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littlefreya · 3 years

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Prince Of Darkness

Summary: There'll be no escape tonight, the devil always gets what he desires.

Pairing: Devil!August Walker x Unnamed OFC (3rd person pov)

Word count: 6k

Warnings: 18+, DARK! NonCon, kidnapping, stalking, breeding, exhibitionism, loss of virginity, supernatural stuff, sex in a cathedral, mention of heaven and hell. Please proceed with caution.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own

A/N: I have put a lot of effort into this story, and I’m really anxious af. We all like to see August as a demon, but I decided to go all the way... And I’m nervous at your response and going to die after hitting submit. So bye.

Many thanks to the love of my life @agniavateira, for support, brainstorm and beta. And to @crimsonrae and @wondersofdreaming who held my hand.

Please give feedback and reblog if you enjoyed my work. 🖤

Title: Prince of Darkness

Blood painted the streets, courtesy of the blinding scarlet lights that danced upon gravel and tar before dwindling into darkness. The soft, beaming glow pulsed with the muffled beats of a monotonous song that played inside the luxurious nightclub. Like thundering war drums, it rumbled in the ears of the elegant man who stood along the shadows.

Leaning against the cement, he took a sip from a glass of spiced Bordeaux and brushed an index finger over his thick moustache to wipe away misguided droplets of wine.

‘How could anyone enjoy this abomination?’ He wondered with a guttural groan, never quite grasping this electronic noise thing; but then again August was older than this music, and his tastes far exceeded cheap and trivial antics. He was a man driven by the appetite for destruction and forbidden delights, and tonight, he was finally about to obtain both. After decades of anticipation, the succulent fruit was ready to be plucked.

Oh, what an intoxicating and delicious mist his unsuspecting beloved emanated, setting his heart aflame with her sheer ripeness.

‘It’s been so long, so painfully long.’

Time had lost its meaning as he waited, curving and swerving into a stream of an infinite river flowing with decay and death.

But as the old saying went: all haste comes from the devil.

So the man lingered against the wall, a sparkle enkindled and crackled in his eyes, morphing into black wells whilst the waves of her honey-liqueured ambrosia grew pungent, seeping through his airways and sinking in his throat. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, revelling in the sound of harsh tapping heels that echoed louder with every step until she came summoned into the naked wilderness of the city street.

‘Beautiful and innocent as the garden of Eden. Of course, of course...’

The stranger scrutinised the young woman with another sip from his wine and a bite of great intrigue - but stoicism and silence, for now, were his most valuable allies.

Clad in a lithe black dress and a stylish leather jacket to keep herself warm from the chill autumn breeze, she fished for the mobile device in her purse while distress washed her wrinkling brow. Illuminated by the bright screen, her face sulked as for the seventh time in the last 30 minutes, her attempt to find an Uber bore no success whatsoever.

Was there something about tonight that all drivers were kept occupied, or had her luck simply run dry?

Showing her face to the moonlit sky, she sighed in great frustration. This must have been fate’s retribution to a mindless bad decision; she should have left with her friends, but staying alone to fruitlessly catch the eye of the uncaring bartender seemed more significant as the buzz of alcohol dimmed any ray of logic. Now deep into the night, walking home alone didn’t appear to be the most sympathetic solution, yet it occurred to her that there wasn’t much of choice.

“You seem distressed.”

Equal to a dark chant sputtering words of witchcraft, the low yet incredibly soft baritone of his voice slithered from the corner and crept down her spine with icy scales. A lurching hollow flared within her gut, her neck seized by the tight grip of a serpentine phantom.

His vibrato sounded like a voice that called her through a dream she never had before; despite the unsettling arctic spasm gyrating through her shaky limbs, it lured her to return a stare and meet the cryptic face behind the seducing chant.

Two sharp glaciers glimmered at her as the stranger sauntered into the penumbra, momentarily lit by another flash of neon red that broke onto his face and highlighted his ethereal features. Her lips drew open, her nipples hardening against the fabric of her dress as a shiver ran through her. To say that the stranger was handsome would be an understatement, as it almost seemed as if he was ‘designed’ by a sculptor - carved cheeks led a path to slightly pouted lips, and a stark, dimpled chin was shadowed by dark stubble. His chocolate-brown hair was elegantly combed to the side, with a couple of large lustrous locks gently nestling over his brow.

Though it wasn’t his good looks that left her riddled with prickly goosebumps, but the unprecedented magnetic haul that made her feel as if she was physically drawn toward this mysterious man.

Frightened by the unbidden reaction of her own body, she quickly retreated to gawk at the phone and provided no answer to his inquiry. A strange yearning to submit grew between her clenching thighs, a primal response to his striking looks and charms.

But she killed the seed before it set roots in her flesh.

‘They said Ted Bundy was charming as well…’ she mused. Frivolous as she wanted to be, getting murdered was undoubtedly not among her plans tonight.

Revelling in her silent reply with an arched brow, he tilted his head when a blinding flicker abruptly caught his keen eye. Kissed by the pale moonlight’s beam, a small silver cross rested upon her collarbone. His sharp fangs begged to peek with sardonic amusement, but he kept his lips clamped, not wishing to scare her too soon.

There was to be plenty of that later...

“May I offer you my help, sweetling?”

Threading his long fingers between the smooth stem and clasping them around the bowl, he lowered the glass to the side of his hip, dragging the girl’s unwilling eye to the healthy bulge in his groin.

Her lips drew open as a surge of staggering heat flushed at her apex.

It seemed enormous...

“Name’s August, like the emperor, but you can call me whatever your heart desires...”

Embers burnt at her cheeks; in her belly, the odd mystical calling continued weaving at her core in an urge to accept whatever it was he had to offer. Her eyes warred to tear her gaze away from his nether region as her lashes fluttered to meet the abysmal glance that bestowed both frost and fire through her tendons.

There was something archaically familiar about this man as if she knew him before the days had names. Yet she swore, it was the first time she ever saw his striking face.

“I can take you wherever you need to go.”

Breath laced with wine titillated her nostrils as the words spilt from his lips, whilst another crimson ray broke upon the marble of his face. Never had he urged, but instead suggested with a tongue soaked with honey. Still, a blazing aura of danger encircled him. And even though the very natural fear of walking home alone grappled her, it still seemed like a much better plan than entrusting her life to a stranger who was twice her size.

Deciding to keep her tongue knotted, she turned and began striding away. ‘Best not to engage him,’ she thought, but once she moved past his bulky figure, her heart suddenly picked up its pace and her legs refused to function as if they no longer belonged to her.

Seconds stretched into eternity. The thought that this civilised savage will assail her and drag her into the night scratched at the back of her head. But the worst of it was the simmering throb. Unforgiving, like gathering storm clouds, it thundered the closer she walked by him and then gradually died out as she finally managed to move away and free herself from this invisible bond.

Savouring the final drop of wine, August watched amused as the frightened little lamb quickly oscillated on her feet, scampering into the horrors offered by the dark. It was funny how fear made animals act so heedlessly and rush straight into the burning heart of peril.

A toothy grin peaked his chiselled cheeks. Always the gentleman, he shifted from the concrete, discarding the glass carelessly to shatter on the sidewalk. His sinew stretched in a relaxed ripple of an apex predator before he straightened both vest and jacket and stroked his thick moustache.

Though her heavenly fragrance still soaked the air, the girl was already gone from normal eyesight. It was a pity to see her leave, yet there was no need for him to rush.

There was never really a choice for her.

Strangely, the night kept growing unnaturally darker. A great ocean of blackness and crystalised stars spread from above, casting looming shadows across the tall buildings that resembled a maw filled with rotten teeth. The tepid wind that blew between the vast concrete monoliths was nothing but the breath of a mythical beast intoning her name through the shadows.

Clawing at her forearms, she meandered through the inert street with a wary eye. Desolate neon signs flickered hauntingly, bequeathing a vibrant beacon of dread over the shimmering, onyx road. Not a living soul was in sight as if the world descended into stillness, dominated by an eerie, dead silence save for the harsh echo of her hasty heels. And yet, the long path felt anything but lifeless. With every step landed on the ground, she could sense the movement beneath the surface: swarming vile things, slippery and scaled. Unseen by the human eye, they hissed dirty little secrets and slithered with sinister hunger, drizzling down their fangs.

‘You can already feel me inside you, can’t you sweetling…’ Remaining hidden, he had to admit that watching the little lamb leap shivering into the slaughter has been somewhat of foreplay.

A veil of fumes emitted from her parted lips. The air became colder, summoning a terrifying truth that made her lungs clench around the black void that abruptly filled them with the notion that maybe... maybe… that chill, liquid-like thing that threatened to touch her ankle wasn’t just in her crazy imagination.

There was something out there, something undeniably familiar. This unusual gust of wind brushing at her nape has accompanied her since she could remember herself, an unsettling breeze bidding that evil lurked between the creases, holding its sinewy fingers clasped together while waiting for her to answer his hushed calling.

‘And once you finally answer, there is no turning back…’

Fear gnawed its frosty fangs at her bones, puncturing tiny painful cavities that were needles in her flesh. Tonight, of all nights, the same hazy feeling became stronger than ever before. Deep inside, she knew she would meet her end. Pressing the oily pads of her fingers at the sharp corners of her pendant, she inhaled and chanted a prayer, refusing to succumb to the noxious malice when a frozen pin pierced her heart.

Like the lark calling on the dawn, an unbidden chant carried her name.

Drenched with frigid sweat, she exhumed a shuddering breath, praying to God that it was only her imagination playing tricks on her ears.

‘The greatest trick he ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.’

Indeed in the darkness, leered the beast. All teeth and malicious glee, August moved from one shadow to another, feasting on the aphrodisiac that was the mixture of her harrowing terror and unveiled desire. If only she knew the trail her scent left for him to follow - he could smell her from miles away.

The little flower between her legs began blooming the moment their entities finally encountered one another, and it was his ancient name her dew had dripped for.

‘My sweet little thing, tonight I will finally grant you a purpose...’

Like a hound awakened from a deep slumber, he flexed his bulging muscles and tailed her in utter silence. The same spell that burnt in her core seethed the blood gathering in his ardent loins. Since the dawn of humankind, he had more women than any other man on this earth, yet none has evoked such hunger in him.

He would have eaten her alive and torn her to shreds if only he didn't have bigger plans for her.

Still hidden by the unnatural night, August stalked from behind, the blaze of his enkindling burn licking her path as he crept further to ensnare his prey. He wished she could see herself through his own flaring glance, how beautiful she was with tears of despair rolling down the tender slope of her cheeks.

His beloved girl; his, by ancient law. Spirited as a rageful tempest, she insisted on escaping her prophesied fate. Muscles and bones strove against the panic that turned her boiling blood frigid. But no power, physical nor divine could revoke this otherworldly attraction that bound her to him. His bidding could never be undone and as much as his blood relished from the thrill of the chase, it was time to put an end to this dance and seal their union.

Appearing from a stygian haze of a spectral nightmare, the beast drew his claw to grasp the fleeting girl’s shoulder.

The world froze along with the scream that died in her throat. Cold, slippery wet, the phantom serpents slinked around her ankles and held on to the ground as the thing behind her bit his nails into her collarbone. His touch was no ghost, but as real as the quiet moon that voyeured her fate from above and did nothing. A wretched gasp of anguish shuddered through her airways as his fingers stalked forth to cinch at her neck.

His grip was tighter than the icy finger of death, yet its caress was the sensual lick of a gossamer tongue.

It was almost as if he worshipped her.

Shadows befell her as the assailant leaned close, wafting a mist of intoxicating fumes scented of poisonous elixirs and an ancient forest that laid deep between the veils of the underworld, hiding forbidden mysteries that none dared speak of. Seeping through her orifices, it stung her eyes and raked remorseful tears.

“Please…” she broke into sobs, shaking her head at the dawning of her fate.

The man inhaled deeply. Though she could not see him, the joyful malice that danced on his pleased breath roared in her ears.

“Do not fear me.” The sonorous rumble caressing her ear was hardly a surprise in its familiarity. It was him, the handsome bewhiskered gentleman from earlier. But of course, it was always him: the whisper in the dark, the slithering things moving beneath the tepid ground, and the smell of burning pyres.

But who the hell was he?!

As if he read her mind, his hand twisted around her nape and with a careful sway, turned her to face him. The voice inside her head warned her over and over again not to look at him; yet the temptation was too great, peeling her eyes open to stare at the thing that made her heart drop to her gut.

Vast, raven wings spread from each side of an Adonis figure, their intimidating length denying her widened eyes to look at anything but the dark god that soared tall in front her. No, not a god, a devil. A pair of small golden horns peeked from the mane of long curls, and the heavenly icy gaze she remembered from earlier had melted into an abysmal lake of fire.

He was beautiful.

He was monstrous.

And just like that, she descended from the earth, swept into a thick swamp of darkness that swallowed her whole. Never letting so much as her feet kiss the ground, August scooped her into his strong arms. Peering down upon her, he broke into a delightful grin, already enamoured with his delicate new bride. The pang of lust tingled in his groin, though despite the raging need to claim her now, it was her screams he desired more than all as he would consummate their eternal marriage.

Wicked tongues of fire licked up the shallow air, casting a faint amber glow into the abominable sombre of a vanishing nightmare. Shy as feral nymphs, the bursting sparks ascended melancholily, whispering tales of perishing days that fell to harmony with a strange mumbling chant. Still locked in a void of unconsciousness, the fallen girl shifted with disquiet, her hands restlessly clutching at a virginal silk gown that covered her body.

Vaguely remembering a horrifying dream of a demonic entity, she woke with a sudden electric jitter. A peal of breathless pants pushed through her heaving chest before she slumped into the intense relief one experiences from a brush with either death or a ghastly fantasy.

“Thank God…” she whispered with a fist pressed to her breast.

Yet, something was amiss. The low vocal melody continued despite her state of clarity, tangled with the eerie presence of a hundred cutting glares that stabbed her crawling spine. Slowly and carefully, she lifted her head and scanned her surroundings.

The blood drained from her face.

Swaying like shadowy wraiths stood men cloaked in black velvet hoods. Tears of milky boiling wax trickled from the candles held by their stringy fingers, yet they didn’t seem to flinch as the burning rivulets seared their flesh. Their hollow eyes were fixated upon her while words of a dark sacrament sputtered from their lips and reverberated through the endless archways and ribbed vaults that towered above them.

Her trembling muscles were briskly stifled under the unsettling realisation of her whereabouts - a cathedral, a thousand years old if not more. Burning torches lit crumbling pillars and statues of monstrous winged creatures that encircled them from every niche, their malicious shadows dancing upon dusty obsidian bricks. Unglazed windows were barred by black iron, the beautiful floral shapes preventing any means of escape.

Only the fractured ceiling held a cheap shred of hope, as a vast rupture of broken stone exposed her to the scarred carmine wolf-moon.

If only she had wings…

Bones rattling beneath her crawling flesh, she sat upon the hard surface with wells of despair. Her hands clutched around the edge of the bed, only to be kissed by the sharp corners that pierced the delicate flesh. Hissing with pain, she lifted her arms and stared below at what appeared to be a midnight-black marble creased with golden veins and saplings-like patterns.

It was beautiful, just like the creamy gown that covered her body.

“Do you like it, bride?”

Rising from the crowd like a flame among charred coals, appeared her handsome abductor. Suitable to a true evil prince, a long red cloak enrobed his broad, sturdy form, the velvet hem trailing behind him like a thick river of blood while he marched forward with no haste in his dauntless mien. Human once again, August offered the most endearing grin; two profound dimples embellished his scruffy cheeks, and his eyes shone brighter than a frozen sea.

Yet in her sullen gaze, he was nothing but a monster.

Abruptly enraged and driven by pure instinct, she jumped off the marble and paced backwards. Tears of anger and fright rimmed her swollen lids and her bare feet nearly collided as she shook her head at August who was neither impressed nor concerned by this foolish protest.

“You stay the fuck away from me!!!” She warned with a scream and hastily turned away.

Lost in some trance, the praying mob never stirred, granting the girl a fair chance to escape the bewhiskered man who was still several strides away. Her feeble legs made three to four steps when her muscles swiftly turned to stone, and her stomach lurched.

‘No! It couldn’t be! How?!’

Curls shining like precious coils of onyx, August emerged in front of her, continuing his relaxed gait as if this was a natural occurrence. His bright icicles melted into malicious dark pools of twisted desire, and his tongue briefly laved his plump lips at the sight of pure disbelief that cascaded over her face. He could feel right under her skin, hear the thrumming heart that both chilled and fumed for him. Further beyond her thoughts, his betrothed yearned to be defiled and torn open by him.

It was her destiny, whether she liked it or not.

Still she fought, so ferocious and defiant, flinching away from his attempts to seize her. It was almost comical to watch her deny him, knowing that her fate would be no different; she will spread her legs and submit to his conquest. And yet, her battle was immensely appealing; what better bride to the dark lord than a woman who breathed fire.

“Who are you?!” She cried, her trembling voice rising with panic and her cheeks soaking with tears, “What do you want from me?!”

August's face was devoid of mercy, her whimpering hisses did nothing to deter him and only further increased the appetite of the deprived wolf that circled in his gut. With a wring of his wrist, his fingers snapped at her elbow, hauling her against his rock-hard chest with such might her heels hovered above the ground.

Writhing in his grip she flung her hands at his face, clawing streams of crimson to trickle down his cheeks. The notion of hurting this vicious man brought somewhat of a sick joy; but her onslaught died at once, and her mouth fell agape as his skin healed with not even a trace of injury.

“Oh God, what are you?!” She shuddered.

Still holding her elbow hostage, his free hand travelled to the hem of the white gown, the long, perverted fingers twisting around the fabric before yanking it off at once. A resounding rip echoed through the tall arches, causing the chanting choir to halt their susurrations at once.

All eyes were afloat as the cold air kissed her skin. In vain, she attempted to cover herself only to be felled by the restraints of August’s grasp.

“God?...” The man finally spoke, his melodic voice ending with a sonorous hum that sprouted through her arteries like a deadly toxin. Not less poisonous, his gaze trailed down her form, worshipping the very sights of his delightful prize.

“Not God, but once I was an angel,” he suggested and leaned down to inhale her skin with a gratified growl before he flicked his wide tongue at her chest.

A groan of approval emitted from his lips, the sheer coat of sweat that layered her bosom was soaked of freshly brewed fear, his most favourite savour. His wet, velvety snake swept the sweet-briny wetness and licked further down her breasts, twirling around the erect nipple.

Unintended, she moaned. A river of delights rushed between her grinding thighs.

“No!”

Wrongful, unwanted bliss awoke in her. She felt desecrated and allured at once. Her fickle body deceived, mistaking this vile conquest as consensual. And the more August took, the more she desired; her dutiful womb demanded to consummate this bond, almost as if the beast had bewitched her a long while ago, embedding his essence in the marrow of her bones.

August grinned against her skin, the scent of her arousal fresh in his nose while his lips travelled to kiss down her sternum and the slope of her torso. His thick whiskers left a trail of fluttering butterflies.

“Have sympathy, my love. I had built my own realm and waited in the forlorn abyss. Empires fell and worlds disintegrated into ashes while I waited for thou,” he explained and clutched the cheek of her behind in his claw, squeezing it possessively. “I have longed for your touch since the day your ancestor promised you to me, little lamb. A hundred years’ worth of waiting for the bargain to reach its end, and for you to finally be ripe.”

The beast pressed one last languid kiss below her navel, a guttural hum exuded in between his lips, huffing hot against her belly. Slowly he rose to his full height, towering above his helpless victim who hugged her arms to cover her naked body and watched her nightmare unfold once more. Cold wind chilled her damp cheeks as August flung the blood-red cloak and exposed his naked figure before her.

He was massive, a masculine build fit for a warrior angel, covered with thick bulging muscles and dark hair. Lips parted, she forgot herself, gawking in awe and allowing her gaze to trail down to his unapologetically monstrous cock. Firm and throbbing, it dripped with hunger, urging to find release inside her clenching cavern.

She didn’t even know a man could be this vast, but alas, he was no man at all.

It was at that moment when blackest wings spread before her that realisation finally struck through like a blunt hammer to the back of her head. Covering her mouth she cowered away, her exposed back hitting the raised altar behind her.

August was no man nor god, but Lucifer himself.

Seeing the hope die in her eyes, the devil sneered.

“No, no, no! This can’t be real! This isn’t real!!!” She yelled, pathetic little hiccups sputtering from her lips.

August tilted his head, giving a scornful pout and scoffed with amusement. “Am I not?” He asked as he lifted an arm to flick his fingers, summoning two of the hooded servants to approach the dais. Their eyes were soulless gems embedded to a grey face that was cracked like a broken eggshell.

“I am real, beloved, as real as the child you will conceive me tonight.”

Shrills of terror flew through the great hole in the ceiling. Kicking and screaming, she fought as the men seized her arms and dragged her to the altar, forcing her flat down and holding her arms to prevent her from escaping. They never blinked at the ferocious war she waged against them, though an impish smile slowly possessed their faces as their master strode forward.

“Sweet little lamb,” August chanted, enamoured with his fiery bride while he sauntered by the edge of the altar. His Adonis body golden in the candlelight, his fingers squeezed and pumped the ravenous demon that hung heavy between his legs. The twinge in her womb rose in response, a low roar thrumming as it yearned to succumb to its unbridled purpose. Sheen, the arousal trickled between her kicking legs and onto the smooth stone, making her cheek flame.

Much to August’s pleasure.

“Our son will burn this world to cinders,” he promised and snaked his fingers at her ankles. Calmly deflecting her attempts to kick against him, he dragged her toward him until her knees folded over the edge and spread between his thighs. The platform was in the perfect height, positioning her delicious Eden at the height of his blessed demon.

“You will make an excellent mother.”

Her entire body shook, her cunt clenching along her sobs in both defence and beguiling need as August leaned in and grazed the silky pink crown between her wet petals. She begged he wouldn’t be able to invade her, but her prayers fell to deaf ears.

“Please don’t do this to me! I will do anything… please!” She wailed a bargain, still trying to escape the servants’ grip and looking at him pleadingly, “I… I...haven’t been with a man!”

“Oh I know…” August beamed and stroked himself back and forth between her engorged lips. Vamping flames tingled at her flesh, her core foolishly squeezing around nothing in demand for this wretched monster to defile her.

“You’ve kept yourself for me, didn't you? I have waited for you too, for centuries even, but now our waiting has ended, and I can finally love you.”

With one brutal thrust, he breached through the gates of her sacred haven, corrupting her purity and ripping her open with the elegance of a savage.

Exasperated bats fluttered their wings over the red moon at the sound of her pained howl. Eyes flared to the bleak sky above; the girl watched them in a daze, disbelieving the blazing demon that scorched her from inside as he nestled himself between her resisting gates with no intention to cease.

In his villainy, August pushed further. Stunned thunders of ecstasy erupted from his lips, all to humiliate her along with the dark minions who circled the altar to pervertedly witness this sacrilegious ritual in which their master ravaged the unwilling maiden. Ignoring her body’s vehement protest, he forced himself unfathomably deep, only stopping until the head of his cock kissed the gateway of her cervix.

Crystalised tears rolled down her temples and stained the cold marble beneath her body. Slit impossibly sore, she twitched and sobbed at the overwhelming feeling of being invaded by another entity. Her once protected realm was now under the domain of a ruthless prince, and he took no prisoners and granted no mercy nor care at her vain endeavours to push him out.

He would never stop. He would have her again and again until her sacred little womb would be plentiful with his seed.

“Tight,” he blurted out in a blissful huff and reached his talons to bite into her quaking thighs. Spreading her wider, he hooked his hands below her knees, moulding her into a vessel to be fulfilled. Arctic orbs glazed down her naked figure, his plump lips cooing at her aching whimpers. The taut and hairy muscles of his gut flexed as he carefully withdrew his vicious cock, coated in the crimson sorrow of her maidenhood.

Hollow pain throbbed in her empty cunt as he suddenly abandoned her. Distressed and overwhelmed, she hoped he would stay out, yet her traitorous body coveted his return in a false faith that it would ease the fervid twinge that soared to her belly and even burnt in her breasts.

It was far from true.

No less vigorous than before, August plunged back inside her, stretching her again, shaping her as his own as she yipped and struggled to escape. His head threw back with a roar of divine pleasure, feasting at the thrill of her dauntless veils wrapping around him like a succulent flower. For a moment there, he wondered who preyed on who. Her concupiscent little cove sucked him so wantonly it threatened to swallow his raging cock.

‘But of course, every virgin is destined to become my whore.’

Hot and heavy, his shaft seized the void that had always been inside her, their heaving organs collided in euphoric bliss like two broken shards that were lost for decades and finally pieced back together. And even though she seared with every jerk or shift he made, the impassioned flames licked at the seams of her twitching cunt in waves of ache and foreign desperation.

“No…” she whispered, shame singeing her throat as the little pesky sparks enkindled where the devil had violated her. Vision blurry, she gazed at him utterly mystified. Part of her warred to stoke the fire that screamed heresy, while the other begged to yield to her demise.

As August pulled away again and thrust harder, a breathless moan tore from her lips.

A cutting grin radiated onto his face. “It feels so good inside you,” he sang and slid one hand to stroke all the way down from her sweat-ridden thighs to her belly, feeling the movement of his cock with every push and shove.

He was taunting her, yet she couldn’t care less. Over the cinders of pain and virtue, a garden began to bloom. With every abysmal stroke of his swelling shaft, she could feel green saplings and coy vines growing within her uterus—soft, beautiful tendrils stalked through her arteries, sprouted through her cove, and engulfed his swelling demon as well.

She was no longer burning but becoming alive. Pained cries suddenly evolved into asphyxiation of bliss. Beyond her realisation, she undulated her hips in the desire to endure each of his wet claiming thrusts. Her spine coiled against the surface, further allowing him easier passage to nourish the wilderness that continued spreading through her blood.

Noticing the change in her, approving groans rumbled in his throat; his little bride was growing tighter around his demon, her quivering lips and fluttering lashes the image of true Elysium. It was not long before he would plant his seed in her fertile lush. Her cunt milked and suckled around him, demanding to be bred by the devil.

“Yes, my love! Give in to me! Give in to your primal sin!” August urged, enhancing the rhythm until he was thrusting into her like a battering ram, the sinful elixir of their union smearing on his groin and dripping down her rump. “Descend with me!”

In her delirium she witnessed magical nightshades and sinewy stalks growing amidst the gritty bricks, encompassing the ominous cathedral with bright colours.

It was paradise on earth, given to her by the unearthly rapturous joy of having this demon violate her, slamming harder with growing frustration until his thick girth ripped through the last threads of her self-preservation and that which she tried so hard to deny erupted through her clenching core.

Euphoria.

For a lingering moment, she had wings of her own, pale as precious pearls and lustrous stars. Tingling waves of ethereal white heat burst at her seams, purifying her as she flew above the cathedral, and watched their ungodly union from above. But her wings suddenly caught aflame and before she knew it, she crashed onto the earth with a secondary, more violent climax.

The beast’s roars erupted into a brutal thunder, causing the sturdy pillars of the cathedral to quake and crack like thin glass. With all his might, he clutched her thighs and hauled her against him, slamming his swollen cock deep into her belly and releasing his smouldering, milky essence until it seeped from her sleek. August’s wings flew open as he found his own rapture, blazes following through and consuming the ancient hall.

This was no longer a hallucination.

This was Inferno.

Still radiating with orgasmic glow, she screamed horrified as everything around them vehemently burnt to coals. Even the soulless servants crumbled into dust, accepting their fate without so much of a yip. The fire raged and died within seconds, leaving nothing but broken pillars and ashen smoke.

Shortly, the tepid air of night caressed her naked skin as they remained alone in the ruins of what was once an ominous cathedral. Still buried in her viscera, August broke into a low, stretching groan of relief which made her immediately return her eyes to him. Shame rose bitter in her throat and new fresh rivulets trickled on her cheeks.

After all that he had done to her, she could see nothing in him but a beautiful monster.

“My beloved queen,” August keened to comfort her and moved his hand to tenderly stroke her lower belly.

A toothy smile broke upon his face, his eyes gleaming with surprise as he felt the life that had already begun growing in her angelic fortress. A son, strong and glorious as his father. For the first time in his long existence, the devil was truly elated and he vowed in that moment that he would give her much, and much more. But first, she needed to be cared for.

Her assaulted hole convulsed with pain as he pulled himself out, leaving a trail of creamy fluids to dribble at his departure. Sniffling and shaking, she watched him bemused, as he climbed onto the altar and moved to lie beside her. Though she no longer flinched as he touched her, what was the point of it anyway? He had already destroyed her and stolen her innocent soul.

“You make me so happy, my beloved queen,” August had murmured as he gripped her jaw and pressed his lips to hers. His kiss claimed her breath, pillaging whatever left of her chastity and wit until she absentmindedly kissed back, forgetting herself as his tongue bested her will.

When he broke away, the taste of spiced ruby wine and blood lingered in her mouth.

“An eternity awaits us,” the devil explained as he pecked her nose and her forehead lovingly, to which she shivered - out of fright or out of want, she couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

“You had made me the happiest, now give me the chance to grant the same favour, ask for anything you want in the world and it shall be yours,” he begged and wrapped her in the shelter of his strong arms to lie down with him on the smooth stone surface.

Absentmindedly, she welcomed the protection offered from his embrace and stared silently as flakes of cement broke from the remnants of the wall floated in the air around her before she opened her mouth.

“I wish for…”

Her whisper faded into the dark.

*Disclaimer: I do not own Mission Impossible or August Walker

Beautiful dividers by @firefly-graphics

#henry cavill #august walker #henry cavill fanfiction #august walker x ofc

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Lying (Next) To You (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for violence + language Warnings: Blood-drinking/general vampiric shenanigans Summary: There is no goal other than escape. You want out of this castle, no matter what you have to do, no matter the consequences. At first, the solution seems to lie with one of the very women you want to get away from. But what happens when you find yourself genuinely caring for her? Length: 5,934 words

Merely surviving had never been your intention. From day one in this foul place, this unholy castle, you had strived to escape. No matter what, you refused to allow such dismal grounds to be your grave. But leaving wouldn’t be as simple as walking out an unlocked door. It required manipulation, agility, and the willingness to screw over anyone who got in your way. Even those who you would have once called friends, or the closest thing you had to that among the servants. Was that something you were willing to do? Absolutely, without a shred of doubt in your mind. Someday, somehow, regardless of what it took, you’d get out and never look back. For now, though, all you can do is scheme…

—————————

Three targets, each incredibly difficult to get your hands on, each presenting their own unique challenges. Which would be easiest to charm? You were still debating that answer.

First was Bela: The eldest, most responsible, forced to be the “role model” for her sisters. A bookworm (a trait the two of you shared) who spent a fair amount of her freetime in the library. While not overtly cruel, she was still rather violent, especially in cases where she felt her family had been insulted. However, there were whispers that she had a secret weakness: Anxiety. None had caught her in the open throes of an attack and lived to tell the tale. But she had been overheard, more than once, quiet cries or shaking breaths. Trying to talk to her during one of these occasions could lead to gaining her affection- if you managed to do what no other had been capable of doing, that is.

Second was Daniela: The youngest, most excitable, eager to please and desperate to be pleased. Easily interacted with more maidens than either of her sisters, though not always in a good way. Getting her attention could mean getting pulled into her room in the middle of the night, for some “fun”, or it could mean getting drained of all of your blood. Sometimes she did one after the other. Like Bela, she was a bookworm, though she preferred romance novels as opposed to her older sister’s educational texts. As for her weakness? To you, Daniela seemed to be the definition of “undiagnosed ADHD”. Less exploitable for sympathy than her sister, but possibly useful in helping you trick her. At the end of the day, the largest concern with her was her inconsistent behavior, her tendency to flip moods at the drop of a hat- and a drop of the hat with her could feel a helluva lot like a drop of an axe (onto your neck).

Then came the third… the one you didn’t think was worth the risk, whatsoever: Cassandra. Middle child and acting just like it, she was hungry for her mother’s approval, attention, and respect most of all. Bloodthirsty as could be, with a mean streak eight kilometers wide, the truest monster you had ever met. Even her fondness for the arts manifested in malevolent ways. Supposedly, she painted in blood, and made sculptures from the bones of her victims, displayed proudly in her room as trophies. What could you possibly do to earn her affection? What could you ever be to her, other than a plaything or mid-afternoon snack?... Nothing, you assumed, and so you figured you might as well remove her from your list. Somehow you’d have to make do with one of her sisters. As for which one?... You decided to let fate decide, and go for whomever you found yourself with an opportunity to court.

—————————

Free time was a rare commodity in Castle Dimitrescu. While every servant did technically get one day off every week, it wasn’t uncommon to end up helping with something unexpected, even if one tried to hide away in the private quarters. For you, it was an opportune time to try and get closer to your targets. So far three weeks had passed since your “decision” to focus on Bela and Daniela, without a single interaction with either of them. Still, hope held fast in your chest, as you made haste towards the library. On this free day you intended to read as much as possible. ‘Twas a two-pronged goal: First, you would increase your chances of running into one of your preferred employers. Secondly, you could possibly learn something through what content you consumed, perhaps to be utilized in later conversations.

Or such was the hope. In truth, you did not make it to the library, nor even anywhere close. A quarter of the way there you were interrupted by an ever-dreaded noise; buzzing echoed throughout the hallway, first far off, but getting closer with every second. There was a particular ferocity to the vibrations that you knew meant danger was approaching. According to the other maidens, this was a distinction that everyone learned over time, assuming that they survived long enough. The smart thing would have been to duck away into an adjacent room in the hopes that whatever sister it was would ignore you. But your endgame weighed heavy on your mind, then forced your feet to the floor. For better or worse, you would be in the woman’s path, ready for whatever she may ask of you.

“You-” a voice snarled, as a hooded figure phased out of the swarm and into your vision. Her head was held high, eyes narrowed as they stared down at you, a snarl twisting her lips. Of course it was her. Cassandra Dimitrescu. The one daughter you didn’t want to encounter. Inside, part of you writhes in self deprecation, feeling as if you should have known better. How often did the other two buzz about so angrily?... Well, certainly a fair bit, but nowhere near as much as Cassandra. Fuck, you think, I’m probably doomed. “I’m hungry. Come here real quick,” Cassandra demands, beckoning you towards her with a single finger. In another life you would have blushed bright red at the sight. A life where she wasn’t a vampiric monster, that is.

Nonetheless, you are quick to obey, masking your anxiety as best as you can. Doing so gets much harder once your gaze meets Cassandra’s, and you see her lick her lips before smirking at you. As soon as you’re within her reach, she’s surging forward, grabbing you by your shoulders, then pivoting, pressing you hard against the wall. You can’t help but gasp at the sudden movements, which only widens her grin. Before you know it she’s running her tongue along your neck. Once more you gasp, this time softer, hating the way your body urges you to lean into her touch. Why couldn’t she simply get straight to the worst of it? Instead she takes her sweet time, slipping a finger beneath the collar of your shirt, slowly, carefully tugging it to the side. When she finally bites, it is terribly sudden. The pleasure comes before the pain, stronger than you would have expected, eliciting a sharp inhale from you that sounds more satisfied than you had intended. Even as a rush of pain follows, you can’t help the red that tints your cheeks.

“Enjoying this, hmm?” Cassandra asks, after licking away at your blood for a few moments, pulling back but not releasing you. Something in her eyes makes you need to respond.

“Y-yes, more than I’d like to admit,” you mumble, barely able to make eye contact. But she seems pleased by this, gently cupping your chin while she looks you over.

“Well then, if you survive… I might just have to drink from you again,” she whispers, before diving right back in towards your neck. This time her touch is far, far softer than before. It feels more like she’s kissing you rather than drinking from you. A strange, irritatingly familiar feeling springs in the pit of your stomach, and you can’t help but make more of those noises she seemed to enjoy so much. Hell, your eyes drift closed as you take in the surprisingly welcome sensation. When they reopen, however, you give a yelp of surprise, spotting a very awkwardly waiting servant. They were blushing, clearly not having expected to come upon this particular sight. Cassandra perks up at your shock, turning to follow your gaze, then giving an uncharacteristically resigned groan. “Damn it, Ava, is it urgent?” She asks, to which the servant gives a silent shrug. “I’ll be done in a minute. Now, where were we?”

Once more she resumes feeding, casting aside all traces of sweetness, sucking on your wound with reckless abandon. Behind her, Ava gives you a thumbs up before turning away. As embarrassing as the moment felt, you were grateful to xer, glad that xe seemed to recognize your desire for privacy. More than that… if xe hadn’t come along, would Cassandra have remembered to stop before your bloodloss became fatal? There was no guarantee either way. Yet xer intervention felt like a godsend, and you made a mental note to thank xer later. Soon enough Cassandra removes herself from you, pausing only to cup your chin for a moment, meeting your gaze with a smirk. Then she was turning away without another word, following Ava to some unknown destination.

A deep breath, then another, more frantic, the familiar sense of panic growing on the edges of your mind. Now that the feeding was over, you were left trembling with all the fear you had been so adamant about not showing before. How close to death had you come? How close were you now? Only feeling slightly more faint than you had earlier, it felt safe enough to assume you would be fine, if only physically. Inside your mind you were struggling with racing thought after racing thought. How the hell am I supposed to do this with either Bela or Daniela? You think, trying to breathe past the lump in your throat. And why did I have to enjoy that so much? They’re nothing more than means to an end, monsters undeserving of my kindness, of my joy. Your only comfort was the knowledge that this may very well have been the opportunity you had been waiting for; but only if you could shift your aim.

—————————

The difference was subtle, almost microscopic, to the point where it took you a full week to notice. But once you had? Everything felt different. You couldn’t spend more than three seconds in the same room as Cassandra without her eyes following you, watching your every move, sending a rush of both fear and excitement down your spine. Meeting her gaze only made her give the tiniest fraction of a smile. As soon as something (or someone) else caught her attention, however, you were forgotten in the blink of an eye. Yet it was nerve wracking nonetheless. This was roughly what you had hoped for, but you had underestimated the mental toll it would take on you. There was no way to tell whether Cassandra wanted violence, something softer, or her usual brand- a cruel mixture of both. Every second spent in her presence was a roll of the dice, a flip of a coin, either one weighted to put the odds against you.

But you persisted. Escape was not a dream, nor a fantasy, nor some far off cryptid. It was inevitable. Again and again you would swallow your fear until you reached your long-sought destination. No matter the cost, you think, no matter the consequences. Over time, that cost, those consequences, would grow. For now, it was a slice of your sanity. Next? More blood, it seemed.

“Casserole wants you to stop by her art studio,” the note said, cursive hand-writing ever-so-fancy and ever-so-difficult to read. Clearly from Ava, the mildly mysterious (but incredibly helpful) castle servant known for never speaking a word. From what you had gathered, xe was a confidant of sorts for the Dimitrescu family, trusted far more than the average worker. Alas, xe was loyal to the center of xer being, and was rumored to be impeccable at preventing escape attempts before they had even started. If you wanted out of this damn place, you knew you’d have to be careful around xer. Hopefully xe won’t interrupt this time, you think, before tucking the note away in your pocket.

Cassandra’s infamous studio wasn’t terribly far from your quarters, thankfully, though you weren’t even sure if you were supposed to arrive at a specific time. What if she wasn’t expecting you until later? Worse, what if she had been expecting you an hour ago? It’s a dangerous thought, one that could easily spiral into something far more drastic, and you try to reassure yourself, reminding yourself that Ava would have mentioned a time if it was important. In the end, you still found your heart racing as you stood outside the room in question. Pausing to take a deep breath, you center yourself, before raising a hand to knock. To your surprise, you get an answer before your hand even gets close to the door.

“Come in already,” Cassandra chimes from inside. Unsure of what terrible fate you were about to meet, you entered the room, somewhat reluctantly. Despite the myriad of unsavory rumors regarding the studio, there were no immediate signs of brutality. At the worst, the space was fairly messy, though not due to any, ahem, “misplaced” body parts. No, just an overflowing garbage bin, a few unfinished projects placed haphazardly wherever they’d fit, shards of glass in one corner, and tile floor splattered with a Pollock-esque layer of paint. In one word? Chaotic. Such was the type of environment that seemed to suit Cassandra best, the sort in which you imagined she would thrive. But you didn’t have time to examine anything as closely as you would have liked to. “Are you going to keep me waiting?”

“No, Lady Cassandra,” you reply, hurriedly, shaking your head to clear your thoughts. Then you’re quickly crossing the room, to what looks like a cross between a storage cabinet and a paint mixing station. In Cassandra’s hands, however, you find something less welcoming than a paintbrush: A needle and an empty blood bag. Well, you think, I guess I know why I’m here. At least there’s only one bag, right? “What do you require of me, my Lady?” While the answer was fairly obvious, you didn’t know the specific steps necessary, and it never hurt to be as polite as possible with the Dimitrescu family.

“Just sit down, roll your sleeves up, look pretty, and stay still. Try not to make any noises this time- as cute as they were last time, I have a headache,” Cassandra explains, gesturing towards the room’s only chair. Ignoring the way your cheeks heated up, you did as she asked, trying to get relatively comfortable. It was somewhat difficult to relax, considering who you were with. “Calm down, pet, I’m only going to hurt you a little. That’s more than I can say for most people who end up here.” Why did she have to use a nickname for you? Weren’t you already flushed enough without her teasing you further? Though your flustering does turn to confusion after a moment, as you wonder how she knew how afraid you were. You were under the impression that you were hiding it fairly well. Noticing your reaction, Cassandra rolls her eyes, before leaning in to whisper in your ear. “I can hear your heartbeat. Normally I’d find this… exciting. But my head hurts and I wanted to finish this damn painting yesterday. So take a deep breath, little pet, and let me take what I need from you.”

Of course she had to say it like that, and put herself so close to you. You’re pretty sure that your heart skips a few beats in response, though Cassandra doesn’t react beyond a hint of a smile, merely returning to her prep work. First step was cleaning your skin. Admittedly you hadn’t been sure if that step was necessary, seeing as the blood was (seemingly) for art as opposed to testing, but it didn’t exactly surprise you. Besides, there was a chance she’d drink the leftovers, right? Next she double-checked that the needle was properly connected to the blood bag, and that the latter was resting securely on a small stand. With that out of the way, it was time for her favorite part.

“Since your heartbeat has slowed down a little… I’ll let you whimper if you want to- but only once. Consider it a reward for good behavior,” Cassandra purrs with a familiar grin. One hand gently cups your chin, while her eyes look right in yours, just long enough to turn your cheeks bright red. The moment ends as quickly as it started. Before you know it she’s turned stoic again, feeling along your arm for a vein. This isn’t the first time you’ve had your blood drawn, but Cassandra takes no time at all to find the perfect spot, likely from a mix of practice and, well, her vampiric nature. It’s not long before she’s gently gripping your arm with one hand, briefly making eye contact before pushing the needle into your skin. Does it hurt? Hardly. Do you take a shaky inhale, hoping to please your employer, the closest to a whimper you were willing to give her? Oh, absolutely. And does she react? Oh, absolutely. Her eyes light up for a second as she bites her lower lip. There’s something else in her expression that you can’t quite read, however.

“Enjoying this, hmm?” You ask, smiling, voice soft in the hopes of not aggravating her headache. It’s a risk, and one that pays off more than you’d ever expect. Cassandra giggles a tad, eying you with the least mischievous smile you’ve ever seen from her. If not for the needle still in your arm, you might have found the moment charming, or even… romantic. But you pushed the thought away as soon as possible, reminding yourself of your one true goal: Escaping. This was a means to an end. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s what you had to keep telling yourself. Even as Cassandra ever-so-gently removed the needle from your arm, even as she carefully placed a bandage over the entry-point, even as she gave you a nod of approval.

“This should last until the painting is done, at the very least. I might need you to make another ‘donation’ next week, though. Except, hmm… your blood is quite nice,” Cassandra says. Her tone is smooth, almost sultry, but her gaze is focused on her work as she starts mixing the blood with… something? You weren’t familiar with this particular artistic process, nor did you want to be. “Maybe I’ll set up a nice schedule for you. Once a month you can be my darling little muse, and once a month you can be a refreshing snack. I’ll even make sure that my sisters don’t do anything that might spoil our fun. Assuming you continue to prove entertaining, that is.” You didn’t know whether to feel relieved or worried. In the end you settled for the former, chest thrumming with excitement as you felt yourself getting one step closer to your goal.

—————————

Three months pass by in an easy blur. Just as Cassandra had suggested, you find yourself in her company more often than before. Only twice a month does she take blood from you, for your own safety (which she pretends not to care about), but more and more you find her lounging around where you’re working, obviously by “pure coincidence”. Sometimes she even spoke to you! Teasing here and there, or asking you to do things that she normally did for herself, or scaring you just to hear you make one of your “lovely noises”. Honestly, you weren’t sure whether you were more surprised by how attached she had gotten to you, or by how quickly it had happened. Of course, you didn’t even know if she enjoyed your personality… or just your blood. Either way, you found yourself enjoying her presence more than you’d ever openly admit.

Eventually, when the benefits of your budding “friendship” became more clear, you started to enjoy it even more.

It was early in the morning, right when the castle residents tended to go to sleep, and when the night shift officially ended. Minutes prior you had been conversing quietly with Cassandra, dusting some shelves as you did. Now, with your duties done only slightly later than usual, you were making your way back to your quarters. Along the way you were caught off guard by the sound of distant crying. ‘Twas a sound you’d heard many times before, from many different maidens, but this time felt… different. An odd feeling of sympathy sparked in your chest, and you made the brash decision to approach the source of the noise. When you rounded that last corner, when you made eye contact with the trembling figure, you knew that your kindness could very well be the death of you. To think that you had once hoped for this encounter.

“Who’s there?” Bela Dimitrescu snarls through chattering teeth. She’s moving forward, phasing in and out of swarm mode, reaching a hand out to clutch at your throat. Well, you think, at least she’s stopped crying? More so out of being distracted, instead of feeling any comfort from your company. It’s not a terribly reassuring thought, but it’s soon replaced with a mental string of ???? as Bela pauses, grip loosening as she holds you up in the light. “You’re Cassandra’s new favorite. Damnit!” With that she drops you rather unceremoniously. Then she’s turning her back to you, sniffling before wiping the tears from her eyes. “Don’t tell anyone about this, or I won’t hesitate to string you up, no matter what my sister says. Now get lost.”

Except you can’t force yourself to move. There’s a small piece of you that remembers your original plan, another small part feels a twinge of sympathy, and a majority of your brain sees this as an opportunity. What was a little more risk?

“Would you like me to bring you some tea, Lady Bela?” You ask, attempting to keep your tone neutral, lest she think you were judging her. In response, she turns to look at you slowly, eyes narrowed, thinly veiled rage only outweighed by the remnants of her anxiety. Then she’s stalking forward with cautious, deliberate movements. For a moment she searches your eyes for any hints at your motive. Hoping to ease her worries, you elaborated on your offer, and the reasoning behind it. “I’ve read that holding something warm in your hands, like a mug of tea or coffee, relaxes the brain. I believe it had something to do with mimicking human touch?... Forgive me if I’m overstepping your boundaries, my Lady. I… I felt compelled to ask, to help in whatever way I can.”

“Oh?” Bela hums, the majority of the anger draining from her face. There’s a hint of genuine surprise behind her bright eyes. “Very well, if you say it might… help.” Before you can turn to leave, you hear her clear her throat, and say one last thing. “A little softer than I would have expected from a pet of Cassandra’s.” She certainly had a point. But you don’t bother responding, instead focusing on your self-given task. In the back of your mind, you wonder if you were really Cassandra’s “pet”, or if there was more to your dynamic. Why did you feel so weird about the idea of being a mere “distraction” to her?... Something to think about while you made that tea, you supposed.

—————————

When you assisted with serving lunch the next day, Bela refused to make eye contact, even as you set a plate in front of her, or when you refilled her wine glass. There was a stiffness in the room that you weren’t familiar with. For the most part, Cassandra is more welcoming, giving you a small nod when you meet her gaze. By the time the family is done eating and moves to leave, the sisters are grouping together to speak in hushed voices. While you clean up after them, you cannot help but wonder if they’re discussing the previous night, or if Bela was as adamant about keeping quiet as she had seemed. Regardless, you felt rather good about how the conversation had gone. Hopefully she’s feeling better, you think, surprising yourself. Not that it matters… unless she tells Cassandra, I suppose.

You don’t see her for the rest of the day. It’s a double-edged sword, in a way. On one hand, you find yourself missing her, unused to not interacting with her at all. On the other hand? All the sudden you’re realizing just how involved she’s become with you. Certainly that meant something? Progress towards your eventual goal of escaping? God, you sure hoped so. Thinking about the future, about your plans, lasts you the entire night, thoughts following you all the way into bed. Sleep feels a million years away, and you find yourself staring silently at the ceiling. Unmoving. Damn near unblinking. When there’s the sound of footsteps outside your room, you are more than welcome for the distraction.

“Wake up, little pet,” a voice calls, as your door opens, and someone quickly slips inside. Before you can even sit up, you feel them slide into the bed with you. “It’s too cold in my room. You’re much warmer, aren’t you?” Clearly your darling Cassandra come to entertain herself. Considering how late in the day it is, you feel like you should be upset, and yet you feel yourself daring to wrap your arms around her. For a moment she goes stiff, but she soon relaxes into your touch. “You’re getting so good at knowing what I want from you. Mmm, I think I’ve trained you well,” she teases, shifting onto her back so she can pull you onto her chest. Although you’ve been this close to her before, this is the first time you’ve realized just how cold her skin is. No wonder she wants to sleep with me, you think, blushing at your unintentional wording.

“Fuck, you’re freezing,” you mumble, curling up against her nonetheless. She’s laughing then, without any hint of her usual malice, and you can’t help but laugh with her. When had the two of you gotten so warm with each other? Why did it feel so natural? There’s anxiety gnawing at the base of your skull, threatening to build up into a headache, tugging you away from the softness of the moment. If Cassandra notices, she’s quicker to act than you would have expected. It feels safer to believe that her next actions are a coincidence. Feels… better, when you remember that you are playing her for cheap, that any friendliness is a mockery made for the most bitter of betrayals to come.

“That’s why I’m here, dear. Now hush, I need some rest. With how comfortable you are… I may even let you sleep in,” she teases, before pressing the gentlest kiss to the top of your head. Your throat dries up in response, blush overtaking your cheeks, and you are left unable to speak. The thundering of your heart seems to somehow lull your would-be lover to sleep, while you find yourself growing to love the contrast her chill provides. Somehow, someway, you end up sleeping more soundly than you have in years.

—————————

Another month passes. No opportunities to escape, no grand moves to make in this 4D game of chess, no clever plans to entangle yourself in. Yet you find yourself content. Happy. The work keeps you as busy as ever, but Cassandra often steals you away for her own desires. When she goes to drink your blood, she does so gently, with many soft kisses leading into the big moment. Afterwards she cleans your wound herself, touches as light as a feather, eyes sparkling with unspoken affection. At night, you find her coming to you for warmth almost every day. At first she provides little more than teasing excuses. But in time, she becomes more open, even being so bold as to kiss you on the lips every time, greeting you with quiet “dear”s and “darling”s. It gets to the poin that you cannot sleep without her presence.

Day after day, you find it harder and harder to remember why you were doing this. Was it so bad to enjoy your time with her? Was it so bad to find yourself leaning into her touches, kissing her back, gleefully awaiting your nightly rendezvous with her? Sometimes the thoughts were overwhelming, guilt and shame alike dancing inside your chest. Those days were the hardest to get through. Somehow, again and again, you go to her for comfort. To the very source of your conflict. Every last feeling was driving you towards an inevitable point. A conclusion written in stone, one that had been decided from the very first time Cassandra dug her fangs into your neck.

—————————

Screaming. Horrible, horrible screaming, somehow more pained than that of any maiden you had ever heard, echoing throughout the castle halls, achingly familiar in tone. You had never heard her scream before, and yet you knew that the sound came from Cassandra. Before you can even begin to process your realization, you are thundering through the corridor, towards the noise that rattled your mind so desperately. How could anything possibly hurt her? How often had you seen her push her siblings around, each of them taking hits that could break bones as if they were light shoves? As if the punches tickled? Horror overtakes your thoughts, imagination far worse than reality had any right to be.

When you at last reach your lover, you are frozen in your tracks, eyes wide as can be. There she is, howling with both rage and pain as someone repeatedly slams the butt of a rifle into her head. Behind the fighting duo is a sight you never thought you’d see: An open door. Wide open, enticing, leading straight into the world you had sought to rejoin. You want to leave. God, you want to leave so bad. This is what you have been waiting for- Cassandra has not even seen you yet, too busy grappling with her attacker, movements too slow to be normal. What was wrong? Why were her limbs such a strange color? Was that… frost on her clothes? Or… crystal? Your gaze flickers back and forth between her and the exit, as time seems to pause, memories of the past few months racing through your mind. Goddamnit, you think, this is what I want, isn’t it? Consequences be damned, right? I said I wouldn’t stop for anything.

And so you move, automatically, on autopilot, unable to think about anything other than what you treasured most: Cassandra. One moment you’re standing still in the foyer, the next you’re grabbing a poker from the fireplace. You’ve never done anything like this before, but the movements come naturally, as you surge towards the scrambling pair. In one swift motion you drive the metal rod into the skull of the intruder, hating the sound, hating the splatter of blood against your clothes, hating the feeling of resistance followed by a terrible, terrible give. But the man slumps almost immediately, allowing your girlfriend to shove him off of herself. Still unable to think coherently, you’re throwing yourself into her arms.

“Holy shit, holy shit, oh my god, I- I, fuck. Are you…? Fucking tell me that you’re okay, please,” you ramble, holding the dangerously cold body of your girlfriend close to you, refusing to let go. She’s crying, clinging to you as desperately as you cling to her. But she’s responding in the affirmative. Over and over, saying she’s okay, telling you that it’s okay. Before you know it, she’s the one comforting you.

“Hey, hey, look at me. Okay? Look at me, take a deep breath. If anyone should be freaking out it’s me,” she says, pulling back enough to cup your cheek with one hand. There’s blood on her fingers, making your eyes go wide, but she quickly wipes it off with a scowl. Then she’s caressing your skin again, soft repeating motions perfect for calming you down. “That’s right, see? We’re fine. You’re a fucking badass, darling, and honestly? It’s very attractive.” Now you’re both giggling, you a bit more than her. Because of course she’s flirting right now. It’s an incredible softness. One that you, quite frankly, do not feel you deserve. At first it’s a tiny voice in the back of your head, but it soon grows until it strikes the smile from your lips. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Shit, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, really,” you interject, as fast as you can, ignoring the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Cassandra isn’t convinced, however, and gives you a pleading look. Knowing that you cannot resist her, you close your eyes, sighing, then admit your wretched truth. “The door. Cassandra, the door’s open. I… I came down the hallway and I saw the two of you and I saw the fucking door and I… I hesitated. I hesitated.” There’s a mighty tremble to your voice, teeth and lips shaking. In the moment, you cannot bring yourself to meet her gaze, eyes instead glued to the bloodstained floor. It’s so quiet that you swear you can hear your tears hitting the tile. The air around you is filled with a looming heartache, a shadow over the two of you, hungry for your tears. But the rage you anticipate from Cassandra never comes.

For fuck’s sake, she pulls you closer. She takes you in her arms, making you rest your head against her chest, one hand gently rubbing circles into your back. Shock makes you unable to do anything other than linger limply in her grip. Thankfully, she has more than enough words for the both of you.

“Of course you did. All you ever wanted was to escape, right? And all I ever wanted was to see how much fun I could get out of you before you betrayed us,” she admits, coolly, as if the words didn’t break both of your hearts. At first, you merely start crying harder, realizing that she had seen through you this whole time. Realizing that all of her softness had just been sharpness covered in sheep’s clothing. Except she’s not done talking. “Now look at us. Couple of idiots who caught feelings. So shut up, because we’re in this mess together, now, and I don’t intend to let you go, understood? You-” she pulls back, looking you right in the eyes- “are mine. Besides… you just killed for me. I think that more than makes up for any hesitance, yeah?” Before you know it you’re kissing her. You’re pressing yourself to her, smiling through your tears, forced to pause to laugh at yourself. How ridiculous had this whole affair been? How had you convinced yourself, for so long, that escape was all you had cared about?...

All this time you thought you wanted out. But at the end of the day… you just wanted to go home. How could you have guessed that you would have found a new home, here, in someone’s arms? Despite the surprise of it all… you couldn’t be happier.

#cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra x reader #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #the soft to your sharp

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years

Note

For the bad things happen Bingo... burns for villain?

Circle for completed, heart for requested

Thank you so much for the ask!

Quick warning that may need more context than a word or two. In this snippet, Villain saves a child and they are buried. Some may call this "minor whump", but the child is never hurt whatsoever.

I don't know if this exactly fits "burns" but I think it does.

Scathed Skin

@badthingshappenbingo

Warnings: explosion, burns from explosion, broken bones, starvation, fever, buried alive

*not edited*

Fourteen

Villain ran into the next room, greedily scanning the interior.

Thirteen.

He pushed away from the doorframe and sprinted into the next room, but that was also devoid of the assumed ticking.

Twelve.

Villain checked out the next room. A child, young in age and tiny in stature was cowering in a corner, sobbing.

"Hey, hey, hey," Villain soothed, bounding over to the child and picking her up. "I'll be okay, alright?"

"Where's my mommy?" The child cried. "I want my mommy."

"Yeah I know, I know," the villain whispered, rubbing the child's back and hoping that her mother was one of the people who managed to escape.

Eight.

Villain ran out of the room with the child. He couldn't disable the bomb now.

So he ran towards the exit, knowing he would have to jump and somehow break the child's fall.

Six.

The ticking started to get more consistent and more intense. Villain looked up, the exit was only five feet, four feet, three feet...

One.

Villain knelt to the ground, wrapping the child with his arms and legs- his whole body- as an earsplitting boomed sounded throughout his ears.

Pain ripped at his back and he fell forward, careful not to harm the child. She was hysterically screaming now.

Villain groaned as black spots danced at his vision, but those weren't his top concern. The ticking had returned, symbolizing another bomb threat.

Villain pushed himself to his feet, though stability abandoned him after one crisp second. He stumbled over to a wall and leaned against it, still holding the child and breathing heavily.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Villain's ears perked and he turned to exit the building, but found that the exit was decimated. He sighed and took off half-sprinting, half-limping, the other way as agony pierced every cell of his being.

He barely made it to the stairs before he collpased sideways, head banging against the floor, making a hollow thud sound. Stars illuminated the black dust in his vision, making him wince and grimace.

The feeling of wet slowly snapped him out of it. His eyesight somewhat cleared as he felt more in-tune with his limbs- or was it just adrenaline?

The child was crying into his shirt, hugging him madly. He grunted, wrapping his arm around her comfortingly, but that only made her wail harder.

"Shh, shh, it's okay. We are going to be alright, okay?" Villain whispered just as another explosion sent a wave of buzzing discomfort through his ears.

The floor beneath him rattled and creaked before it caved in. Villain and the child fell, but Villain was able to twist around and use his mutilated back to break the young girl's fall.

His body connected with the tile floor. He barely registered the whistle of a kettle before dirt and debris crumbled around him, and inevitable unconsciousness took hold.

He awoke sometime later on his side, cheek pressed into the floor. He groaned and winced in pain as the world flared up around him. Blinding lights shot at his eyeballs as rocks and glass bit into his back.

Villain floated around in that whirlpool of pain as his senses struggled to snap back into it. Memories dabbed at the bruises in his head gingerly.

There was an explosion, then pain, then nothing.

But that was only once sentence that was missing a lot of facts.

He started to become aware of another presence looming over him. It started with the faintest of breezes against his forehead, then a noise like a whimper.

The child.

Villain tried to blink away the haze in his vision, but it only made things even foggier and thick.

"Sir?" The child squeaked when she realized that Villain woke up. "Sir, where's my mommy?"

Her words went right over Villain's head; heck, he hardly came to the conclusion that someone was speaking.

His limited span of sight started to double, then triple as consciousness was snatched away again.

When Villain regained consciousness the second time, he found that he was much more aware of his surroundings.

They were trapped in a somewhat capacious room. Villain's leg was trapped under a wooden beam and was so painful that it had to be broken.

The child was drawing figures in the dust and dirt. Apart from a very dirty face, she didn't appear to be harmed.

But nonetheless, Villain asked out of courtesy, "You good, kid?"

The girl blinked a couple times before nodding. Gosh, she hardly looked ten.

Villain looked around. It seemed that they were trapped in some sort of kitchen. It was very tiny and by some miracle, the various blocks of plaster and heavy metal pipes didn't crush them.

But it did crush the only possible food supply, but the girl seemed to have grabbed a cereal box.

"Hey, give me that," Villain said, trying to pull himself close to the girl, but immediately scream in pain as he tugged at his leg. He collapsed fully on the ground, groaning and somewhat dazed.

The girl pushed the box towards him. It fell over and landed on his face. Villain shakily tipped it over and looked inside.

It was half full. Or empty, depending on how you looked at it.

"Is there anymore food in those cabinets?" Villain asked, nodded towards the dark colored cupboards.

The girl shook her head and pulled her legs in. Her dirty face was tearstained with crusty eyelashes. She had been crying while Villain was unconscious.

"Hey, we'll be okay," Villain soothed as he thrusted his hand into the box. "We are going to have to ration. Ten pieces twice a day, not that we can exactly tell the day."

That wouldn't be enough, but it would have to suffice.

"Okay," the girl squeaked, crawling over and picking out ten cheerios. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten." She smiled and popped a couple into her mouth.

Villain dozed off a little after that, back and leg in scorching pain, not enabling a truly restful sleep. The girl also slept, or Villain thought, her back was turned towards him.

They somewhat bonded too. The girl started to talk about her barbie and My Little Pony roleplays and even asked Villain to join. He played along a little bit, awkwardly voicing Applejack, before exhaustion took its toll and he fell asleep mid-sentence.

He was getting sick and he knew it. The pair ate their alloted cereal in silence, both knowing that they would soon run out.

"I'm hungry," the girl complained one day- the first complaint in who know's how long.

Villain gave her a sympathetic smile and pushed half of his cheerios over. He wasn't that hungry anyways.

His head started to hurt as he felt fever set in. He couldn't sleep anymore other than periodic, short-lived black outs. But he always awoke more dizzy and tired than before.

Soon after, the fever started to worsen. He would thrash in his sleep and wake up more entangled than before. It hurt, everything hurt and there was no relief.

The girl was his only source of light. She would watch him with wide eyes, bright gaze never faltering. He would reach for her in half-consious states, desperate to know if she was okay.

He quit eating entirely, allowing the girl all the food, but still she ate her twenty pieces a day.

Once, Villain woke up so weak and exhausted that we couldn't even turn his head to look around. He groaned, staring at the floor with a dull gaze.

"Sir? Sir are you okay?" The girl asked, voice thick with sobs. "Are-are you dead?"

Villaim forced himself to peel up his eyes to look at her, but could only keep the look for so long before his eyelids drooped again.

The girl crawled over and picked Villain's head up an inch from the ground. Like a ragdoll, he allowed total and utter control of his head and neck.

"We'll be okay," Villain wheezed, closing his eyes as pressure built in between his eyebrows.

The girl dropped his head just as the fever pulled him under again.

The girl crawled back to her spot, laid down, and also took a nap.

Neither knew of the rescue team just feet above them.

#bad things happen bingo #injured villain #self sacrifice #feverish villain #broken bones #explosion #tw burns #writing #villain whumpee #villain caretaker #child whumpee #not really #but just in case

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secretshinigami · 3 years

Text

Meet you under the sun

Author: @lightlessons For: @danthegeek Pairings/Characters: Light Yagami/L Lawliet, Misa Amane, Kiyomi Takada. Rating/Warnings: M. Mature language, Swear words, Alcohol consumption. Prompt: AU Light is a popular Collage Student and invited to a beach party. He is having a lot of fun, is flirty and arrogant as we know him. He is dancing with Misa, who is not his girlfriend but has a crush on him. Then, L joins the party, somebody brought him along. He is chilling awkwardly by the buffet when Light takes notice of him and joins him at the buffet. He has seen him before a couple times on the campus, but never talked to him. What happens next is up to you…

Author’s notes: I bent the specifics a bit in that I had Light talk to L just a bit after seeing him instead of immediately, because i felt it fit the pacing I had better. Hope it’s still okay though :-)

—————————–

“Don’t tell me you’re a Beach Volleyball junior champion too,” Takada joked after Light obliterated (yet again) a team of what appeared to be sociology majors, or something equally pointless, she had that small, half-hearted smile that was so characteristic of hers but with the slight frown of someone who isn’t used to being impressed.

Light laughed humbly.

“I’m not. Maybe my experience with tennis helps somewhat? But I’ve really never played it before.”

His classmate sighed, and Light thought that being constantly made aware of his numerous skills had to be tiring for her. “You must be just naturally talented then,” she supposed as she fixed her hair behind her ear in a strange bashful gesture that must mean she was finally surrendering over to Light’s natural charm, as one would expect.

“Or those two are just awful,” Light smirked conspiratorially.

The young bourgeois laughed, which was what Light was hoping to achieve. Takada always enjoyed laughing at other people’s expense.

Light wasn’t much of a fan of the beach. There was too much sand getting into bad places and too many people acting as if the transition from monkey to hominid had never been made. Too much noise and too much sun and too many girls asking him to slather them with sun blocker, as if he’d pop a boner over touching their skinny naked backs. But, if there was something he’d learned from a very young age was the importance of having good public relations, and so when Kiyomi Takada had invited him to an exclusive beach party, he knew he wouldn’t say no to the daughter of the Sankei Newspaper’s owner. He’d gone into To-Doh not just looking for a quality education after all but in the hope of forming good connections too.

And this party, filled with Tokyo’s most important youth, was a perfect opportunity to start rubbing shoulders. Light was young and attractive and athletic, perfectly composed to be like a bug zapper for these kinds of things.

Plus, the lively music and the three margaritas he’d already had were kinda getting to him.

“LIIIIIIIIGHT!!!” A familiar voice suddenly screeched from somewhere behind him.

Oh dear God.

Five feet of blond supermodel darted towards him through the small crowd of spectators that had formed for the match. Misa Amane, bimbo extraordinaire, had finally shown up to the party in all her unbridled glory.

“Oh, that was so cool! You’re always so cool, Light,” she proclaimed with shiny eyes while all the other men around and some of the women ogled her in her small two-piece red bikini with a blackthorns and vines pattern, as characteristic of the gothic style she favored.

Now, Light didn’t dislike Misa. She was cute in a very whiny-cat kind of way. Sort of endearing at first but jarring as the volume increased and the minutes went on. The first time they met she’d claimed she felt a cosmological affinity towards him or some such bullshit and then proceeded to interrogate him for his zodiac, moon, and rising sign, whatever the hell that meant–he hadn’t been paying attention. She was useful, though, in that she was somewhat famous and happily willing to do him any favors, or connect him with any of her large contact lists, even when he’d already been clear about not being interested in any non-friendly relation with her (using the hardships that came to celebrities’ partners as an excuse), he was a gentleman, after all, and he wouldn’t toy with a woman’s feelings.

“Hey Misa,” Light gave her an easy smile that would hopefully settle her for the rest of the day.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere for the past week! Where have you been hiding? Not with Kiyomi, I hope!”

Takada at his side made an affronted sound that seemed to choke on the way up her throat.

“Behave, Misa. I’ve told you I’m not your property,” Light belittled her with only mild sternness.

Misa shook her head enthusiastically.

“Misa is only teasing, Light! She promises! Besides, Kiyomi and I have started getting along since Spanish class. Haven’t we, Kiyomi?"

Kiyomi seemed startled for a moment, as if she didn’t expect Misa to call her out like that, but recovered quickly to settle her face into her usual cold mask of indifference.

“I suppose so.”

“Aw, don’t be like that. We even planned a fake trip to Playa del Carmen together! Oh, Light, you should join us!”

“I’m taking Korean.”

“Not in class, silly, on the trip!”

"Right… then I happen to be busy around that time of year,” he joked, throwing a smirk at Takada and earning the most formal of snorts he’d heard.

"Miss Amane does have a fondness for fantasizing,” Takada replied instead, like a ready viper waiting for the perfect moment to strike at her victims. Oh, there’s no need to be mean with her, Kiyomi.

The implications seemed to get lost on the blonde, however.

“Pfft, you’re no fun. I’ll borrow him for a bit, Kiyomi. Clearly he needs a little loosening up, and you’re not exactly a party animal, are you?”

Before Kiyomi could reply Misa had already taken Light’s arm and dragged him to the bar for more drinks. Light had to admit, the cocktails options were impressive, and he sort of wanted to try everything on the menu, but in the end, following the beach spirit, he and Misa both ordered a piña colada, and while usually, he wasn’t a fan of too much sweet in his alcohol, the fresh taste felt like a blessing under the hot summer sun, enough that soon he found himself chatting amicably with Misa and even had to catch himself from -dear God- giggling at something she said.

Such was his mildly buzzed state when a sight at the corner of his eyes caught his attention. Turning around, he understood why. A black-haired man was standing under a palm tree and sipping at his own colada, with his back very badly curved in an awful posture and huge eyes fixed somewhere on the sand. Weirdly enough, he was wearing jeans to the beach with only a loose tank top to combat the scorching weather, and still, his wild mop of hair was the most recognizable part of him, which was in itself something, as Light had never in his life seen someone more particular. He’d seen the other boy around campus a handful of times before, but there had never been an opportunity for him to approach him, even though Light had always felt an inexplicably strong pull for him to ask him about his name.

Misa loudly calling his name made him realize he’d been staring.

“Misa, do you know who that is?”

Misa squinted in the direction of Light’s eyes, face lighting up with recognition.

“Of course! That’s Ryuzaki! He’s actually the inheritor of Wammy’s Co. But not many people know about that,” the model smirked like she was telling the juiciest gossip. “People like Takada probably think he sticks out like a sore thumb around here. But the truth is, he’s got more money than any of us combined.” Light’s ears perked up at that. “He’s also one of the smartest people you’ll ever meet, and I’ve met you, Light. I don’t know who invited him, though. Let’s ask him! Hey, Ryuzaki!!"

The odd student turned around towards the voice calling him and tilted his head to the side in silent interrogation.

The boy’s assemblage of quirks brought a smile to his face. He hadn’t allowed himself to think it before, but he had always thought the student was rather cute even with how little he knew of him.

“Who invited you?!”

Light winced and glared at Misa for how carelessly she had posed such a question, but Ryuzaki didn’t seem the least bit faced and instead cupped a hand near his mouth like a mock-megaphone and shouted: “I just came for the desserts!” with a wide-eyed expression that gave no indication whatsoever of if he was teasing or not.

Misa laughed like she’d heard the best joke ever and Light just blinked in the boy’s direction.

“Isn’t he a blast?” She hollered as Ryuzaki’s eyes met his.

It was hard for Light to describe those few seconds, but for one single moment, the strings holding his soul together seemed to vibrate at a different tune than they’d played previously. He was unsure if he shivered, but he had to break the eye contact like some damned school girl to pull himself back together.

Why did his face feel warm all of a sudden?

"Ooh, I love this song! Let’s dance, Light!” Misa interrupted his thoughts again with a squeal.

“Uhh, sure, yeah…"

×~°~×~°~×~°~×~°~×

Dancing was decidedly not as fun unless you had a certain amount of alcohol in your body. Or at least, that was Light’s opinion on the matter. Who’d enjoy several hours of mindlessly moving your body unless somehow inebriated? That’s why Light had to drink another two mimosas to keep up with dancing with Misa for five songs straight, not because he was somewhat shaken up about the guy with the bird’s nest hair and the absent look –Ryuzaki, his brain provided– and certainly not because he was figuring out how to approach him.

He separated from Misa when the sun was already setting, bathing the sea with a last warm goodbye. Everyone at the beach stopped for a moment to marvel at it, but Light only had eyes for Ryuzaki, who was… nowhere to be seen, sending Light into a momentary panic.

He almost slapped himself when he found him below the parasol housing the buffet. It was what Ryuzaki had said before about the only reason for coming to the party. Normally, he would have remembered, which only meant Light’s brain wasn’t behaving as fast as it normally would. It couldn’t be that he’d have too much to drink, could it?

Alright, be smooth, Yagami.

“Hello!” Light chirped with a wide grin, planting himself beside the strange boy who was staring at the lines of sweets like they were study material.

Ryuzaki turned to him with a blink.

That had come higher than intended.

"We, uh, are in the same faculty? I’ve seen you around 345.”

“Light Yagami. Second-year Criminal Justice major. You’re the son of detective-superintendent Soichiro Yagami of the NPA."

"Um.”

“You respect and admire your father greatly and your intention is to become the deputy director of the NPA. You’re as ambitious as you are clever.”

“Why do you-”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’re aware of how popular you are around here, word goes around. You’re not the only one I have this sort of information on."

Light wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be reassuring.

At the very least, that introduction had sobered him up.

The other student was appraising him with a curious gaze, as he was starting to learn he looked at pretty much everything.

"Is that the way you introduce yourself to everyone?"

"Hmm. Yes, usually. I told you. You’re not special in that regard.”

“In what regard am I special, then?” Light asked cheekily.

“That’s not-”

But he didn’t let him finish before walking around him like a predator would its prey. He made a show of considering what pastry he’d take and settled for a star-shaped cookie. Ryuzaki watched the whole procedure closely and Light smirked at him as he took a bite.

Yes, I made you think about my mouth now. How’s that, smart-ass?

“I think we should get to know each other better, don’t you?”

“And what makes you come to that conclusion?” Ryuzaki supposed.

“Well, I want to, for one.” Light sassed.

“Are you coming on to me?"

Light’s confident semblance cracked. It suddenly dawned on him what he was doing and where. Fuck, what if he isn’t into guys? This was why he never flirted with men unless he was sure the other person was at least bisexual! Or just let the other guys come onto him, which he never had a lack of. Shit.

Ryuzaki seemed to notice his momentary alarm because he placed a hand on his arm in reassurance.

"No, I’m into it. I was just surprised,” he explained with an earnestness Light wasn’t expecting.

“Surprised?”

“People like you don’t usually flirt with me."

"What’s people like me?"

"Now you’re just fishing for compliments."

Light grinned, feeling like his assured (but not overly-presumptuous) self again.

“Swear I’m not.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Your hand is still on my arm, by the way.”

Ryuzaki blinked at the offender, which was indeed still curled around Light’s tricep like a possessive pale spider. He only let go of it slowly, finger by finger, and Light pretended he could see a faint blush on the other’s face with the last rays of sunlight.

There was a conscious effort on his part to not brush those sharp cheeks tenderly with his knuckles, less the sudden contact spook his new sudden fascination away.

“It appears you’re not the only intoxicated one of the two of us,” Ryuzaki admitted in a low voice.

The loud party music and noises of the crowd seemed so far away.

Light took a step forward.

“We should–”

“Light!”

A group of people was coming their way, and Light recognized Takada, Okubo Chise, Kinoshita Hideo, and another fake-blond dude he’d never had any interest in talking to. Kinoshita was the son of a major tech company’s executive and was rotting in money from his million-dollar hair to the ugly fungus in his toenails. Light, sadly, had had a mild interest for him at first, but that went to shit when he came to see how much of an asshole he was.

Kinoshita grabbed him by the shoulder, while Chise and the fake-blond planted themselves in front of Ryuzaki. Takada, for her part, just stood to Light’s side glaring in Ryuzaki’s direction. What the hell?

“Light, what is someone like you doing talking with a freakshow like Ryuzaki.” Kinoshita wondered, exposing his gums in a self-satisfied smile that quickly raised Light’s hackles. "Don’t you know nothing good ever comes from involving yourself with him?”

“Come again?”

“It’s true, Light. He doesn’t have a good reputation,” Takada interjected, not bothering to hide the disgust in her face with a once-over to his new acquaintance. “I don’t know how he’d have the nerve to come in here, uninvited.”

Frowning, Light searched to see the face of the boy he’d just been so pleasantly flirting with and, outwardly, found him to appear relatively unbothered. He’d expected him to be angry, indignant, or even sad, but Ryuzaki only had his hands in his jean pockets and was yet again staring with wide eyes at some unknown fixed point as if no one were talking about him.

“You’re going to have to be more specific about whatever offense Ryuzaki’s done. But whatever the case, I find it incredibly distasteful to round him up like you’re doing.”

“It’s alright, Light. Kinoshita is probably still just angry because I exposed a nasty little online scam of his, and attained information that could lose him the already crumbling favor of his father, and also the fact that he is nevertheless unable to cause me any significant harm,” Ryuzaki answered matter-of-factly without sparing a single glance at Kinoshita’s direction.

Everyone fell silent for a moment.

Okay, that was…

Extremely attractive.

“You’re a lying little cunt!” Kinoshita snarled.

“The naive teenagers being granted false scholarships would argue otherwise.”

“What? Hideo, you said–” Takada began.

But the small elite group exploded in an argument about what Kinoshita had or hadn’t done, with the latter giving weaker and weaker arguments. Light was so engrossed in his rightful indignation and the opportunity to disgrace Kinoshita, that by the time he called for Ryuzaki’s own word in the matter the strange student had already left without saying a word.

×~°~×~°~×~°~×~°~×

“Ryuzaki!"

The hunched figure paused in his lazy gait towards the beach boulevard, but the dark disheveled head didn’t turn around. Light was panting by the time he caught up to him and he could feel the beginning of a headache already forming.

Night had already fallen and the breeze charged at them from within the sea.

"You’re already going?"

"I am indeed approximately 700 feet from the party."

"Not what I was asking.” Light rolled his eyes.

Ryuzaki turned around finally, all sharp angles and even darker eyes illuminated by the blue and purple artificial lights on the street.

“Well, your question didn’t contain your true intentions either. You’re asking why I’m going. And I assume this means you’d like to talk more?"

Fastidious asshole.

L didn’t wait for Light to answer before taking his phone from his jean’s pocket and handing it to him with the contact app open.

Light typed quickly and handed the phone back, which finally brought a blessed smile to Ryuzaki’s face.

"I’m looking forward to talking to you soon, Light Yagami. Oh and before I forget."

Long, spidery fingers settled themselves in a careful hold below Light’s chin, and before he had time to process what was about to happen, soft lips gave a feathery kiss to his own, so quick it might have been fantasy if it weren’t for the ghost of a contact searing an imprint over Light’s heart.

“I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you at the entrance ceremony.”

#fanfiction #death note #submission #lawlight #misa amane #kiyomi takada #l lawliet #light yagami #ratings: mature #lightlessons #danthegeek #Near's Bday Finale 2k21

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darkacademicfrom2021 · 3 years

Text

The Dark Team (part 5 S2)

<<Previous part Masterlist Next part>>

Warnings: abductions, kidnapping, forced unconsciousness, electroshocks (non explicit).

A/N: Listen. Listen. The chronologies... we already knew those were weird in this story and we accepted that. Now, we have to also accept the whole multiverse thingy being even more weird, because, yes, I'm mentioning OSCORP. Let's deal with it like mature people *screams into abyss of no return*.

“Your dirty little secret? Oh, come on. You gotta be kidding!”, exclaimed Steve, slamming the table. He immediately looked at you, “I’m sorry”.

He said sorry because it was three in the morning, Narfi was sound asleep and you all kept bickering about the coded message. You had peeped in your room several times, only to find, the first two times, Loki and your son reading in silence, each his own book, both neatly tucked under the same weighted blanket and Narfi's head resting on his father's shoulder. The third time, Narfi was asleep and Loki kept reading. The fourth, Narfi was all alone in the king-sized bed and Loki wasn't there. But he hadn't joined the meeting either.

Nobody could figure out what the dirty little secret was, and they all thought it was something Tony did. Like, you know, selling weapons.

“It’s okay, Steve. Listen, this is getting nowhere. And Loki should be here by now, where did you send him?”.

“I didn’t send him, he just… he said he needed to do something that had something to do with… could he have mentioned an old tutor?”, said Bucky, and you furrowed your brows.

“Is he in Asgard, now?”.

“I guess”.

You took your phone out, and tried to call him again, but he didn’t answer. There wasn't any phone signal in Asgard. Why would he go in there without saying anything?

“Look, all I’m saying is, the message was through JARVIS, and you’re the one with the most filthy secrets in here”, said Thor.

“Are you serious?”, spat Tony, pointing at Bucky. “This one was a hydra assassin”, pointing at Natasha “this one is an assassin”, pointing at Thor “we have no idea what’s going on with your thousand and half long life”, and finally pointing at you “there are no records whatsoever of anything you’ve done before my internship. So, no. I’m not the only one with the dirty secrets here. And, by the way, they’re dirty but public”.

“Yes. The billions you’ve won by selling weapons are very well known”.

“Shut your mouth”.

“Listen, this will get us nowhere. We could be in danger if we don't do something about this so if anyone is under any little suspicion of what a dirty secret they could be cultivating, this is the time to say it", you mediated, still calling Loki and getting directly to the voicemail.

"What could we possibly be having, Y/n?", asked Bruce tiredly.

"Any weird and innovative lab experiment? Something that could be used as a weapon? A disease? A cure? A mutation? Anything?", and you stopped on your words immediately. "Oh, no". As you opened your eyes widely, about to run to Narfi's room, Loki picked up the phone and you put it on speaker, pausing your fear. "Love! Where are you?".

Silence. Silence in the whole room, and a flickering light kind of sound. And then the unmistakable sound of a bad microphone on the other line, white noises, whispers to which you couldn't figure out the words.

"It's easy, really", said a rusty voice from the other side of the line. Everyone put on their best panic faces. You could feel your heartbeat on your throat. Not again. Not goddamn again, someone kidnapped one of you. This wasn't the kind of mission you wanted to join to get back on your feet. "You give us what we want, Mr. Stark, and we give you the man".

You looked at Tony and he huffed in frustration. He opened his mouth to speak, but on the background of the call you could hear Loki's unimpressed voice,

"The God. I'm not a man".

"Loki, are you okay? Can you hear me? Where are you?", you tried.

"I'm okay. These idiots think that they can…", he began saying, but a buzzing noise cut him off, along with a muffled screaming and something you figured was an electroshock took him out of the conversation.

"What do you want?", asked Stark. "Who are you?".

"We want money, Mr. Stark. A lot of it, to found our project", explained the voice. "And the other thing we need for the project. We could do with this one, but I'm sure you could give us a better sample".

"What is he talking about, Tony?".

"You think you can be more specific, dear?", asked Tony, losing his patience.

"Imagine a supersoldier, a superior being like that, but with ice powers, Mr. Stark. A man that's a mortal weapon itself", explained the kidnapper. "This one is particularly alright. But we will need a lot of him".

"What are you saying?".

"The frost giant. We want his blood".

They cut the conversation and Bucky grabbed your shoulder as you began to panic.

"Y/n, before jumping to this mission you should leave Narfi with someone strong enough to protect him", intervened Thor. You looked at him and sighed.

"Fine. Loki can't hear a word of this, alright?".

"Let it in my hands. I'll also ask Heimdall", he assured you and you squeezed his hand.

"Thank you", you told him, and traced the call. You did it in a few minutes and walked to Narfi’s room, to tell him where he would go. You wondered how you’d keep him calm. Usually Loki is the one that brought calmness to the situations, and this time around you had to be the one to keep calm and manage it all. You also wondered if he was capable of escaping on his own or if the kidnappers knew who they were dealing with and got him too restrained to run. Electroshocks. Loki’s weakness (anyone’s, really), so you guessed they knew better.

You knocked on Narfi’s door and he let you in with a flick of his wrist. Purple lights around the door made it disappear and he shifted his expressions from panic to disappointment really quickly.

“I’m so sorry, I…”, he began, but you walked hurriedly to him.

“Don’t worry about it, Narfi. Listen”, you said, and kneeled in front of him to reach his own height. You grabbed his tiny hand, and he paid close attention. “Daddy’s in trouble, and uncle Buck and I are going to help him come back home, alright? He’s fine, you don’t need to worry”, you explained the best you could.

“Can I come with, please, please? Daddy taught me things that could be useful, please?”.

“Don’t you wanna go with grandma, better?”, you smiled at him, hoping he’d accept and you wouldn’t have to take him against his wishes, “come on, darling, she wants to teach you some new tricks”.

Narfi smiled at those words and you sighed in relief.

“How long are you gonna take?”.

“I’m not sure. Couple of days at most”.

“Is daddy on a mission?”.

“Yeah”.

“Is he winning?”.

“I’m sure he is”.

“Is he cutting people with his new dagger?”.

“What do you mean new dag… wait, no, he’s not… hurting anyone, alright? Just… pack your things”.

“I hope he someday teaches me to throw knives like him”.

“Pack your toothbrush!”, you said from the door, and whispered to yourself, “dear Lord, I’m not letting Loki train at his sight again”.

As you left his room for him to get ready, you hurried your steps to meet the team. You tripped and fell over with someone’s leg. When you got up, hurting from the hit, you realized you tripped over Steve’s unconscious body. Looking around, the whole team seemed to have passed out completely.

“JARVIS!”, you called, your voice less calm than you would’ve liked to.

“Yes, Mx. Y/n?”.

“‘Yes, Mx. Y/n?’ What the hell happened here? Take their vitals!”, you rushed to Tony’s side and took his pulse. He seemed asleep. Just in case, you covered your nose and mouth with your sleeve.

“According to my database, they all seem to be in perfect condition. There might be some sort of a substance in the air. Should I alert Mr. Laufeyson as he comes back?”.

“Oh, God”, you realized.

Narfi.

You ran up to his room, knocking everything on your way to him. But as you didn’t even need to open an invisible door, you realized he wasn’t there. The room was completely empty.

Half an hour passed, and in the middle you ran all the way around the Tower, trying to unsuccessfully find your son hiding somewhere. But no, you were sure. You had already some theory of what could’ve happened to him and where he could be. And you didn’t like that idea at all. Oh, no. You much rather the Allfather keeping him forever than the alternative.

You poured a bit of the chemical mix you managed to prepare despite your trembling hands on the room’s vaporizer, and everyone began slowly recovering consciousness. Tony coughed up a blue liquid, and looked at it without much clue of what happened.

“Amitriptyline”, you told him, and he furrowed his brows. “In this dosage can make saliva blue, besides urine”, you explained what he hadn’t asked.

“But what for? I’m not depressed”.

“It’s for blocking whatever you’ve been given to get passed out. I know their tricks”, you vaguely explained, but, in all honesty, you really did not want to explain why you knew antidepressants blocked the effects of that substance.

“Their? What just happened?”.

“Where is my brother?!”, beamed Thor, ready to guilt him on it.

“This is not on Loki”, you said, taking a notepad out of your pocket and scribbling down some things while Bucky, Steve, Sam, Tony and Natasha got up and approached you cautiously. Thor began looking up, still trying to figure out if there was any of his brother’s magic involved. “They took Narfi. We have to act quickly, alright?”.

“Oh God, you’re not serious”, said Bucky, lowering his voice.

“They said… they said they wanted Loki’s blood”, recalled Natasha. “Loki’s blood, his heir. Not his actual blood”, she realized. You nodded.

“They want to mix human DNA with Jötun DNA and do that weird icy supersoldier mix, that terrible idea. That’s why they wanted Loki, to get his pure Jötun cells, and then get Narfi, to see how the chromosome pairs work. They want to experiment with my child”, you blurted out with your heart on your chest. “This, this right now, is an important mission. So we all better do this right now”.

“Wait, so what’s your plan of approach? Go to whatever place you think they are and go get them?”, said Steve. “I know you’re stressed and you have every right to be, but think. We need a plan”.

“We don’t need a plan, we need action, right now”, you said, unrecognizable words coming out of your mouth.

“Y/n”, mediated Tony. “Listen. We’ll figure it out. Rest of the team, to my office. You stay here and do not move even a hair, you hear me? You’re in no condition to get on board with this. Let us do this and you can help from a distance”.

“No way. There is no way you’re leaving me out of rescuing my own son”.

“Exactly because it’s your kid we’re talking about. Listen, a surgeon can’t operate on their own child. No, no. Don’t argue with me. Close your mouth. Barnes, make sure they don’t do anything stupid, wouldn’t you?”.

And with that, he left.

You and Bucky stayed in silence for about ten seconds, fidgeting with the notepad you had in between your fingers, ready to tear it to pieces out of anxiousness. After that, you said,

“Rescuing my child is not doing something stupid, right?”.

He shrugged and huffed out.

“I guess not. What’s your plan?”.

“Where would you go if you were a kidnapper with a very important child to perform very illegal experiments?”.

“I… don’t know”.

“I do”.

“What?”.

“Remember when you asked what my major was?”.

“Yes...?”.

“I… well, before the stark internship I worked in a very… odd place, it made experiments. Genetic experiments. The famous OSCORP, you know the place. They were the ones doing all the spider shit and Peter got bit by a spider in there. I worked there, and there was something that… never added up. The experiments grew worse and worse, more immoral, more dangerous. I couldn’t take them anymore and I left without leaving a trace of me in the public eye. Or so I thought”.

“You think your kid might be in OSCORP?”.

“I’m afraid so”.

“No more waiting then, let’s get the motorbike”.

“Shouldn’t we alert the team?”.

“What, so they can go by themselves, without you, without a plan and without your knowledge about that place? Besides, Loki is already in there, right?”.

“You’re the voice of reason, sometimes, Barnes”, you said, tossing him a pair of keys and his jacket. And with that, you two headed to OSCORP without warning.

(Taglist: @lucywrites02 , @louieboo87 @the-departed-potato , @jesuswasnotawhiteman , @idontknow296 , @beksib , @spythoschei , @geekwritersworld , @whatafuckingdumbass , @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 , @joscelyn02 , @t00-pi , @selfship-mishaps , @sallymagnoliaposts , @deadgirl88 , @theonewiththenerds , @vicmc624 , @spiderlaufeyson )

#Loki #loki fic #loki fanfic #loki series #loki oneshot #loki laufeyson #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki laufeyson x you #loki x reader #loki x gn reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki imagine #loki ragnarok #the dark team season 2 #the dark team #bucky barnes #tony stark #iron man

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mallowstep · 3 years

Note

📖 (foxstride)

ask thingy

@foxstride

okay i mentioned this to you on discord but i didn't go into it but. okay. okay. the au where mistyfoot is hawk, moth, and tadpole's mother. this has been just. it's been chewing on my brain and i don't know when i'm going to write it so since u gave me a blank canvas, i'm going to ramble about it for as long as i can.

cw: implied/referenced sexual assault; brief suicidal ideation; standard tigerclan content (abuse, child abuse, starvation, dehumanization, etc.); referenced force feeding

okay oh my gosh okay. this has. so obviously i've been thinking about riverclan lately. a lot. it's rcam. anyway. i don't want. i'm trying to get to the point and not loop around aimlessly for two hundred words but okay but okay. anyway.

i've been thinking of all the different ways i can deeply traumatize misty, storm, and feather. and maybe stone. maybe i'll let stone live at some point. that'd be fun.

right so i've been thinking of that and my ideas are all over the place. i'm going to let primrosepaw live at some point. at one point i'm going to have stormpaw, and maybe primrosepaw or reedpaw (and...what's the other one? is it perchpaw or pikepaw? whatever) the point is i'll have some collection of stormpaw and some or all of mistyfoot's kits escape but not misty and feather so we can do survivor's guilt and.

anyway so i was writing the excerpt for the primrosepaw is definitely there au (it's kind of not Tethered because most of these aren't mutually incompatible like that au could be any of the others), and tigerstar has that dialogue about kits yeah?

so when i was writing it, i was thinking about just. he's trying to dehumanize all of them, right? that's his goal with that line. he's separating mistyfoot from her kits, trying to erase the meaning of their relationships. that's like. that's what i was considering when i was writing it.

buuuuuuut. y'know. my brain is chewing on it. and it just. hm. Hm. what if. what If tadpole, moth, and hawk were misty and tiger kits. hm. hmm. hm.

and so i am just instantly. very on board with this. there's so much potential.

so i Think the point of canon divergence is the rescue attempt. i haven't decided if stormpaw is successfully rescued or not. featherpaw doesn't for reasons i'm circling around to, but stormpaw may or may not. it certainly Matters in a broad sense but i haven't made up my mind, and i doubt i'm going to write Multiple aus about this. i mean i might u never know but it'd b like writing an alternate stolag: i mean i suppose i Could but it would feel weird.

okay almost burnt my dinner i said i'm very this has just been slowly rotting my brain out. i like Angst and it's been a while since i've written any.

okay there was fmtws but really that got me started. i'm not a fluff person. and y'all know that by now.

so Back On Topic. so Anyway after the rescue attempt fails/partially fails, tigerstar takes his anger out at the apprentices being Alive on featherpaw and she gets to. uh. help tigerclan practice fighting.

"Let me see her," Mudfur hissed. "No," Tigerstar said. "I've told you." Mudfur growled. Featherpaw dragged herself to her feet, and Mistyfoot glanced back at her. They would leave they would leave they would leave and then she could lie down again and try not to think. "You're not my leader," Mudfur said, and Featherpaw winced. Mistyfoot could see what was going on, but she was sitting still as a stone. Mudfur pressed into their — Mudfur pressed in, laying a wrapped bundle at Mistyfoot's feet. "Let me—" "No," Mistyfoot said. "Just go." Mudfur dipped his head. Tigerstar's steps moved away from them, but the shouts and arguments surrounding Mudfur were just buzzing noise in Featherpaw's head. She made out, "She's going to die," and she thought, that wouldn't be the worst thing.

thank You featherpaw. you will suffer for the au as a whole. anyway this takes place...i'm not Quite sure but mistyfoot does have a reason for not letting mudfur in. and that reason is she is in Denial about being pregnant.

if mudfur comes in he'll know (i have not forgotten that cats can smell unlike the erins), and mistyfoot is acting in denial. altho she rationalizes it to herself as being for mudfur's protection: runningnose is a medicine cat too, and so tigerstar could off mudfur without much effort.

(also i tend to mix up mudfur and mudclaw sometimes understand i am talking about the riverclan medicine cat, not the windclan deputy. i just mistype them sometimes.)

anyway so she has a legitimate reason (mudfur's continual survival, which is better for her and featherpaw longterm), and she does not want mudfur to know.

yeah.

all in all, this happens before the great battle. mistyfoot fights in it (again, denial), featherpaw and stormpaw are reunited (yes i think i made up my mind), (wait maybe stonefur lives too, and then both pairs of siblings reconnect, and stonefur is like "oh Shit" and. okay yes. maybe. i don't know.)

(there's a Lot. ohh maybe. wait best of both worlds okay. mistyfoot Thinks stonefur is dead. but stonefur doesn't get a proper burial but at the same time riverclan is Not going to go for their deputy on bonepile and even if they do go for it, they're not going to stripe his bones nor are they going to let a Physical Cat Corpse rot in camp. so when firestar and greystripe rescue stormpaw, stormpaw Insists they go back for his body, and then they realize he's Alive but obviously mistyfoot doesn't know.)

(there then i get the Best of both worlds. and stonefur and feathertail are in the Chronic Pain club.)

(also the thing w/ fighting is also what happens in "someday when the world is much brighter". not that Particular scene or in that Particular way, but it does happen. i mean almost exactly in that particular way. but that scene is from a different fic.)

anyway okay moving on i did add too much chili powder to my dinner but that's fine i'm still not over when someone refused to give me more harissa because "it's spicy" like yes i know i guarantee my mom makes it spicier.

back on topic sorry. i've been writing this as i do other things bc i have so much to say about this and i don't want to wait for tomorrow to share this because it's been just Rotting away my brain.

anyway so siblings reunite. it's...terse. it's complicated.

there's some parallels going on right? like because both featherpaw and stormpaw are basically in the mindset of looking after their mentors (which mistyfoot and stonefur feel Terrible about), everyone has survivor's guilt (i don't know what to call like, survivor's guilt when it's not actually survivor's guilt so if someone has a correct word please let me know) except for Maybe featherpaw.

featherpaw might be the Only one here who doesn't have survivor's guilt. i don't really want to explore the one way she could end up with it. that's past my comfort level at the moment.

but stormpaw and mistyfoot are the most physically healthy, and stormpaw and stonefur escaped.

stormpaw: i have not been hurt by this in any way

everyone around stormpaw: you have definitely been hurt by this

stormpaw: i have not been hurt by this in any way

stormpaw and featherpaw become warriors, leopardstar makes mistyfoot deputy (because stonefur is still recovering and also no longer wants the position. mistyfoot doesn't either but she's in denial and she doesn't want anyone else to have it. mistyfoot is visibly pregnant and still kind of in denial at this point. like it's been at least a moon and she is refusing to talk about it.)

right so i think stormpaw's name is going to be stormheart because i don't know it was always weird to me that stormfur and stonefur have the same suffix. like given Everything that's going on it feels weird to me. ig it'd actually be less weird in this, given that stonefur is still alive, but do you know How Close stonefur and stormfur are. they're one consonant cluster off. they're One consonant cluster off.

so leopardstar names him stormheart. feathertail can keep her name because it's pretty.

mistyfoot is a moon away from kitting. she refuses to talk about it. to anyone. whatsoever.

feathertail and stonefur decide to stage an intervention.

(they leave stormheart out not because he's not part of the found family, but because mistyfoot literally will not tolerate a single word about this. like a single word. like she will growl at you if you look at her stomach for too long.

so given the fairly high odds that mistyfoot gets violent, they keep stormheart out of it. she's the least likely to attack stonefur and feathertail.

stormheart finds out about this later and is like "do you guys realize if this went south you had absolutely 0 control over the situation. like what are you guys going to do. you incapable of doing anything to stop her if something goes wrong."

feathertail is like "yes. that's the point."

feathertail is both kind of right and also very internally messed up from being used for "training" when she wasn't allowed to fight back. feathertail also hates if you call her by just her prefix. she does not tell anyone this. misty is aware of this, and she tells stone and storm, and riverclan does eventually figure it out. plus it's not like feathertail is close enough to anyone else for them to call her "feather".

okay i'm getting off topic sorry i've been working on a tpb thing for swtwimb, and the one scene i have is cats making fun of her for not fighting back (again she is not allowed to they might kill her if she does), so they call her "featherkit" and that eventually gets brought down to feather and i'm rambling anyway On topic again.)

so stonefur and feathertail are like. "mistyfoot you are like. a half moon away from kitting. it is impairing your ability to do warrior duties. you need to like. acknowledge this."

anyway after a very terse conversation. after a veeery terse conversation, where mistyfoot is like. very close to just absolutely abandoning riverclan. they get her to admit that yes she is pregnant and yes she needs to stop doing warrior duties for the moment.

she wasn't exactly Healthy when she was pregnant because even tho tigerstar made a Point of making her like. eat enough to be healthy and also not violently attacking her. she had still been starved for...idk long enough for her ribs to show. i'm not sure what the exact timeline on this is yet.

also then After Tigerclan she did not eat as much as she should have because (a) denial and (b) she had been forcefed and so now she's. not doing that.

oh wow i've written long enough for my grammar checker to turn off again. that hasn't happened in ages.

all bets are off from here on out re grammar and spelling.

okay so mistyfoot isn't going to move into the nursery. i believe mosspelt has had a litter of 3 kits, or will have one as we see in asir, but mistyfoot isn't. she's not moving into it. stone, misty, storm, and feathertail share a den. no one else is allowed into it for Any Reason.

so anyway, they expand the den. riverclan as a whole might? i'm not sure who's good at weaving bc i don't have headcanons for this time period. probably not feathertail, but possibly stonefur. hm. anyway, they expand the den, mistyfoot will raise the kits in this den, everyone is on board with this.

mostly because it's this or mistyfoot like. runs away. which obviously no one wants. riverclan is on the side of...the four? riverclan is on the side of the four. even if they're not like, even though the four don't trust them, feathertail and misty especially (stone and storm tolerate it much better). but even tho things are complicated, riverclan is certainly going to do actions. they're certainly going to try to demonstrate their support.

okay so mistyfoot gives birth to her kits, and she is. not feeling good. about it. she's feeling terrible about it actually. she's feeling terrible about things. she doesn't want to name them.

usuuually in this situation, after the queens (collective) decided its in the best interest of the kits to be raised by someone other than their birth mother, the kits would be given to another queen.

but see. feathertail, stonefur, and stormheart are All attatched to these kits. deeply attatched to them. and mistyfoot is not willing to give them up either.

so mistyfoot isn't willing to give them up to another riverclan queen, and feathertail, stone, and storm all Want to raise them, and also don't want to give them to another queen.

the queens confer with mudfur that it is absolutely the worst possible thing they could do to forcibly remove the kits from mistyfoot. like that is the Worst option. they'd be lucky to get the kits alive, feathertail and mistyfoot are likely to abandon riverclan, and if misty and feathertail abandon riverclan, stone and storm will follow.

they're stuck in a standstill for a while. the four eventually do name them hawkkit, mothkit, and tadpolekit. the kits are about a moon old and ready to be weaned. mistyfoot is still extremely tense about the affair, but she's willing to part with them. she's able to recognize that's in the best interest of the kits, mosspelt's litter is about the same age, moving them into the nursery is going to give them a more normal upbringing, everyone is on the same page.

feathertail, who's having a lot of self worth issues, decides that moving into the nursery is her best bet for clan usefulness (which (a) feathertail you cannot keep up with kits and (b) the whole Place she's in is bad to begin with), moves in with them.

the kits decide feathertail is their mother now (they're old enough to understand that she didn't give birth to them, altho i haven't decided if they remember misty as their mother and if they're told any information re their birth parents depends exactly What kind of angst i want to write), and feathertail is. okay with this.

unlike asir, she's not blindsided with the tigerstar-is-their-father reveal, so she does have some issues with hawkkit reminding her of tigerstar, he's not really her Big Bad Trauma Nightmares. she has way more issues with the riverclan warriors directly involved in her abuse.

anyway, i don't know what happens tnp era stuff. i haven't gotten that far yet. maybe this will be another au where hawk and/or moth is a prophecy cat. i'm not sure. i haven't gotten farther than this.

but here you go i started writing this like an hour and a half ago and while i did stop to eat, i also just finally put everything i have for this au on one page and i hope and pray that will stave off the brainrot until i have a chance to actually write it.

#long #like 2.5k words of me just Talking #but this has just been consuming my brain holy shit #thanks for giving me unrestrained access to just talk about it #also like for anyone interested in this ask game #i'm not going to give you something this dark #unless you ask off anon and i know you're okay with that #i already mentioned this to fox #usually i don't talk about anything above pg-13 on tumblr but this has been literally rotting my brain away #i have never meant brain rot so literally #ask #ask game #mine #txt

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chloroformthelittleb4stard · 3 years

Text

Family Relations - Part 3

Summary: Your criminology teacher is acting all kinds of weird, which is the norm, except for the part where his eyes glaze over and he tries to kill someone. Stiles, the hero he is, tries to stop your professor with little avail until he gets some unnoticeable help from you. Stiles seems to find himself with you at the location of multiple attacks, just barely making it out alive. Through the bloodshed feelings, family, and friends mix to create a perfect blend of chaos and calm.

T/CW: Violence, not kidnapping but Stiles takes reader to a place she doesn't know and doesn't like 100% get her consent for it but also she's not upset about it, oh! and one cheeky sexual implication at the end

A/N: I'm about 90% sure I'm slipping into a depression slump and I won't be able to get it fixed for at least another month, so my update schedule - not that I have one - might be a little longer than usual.

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

Late night walks weren't unusual for you, you liked clearing your head before you went to sleep and you found that nature was always one of the best ways to do so. You'd been enjoying yourself in peace and quiet when an obnoxiously loud jeep started heading your way, the headlights glaring at you and the muffler failing to do a lot of muffling. You were waiting for it to pass but instead it stopped next to you, Stiles' head popping out of the drivers' side window.

"Y/n? What are you doing out so late?" You ran over to his side, the cool air making the metal of his car freezing to the touch.

"Taking a walk." You hummed, inspecting the vehicle and finding that it was painted blue with a special addition of duct tape on pieces that looked like they should be considered a safety hazard.

"It's 11:00 at night?" The moon shone brightly above you, a cloudless sky making it perfect for a nice outing.

"I like night walks."

"You shouldn't be out alone at night, it's not safe." Suppressing the instinct to tell Stiles that it only wasn't safe for people who couldn't break your bones without touching someone, you gave him a shrug and started walking away. His hand grabbed your wrist lightly, stopping you from continuing your stroll.

"No way. I am not letting you walk around at night on your own. Hop in, I'll drive you home." You gave him a pout and he got out of the car, hand still holding your wrist, to open the passenger door for you. As the door shut, a large gust of what felt like wind pushed the car to the side, the vehicle's wheels screeching in protest as a wide but shallow dent was made along the driver's side.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Stiles' complaints were loud enough for all of California to hear them but you were more focused on what just caused the dent. Getting swiftly out of the car, despite Stiles' protests, you stood in front of it, waiting for something else to happen.

You got your wish when a large vine made its way out of the thick of the brush and straight towards you and Stiles. Within a split second you were in action, bringing up a hand to create a shield, temporarily blocking the vine while your brain worked overtime to think of a way to defeat the plant.

"Stiles!" You called out to your friend, his voice replying from what sounded like miles behind you but in reality he was simply a few feet from where you were standing.

"I need you to duck!" You hoped your yelling was reaching him and you got confirmation when you heard a loud and broken 'what?!' in response to your request.

"Just do it ok, you have to trust me!" With that he called out a hesitant affirmative and you let the shield down for a split second to send a blade of air slicing through the vine, cutting it directly down the center as it fell to the ground. You held the shield up again for another five minutes, waiting for the enemy to return, when you had no response you let it down and quickly went to seek Stiles.

He was crouched behind Roscoe, shaking only slightly with adrenaline and a twinge of excitement. When he heard you call his name he stood up, spooking you accidentally by popping into your line of sight so suddenly.

"Are you ok?" You rushed to as a question before he asked the inevitable one of 'what the fuck is going on?'.

"I'm fine. Are you ok?" His hands were roaming your body, checking for injuries of any kind as he patted down your arms and tilted your head up to look underneath your jaw. You nodded, putting his fretting on pause for now.

"Now you're definitely coming with me." His words were surprising, he didn't even ask what you were or what you did, although knowing a werewolf will do that to you, you supposed. You drove in silence for about three minutes before you couldn't take it anymore, the lack of noise made you want to explode.

"Stiles where are you taking me?" He shook his head and made a zipping motion on his lips, signaling that he wasn't going to give you any information. He was shaking, buzzing with the need to tell you that he was taking you to his pack because that's what he does when these kinds of things happen, but he refrained from it because he knew his chances of actually getting you there would deplete greatly if he gave you even a hint of his plan.

"So, nice car..." He hummed in response, biting his tongue so he wouldn't spoil his mission. You frowned at the lack of communication and slumped back in your seat, head turned to watch as the city scenery whizzed past you.

When the ride was finally over you found yourself in front of an old townhouse, shut off and condemned what you were sure was 100 years ago. Its front was covered in ivy, the windows blocked from the flora that had conquered the structure. One step to the door was broken, the wood split straight through due to some unlucky bastard's step.

"Stiles where are we?" You asked as he opened your door for you, grabbing your hand immediately once you stepped out so you wouldn't escape. Stiles opted to ignore your question entirely and instead led you towards the door of the ancient home, and into its rickety structure. The halls were dark but he managed to sift his way through, muscle memory guiding him, and effectively you as well, towards the door that led to the basement.

He held your hand down the stairs before knocking on yet another door, this time metal, in the basement. When the door opened you had to adjust to the flash of light, taking his opportunity Stiles quickly dragged you into the middle of the pack meeting, standing next to you in the center of the circle.

"Y/n meet my pack, pack meet Y/n." His introduction was vague, but in his defense he was still shaken up by almost being smashed by a vine. Scott was beyond shocked when he saw you standing in the middle of the circle, and you gave him a sheepish wave, one hand still death gripping Stiles'.

"What is she doing here?" Derek cried out, standing to assess your threat level. Stiles pressed a hand to the older man's chest, pushing him away lightly to protect you, even if Derek could overpower him in less than a minute flat. Taking the hint the elder werewolf sat down next to Issac, who was, as usual, wearing his classic scarf and leather jacket.

"Well we were just attacked-"

"Attacked? Oh my god are you ok?" Allison jumped right into nurse mode cutting off Stiles completely, immediately getting up and scanning you for bruises, foregoing an introduction, before moving on to Stiles who waved her off animately.

"Yeah we are, but that's because Y/n did this whole forcefield thing and she told me to duck so I didn't see it but she sliced the vine and it was kind of awesome." Stiles' rambling brought the whole pack up to speed while you stood in the middle of all of them, looking understandably nervous. Your eyes kept flitting from Scott to Stiles, the only two people in the room you knew whatsoever.

"So, what are you?" A ginger spoke up from her perch on a bookshelf, eyes coming to meet yours with a look that screamed that she was on the defensive, despite not having been attacked.

"I'm a witch. I'm assuming that you're all werewolves?" You scanned the eyes of the participants, trying to catch sight of a glint in one of their eyes. When you saw none you internally shrugged before returning your attention to the group before you.

"Can I sit down now or do I have to stand like an exhibit this whole time?" Your nerves didn't stop your annoyance at the situation, you never liked being the center of attention. Stiles squished himself into the side of a chair, patting the spot next to him. You looked around the room trying to find another option, not that you didn't want to sit in his lap, you wanted to sit in his lap doing so many things, you just didn't want it to be weird. Upon seeing no other option you squeezed yourself in next to Stiles, who looked generally very happy considering an arm rest was most certainly digging into his ribcage.

"We're not all werewolves, I'm a banshee and Kira," The ginger pointed to an asian girl sitting next to another girl who looked amazingly uninterested at the entire event.

"Is a kitsune." Kira waved at you, smiling brightly and nudging the girl next to her so she would pay more attention.

"I'm Malia, and a were-coyote. Everyone else is a were-wolf though you're right." She went back to scrolling through her phone and disengaging from the conversation. You took in the information around you, nodding and trying to remember the names that were given. Stiles put his arm around your shoulders, allowing you to lean into him for a source of comfort.

"Well, anyways, we were just talking about the deaths that have been happening on campus and-"

"Are we seriously just going to ignore the fact that a witch just walked into our pack meeting? Is that something I'm supposed to not comment on?" A younger boy sitting on the couch spouted off and you snorted at his words. You were starting to like some of the people here, even if you didn't know their names.

"Hey kid," The boy stared at you before pointing at himself to confirm and you nodded your head.

"What's your name?" He made a vindictive gesture towards you before answering.

"Thank you! That's the kind of thing you do when you meet new people. My name is Liam, this is Derek because he won't tell you his name otherwise, he's moody." Liam pointed a thumb in the direction of the man next to him on the couch who was scowling at his words.

"The banshee is Lydia, and the guy who wears scarves all the time is Issac. Oh, and that's Scott's girlfriend Allison, she's not a were-wolf either she's human like Stiles." After listing off the names of several pack members he sat back in the couch triumphantly, looking over at everyone to see what they planned on doing.

"As I was saying, we just went over the attacks happening on, and apparently off, campus. Do you think this is magic Y/n?" You were pulled out of your head by Scott's question and you shook your head briefly before answering.

"I don't know what else it would be but I can't be sure. I've never heard of a spell or power that makes someone a killer out of nowhere." Your magical knowledge was limited to self defense mostly, something you picked up and perfected back in your hometown. You also had a significant extent of offensive knowledge which you picked up from watching other witches' attacks on you, but it was mostly theoretical.

The room feel quiet and the air became tense as everyone else looked at one another, like there was a joke you weren't in on. Finally Kira broke the silence.

"I don't want to bring this up as much as you don't but we all know this reminds us of the nogitsune." The room fell silent again and you tried to search through your brain for any knowledge you'd have on the unfamiliar word. When you came up empty you sighed, Stiles taking note and looking to see if you were ok.

"Sorry to be so out of the loop but, what's a nogitsune?" This time there was a collective sigh as they all looked at Stiles, waiting for him to explain as much as he wanted about his past with Void.

"It's a spirit, it feeds off of pain. It's immortal unless you kill it, which we did, and it can possess people. When we dealt with it last time it ended up killing a lot of people-"

"It almost killed me." Allison interrupted, clutching her stomach where you assumed there was a nasty scar commemorating the encounter.

"It ended up killing a lot of people with a sword, kind of like with these last few attacks." He finished, looking away and purposely avoiding eye contact as he said it.

"What are you not telling me?" With potential murderers on the loose you had no time for bullshit, and you knew that whatever Stiles said wouldn't phase you, not after tonight.

"It can possess people..." There was dead silence as everyone waited for Stiles to continue.

"It possessed me, and then it looked like me. It did a lot of things with me, it's a long story but that's kinda the gist of it at least." He looked deflated to be bringing up his past and you wrapped an arm around his back in support, rubbing his arm to comfort him and show him that you weren't upset. He turns to you with a hesitant smile, happily surprised at your lack of fear like you weren't just told that at one point a murderous spirit had possessed him.

"Ok, so the nogitsune sounds like our culprit but you killed it. So, what's up with that?" You heard Lydia mutter something about you being obvious and you chose to ignore it in favor of looking around the room to gauge their reactions to your question. The only one who looked slightly worried was Kira, so naturally you asked her your next question.

"Are you sure you guys killed it?" You were directing the question at Kira and she stiffened upon hearing it, sitting up straight as a board.

"Yes we are. Can we move on now?"

"I mean..." Everyone was once again quiet as Kira spoke up, voicing her opinion on the dark version of the spirit that she had.

"We don't know if it's dead. You can't really know, but we did a pretty good job and I don't think it'd have enough power to come back so soon. Again though, I can't be sure." Upon her information Scott stood up, collectively grabbing everyone's attention.

"Ok, does everyone have all their theories out?"

"What about voodoo?" Liam piped up while Scott muttered something that sounded like 'evidently not'.

"Vodou can't do that. Spirit possession isn't evil in Vodou, and actual Vodou dolls can't control people, especially not ones that're alive. I would say maybe it's a zombi but again, the perpetrators were living when it happened. Besides, there's no reason a Vodou practitioner good enough to pull this off would have any interest in murder, they have enough to deal with. Vodou is a practice, not the supernatural." While his idea was deflated Liam looked content with your answer and was prepared to listen to Scott, finally.

"Ok so for theories we have, nogitsune, and witch. Any other suggestions?" Scott gave the room a minute to start talking before he moved on, tired and wanting to get some sleep before the sunrise which was only in a few hours.

"Ok, Kira can you find all that old research we did on the nogitsune? Allison go back to Beacon Hills with Derek and Liam and look through the bestiary to see if we can get any information on witches-"

"Hey!" You interrupted, loudly proclaiming your lack of involvement in witch-related studies.

"Witches who want to kill people Y/n, not you. I think our best bet is the witch idea, unless it's something new entirely, then we'd be..."

"Fucked?" Isaac finished Scott's sentence for him, the action making Scott roll his eyes before returning to his speech.

"Alright, everyone be on the lookout ok? We're done here, let's go home everyone." Allison stood up from behind him as he finished, hands still intertwined. You got the feeling that Allison and Scott wouldn't be very vigilant tonight.

"So, home?" Stiles stood next to you after you both managed to maneuver out of the chair. You nodded and went with him out to the jeep, the night air making you freeze. You shivered when your back touched his car seats and he frowned, reaching behind him to feel around his back seat.

"Should I ask what you're doing?" You chuckled, arms wrapping around yourself to conserve body heat. Stiles triumphantly pulled a large piece of clothing out from his backseat making a victorious noise as he did so before handing it to you. Upon further inspection you realized that it was a hoodie and you thanked him while putting it on. It was big on you, the sleeves coming down over your hands to make little sweater paws and Stiles almost cooed at seeing how cute you looked. You tucked the hood under your head to serve as a neck rest and you closed your eyes as Stiles drove off to the address you listed.

#stiles fanfiction #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski/reader #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinski/witch!reader #teen wolf #tw violence #I'm putting a tw for this anyways bc it might be a little to close to home for some ppl #tw kidnapping #Family Relations #Family Relations part 3

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ladyhaesoo · 4 years

Text

hotel blue moon

"There are a lot of people in this world who deserve to die. And some thoughtful freaks kill them for us in secret. That's why clueless civilians can sleep peacefully at night, completely unaware. Which one do you think I am?"

“Which one do you think I am?"

part 2 | read on page (not for the mobile app, but prettier)

There were a lot of things Moonyoung did not enjoy doing. Smiling unnecessarily. Being touched. Having to censor her books for the general public when their intended audience had no problems with her content. Meeting with obnoxious directors of large hospital chains that took advantage of people's suffering to make billions while looking like great philanthropists.

Ham and Gam hospitals hosted the largest paediatric wards in all of South Korea, with the country's best (highest paid, inflated, overconfident) paediatric doctors and surgeons on their staff. The ugly posters of smiling doctors (couldn't they have hired models?) and smiling children with assorted bullshit statistics stared at her as she sat there, doing one thing she hated so she wouldn't have to do another thing that she, unfortunately, hated more.

The earliest reviews of Zombie Kid were not looking good. Sangin was crying or yelling every time he spoke to her. The art was too gruesome, the story was too violent—of course it was too violent for the timid reviewers that read it from the safety of newspaper positions that afforded them the right to have no critical thinking whatsoever. Themes? Metaphors? These were the people who ate Cinderella up and pretended no feet were harmed in the making of this fairytale.

Still, she had a fanbase. Her books would sell, and, per Sangin, if she went to a hospital and read her books to children who needed money and medicine and possibly new organs, everyone would clap about her good deeds and forget all about the child that ate his mother.

If that had been all, Moonyoung wouldn't have minded. She liked readings; the terrorised but delighted little eyes staring up at her, eating up every word, learning something that a good many adults would never understand. The reading of this book did not have nearly as much drama as she would like, and any more cannibalism-based artwork had been ruled out, but it was still a good read. She made chewing noises as she read, and the children were delighted.

But it was not all.

And the truly generous Ham Kojeon had then had the audacity to postpone their meeting.

Moonyoung had nearly turned around and walked for the stairs, but Sangin was getting scarily fast at keeping up with her; his arm had popped up in her way before she could take a step down, and he'd dodged when she'd gone for her purse, then said something and gone to argue with the secretary.

"The director's been called into an urgent meeting," the secretary had told Sangin half an hour ago. "But the director has arranged snacks for you in the waiting room."

The waiting room in question surrounded the director's office, separated by frosted windows that gave a nice view into the room itself. Nothing was clear, but she could just about make out a pair of nice broad shoulders walking around the room. "Oh my," she said when the shoulders visibly walked around the desk to stare down at where the director was presumably sitting. "Has he delayed us to meet with a personal guest? How impolite."

Sangin glared at her. On the other side, his makeshift assistant giggled into her folder.

"Well, maybe I should go join them. Better view from inside. I deserve some entertainment too if he's going to keep me waiting."

Sangin hissed something about the people listening, even though it was just them and the director's secretary. Moonyoung rolled her eyes and turned away. Sometimes—just sometimes—she almost wished she valued her creative autonomy less than she did.

She shifted to relieving her frustration with all of this by grinding the metal heel of her boot into the metal leg of the chair and enjoying Sangin wincing every time she did it. The trick to something like that was variation. A few seconds of relief meant he wasn't expecting it when—

A thin distant alarm bell began to peal throughout the building, and Moonyoung laughed. "Can this day get any worse?"

Sangin groaned. "Wait a minute, let me go find out what's happened. Don't go anywhere!" he commanded, then gave the art director a look that said make sure she doesn't go anywhere. Then he ran off, presumably to interrogate someone poorly.

Moonyoung gave it a second, then got up and left. "Ms. Ko!" Poor little Seungjae called, but didn't make to follow. Moonyoung ignored her and went down the stairs. If nothing else, she needed a smoke break, especially if she was really expected to shake hands with Ham Kojeon after this.

She was halfway down the stairs when she saw it; a man in a patient's uniform dragging a child into what looked like a supplies closet. She followed at some distance, eyes narrowing, mind whirring uncomfortably. The girl was crying, but the alarm bells were loud enough on this floor that she wasn't audible over them—was that smoke she smelled? Had the man taken advantage of the fire, or had he started it?

When she slipped into the still-open closet door, the man was on his knees in front of the sobbing girl. "I'm your father!" he insisted. "I'm really your father! Why are you crying?"

"My father's dead!" the girl was repeating, eyes screwed shut, "You're not my father!"

"Listen to Daddy! I'm not dead! We both have to go together, do you hear me? Children can't live alone without their parents, that's why we both have to go at the same time!"

Moonyoung clicked her tongue. "What is this? Some kind of personality disorder? Delusions? I didn't realise it was that kind of hospital." She did hope the contempt came through. It worked; the man dropped the girl's arms, and turned to glare at her.

"Who the hell are you?" the man's voice faded between ordinary and not-quite-ordinary. Moonyoung frowned despite herself as his face seemed to shudder into something grotesque for a second—but when she blinked, it was just a grey-haired man with yellowing teeth. "This is between me and my daughter! Stay out of this!"

"She said she isn't your daughter," Moonyoung said. "If you want to die, die alone. If you want to live, don't steal others' children."

The man scrambled off his feet and came towards her. "Do you want to die? What the hell do you know? This is my daughter, and I'll do whatever the hell I like."

"Hearing problem?" she yelled, making an exaggerated gesture towards her ear. "I said, she—"

The man lunged towards her, and she slammed the hard end of her purse into his face, knocking him clean to the ground. The purse flew open, and her knife—too pretty for this place, with its carved handle and its surgical sharp tip—flew out of it to land somewhere beyond the man's hand.

He reared towards it, but he was on the ground, she was faster, and she stamped on his hand, keeping him from reaching the knife, and kicked it out of the way but somehow the man was up again. He jumped, and reached for her throat, grabbing her in a violent choke and banging her head onto the tile. A storage shelf crashed to the ground somewhere behind him. Her legs froze. The hands on her throat went from warm to cool to warm to cool to warm. "Die! Die! Why won't you just die!" a familiar face screamed. Hair floated in her vision, and the face blurred out.

The pressure on her throat lifted abruptly. She grabbed at her throat, air coming in way too fast, the imprint of cold—cold? warm—no—they had been cold, hadn't they?—hands around her throat still stinging, along with every uncomfortable nightmare they drew up.

When her vision re-adjusted, the man was wrestling with another man in a waistcoat. Consciousness returned. She was in Ham and Gam hospital. She was awake. She was an adult. And a piece of shit had just—fucking—strangled her—

She got to her feet and grabbed the knife.

Waistcoat had won, but that didn't help her. "I'll kill you all! All of you!" the man was shouting, even on the ground and clearly restrained by something. Her ears were still buzzing; the man's voice phased again, into something wrong, before it came back.

She lifted her arm, and brought the knife down—

It was a sharp knife. Moonyoung always ate her steak rare, red and raw enough to bleed if she cut into it too quickly—tough enough that no dull knife would cut through cleanly, without ugly ragged edges. This knife cut through her meat perfectly, even with little pressure. That was why she liked it.

It sliced cleanly through flesh, catching on bone too tough for it. She felt the fingers that closed around the knife in her own grip on it, surprisingly sensory. Blood dripped down a forearm and stained the cuff of a sleeve.

Waistcoat stared at her, and she stared back.

"I'd appreciate if you stayed out of this," she said.

The man with the knife currently embedded in his palm said, "Do you know how difficult it is to get stains out of a suit like this?"

"Are you with the hospital?" she asked. "There's a vermin infestation. I was just helping." she glanced down at the man whose arms were bound behind his back —by what, she couldn't see. He started shouting again as he realised her meaning, then promptly fainted, mid-word. She frowned, about to say something, when Waistcoat wrenched the knife from her palm, wringing his arm like a dog shaking water out of its fur. Little drops of blood landed around her heels. He began to wrap a bright silk handkerchief around the knife.

Moonyoung scoffed. "What, is the knife hurt? Why are you wrapping that around the knife?"

He didn't respond. She opened her palm in front of him. He looked up—finally. "Your hand," she said, "not the knife."

Waistcoat smiled. "Haven't you injured me enough right now?" he asked, and slipped the bandaged knife into his pocket.

"That's mine. "

"You tried to kill someone with it," he said.

She shrugged. "If he's Non-Compos Mentis, I can say I acted in self-defense. I was only going to give him a small cut with the knife, but you overreacted and injured yourself," she said, placing her unnerving smile on her lips. The man's lips quirked up, too—he had little dimples at the very corners, which made the smile far too cheerful for his otherwise unsmiling face.

"It landed in my palm, so it's mine now," he said, then cocked his head. "That was a lot of power for a small cut."

She smiled, and grabbed a handkerchief from her own purse. "There are a lot of people in this world who deserve to die," she said, grabbing his palm—apparently, she hadn’t injured him enough just yet. She began to wrap that around his hand, and it stained the red immediately, creating a deep blush in the center—blood in blood. "And some thoughtful freaks kill them for us in secret. That's why clueless civilians can sleep peacefully at night, completely unaware." She tugged the handkerchief shut, smiling when he shuddered. "Which one do you think I am?"

Waistcoat's smile widened. He looked to the unconscious man on the ground, then to his hand, and then to her. "Just a clueless civilian,” he said, after she had stabbed him clean through the palm, held hard enough that the steak knife would go through skin and artery easier than meat. “But which one do you think I am?"

#kdramanetwork #psycho but it's okay #it's okay not to be okay #it's okay to not be okay #pbio #mine #minefic #pbiofic #im so excited about this little plot bunny hehe #it's based on hotel delluna but like. soohyun's little cameo at the end there #significant credit for the idea goes to that manwol/moonyoung fmv on youtube #ik kangtae seems a little ooc. that's because he's hundreds(?) years old and has had some personality changes #i had fun writing this so i hope anyone who reads has fun with it too #pbio fic

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my-fanfic-library · 4 years

Text

Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader} [10]

Masterlist

~^*^~

The doors to the room swung opened and Zoe paced in holding a metal briefcase. Her face was stoic and hard as she made her way towards you and Jack. You were both sitting together, sorting through accounts of Count Dracula trying to find something, anything. She made her way to the pair of you and set the case down.

“What’s that?” Jack piped up.

“This,” Zoe began, “is a sample of Dracula’s blood. I managed to get a little sent off for testing.”

“A little? Zoe you had a whole vile-“ you began, however she cut you off.

“Yes that doesn’t matter. What matters is that we have our lab results back. And I’m sure that you are both as curious as myself to see what’s inside the box.” She smiled, a little enthusiastic about getting the results back.

You weren’t entirely sure on how Dracula’s blood would differ from any other mammals on earth, but you supposed you could always just find out. It may be important, after all. With eager eyes, both you and Jack watched as Zoe flipped open the case. Inside, a brown paper envelope with ‘classified’ stamped over the front and underneath, secured in black foam, the vile with a few drops of Dracula’s blood left. Zoe tore open the paper and began to read.

“How utterly curious...” she mumbled as she continued to read.

“What is it?” Jack inquired.

“Dracula’s blood... it has no red blood cells whatsoever. I mean, it makes sense considering he doesn’t breathe but... you would think his bone marrow would still produce the cells anyway...”

“Is there anything else?”

“Yes... they sampled some white blood cells, for the DNA, you see... it’s... it’s completely mutated. Dracula’s DNA is so completely scrambled. It’s a mesh of DNA from all of his victims, this must be how his body accumulates the desirable attributes of his victims.”

You took the paper out of Zoe’s hands, reading the same words (more or less) in the pages. It explained a lot. How Dracula’s own biology worked.

“Whatever you do, Zoe, don’t let him get his hands on this.” You warned quietly, “I don’t doubt that he’d use it for his own gain.”

“Yes. We must keep this safe.” She took the papers back from you, placed them back and snapped the case shut, “I wish I could stay, kids, but I have somewhere to be. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

When Zoe departed, you and Jack simply went back to reading account after account, scribbling down any notes that would be beneficial to the research. Jack had wanted to say something to you about that night, but he felt a lump grow in the back of his throat every time he thought about saying a word. Maybe it was best to keep quiet for now. Besides, he knew you well enough, if you wanted to talk about it, you would.

A few hours passed, but Zoe did not return. Instead of burning your brains anymore on reading passage after passage, you decided it was time to get out for a while and take a quick stroll. Side by side, you wandered aimlessly back down the 199 steps, and took a sharp right turn down the cobbled alley that lead to the slipway and onto the other pier where the lighthouse stood proud. Instead of walking to the very end, you sat down on an empty bench, looking inwards to the harbour, at the swing bridge and the bustle of the town.

The noise was a little diluted from where you were sitting. But you could still make out the rumble of car engines, the disorder and merged chatter of tourists and citizens alike, the cry of seagulls and the occasional crescendo in the music coming from the amusements. It was peaceful. It was intimate being so far away from the rest of the town.

It was nice to be in Jack’s company.

He turned to you.

“[First],”

“Yeah?”

“What really happened with Dracula?” You turned your head to look at him.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does. It really does.”

“Alright.” You sighed, “you want to know?” He merely nodded at your strong tone, “he killed the owner of a small cottage, regained his strength and we spent the night there. All we did was talk until I fell asleep and he had to find somewhere dark to stay for the entirety of the day. The next night, we sat up and again just talked until the first train back to Whitby at 6am when he dropped me off at the train station and went back into hiding. I’m telling you, nothing happened.” You explained firmly.

Jack looked at you, a little taken aback by your confession. He didn’t know why he and Zoe had decided to distrust you. You had never proven yourself to be silly. You’d never give yourself up to a vampire willingly. They should have known to be more trusting of you. You could handle it.

“I’m... I’m sorry.” He lowered his head.

“Don’t be. We both know how Dracula can enchant his victims. Not me, though, Jack. I promise I won’t let him enchant me.”

Jack looked up. You were smiling at him. The way the sun glowed gold on your skin, illuminated your hair with a halo of warm light, glistened in your eyes. His heart stopped for a moment. When had you become so pretty?

~^*^~

[DraccyBoi: 8pm. Be ready.]

[You: you can’t tell me what to do, toothy.]

[DraccyBoi: I won’t tell you again. I’ve given you enough warning.]

Texting a vampire was always going to be an odd affair, you thought. You rolled your eyes at his last message. How he could be so charming in person and yet kind of an asshole over text was beyond you. You didn’t really have a lot of time to ponder over it, considering you had just over three hours to ready yourself.

The weekend had come and you knew exactly what Dracula was telling you to ready yourself for. Sighing, you pushed yourself up and made your way towards the bathroom. You knew it would take time to get ready, and you wanted to. Not that you needed to do anything for Count Dracula; sometimes it was just nice to put in the effort.

Halfway through your shower, the music you had been singing along to cut off and your phone began to ring. You groaned, turning off the water and sliding the button to answer and quickly putting it on speakerphone.

“Hello?” You gasped, the hot air in the bathroom making it a little difficult to breathe.

“I was beginning to worry. You didn’t text me back.” His smug voice rang through your bathroom.

“Clingy much?”

“No, just making sure you’re following orders. Are you?”

“Considering you just interrupted my shower, I’d say yes.”

“Your shower?” You could hear the cockiness in his voice, “remind me again, what does that entail? Correct me if I’m wrong but that would mean that you are currently very n-“

“Bye Dracula.”

You hung up, wishing to never have a conversation like that again. Quickly, you resumed your shower and within the next two hours, you were all ready, except for being in your dress. There wasn’t much point in getting into it an hour before you needed to leave.

Instead, you flipped through the channels until about ten-to-eight, when you clambered back up your stairs.

The dress was where you had left it, hanging up in your spare bedroom. Getting it on was a struggle, considering that the hem of the skirt came out by two feet in a circumference around your waist in the centre. It was matte, with a few rhinestones sewn on here and there to make it sparkle just a little. The neckline was a plunging sweetheart, and thick straps settled on your mid arm, between your shoulder and your elbow. You thanked your recently past self for opting to put your shoes on before the dress, and you heard the door open just as you tried to tug up the zip at the back.

“Hello?” His voice called out.

“Up here!” You called back.

You heard the rythmic thud of his shoes slowly gain volume as he made his way up the stairs.

“You’re not in a similar state as the one when we talked on the phone are you?” He playfully called out.

“No!” He chuckled at the hint of embarrassment and the clear irritation in your voice. There was a pause, “...can you come in here?”

“...why?”

“Because... I need you to zip me up.”

Now this was a turn of events. Dracula could not help the smug smirk that overcame his face. With a slow stride, he made his way into your room. The curtains were drawn, your bedside lamp illuminating the room a little. You were standing facing away from him, the back of your dress zipped down, just enough to give a tease of the dimples in your back.

The dress, as he had anticipated, fit you perfectly. With the height of your heels, the hem was merely a centimetre away from the floor. It was perfect.

“Needing a little help?” His soft voice teased.

“Just... quickly, please.” You spoke, not moving.

“Alright.”

You heard him come closer. When his fingers made contact with your hot skin, you shivered and your heart picked up the pace. He hummed. With no shaky hand like the previous men in your life, with confidence, with an oddly tender touch, he zipped the dress up. When done, he positioned the ends of your hair a little, just making them perfect.

“All done.” He mused, “look at me, [First].”

You turned on the ball of your foot. You were quite a few inches higher now and thus a lot closer to his own height. He liked how you hadn’t gone overboard with the colours on your face, opting to simply enhance your features, bar the red lipstick that stuck out and seamlessly pulled your entire look for the evening together.

His eyes glossed over you, taking in the way the dress fit you perfectly. He had never seen you so dressed up. He had never seen you looking so formal.

“Beautiful.” He breathed, “absolutely stunning.”

He grasped your hand. You enjoyed the familiar coolness that spread through your fingertips and up your arm. Locking eyes with you, and keeping them locked, he lowered his head and pressed a tender kiss to your knuckles.

“Shall we go?” He spoke lowly against your hand. You nodded.

~^*^~

In all honesty, you didn’t know how Dracula was coping. The room was full of beautiful ladies in gothic dresses, laughing, many of them being whisked around by men, similarly dressed. The room was hot and buzzing with life. You could only imagine how stir crazy the vampire was going inside of his head. However, he kept his grip on you, your arms linked as you moved through the crowd of people. He was leading you towards the dance floor...

“Drac...” your voice came out meek and you tried to pull away from him but with no avail. He simply turned to look at you.

“What is it?” He inquired gently.

“I can’t...”

“Now, [First], a lady as beautiful as yourself should have the luxury of being engaged in a dance at a ball. It’s basic social etiquette.” He spoke fluidly, as if it were simple law everyone ought to know.

“Yes, but, I can’t... I don’t know how...” your eyes were pleaading up at him, you were begging him silently to listen to your pleas. You didn’t know how to dance and you sure as hell didn’t intend on making a fool of yourself. You managed to tug your arm out of his.

“Then let me teach you.” He commanded lowly, “dance with me, [First].”

“I don’t know, Drac... there’s so many people here and-“

“And none of them are going to judge. It is my understanding that your society doesn’t know the first thing about real etiquette or balls or the such. You’ll be fine.”

He was too convincing. His voice too smooth, his eyes too genuine, his smile too kind for you to refuse. You took his hand. That boyish grin took over his face and he strode a little forwards, tugging you further into the mass of people. When you broke through the barrier, before you, many couples were swirling around. It was dizzying watching them waltz around without a care in the world. Laughter erupted from every corner of the room amongst the chatter. Dracula turned to face you.

Your heart caught in your throat as one of his arms snakes around your waist, bringing you forwards. He positioned your arms for you, and pressed his lips to the cartilage of your ear.

“Just follow my lead and you’ll be ok.” He reassured quietly. His voice melted into your brain. He was too close.

And then, he was gliding you across the room. He was smiling down at you, eyes warm unlike their usual inhumane coolness. He whisked you along, your body reacting just as it should and as he swept you up into his grasp and around the ballroom, everything faded away. It became white noise, it became irrelevant. You were swallowed by him, his arms around you, his mouth right next to your ear.

It was as if you were intoxicated.

You let him lead you around the floor, some people stopped to watch the way the handsome Count Dracula swept the most elegant young woman up at. You were quite the sight. The way your eyes were locked on him, the way he carried you with such ease. Every movement of your dress accentuated the way your body twisted and turned.

Turning on one spot, Dracula slowed. Keeping his hand firmly on your waist, he guided you down, holding you as if you were a porcelain doll. You were precious. He grinned down at you. And he bowed his head down. Your heart began to race. You sucked in a breath and his lips gently caressed the soft skin of your neck. It ignighted a fire beneath your flesh, warming up your heart and your cheeks in an instant. Your stomach flipped. He lingered for a moment. He was listening to your pulse. It had suddenly become erratic. He smirked against your skin.

When he dipped you back up, you clung on to his arms. You were breathless and your head was spinning. You looked up at him, mouth slightly ajar and eyes locked.

“I knew you could do it.” There was a hint of smugness as his lips rugged up at the edges, “dearie me, your heartbeat really is lively this evening.” He teased.

You couldn’t find any words to reply to him. You simply held onto his arms as if you were dependent on him. You continued to look into his eyes, until he moved forwards once more to press a chaste kiss on your cheek.

“Bear with me a moment, darling.” He whispered.

And like that, he had disappeared. You stood alone in the middle of the dance floor. Once you had regained some sense, you rushed away to the sides. You waited for a good 20 minutes, and Dracula did not return. You decided to leave.

You couldn’t help but feel a little rejected as you pushed open the doors, fleeing past the latecomers. Your heels clicked against the pavement. You felt stupid. Dracula did not care about you at all. He was toying with you. It was a sick game and no matter what, you would lose.

It was dark. And being alone in the dark made you feel vulnerable. You turned the corner, looking over at the whale bones that stood proud, between them the sight of the Abbey on the other side of the harbour. You looked left and right before crossing the road. When you turned your head back to look at where you had come from, you saw the familiar figure of the vampire pacing up and down on the other side of the road to the Bay Royal Hotel. You didn’t realise at first, but he was on the phone and you could just about make out what he was saying.

“No... I can’t... I’m busy... well yes, I miss you too...” who was he talking to, you wondered, “...maybe tomorrow or the night after... not today, I can’t... no... no, Lucy.”

Your heart stopped. Lucy...? She was still alive? And Dracula had left you alone to... is that why he had spent so long in London? Dread filled your gut as it sank hard and fast.

It had happened all over again.

The tears that began to spill from your eyes were unavoidable and you plucked up your dress, feeling like a cliche and rushed down the steps, away from the whale bones and as far away as you could (and as quickly) from Count Dracula.

When you reached the bottom of the steps, you were heaving tears. You plucked your phone out from your bag and dialled a number.

“Can you come pick me up...?”

~^taglist^~

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#dracula #bbc dracula #netflix dracula #dracula x reader #bbc dracula x reader #netflix dracula x reader #class bang #dolly wells

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themeowsticvigilante · 3 years

Text

Obsidian Eyes

~~Featured Short Story: Xern~~

[Before proceeding to read, this story will include themes related to child abuse, implied death, cults, corruption and loss of mental autonomy. All will be tagged accordingly.]

Turnback Cave

It was dark inside this cave save for the dimly lit candles hanging overhead. The faint crimson glow of the lights aligned in a parallel formation from the hallways of the cave. Your vision is a little bit hazy as you walk aimlessly through the dark caverns.

It feels like a dream or … was it a dream? You keep walking as many thoughts run through your head. After all, you can only go forward.

More steps further you go, your feet now starting to leave red footprints as it makes squishing sounds as you walk. Only, you feel something strange. You look down where your feet were and see … blood, puddles of blood everywhere even when you turn around. You are also not alone either.

Two figures, a Plusle, and a Minun watch you from the far side of the cavern. Even when they are far apart from you, you can still feel dread as you stare back at them. Their eyes white and soulless with no pupils whatsoever and they also seem to be drenched in blood.

They start to approach you, moving faster and faster. Something is off; looking back at them it appears that they are hovering instead of running. Fearing the worst, you start running not minding the puddles of blood along the way.

You keep on running with what feels like an eternity, your body starting to give up and struggling to continue. Those two figures from before are still chasing you in hot pursuit with no sign of stopping. You try desperately to keep running to escape this apparent nightmare until … you trip in a large puddle of blood.

You stumble forward, almost hitting your head into a dead-end … a wall. In a fit of rage, you try punching it to no avail, you are panting heavily at this point and feel like your lungs are about to give out. Upon hearing the wet sloshes of blood coming towards you, you stand up and fall with you back against the wall.

The two figures have finally caught up, staring at you with those soulless eyes and upon closer inspection, scars all over their bodies. They each raise a rusted bloody knife as they pace slowly towards you. You try shielding yourself with your arms but they feel too heavy to lift as they stab you and … you awaken.

"Awaken, child! The time has come …"

A voice echoes in front of the Riolu, he has barely woken up as he yawns and faces where the voice came from. It was a cloaked figure, clad in red and noticeably tall wearing a gold and silver mask covering their face.

"What … What do you mean, elder …?"

He stands up from where he slept, a bed draped in a red cloth without a pillow as he stretches his arms and groggily looks around dazed.

"Your birth, child. Come, we must hurry. The daughter does not forgive insolence."

The elder grabs the Riolu with a tight grip as he yelps and flinches. He feels like fighting with the elder's grip but he was too tired to do so. He just whimpers and aimlessly walks with them.

~~~

As they walk, he can see the blood-stained walls of the cavern. Sharp and earthen stalactites were stained with a scarlet red as it dripped into the ground, forming small puddles. He keeps on walking, looking away from the blood as he paces forward. He tries to close his eyes to avoid the sight of the caverns but something or someone kept him from doing so.

We were your friends … Why would you do this to us … Betrayer! Liar! Murderer! Murderer! Murderer!

The images of the twins he killed were there in his mind, scarred and bloodied. They were screaming to him in the inside of his mind as their voices gradually became louder and louder. With a scream, he opens his eyes once again. The elder just looks towards him and utters a sigh.

"Nightmares are just illusions waiting to be forgotten, child. Keep in mind what the daughter seeks for all of us."

The elder stops walking as they both face a vestibule leading to a dark room. The Riolu can hear whispers and muttering from inside as he gulps in air, he is visibly shaking upon facing the room.

"Let us go, the daughter is already calling to you."

"No! Please! I am not ready yet!"

He now tries desperately to escape the elder's grip as he pleads to be let go. The elder, however, just shakes their head in disbelief and grunts having none of it. The elder lets go and immediately grips the Riolu's neck with their paw, their claws poking at his throat and almost enough to draw blood.

"The daughter dictates when you are ready. She alone decides your fate …"

The elder bellows, his monotonous voice piercing through the Riolu's will as the mere force of the elder's grip made him gasp for air and struggle desperately.

"Y-yes …elder … I-I … w-will obey … …"

The Riolu was on the verge of losing consciousness when he was dropped to the ground with a soft thud and barely landing on his feeble legs. He struggles to get up only to meet with the elder's indifferent gaze and just waits for him to regain his composure. He nods in defeat as he enters the room with the elder following close behind.

~~~

The room was slightly illuminated with the crimson glow of the torches overhead in aligned rows. A group of masked Pokemon was already there waiting for him, silently staring at the newcomer and their masks matching the elder.

In the middle was an altar, made of a large stump of redwood and cut into 12 sides. Intricate designs were carved into the wood with what appears to be sigils of different kinds. The center of the altar lay a large pool of black liquid, clear as a mirror and stagnant.

“Is this the child whom she will breathe new life with?”

One of them asks. It is hard to tell who was talking as their faces were concealed from behind those masks. The elder, looming behind the boy nods and gestures his hand toward the altar.

"Prepare the mirror."

He grabbed the Riolu by the hand as he restrained him using some rope. The rope was reeking of dried blood as it wrapped around his body. He is unable to struggle even if he wanted to.

The elder then carried the Riolu's bound body towards the altar as the masked Pokemon began to whisper a harmonic chant. They were holding hands and forming a circle as their gaze focused on the center of the altar.

The Riolu lay there bound helplessly towards his apparent doom. His pleading eyes were looking towards the faceless only to be answered by more chanting.

"Kat'ze, the Discordant Daughter

… I bring you a vessel! He shall herald your purpose in this world!"

The elder holding the Riolu placed him above the altar's center. The once stagnant liquid started to move in a spiral and glowed a vibrant hue as if to look like a spatial void. Upon seeing this, the Riolu struggled and squirmed with all of his will to live but to no avail.

"Kat'ze, we invoke you! Hear our calling!"

The Riolu can feel himself losing consciousness and his eyes slowly getting heavy as he can barely open them. The cacophonous chants of the hooded elders around the altar were all he could hear until … everything turns black.

~~~

Every second felt like hours in this darkness, and it didn’t help that the cacophony of voices he was hearing was replaced by buzzing. The buzzing was worse by a thousandfold, as it was causing a head-splitting headache as he slept. Everything was dark, pitch-black nothingness as he tried opening his eyes again.

The buzzing doesn’t stop as the Riolu grips both of his temples in an attempt to rid himself of this noise as he tries to get back on his feet. The only problem is, there is no solid ground. He looks around expecting to see pitch black darkness only, there is light … little clusters of light around him.

Since he can’t walk, he can only sort of glide aimlessly around this place as he looked for some way out of here. It also didn’t help that the buzzing sound didn’t stop as he struggled to maneuver himself while covering his ears.

“Stop right there!”

No sooner than he made a relatively short distance when he heard an echo from behind him. The voice was almost bellowing and loud with authority. The voice had a hint of raspiness and felt distorted like this wasn’t supposed to be theirs, to begin with. He immediately turned towards where the voice came from.

“Kindly explain why are you here?”

Instinctively, he uncovers his ears pleasantly surprised that the buzzing from before has stopped. He idly looks at the one in front of him, an Origin Form Giratina looking at him with both curiosity and liking. He can’t utter a single word because of both his adoration of the mighty being in front of him and the fear of what they are capable of. The being, however, simply sighed and circled him.

“So my disciples offered me another vessel? Explain yourself, child. Who are you and why are you the one chosen?”

The Giratina coiled around him and looking directly at his face, her black glassy eyes staring directly into him as if it was piercing his soul. The Riolu can see in her eyes clusters of stars being destroyed into a spiral, devoid of light. He gathers enough courage to speak a few words.

“J-jargon … my name’s Jargon … I-I … was … forced to be here by my elders …”

“Tsk tsk tsk … such incidents happen all the time, child. You are not a rare occurrence …”

“H-how about you … who are you?”

The Giratina grins upon hearing the question, her tendrils holding on to the Riolu’s shoulders as she lets out a hearty giggle. It was clear she was amused by his curiosity.

“I was once known as Xiel’zeun, The Daughter of He Who Crafted the World, I was once pure and full of light … I was once one of the well-known constellations of this realm.”

She holds up a star with one of her tendrils and shows it to the Riolu as if it was a masterpiece she is proud of showing. Her voice became a little softer, you can hear what her voice originally was.

“But unfortunately … this wasn’t my calling, to begin with. I saw something from beyond the stars … a vision. It beckoned me towards it …it made me realize what true craftsmanship was all about. I am not Xiel’zeun no more … I am Kat’ze, The Discordant Daughter.”

In an instant, the star that she was holding disintegrated into dark matter, leaving behind a gaping event horizon in its wake as she giggled, her voice being back to normal. She turned to look at Jargon, sensing the absolute fear in his eyes and expression.

“Now, do you see what you’re into, child? Come, let me make you part of something greater ... “

She grabs Jargon by the arm the instant he attempts to escape his sight. She holds his head, making him stare back into her face a little too close as she grins wide.

“Look into my eyes, child … tell me … will you stare into these ebony glassy eyes?”

Jargon struggled to look away but something … something within him made him drawn towards her ebony eyes. He tried fighting back the longing that slowly crept through every fiber of his being. If only his will wasn’t easily broken … if only he wasn’t already weak from everything he had been through.

“Don’t close your eyes, child … I want you to see. I want you to witness true art …”

His mind went blank for a moment, as his remaining will to break free from the corruption faded away as stardust swept into the emptiness of space. He lowered his head, as he fell silent for a brief moment. His eyes then opened, his left eye was a scarlet red as sanguine as to the blood he had spilled in that fateful murder. His right eye was an ebony black, it mirrored Kat’ze’s eye almost perfectly as some of its corruption branched out further into his right temple. He now had a new vision, he thought to himself. From this new vision, a new identity must flourish.

“Now child … who are you again?”

“I … I-I am Xern, I am happy to be in your presence my queen.”

#tw child abuse #tw death #tw cults #tw corruption #tw loss of mental autonomy #pokemon #featured short story #xern lucario

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astarinthevalley · 4 years

Text

It Was Bound To Happen

Siblings get mad at each other, it happens. Siblings fight for silly reasons, it happens. Things can get out of hand, it happens.

Sebastian glanced at the clock on his computer and blinked a couple of times. Was it really 9:45 PM? It was only 4:30 PM a couple of minutes ago.

He pushed his chair away from his screen and looked around his abyss of a room, barely being able to make any piece of furniture out. He’d usually turn on the small TV by his bed for background noise and a source of light--one not too intense, but not too dim either--since he despised getting up and traveling across his room just to flip a light switch.

Sebastian stretched his arms high over his head, listening to the clicks his wrists made as he rotated them. He turned his head and his neck released a loud, satisfying crack.

He got up and heard his feet land on what remained of his lunch: empty, crumbled bags of chips. When did he eat those again? 11 AM? He should be hungry, his stomach should feel like it’s being ripped to shreds like it always does when he forgets to eat, but he felt fine. ‘I should eat something anyways.’ He thought to himself. His mom, Maru, and Demetrius probably already had dinner together, and had stored the leftovers in the microwave for him as they always do whenever he couldn’t--or didn’t--join them.

Sebastian began maneuvering his way through the dark room, shuffling his feet across the floor so he wouldn’t risk stepping on whatever trash he had tossed and forgotten about. He kept his eyes focused on the spot where his door stood and reached his hand out. The moment his fingers came into contact with the cold metal of the knob, he wrapped his hand around it, swung the door open, and was immediately blinded. Why were the house’s lights still on? His mom always turned them off at 9:30.

He walked up the stairs, hand on the railing, as his eyes adjusted to the sudden shift in brightness. As he ascended the stairs, he could hear his step-sister, Maru, talking aloud with the occasional giggle in between her pauses. She must be on the phone.

He reached the hallway and took a right, journeying straight to the kitchen, not interested in whatever Maru was blabbering about. Unfortunately for him, Maru also decided she wanted to spend some of her time in the kitchen. She was sitting on top of their kitchen table, wrinkling the pink cloth covering it that mom had washed today, phone pressed against her ear, and a big, stupid, punchable smile on her face.

Whoever was on the other side was taking their time talking, so Sebastian decided to ask “Where’s mom?”

Maru peeked at him and whispered a ‘Hold on’ to her friend. “They’re at the saloon, and hello to you too.” She said in a tone not nearly as enthusiastic as it was a moment ago.

His mom would always pop into his room to let him know she was heading off somewhere, why didn’t she this time? Or maybe she did and he had forgotten about it.

He brought himself to the microwave and opened it to see a bowl of pesto pasta sitting in the center. ‘Warm it up for a minute, stir, then cook again for another minute.’ His mom’s instructions rang through his head.

He shut the microwave again, set the timer up, got a fork from a drawer, then stood and watched the bowl rotate while listening to the low buzzing and the tiny pops coming from his dinner.

Sebastian always found the noise rather calming in a strange sense--that is until time had run out and his trance would be disrupted by the blaring beeps--but Maru’s rambling was impossible to block out.

“... And I got a letter from another college today--Yeah, yeah! I didn’t expect so many to be interested, I’m really overwhelmed!”

Sebastian couldn’t hold back his groan. She was bragging about her damn robot again. Normally he’d be mildly annoyed but understanding when it came to bragging about accomplishments, he was guilty of doing so himself, but to constantly hear someone praise themselves for well over a month would start to drive anyone insane. Maru had built a robot--with the help of Demetrius--that was about the size of a small dog. It was able to pick up certain objects, respond to commands, and write. She showed off it’s abilities to the whole town, and everyone, even Sebastian, was impressed with what she had created.

“... My dad said he was going to help me with future projects, but I need to be more independent.”

He expected the never-ending praise from his parents, and had prepared himself for the constant compliments Maru would receive throughout this month and the many months after. She could mop the floor and they’d shower her in affection for the whole week, it was something they were both used to. But what he wasn’t prepared for was everyone to constantly talk about Maru and her invention. Maru makes a dingy droid and you might as well have told everyone the second coming of Christ was happening in this very valley. Sure, they lived in a small town, and when anything slightly out of the ordinary popped up, it was bound to be talked about for a couple of weeks, but conversations about Maru have barely dwindled.

“... I still need to make some improvements on the little droid.”

The continuous praise at home was exhausting enough, so to hear her name in every passing conversation was a nightmare. He liked to leave his house to get away from her, to get away from his parents gushing, but now it felt like there was no escape. Even his best friends, Sam and Abigail, had mentioned both Maru and her machine during their nights at the saloon.

Three loud, obnoxious beeps finally escaped the microwave. That had to have been the longest minute of his life.

He took out the dish and stirred the contents recklessly, his fork clashing against the sides of the bowl and scraping the bottom, before placing it back in and setting the timer for another minute.

The second the dish is done, he’ll snatch it up, and rush back into the basement away from Maru. He wouldn’t care if the scalding ceramic would melt his fingers off, he couldn’t stand being in the kitchen with her for a second longer.

“... That’s the problem, I don’t know if I want to move out yet! I really love it here, and I know my parents would support me no matter what I choose, but…”

Is she capable of talking about anything besides herself? Everything has to be about her, her inventions, how her parents can’t get over her, her problems, her success, her feelings, her. Her. Her.

Sebastian hated it. When he stayed up countless nights programming with no help whatsoever, fueled by several cans of energy drinks and stress, all he’d receive were lectures. ‘Stop spending so much time on the computer’, ‘Stop playing games’, ‘Stop browsing the web’, ‘Staying in here for so long is unhealthy’, shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

Then when he was given the chance to share what he was doing, explaining how he tests and develops software with enthusiasm and bright eyes, he could see his parents’ lack of interest in their dull eyes. Their amazement and fascination was all used on whatever Maru had been doing that day, and all that was left for him was boredom and exhaustion. Even on the days he went outside to work on his motorcycle, Demetrius wouldn’t hesitate to bicker about how much noise he was making, how he was distracting Maru from her work, how he was making a mess. The man was impossible to satisfy.

“... Yeah, I’ll be able to come over tomorrow!”

Sebastian stared at the timer. There were 10 seconds left.

“... I was thinking of bringing some gadgets over--Oh! We could try…” He hated her. Perhaps that was a strong word, but it was the truth. Nothing good had ever come from Maru.

9 seconds.

“... I don’t mind what we do, I just hate being cooped up in my room all day…” He hated the bragging, he hated the never-ending praise, he hated how the moment she was born their parents shoved everything he had into the basement.

8 seconds.

“... My parents don’t mind…” He hated how she always acted so high and mighty.

7 seconds.

“... As long as I’m home before it gets dark…” He hated how Demetrius would treat him every time he was near her.

6 seconds.

“... I need a break anyways…” He hated how he was always blamed for any argument or feud that came between them.

5 seconds.

“... My wrists have been killing me…” It was never her fault. Maru can’t do anything wrong, it’s always Sebastian.

“... I swear, my projects will be the death of me...” He hated the mere sight of her.

4 seconds.

“... Oh, did I tell you about what I’m currently working on?” He hated her voice.

3 seconds.

“... I’ve been making these blueprints…” He hated her.

2 seconds.

“... For a new robot…” He hated her.

1 second.

“... And I’m hoping it’ll be able to do even more than my first--”

Without his command, his legs took him straight to Maru. He tore the phone from her hand and held it with a crushing grip.

Maru’s mouth hung open, processing what had just happened in those mere, few seconds.

“Please.” Sebastian started in a frigid hush, “Shut. Up.”

Maru blinked a couple of times and stared at him, dumbfounded.

She shook off her surprise and reached for the phone, “I was talking with somebody!”

Sebastian pulled it away and hung up on whoever she was speaking with, “Not anymore. You can call them another time.”

Sebastian turned back to the counter, ready to grab his dinner and leave. He threw her phone aside and heard it land with a gratifying ‘crack’.

Maru scrambled to pick it up, checking the screen to make sure it hadn’t been ruined, then looked back at Sebastian.

“What is your problem?!” She raised her voice, face tinting red.

Sebastian ignored her as he opened the microwave.

She placed the phone on the table and stood up, snapping her fingers to get her step-brother’s attention.

“Hey, hey! You can’t just treat me like garbage one second then pretend I don’t exist the next!”

“I said shut up.” Sebastian repeated coldly, facing away from the girl.

“No, I won’t!” Maru stepped closer, “I can deal with you acting like this most of the time, but these past few weeks you have been really, really--” She scrunched her face, struggling to come up with a word to perfectly describe his recent, foul behavior. “--Vile!” She finished, pointing a finger at him.

“Sorry I’m not kissing your ass like everyone else.” He rolled his eyes as he grabbed the hot dish. He set it on the counter and scanned the kitchen for napkins.

Maru watched him search for a minute, then the gears in her head started turning.

Her eyes widened, “It’s because of my robot, isn’t it--”

“No, that damned robot isn’t the issue,” He clutched the edge of the counter, “it’s you! That’s my problem, it’s always been you!” He growled.

A genuinely hurt expression flashed across Maru’s face before it was replaced with anger. Her hands curled into fists.

“I haven’t done anything wrong.” She muttered, her voice was shaky. “You’re… You’re just…” She hated these moments with Sebastian. She hated how often they’d come. No matter what she did, no matter what she said, the two of them always ended up arguing. She’d always lose. She’d always be given a repulsed look and grumbled cusses as he’d walk away. Sometimes her parents would intervene and defend her, but they weren’t here right now.

She can’t keep letting herself get stepped on.

“Because you’re jealous, aren’t you?” She finally said, her voice still unsteady.

Sebastian’s body stiffened.

“Because you’re in your basement all day, staring at your--your stupid computer, pretending everyone doesn’t exist…” She breathed in, “And while you were sitting around, being angry, I was out there doing something. I’m actually getting somewhere! I actually have the chance for a successful future, I have potential, and you--you--y…”

The confidence she was finally building up had been shattered into millions of pieces as she watched Sebastian reach over to the knife block. When his fingers curled around and held the grip of the nearest knife, she felt her blood drain from her face.

The world had stopped. Maru had stopped. She couldn’t move. She only stood and waited, hoping Sebastian would let go, tell her he’s kidding, or for him to go outside to smoke, anything. Anything.

Sebastian began to turn his head in her direction, the hatred in his eyes burned greater than the flames in the depths of Hell. The more he kept turning his head, the louder her heart banged in her ears. Her horrifying hypnotic heartbeat was soon overtaken by a single thought booming in her head: He’s going to kill me.

Maru made a dash to the hallway, hearing her step-brother’s footsteps right on her tail as he started shouting a slew of curses and threats. She had never heard Sebastian shout in such a terrible tone in her entire life. Even during their absolute worst fights, his raised voice would sound pissed at most. But here? Now? He was screaming. There were moments where his voice would strain as he swung the knife she barely avoided, threatening to hack her head off. Whatever restraint he had built up over the years, whatever had kept him sane throughout the entirety of their relationship had been thrown out. All that remained was a man who looked like her step-brother screaming bloody murder, fueled by pure hatred, and wanting nothing more than to see her bleed.

Maru saw the door to her parents room on the right and instantly ran inside. She locked the door and took lungfuls of air, hot tears running down her face as she almost choked on her own spit.

The knob began to wriggle faster and faster until Sebastian resorted to banging and kicking. He’d slam his body against it, causing the door to budge and Maru’s life to flash before her eyes.

“OPEN THIS DOOR!” She heard him scream, “OPEN THIS DOOR, OPEN THIS DOOR! I’LL KILL YOU. I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU.”

He kept shouting those words and other horrible threats at her. She needed to get out.

She whipped her head around, hoping to find any possible escape route, but a pit began to form in her stomach as she realized she had trapped herself in her parents’ room. This wasn’t like her bedroom, there wasn’t another door that led outside, and the only window in here wasn’t big enough for her to crawl through.

The banging on the door grew louder, so did Sebastian’s yelling.

“YOU BITCH.” Sebastian threw himself against the door again.

She couldn’t think straight. She couldn’t think straight. Block the door. She needs to block the door.

She saw two wooden chairs beside her parents’ bed that sat in the center of the room and grabbed one. She wedged the back of the chair underneath the doorknob, praying it’d be enough to hold back Sebastian.

She suddenly saw the blade of the knife jab through the crack of the door and watched it dragg up and down before being pulled back in. Whatever Sebastian was attempting to do didn’t go as planned; he resorted to charging against the door again, shouting, and now sporadically stabbing the door itself.

Maru would watch in horror as the blade made its way through the other side of the door with every other stab. She couldn’t tear her eyes off the door. She wanted to throw up.

“I HATE YOU.”

As Sebastian’s screaming and thrashing grew more and more voluminous, Maru backed herself against the wall, sat down, and brought her knees to her chest. She covered her ears, tears clouding her vision, as horrid thoughts and questions filled her mind. She remembered watching so many documentaries about serial killers with Penny, fascinated with how sick people could be. She never imagined her own step-brother would be the end of her.

“DO YOU HEAR ME?”

She wondered what it’d be like to have a knife plunged into her chest. Would it feel like a quick sting? Would it burn? Would her adrenaline prevent her from feeling anything at all, and she’d be stuck staring into her step-brother’s wild eyes? Would he drag out her demise? Or would he end her life as fast as possible?

“I HATE YOU.”

Maybe she deserves this. Maybe she should have treated him better. Maybe she could’ve tried harder. She should’ve kept her stupid mouth shut. She shouldn’t have said anything. None of this would’ve happened. Sebastian feels this way because of her. She deserves this. She deserves this. She’s going to die. She’s going to die.

She suddenly heard the front door open through Sebastian’s banging. Footsteps and muffled voices, which soon turned into shouting, grew near.

“Sebastian? Sebastian--oh my God, what are DOING!?” She heard her mom shout. Sebastian was rather too consumed with wanting to kill Maru, or no longer cared about the consequences, as his screaming and thrashing became more severe.

Demetrius’ shouting started clashing with Sebastian’s, and another, quieter male voice could be heard as well.

Sebastian’s ruckus came to an abrupt stop. He must’ve been pulled away from the door. She could hear his yelling, his legs kicking about, and--somehow--his knife swinging wildly.

Someone knocked on the door. “Maru, honey, are you in there?” Maru heard her mother ask through Sebastian and Demetrius’ shouting.

“It’s safe to come out,” Her mom said, “Dr. Harvey called the police. You’re going to be okay.”

Maru slowly got up and pulled the chair away. She cautiously unlocked the door and listened to the yelling grow louder as she opened the door more and more.

Maru was hoping seeing her mother would cause a wave of relief and security to wash over her, but Robin wore a false smile in a poor attempt to mask her fear, making Maru feel sicker.

Robin pulled her in for a tight hug and placed her hand on her head, whispering to Maru that they’re going to be okay, everything will be fine, it’s all over now.

Maru forced her head to the right and saw an enraged Demetrius and a terrified Harvey restraining both of Sebastian’s arms.

Sebastian had finally stopped shouting. He was sitting on the floor, panting through gritted teeth, tears running down his face, and staring at her with those horrible, loathsome eyes that wished to see nothing more than Maru’s demise.

#stardew valley #stardew valley sebastian #stardew valley maru #stardew valley fanfic #sdv fanfic #sdv sebastian #sdv maru #some swearing!#fun sibling fight :)#wrote this cause why not ya know #if tumblr format is not your style the lil #description/summary above has a link to the Ao3 if that's nicer!!

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thesarcasticknightblr · 4 years

Text

Left Behind

A/N: This takes place during chapter 36 of Small Fry. It is written from Wheeljack’s point of view and it’s the story you guys have been asking for for a while now. You wanted to know what was happening on the other side of the portal, well here ya go!

Excerpt from Small Fry

Wheeljack’s POV

2491 words

“I have to go through now.” Wheeljack could feel his entire frame buzzing. It was a strange mixture of the energy coming off the machine in the center of the garage and the euphoria of their plan actually working.

This was actually working.

“The machine is steady and seems to be working fine.” He let his gaze drift over each person in the room. Aubrey had one arm wrapped around Wes while Wes’ servo rested on top of Taylor’s helm. Peter had chosen to stick next to Aj’s side. Bear laid on top of her feet. He had pouted when Sunstreaker disappeared through the portal and now the furry creature took comfort in Aj. “Hurry through though. It is programmed to turn off after being left inactive for five minutes.”

He stepped up to the portal, eager to experience this sort of travel for himself, and shot one last glance at the space around him. The garage had been his lab of sorts while he was here, but he couldn’t find it in himself to feel sad he was leaving it. Wheeljack was ready to be back in his own surroundings and couldn’t wait to give Aj, Peter, and the others a tour of how a proper lab should look. If Ratchet would even let him, that is.

Wheeljack retracted his mask so his friends could see his grin, “See you soon!”

The last thing he saw was Peter returning his smile and the twins waving at him before he stepped through the portal. Light blinded his optics and a flash of warmth washed over him briefly. Both occurrences were brief and his next few steps were now on grass rather than concrete.

Wheeljack quickly restarted his optics to try and regain his vision and was met with the watchful gaze of Autobots and Decepticons alike. The garage had been replaced with Oregon greenery, tall trees surrounding the small clearing they were in with a thick fog beginning to roll in.

“Oh wow, it really did work!” He chirped and let his mask click back into place.

“I’m going to ignore the surprise in your tone.” Ratchet grumbled.

The medic stood closest to the glowing portal and was knelt on one knee. He couldn’t see it, but Wheeljack would bet all his energon reserves that the mech was prepared and had his scanners ready for the next portal travelers.

Wheeljack glanced back over the group to see not everyone was here. Near the back Optimus stood beside Megatron. At first glance it seemed casual, but he could now see the tenseness in both mech’s frames. Prime had one arm slightly raised in a position where he could bring his weapon forth in only a human second. Megatron on the other hand, though tense, only stared at the portal in anticipation.

Near them were the seeker trine and they took a similar stance with Sideswipe and Sunstreaker standing close enough to attack if needed. Thundercracker had his arms crossed over his chassis while Skywarp lazily leaned on him and Starscream glared at Megatron.

Soundwave, Barricade, and Grimlock were nowhere to be seen.

“We’re pretty sure Grimlock went to find the other dinobots.” Jazz answered the question that sat in Wheeljack’s processors. “And Soundy went to ‘is kids.”

“Barricade?”

“Left.” Jazz shrugged, “Only these mechs wanted to stick around an’ make sure our pals came through alright.”

Ratchet pinged him over the comms and it brought Wheeljack’s attention into focus. He turned back to the portal, “Right. Bear should be the next through. Any moment now.”

As if on cue, there was a bright flash of purple bringing Wheeljack’s attention back to the portal where Bear ran out. The puppy seemed disorientated, falling over his own pedes briefly, and had to pause to shake himself wildly. After that though, he barked and immediately made his way to where Sunstreaker stood.

“Bear’s scans are normal.” Ratchet announced.

Sunstreaker made a clicking noise of disapproval at Bear who chose to curl up next to his pede and lick the mech’s yellow armor. He clicked again at the dog, “Go to Bee. Go.”

Bear licked the frontliner one more time before bouncing over to Bumblebee who bent over and picked up the dog with a grin.

Wheeljack smiled behind his mask in relief. Bear being normal boded well for the others who had yet to come through. He quickly checked his internal chronometer to keep track of the time between each passage when he realized that time hadn’t changed. “Wait-”

“Did you see your chronometer?” Bluestreak guessed by what he assumed was the shocked look on his faceplates, “Yeah, it’s like no time passed and we never left! Optimus said he found out when he commed Ironhide to find out what was happening and Ironhide had no idea what Prime was going on about.”

Wheeljack hummed and tried to wrap his processors around this new information. It was a puzzling phenomenon. Time not having moved at all was evidence that they hadn’t just traveled through the barriers of the multiverse, but rather through time itself. Were the two correlated? Could one pick to travel through one or the other rather than both at the same time? Preceptor would be so excited to go over this new data with him.

It was endlessly unusual.

A flash of red and a scream of pain was all it took to make Wheeljack’s mood plummet.

Wes had come through, as planned, but he had collapsed to the grass with denta clenched in pain. His skin was pale and there was a sheen shine of sweat across his brow.

“It— God, it hurts!” Wes cried and a scream slipped through his lips, “I’m on fire.” Ratchet had scanned him quickly and transformed while simultaneously activating his holoform. Wes was clawing at his legs, “Ratchet! What is happening!? I can’t— God, I can’t— Argh!”

Ratchet shook his holoform’s head, “It’s your nerves. They’re malfunctioning from the level L1 and down. We have to get you to the hospital now. They can put you under and control the pain but—”

The medic’s words hung in the air. Sharp and panicked. Ratchet didn’t need to continue because everyone already knew. There was a collective fear that the group in the field shared.

“The kids— The kids come through next!” Wes barked, “You gotta— you gotta stop them.” He clenched his teeth again in pain and Wes’ optics fluttered as if he was going to pass out from the pain. “Wheeljack…”

Starscream spoke up, “You can’t make alterations on this side and there is no way to go through the portal again. It isn’t set for a location or time. Someone traveling through could end up anywhere.”

The scientist’s tone was bored, but there was a strain there he tried to hide. Optics shot to Wheeljack, but he couldn’t argue against Starscream’s words. The mech was right. Wheeljack had never felt this useless before as he stared at the swirling portal in dread.

“Stop fighting it, let your body pass out.” Ratchet snapped. Wes’ body was shaking in pain and exhaustion, but the male refused to let his optics close.

A flash of green and Wheeljack’s chassis ached.

The small twins stepped through while holding each other’s servos, but they remained standing. Wheeljack scanned them as thoroughly as he could and vented air in relief at the normal scans he got. There was a small abnormal value each twin had, but it didn’t seem to need immediate attention. Taylor and Tyler were grinning as their optics danced over each mech.

“Their scans are normal.” He announced quickly and passed them on to Ratchet.

“Oh, thank God.” Wes breathed in relief before blacking out. His head slumped back against Ratchet’s arms.

The comment had caught the twins’ attention and anxiety filled their optics when they stared at their father. Tyler looked confused while Taylor looked more fearful. The young femme had always been more sensitive. She was always quicker to notice when something was amiss.

“Is daddy ok?” Taylor asked quickly.

“He’s fine, youngling. How do you feel?” Ratchet lied to them. It was then that Wheeljack noticed the twins were starting to waver. He froze in fear at the sight of their shoulders relaxing and their optics fluttering. “Bluestreak, grab them.”

Bluestreak didn’t hesitate to scoop them up as they slipped into stasis. Before anyone could question or panic, the medic dismissed his holoform and transformed to his bipedal mode, “They’re fine. Their systems were stressed, and it pushed them into exhaustion, but they are healthy.”

Ratchet knelt down to keep one servo over Wes’ body. The human couldn’t be moved due to his injury, even Wheeljack knew that. The twins were fine though. The twins were fine. He didn’t understand this, by all means it made no sense, but Wheeljack couldn’t help but find comfort in the fact that they were safe. Was it random? Was it by age? The confusion made him uncomfortable and it wasn’t over yet.

A flash of pink, and a confused Peter stumbled into the field.

Everyone watched as the boy stared back at the portal. He seemed to pay the mechs around him no attention whatsoever. His optics bounced from his empty servo to the portal and back. He shook his helm, “Aj?”

“He’s healthy.” Ratchet announced after a scan. “Peter, you’re going to start feeling tired—”

“Aj? Where is—?” Peter turned around to face the mechs.

“What do you mean ‘where is Aj?’” Sideswipe snapped in panic.

Jazz stepped forward and knelt down, “Pete, what’s happenin’?”

“We were going to go through together.” He answered and walked toward the mech only to stumble over his own feet, his optics growing heavy, “We— we, we were holding hands.”

Prowl stepped around Jazz to catch Peter before the boy collapsed to the ground. Jazz was frozen in his spot, frame tense. Wheeljack had never fully understood the human expression of ‘having the air sucked out of their lungs’ since he didn’t require oxygen like they did, but right at this moment it became very clear what they meant. Hearing Peter’s words had felt like a dinobots plowing into him.

Wheeljack found himself moving before he fully understood his action. He leaped toward the swirling portal. He had to get to Aj and Aubrey. Something was wrong and they were stuck, and it was his fault.

It was his fault.

“Wheeljack!” Ratchet called out.

He was only a step away when someone tackled him to the ground, hard. Wheeljack tore at the arms and tried to free himself. Jazz’s voice was right by his helm as he held on tighter, “You can’t go back through. I want to as well, Jack, but it won’t take you back to where we need.”

“It might! We don’t actually know that!” Wheeljack argued and fought harder. “Let me go!”

“I can’t do that, Jackie.” Jazz replied, pain evident in his own voice.

The portal flashed again, Wheeljack didn’t even have time to look over at the color, but he watched as Aubrey fell through and onto her knees. Tears were streaming from her optics and she looked absolutely devastated. Wheeljack stopped fighting in shock as a silence settled over the field.

“Where is she?” Sunstreaker was the one to finally break the spell, “Where the frag is she!?”

Aubrey’s optics landed on Wes, confusion washing over her small features, but Wheeljack could see a decision made in her blue optics. She snapped her attention over to him and ran over, “You have to fix the portal! You have to fix it! She can’t— Aj is stuck on the other side!”

More movement, a yellow and red blur. Wheeljack blinked in shock as he watched Optimus wrap his arms around a kicking and cursing Sideswipe, stopping him from nearing the portal. Sunstreaker was still moving though and Wheeljack knew Prime couldn’t stop both twins. His shock grew when he watched Megatron tackle Sunstreaker to the ground. The Decepticon pinned the ex-gladiator to the ground while Sunstreaker screamed expletives at him.

“Wheeljack please!” Aubrey screamed. She didn’t seem to be tiring like the children had or in extreme pain like Wes had been.

Wheeljack fought against Jazz harder, the saboteur only doubling his efforts in keeping him down. His chronometer was counting down. The portal had been inactive for too long. It was going to disappear soon and that would leave him with very little options.

“Jazz you have to let me go! I have to go through!” Wheeljack cried in Cybertronian. Jazz was cursing himself in Cybertronian, hating his actions, but refusing to let the engineer go. Wheeljack had never felt desperation like this before. His servo reached out and clawed at the Earth in a pathetic attempt to get closer but to no avail.

Aubrey had fallen to the ground, not due to exhaustion but due to desolation. The small human sobbed loudly; her arms wrapped around her frame. The beeping of his chronometer only grew quicker, a final warning, and then he watched as the portal faded away. No one in the field spoke. Even the twins had stopped cursing to stare at the space where the portal used to be. In fact, the only sound that could be heard was Aubrey’s wailing cries.

Jazz’s arms went slack, he rolled over to bury his faceplate into the earth. His servo punched the ground once, hard, and he didn’t move again. Wheeljack slowly stood up and his hand drifted to his spark. There was an ache there at his failure. Aj’s bond was still there, but it was hollow. She was too far away to make an impact.

Optimus spoke up, but Wheeljack didn’t hear a word. He had left her. He had left his friend behind. Aj had been all alone when she first came to meet them. She had let them in. She had trusted them, trusted him, and what had that cost her? She was now alone in an empty garage. Wheeljack owed Aj his life and this is how he repaid her. His wrecker brethren would be ashamed of him. Pit, he was ashamed of himself.

Wheeljack had left Aj behind.

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haledamage · 4 years

Text

(and here’s the second of the two fills for the prompt “candles” from @actualanxiousswampwitch, this time with Kira/Mason. I’m pretty sure this is safe for work, but only just. It really didn’t want to be, and I think Kira and Mason are both a bit upset with me that I won’t write them the smut they so clearly want)

Kira stepped into her apartment, juggling her keys, purse, laptop bag, and overnight bag into one arm so she could reach the light switch. Mason stood in the hall behind her, watching with unconcealed amusement.

When she flipped the switch, nothing happened. She flipped it off, then back on. Still nothing.

“Fuck me running,” she growled. Trying the switch a third time did not yield new results. “God fucking damnit.”

Still muttering curses, she started to dig into her pocket for her phone and as she did, Mason finally took pity on her and grabbed her bags, dropping them with a surprising amount of care onto a chair. Unencumbered, she pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight, careful to keep it low and nowhere near any hypersensitive vampire eyes. Then she headed to the kitchen to grab a few candles from the counter and bring them back to the living room.

“Looks like the whole block's out,” Mason said, peeking out the window. It was dark enough outside that even with the curtains drawn Kira couldn't see anything beyond the little circle of light from her phone.

“Well, at least it's not just me.” She set the candles down on the side table, running her hand along the back of the sofa to help navigate the room. “Can I borrow your lighter?”

Faster than she could have followed even if the room hadn't been so dark, he appeared behind her, one hand sliding slowly over her hip. “I've got a better idea.”

“I thought you had patrols or some shit tonight. Figured you'd stop by later.” Despite her words, she leaned against him, tightening her grip on the back of the couch as if it could help keep her steady when his proximity made her feel anything but.

“Maybe I better stick around a while instead.” The hand on her hip trailed higher, slipping under her shirt and across her abdomen. He pressed closer, lips just barely brushing the shell of her ear as he spoke. “Who knows what’s lurking in the dark.”

She smirked. “Pretty sure the only thing lurking in my apartment is you.”

“You like it.” His voice was somewhere between a purr and a growl, equal parts promise and threat, and it made her shiver in anticipation.

Her laughter was as breathless as her voice. “What gave me away?”

Without any warning, he ran his tongue up the length of her neck. She gasped and arched into it, her head falling back on his shoulder. Her phone slipped out of her hand, falling onto the sofa and plunging the room into nearly total blackness, but she barely noticed. He chuckled in her ear. “That.”

Kira could feel his phone buzz where it was pinned between their bodies. She didn’t quite bite back a frustrated groan.

“Guess I should go.” Mason didn’t make any move whatsoever to actually leave. In fact, the hand he still had on her stomach started travelling lower until his fingertips just barely slipped under the waist of her jeans.

She turned her head to capture his lips with hers, kissing him deep and needy, making sure he knew exactly what he was about to walk away from. His free hand covered hers where it gripped the sofa. When she lifted her other hand to tangle her fingers into his hair, he groaned and pulled away, only to lean his forehead on her shoulder in an attempt to catch his breath.

When he tilted his head to kiss her again, she moved away slightly, staying just out of reach. “Mason, you know if you kiss me neither of us will be going anywhere for a while.”

His lips found her neck again instead, trailing hungry, open-mouthed kisses on every bit of skin he could find. “Tell me to leave.”

"I can’t do that." In truth, she had to bite her lip to keep from begging him to stay.

With a growl, he spun her around so she fully faced him and kissed her, hot and hard and desperate, both hands under her shirt now and grasping at her almost greedily, not quite hard enough to bruise. They stumbled around to the front of the couch and he fell back onto it, dragging her down to straddle his lap.

They separated just long enough to drag her shirt over her head, and as soon as their lips met again, his phone rang. “Don’t fucking answer it. You know who it is.”

Mason fished his phone out of his pocket anyway and hit the answer button. “What?”

“You know you’re supposed to be patrolling right now, right?” Felix’s cheerful voice came through the phone, loud enough that Kira could hear it clearly.

“Who says I’m not?”

“I can hear Kira’s heartbeat from here. Also, because we’re supposed to be patrolling together tonight, remember?” The look on Mason’s face said he did not remember that at all. “Come on, you can’t expect me to just stand around waiting until you guys are done. Your girlfriend will still be there when you get back.” Mason just growled again and Felix’s laughter echoed through the phone. “Attaboy. See you soon. Bye, Kira.”

Kira sighed. “Bye, Felix.”

Mason hung up and tossed his phone across the room, where it landed somewhere in the darkness with a loud clatter, and immediately pulled her down to kiss her again. He wrapped his arms around her waist and with a sudden dizzying movement, twisted to lay her down on the couch and climbed on top of her. He kissed her until she was breathless and moaning helplessly every time he touched her, until she started rocking her hips up against him unconsciously, until her fingers started scrambling at his belt and the hem of his shirt to try and move things along, and then he pulled away.

His eyes travelled over her, his heated gaze taking in the sight of her disheveled and topless and half out of her mind with desire. And then he moved farther away, getting to his feet and straightening out his shirt. “Hold that thought, sweetheart.”

The noise Kira made didn’t contain any words, but it still spoke volumes. Mason didn’t laugh at her frustration; in fact, he looked even less happy about the situation than she did.

She sank into the sofa cushions, trying to cool down enough to have higher brain functions again while she listened to Mason stomp around hunting down his phone. She felt an absurd amount of pride at the wide berth he gave her as he walked around the room; it meant he was every bit as affected by that kiss as she was. Keeping his distance was the only thing keeping their clothes on.

She called out to him as he approached the door to leave. “Try not to keep me waiting too long.”

He looked over his shoulder, eyes once again tracing over her mostly-bare torso, and smirked. There was a promise in the way he looked at her that she looked forward to him fulfilling. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She stared at the door for a long time after he left. Only when she sat up and tried to find where her phone had fallen within the sofa did she realize he’d been considerate enough to light the candles before he left.

#kira kingston #kira/mason #the wayhaven chronicles #I think this is the first time I've let kira curse as much as she wanted to #this may be the hottest thing I've ever written that wasn't actual smut #thanks to felix for stepping in and helping me with that though #because there were like 3 times that it almost devolved and I had to reel it back in

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