulls out the giant horn his niece Dahlia sent back from a trip to Switzerland.

“Something like that, yeah.”

362. Celebrity

Do I get one? I get one! Wheeee! ...um. Sorry. Anyway.

My name is Addy Brock. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, and for five years I’ve been one third of the one and only Ven#m. I’m from New York in the year 3150, I have a psychic link with a spider who lives inside the robot I tried to take for a joyride when I was fourteen, and my best friends in the world are Peni Parker and Weying, the aforementioned radioactive spider.

Pretty sure you know the rest. Saved the city, mugged for the camera, saved the city again and again, had a hundredth-of-life crisis during which I, uh...we don’t really talk about that. (I’m banned from Greater Peru until I’m eighty-five, on a completely unrelated note.) But I got back up. Also, I met an alternate version of my best friend who lost her me and really needed someone to keep her laughing. And that’s me. Addy Brock, clown superhero extraordinaire. (Peter Parker? Never heard of him.) Peni may be the OG, but I’m the sequel that nobody knew they wanted but now can’t get enough of. I’ve even been to Mars on business—you know how difficult it is for an Earther to get direct to Mars, let alone for a job? Usually they hire local, or take on seasonal workers from the ecoships. This is big stuff.

...but at the end of the day, I love being Ven#m. And...I like having friends who get it. I got randomly assigned a last name matching my closest genetic relatives, but Peni and her Aunt May and Uncle Ben are the first real family I’ve ever actually had. So guess what? Ven#m is here to stay, with the Parkers, in the Republic of New York, on Earth.

As long as they’ll have me.

(“Well, then, looks like even reincarnation won’t be enough to let you get away, Addy.”

"And when they get sick of you, me and my aunt and uncle and Other Addy will take over."

“Aw, you guys. Peni Parkers? Ultimate upgrade in superhero mettle. Besides yours truly, of course.”

”How modest.”)

#spider verse #addy brock #peni parker #peter benjamin parker #spider man noir #sp//dr #venom #peter porker #addy x peni #if you squint #pavitr prabhakar #obligatory tea joke #(made PRE-movie thank you!)#strands of webbing #across the spiderverse #happy ending #non canon #because i said so #one shot collection

48 notes · View notes

mortedeveles · 2 years

Text

the red means i love you | toga himiko

Do not repost, plagiarize, or monetize my fanfiction content.

my insides are red and yours are too, the red on my face is matching you and goodness you’re bleeding, what a wonderful feeling-you’re down and you’re pleading, my head is just reeling…

toga isn’t known for sharing what’s hers.

— toga himiko x fem!reader — inspired by madd buckley’s song the red means i love you — MATURE CONTENT, VERY suggestive but no actual smut, graphic descriptions of blood, violence, and murder. extreme-ish yandere themes (it’s toga) and depictions of unhealthy realtionships (kidnapping!!) pls proceed w caution!!

— this ff prbbly isn’t coherent pls bare w me y’all

Her fangs are ghosting over your shoulder, leaving goosebumps in its trail. You can feel the hands that slip under your shirt, the way her knee parts open your legs. Your body is trembling, though you can’t tell if it’s out of excitement or fear. The blood is still fresh and wet on your lips, dribbling down your chin and staining your shirt. Toga’s mouth is even redder than yours but she’s quick to lick at the blood that decorates the lower half of her face, grinning widely.

“Oh, darling…” she purrs into your ear as she leans forward, her knee pressing against your crotch. “You look so beautiful in red.” A half gasp, half hiccup leaves your lips as she presses her knee against your crotch, hard. Your heart leaps to your throat, and you grip onto her shoulders, lips slightly trembling as her tongue goes to your neck, licking stripes from your collarbone to your chin. You almost forget the corpse that’s a few feet away from you.

“Can I have a little taste?” Her voice vibrates against your skin, fangs already gently scraping at your neck. You whimper, hands digging into her shoulders. “Please…”

“I don’t know him. I didn’t know him,” your voice is feeble. “Himiko…I would never dare to.” You’re being as honest as you can be. But it won’t be enough to convince her.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she coos and plays with a strand of your hair. “I know that. It’s not your fault. But he needed to be punished for touching you,” she tucks the hair strand behind your air.

“He…he,” you hiccup, feeling your stomach drop. “He didn’t have to die-,” your voice dies as Toga narrows her eyes. Before you can react, she sits back in her chair and drags you with her, landing atop her lap. You’re stuck facing her, your chest brushing against hers.

“I gave him a quick and painless death,” she whispers in your ear, one hand holding the back of your neck while the other squeezes your bare thigh. “I can’t be more merciful than that.” Her hands move to cup your ass and you bite down a gasp. You stiffen and she keeps her hands on your behind, firm and unmoving.

“I think you owe me something for being so merciful,” she purrs and her lips graze your collarbone to your lips. “Wouldn’t you agree?” All you can do is nod.

She laughs and her warm breath fans your neck. It has a metallic scent to it, which reminds you of the blood caking your clothes and your hands.

“Thank you,” Toga drags out the two words before licking a strip on your neck. You gulp, eyes closing. A sharp sting of pain and you gasp as her fangs sink into your neck and her warm lips kiss your skin.

“Mmmm,” it sends vibrations through your core and you’re embarrassed to realize you don’t entirely hate this. Toga pulls away soon enough, licking her lips clean. She grins, and you flinch as you stare at her blood-stained fangs.

“You’re so kind to me, so perfect,” she purrs, one hand caressing your chin. Toga pulls you in for a kiss and you can’t find it in yourself to stop her as her lips claim yours. Her hands are traveling everywhere and your heart is racing. When she pulls away, you’re sure your lips are puffy red. But your kidnapper merely smiles and tilts her head slightly, before leaning forward. Her lips are brushing against your neck and you gulp.

“The next time I see anyone talking to you, I won’t be so merciful…” one of her hands squeezes your thigh. “Do you understand?” Nearly whimpering, you nod when she pulls back. The small tears that leave your eyes are inevitable, and you try to duck your head but Toga is anything but dense.

“Why are you crying, darling?” Her voice sounds sympathetic and you’re close to believing it’s true. But you remember why you’re here; why you’ve been here, why she won’t let you go.

“There’s no need to cry. I’m sorry I’ve upset you…” she sighs. “But I’m not sorry for killing that man. He knew what was coming his way.” He asked you if you worked at the store you were groceries at. You can’t hold back another wave of tears as you hiccup and sob.

“Toga, please,” you try to hold eye contact through the tears. “I’m sorry. Please…let me go. I want to go home.” Her grip on you tightens and her pupils turn into slits. She giggles, before engulfing you in a hug. Toga’s fangs graze against the spot she bit you, and you flinch. The wound is still sensitive, and you know it’s a silent reminder. You are completely and utterly hers. The wound on your neck only confirms it.

“You are home, love.”

a/n: pls don’t flop challenge!! my past two posts have flopped terribly which is making me v sad but i’m hoping to power through this flop era if i keep posting :,) so if u enjoyed pls reblog + comment!! <3

158 notes · View notes

xvi-the-tower · 2 months

Text

OC kiss week- rain

A little piece I did for OCkiss week featuring my oc Lavinia and @nn-ee-zz 's Edward ❤️. Both characters are originally for Touchstarved, but this takes place in a Regency au where Lavinia isn't cursed.

As the two ran through the trees, Lavinia's laughter intermingled with the sound of large raindrops hitting the leaves and grass. Ed led the way to a small gazebo near the treeline where they could take shelter. Once inside, Lavinia all but collapsed against one of its pillars, trying to catch her breath in between bouts of giggling. "I can't say I remember the last time I got caught in the rain!" she exclaimed breathlessly.

"Though I do remember one time Ilya and I were picking berries and we got caught in this terrible downpour. I thought for sure Mrs. Danvers would murder us for muddying her floors!" She laughed again, even as the bitersweetness of the memory settled upon her heart. Happier times before she'd known the taste of heartache.

Lavinia looked over at Ed. He was smiling, his usually pale cheeks red from the exertion of running. And his dark eyes were glittering with what she assumed was amusement. She felt those eyes on her and felt bare before them. Embarrassed, she looked down at her feet. "My shoes!" she groaned, seeing that her shoes were caked in mud, as were her stockings and the hem of her dress. "Mama will be furious!" With that realization, the giddiness she'd felt moments before was replaced with vexation as she became aware of how she must look with the wet fabric of her dress clinging to her body. Her hair would surely be a frizzy mess with loose strands plastered to her neck. Though possibly the worst realization was that they had lost their chaperone. For the first time since rekindling their friendship, they were truly alone, blocked off from the world by a curtain of rain. How utterly unladylike!

Her spiral was interrupted by Ed who stepped toward her. "I will buy you new ones. And a new dress. After all, it was my idea to go for a walk even with the gathering clouds." His tone was soft and reassuring.

"Edward, I could never ask--"

"You didn't ask. I offered."

"I-- Thank you. You are a true friend."

The more time they spent together, the more she realized how much easier it was to lift the weight on her shoulders in his presence. Around him, the burdens of expectations and appearances felt so much lighter. As her mind began to settle, so too did the cold begin to settle in her bones. Ed must have noticed her start to shiver because he closed the distance between them and said, "Let me warm your hands."

Lavinia gave him her hands, which he pressed between his. It was the most contact they'd ever had, a fact of which she was acutely aware. Their eyes met, and he held her gaze as he brought her hands to his lips to place a reverent kiss to her fingers. His warm lips lingered on her cold skin, and suddenly her face felt incredibly hot. For a long moment, they stayed just like this, neither of them looking away...

"Lavinia!" It was her stepmother. In a panic, Lavinia pulled her hands away and clasped them behind her back. Had she seen them? Releasing the breath she just now realized she'd been holding, Lavinia looked away from Ed bashfully, waiting to be scolded. "Lavinia, come inside before you catch your death!" So she hadn't seen? That was a relief, but Lavinia knew she wasn't off the hook for getting caught in the rain and mud.

"Yes, mama!" Lavinia called back. The transformation was immediate. She corrected her posture, brushed the loose strands of hair from her face, and adopted the cool, aloof air that her stepmother expected of her. Holding her arm out to Ed, she asked quietly, "Will you escort me back to the house?"

He nodded and took her arm in his. "Of course."

At the threshold of the gazebo, Lavinia put her other hand on his arm and gave it a light squeeze. Despite the mask she'd spent years perfecting, she smiled.

#ockiss24 #Lavinia Castor #Laved #writing

4 notes · View notes

krillissue · 2 months

Text

Came Back Wrong - August Nash Part 1

hello, am i fighting my writer’s block with more trisona nonsense? yes, absolutely. i love this funky little cowboy so much and i want you to love him too!! this is part 1 of some drabbles i’m gonna do for him.

this is 2k words and tw: violence, blood, death, undeath, fire

A corpse once crawled its way out of a grave one night with no memory of how it got there or who it was. Their hands grasping through sand, fingertips bloody and sore. He dug his way out without his lungs gasping for air, heedless of the sunless sky above him. Lucky for him it was a shallow grave, one among hundreds in a field marked with makeshift crosses. His, if he could consider it so, could hardly be made out in the lights of the moons.

BORN ■■ ■■■■ AUGUST■ ■■■■

L■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■ NASH■■■■■

“August L. Nash” seemed to be as close to a name as he would ever recall. His memories were a blank slate, as empty as his grave now. Another man approached him, lantern in hand. He was large and haggard, a lifetime of the harsh desert planet wrinkling his skin and seeping into his aching joints.

“What’cha doin’ there, boy? No use in robbin’ these graves.” He didn’t sound angry about catching a thief but as the light washed over him, the man’s face fell into a look of horror. August looked down at himself for the first time, trying to see what the man saw. A tattered shirt stained a dark rusty brown, pants caked in dirt and sand. He was filthy and thin and it couldn’t have been more obvious that he was the body that crawled out of this grave, not a robber.

“...Where am I?” August inquired, his voice as cracked and dry as the desert around him.

“Just outside May City,” The man answered as he crossed himself, his eyes unmoving from August’s own. “How did you crawl outta that grave? I put you in there myself. I saw... You were dead, boy.” August assessed himself, no air needed to fill his lungs other than to speak. He felt no hunger or thirst, his only fatigue in his limbs. Hesitantly, he felt the side of his neck for a pulse. A faint heartbeat thrummed against his bloody fingertips. Could he be considered a living thing? He didn’t know.

“Why do you keep calling me ‘boy?’” He found his voice easier as he used it, spitting the sand from his mouth. “Do I not have a name?”

“What makes you think you’re the same boy that went into that grave?” The gravedigger sighed, clearly still shaken up by August’s presence but nonetheless unthreatened. “C’mon along to the house. I’ll get you something proper to wear. And a good washin’. You smell like death.”

.✾. .✾. .✾.

The gravedigger made August his apprentice. Not that it was technically difficult work, digging graves. He’d given him clothes to wear but they were all too big, even his boots. He could have whatever the bodies wore but it felt wrong to take anything from the dead. Preparing the dead was simple, easy, he felt so very little. It never bothered him to put them to rest. But the more he did, the more whispers he heard at the edges of his senses. Late at night, while he dug instead of sleeping, he swore he could see ghosts. The gravedigger said it was his eye.

August hated looking at himself in the mirror. Whenever his hair grew too troublesome, he’d cut it. The choppy strands were white as bone, something often commented on for its strangeness in one so seemingly young. But it was meeting his own eyes in the tarnished aluminum that left his skin crawling. His left iris was a deep warm brown but his right was a ghostly shade of gray, the entire eye foggy. He could see out of it fine but it disturbed anyone who met his gaze. The gravedigger said he was one foot in the grave, able to see both worlds. August didn’t know if he believed in ghosts.

His eyes weren’t the only parts of his body he avoided, however. His tawny skin was almost sickly though unscared, his hands were the only calloused places on him. It was bathing that he truly despised. The longer he looked at himself, the more disconnected from his body he felt, a sensation of coming untethered from its boundaries. Was this his body? Why did he feel wrong in his skin? Was he even a man? What did that mean? Bodies were not foreign to him, he had seen plenty as he prepared them for their final resting place. But his was an alien thing, never fitting right. August only knew “he” was a “boy” by the words others used for “him.” It was convenient, nothing more. The body called August knew it was a dead thing first and foremost.

August started his days when the gravedigger rose, close to dawn. He helped the old man make his breakfast, occasionally eating something himself. He liked spicy foods, he found. Anything that went into his mouth had hot sauce on it. He spent his long nights learning little hobbies to keep himself occupied, like whittling and the harmonica. It kept his hands busy and his mind quiet. The old man even taught him how to play his prized guitar, the instrument a comfortable weight in his arms.

He didn’t venture often into May City if he could avoid it. Usually folks brought their dead loved ones to them for burial and the old gravedigger went to buy their supplies. But as he grew older and weaker, August had to start stepping up. The people didn’t like him much, put off by his eye and standoffish disposition. August started wearing a large brimmed hat and bandana to hide most of his face. He had a share of payment for his work he occasionally spent on little things in the city, a drink here, a pretty set of beads for his hair there. He’d even gotten his ears pierced on a whim, something to make him feel more like this was his body.

His biggest expense had been his six-shooter revolver. In a place like No Man’s Land it just made sense to carry a weapon and May City loved its guns. They hosted regular shooting contests that drew crowds from all the Seven Cities. The old man taught him how to shoot but he didn’t have much of a knack for it. Every time the gun was in his hands, the floaty untethered feeling overcame him, scattering whatever concentration he could have on his target. It would haunt him late at night, the cold metal in his hand. Sometimes he saw glowing red pinpricks in his foggy memory, the ghastly eyes of his last moments. It didn’t take a leap of faith to put it together. Someone had shot August dead, most likely through his ghostly eye, and somehow he’d come back. It should have been impossible but it was far from a miracle.

.✾. .✾. .✾.

A morning finally came when the old gravedigger didn’t rise with the suns. August buried him all the same and assumed his responsibilities. The townsfolk were resistant to trust him but eventually accepted his strange mannerisms and found him mostly harmless. But then a slimy snake oil salesman came to town. Elias Holoday was his name, his words smoother than butter to disguise the daggers beneath. He whipped the town into a frenzy with his claims to have “miracle” cures, so-called folk remedies and cure-alls. It was all a load of shit but no one seemed to care for the word of a shady gravedigger.

How did August know he was a liar? It was a gut feeling but one he trusted to a fault. Elias Holoday was bad news. It wasn’t long after his arrival that things started to go amiss in the graveyard. Graves were disturbed, tools left places they shouldn’t. And all the while, Holoday’s tales grew taller and his pockets deeper. It was one thing to earn an honest living, but to lie and steal from hard-working people who had little else? It awakened an anger in August he hadn’t realized he was capable of. He found himself more and more wanting to bloody that pretty face of his.

That was the worst part of it. Elias Holoday had delicate, sharp features, his pale skin free of blemishes aside from a beauty mark by his right eye. His pale skin contrasted with his black hair and eyes, the color of his sins. He dressed finely, thin glasses resting on his nose. August wanted to shatter them against his face, he wanted to break his nose and revel in the blood. It wasn’t just that Holoday was a liar, he actively turned suspicions August’s way. He casted doubt in the people of May City’s minds that August was trustworthy. He slandered him in the public square, even going so far as to accuse him of desecrating the graves. Holoday’s fanatic following ate it up from his palm.

“The Eye of Michael’s a cult,” He muttered into his drink, aggravated by yet another well-meaning but deceived follower of Holoday’s. He’d heard of the “two angels” and their wackjob theology, their mockery of the cross branded across each of their “priests.” Elias bore the mark of the beast just like all the others, peddling lies. The old man had always given him a funny look when he’d spoken out against The Eye. He never learned why.

August reached his limit once Elias Holoday claimed he could raise the dead. A little girl had died, her parents a wreck. He watched as they sobbed in the square, her fragile body cradled in their arms. It filled him with a chill that shouldn’t have been possible under the twin suns. No one had wept for him, no one had cradled him in their arms. He felt the truth of it down to his bones. But Elias promised he could bring her back, for a price of course. August watched them hand over their last double-dollar, rage boiling in his veins.

Whatever Holoday brought back was not their little girl. It reached for them, a gasping ragged breath in its fragile lungs, eyes blind. That wasn’t a little girl anymore. August pushed through the gathered crowd and without preamble smacked Elias Holoday across his smug face with his shovel. He bloodied that nose and shattered those glasses like he’d always wanted to. It gave him a sick satisfaction to stand over him as he writhed, his porcelain skin stained crimson with his own blood.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Holoday cried, his black irises empty pools of malice.

“You’re a liar!” He tried to crush Elias’s sternum beneath his boot but the townsfolk grabbed him. They wrestled him to the ground and beat him for his trouble, all the while the grieving parents weeping for their little girl, limp in their arms.

.✾. .✾. .✾.

August Nash wasn’t welcome back in town for a long while after that. He wanted to shake the dirt from his boots of this whole city but he couldn’t rest until Elias Holoday was left to rot. He didn’t even deserve a grave. But he needed wood for caskets. August took the cart to town, intending only to buy what he needed and be on his way but Elias was preaching in the town square. His injury had healed but his glasses were missing. August felt proud at that, too. They’d been yet another lie but no one cared for the word of a strange gravedigger.

He needed evidence.

Now August Nash wasn’t much of an inconspicuous fellow but with the townsfolk preoccupied he could sneak easily into the room at the inn Elias had set up his residence in. It was full of journals and tech he didn’t recognize, vials of strange liquid and bones. Nothing here was exactly a smoking gun but there had to be something he could use to expose him for the snake he was.

“Looking for something?” Nash froze, a chill entering him once more. “Absolution, perhaps?” He’d been found by none other than Elias Holoday himself.

“Don’t want your forgiveness, you deserved it.” He spat at his feet, turning to face the man that had haunted his nights. His fingertips tingled with the desire to wrap them around his throat.

“Then what is it you seek, August?” He seemed remarkably calm for a man in a small room with the person who’d tried to kill him. His voice was smooth and sweet as honey but his eyes were sharp blades. “That is your name now, isn’t it?” Now August knew it was better to keep your mouth and look a fool than to open it and prove it but he couldn’t help his question.

“...’Now?’” The foggy memories didn’t stretch further back than that last moment, the red eyes staring into his soul. If he even had one, that is. The ghosts whispered in his ears of danger, they buzzed at the edges of his vision.

“Why of course, young August.” Holoday smiled his liar’s grin, far too many teeth. “You had so much promise. It was a shame you turned into a disappointment like all the others.” He really did sound disappointed as he grabbed August’s chin and cheeks in his hand, his delicate grip pressing against his teeth painfully. August felt that untethering, Elias’s face wavering in his vision like a mirage. “Curious, how you have returned to us. A prodigal son? La—”

The venom in his veins filled his mouth, an indescribable rage boiling him from the inside out. He wanted this man dead. That was all he could think. He took the revolver from its holster at his hip, hidden by the poncho he wore.

August shot him in his stomach before he could finish his little speech, the grip on his face falling as Elias clutched at his gut. Blood poured from his mouth as he collapsed, a broken doll in a pool of blood. An icy calm filled him as he gazed down at the body of Elias Holoday. His death had been too quick but that mattered little.

He set fire to the room and all its contents before he fled. August Nash would never set foot in May City again. He’d paid his penance.

#trigun sona #trisona #trigun fanfiction #mouse writes #oc fiction #tw violence #tw death #tw zombies #tw undead #trisona nonsense #august nash

3 notes · View notes