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dominimoonbeam · 2 years

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No Luck Left - part 3

The finale part to No Luck Left.

If you haven’t read the first parts here’s the ao3 link!

Original prompt from @haradasaya <3

Darlin/Sam, Darlin & David

tags: hurt/comfort, angst, blood & violence, invoking, memory altering, bad relationships (lookin at you Quinn), protective David, pack feels, vampire Darlin

NO LUCK LEFT - part 3

He didn’t mean for this to happen.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

David carried Darlin’s unconscious body on his shoulder. It wasn’t the first time he’d done this, but it was the first time that they weren’t drunk. It was the first time they were out because he’d knocked them out. His knuckles throbbed, more from the revulsion of having hit them than the pain of it.

They’d stuck around Dahlia for a whole week before deciding to leave town, to keep moving, with vague promises of coming back sometime. David couldn’t let them go. Not when they were like this—not when they didn’t know and Quinn could so easily scoop them back up again. Quinn, their abuser, maker, murderer, and kidnapper. The same Quinn they thought was their ex. They didn’t remember anything bad he’d done, not really. In all the talks David had had with Darlin, they clearly thought Quinn was an asshole, but they couldn’t remember why. He’d taken that away too, probably wiped the slate clean every time he’d done something unforgivable.

And then he’d called them.

Darlin had been standing right next to David when their phone rang, when they frowned at the number and then answered, their voice so bored at first and then he’d spoken and their whole body tensed.

“What if I don’t want to see you?” they’d asked, trying to sound sharp but there was a wobble that screamed of gut fear. “No. I’m nowhere near there. Dahlia. What? Why not?” They were arguing, rolling their eyes and trying to look annoyed but David could see tears gathering. He wasn’t even sure if they realized they were forming—if they realized what they were feeling under all the invocations. “No. Can’t you just come—Fine. Fine! Tomorrow?” They’re shoulders dropped but they nodded and mumbled something affirmative before hanging up.

David had tried talking to them. They’d said Quinn was a bastard, after all. No reason to go running when he called, right? Only Quinn had said he was in trouble and needed help. Darlin couldn’t ignore that. David tried telling them the truth. Asked them to trust him even though he knew it was impossible. It took longer than a week to get Darlin’s trust, even when they thought their name was Misfit.

So, he’d stopped them.

Stopped them with a fist to the face.

He walked in the den with Darlin still over his shoulder. It was a couple hours to sun-up. They’d be trapped then.

Milo looked up, brow pinching at the sight of his cargo. Everyone knew to play along with Darlin’s memory issues this last week. “What happened to them?” he asked, coming closer, but David didn’t stop walking.

“I happened. Get the door.”

Milo saw where he was going, his jaw flexing with something like disgust or anger, but he still moved to grab the back door and pull it open and then followed David down the hall, to another door. “David…”

“Now.”

Milo punched a code into the keypad and unlocked the door, pulling it open and standing back.

The room was big and the lights flickered on. It was all steal plated with a drain on the floor and a prison cell taking up half of the space. He put Darlin down on the cot in the corner. Their cheek was already healed from his punch. He hesitated for another second before backing up and closing the barred door between them. It locked automatically.

“David,” Milo said again, voice harder now. “You know how they feel about being caged…”

David closed his eyes and nodded. He did. It was one of Darlin’s greatest fears. They’d rather take a beating than be closed in. He straightened and forced his expression to harden before he turned to look at Milo. He had to be certain because no one was going to feel okay about this—especially not when Darlin woke up. “Do you think they’d rather we let them go back to Quinn? Let him put his teeth in them? Fuck them? Make them tell him all the things he wants to hear? Make them hurt other people for his amusement?” Any of the nightmarish things they’d all imagined and dozens of which had been confirmed in casual conversations with Darlin this last week. They had no idea what they were even telling David half the time—they believed they’d had a choice.

Milo’s eyes had widened a fraction and then sharpened with contempt and certainty. His gaze slid past David, to where their vamp was laid out on the cot. “We’re going to need blood bags. I’ll contact the Solaires.”

David nodded and watched Milo head down the hall. He didn’t step out of the room and close the door though, because he felt them wake up. He cringed to himself before stealing his features once more and looking into the room.

Darlin stood there, having risen soundlessly. Their eyes were big with shock and betrayal, staring right at him. It twisted a knife in his gut. How many times had he feared that look? He had been so careful with Darlin for so long because he never wanted them to think, even for a second, that he would be a threat to them. And now he’d proven he was.

Darlin touched the bars, fingers curling around them, arms tensing as they tested their hold without breaking eye contact. “What are you doing?” they asked, voice strained as they tried to keep their terror in check.

He could hear all their suspicions in that one question—trying to imagine all the terrible things this pack of wolves could have in store for them? The betrayal deepened in their eyes, and he knew they were thinking that this whole last week had been a trick and they had been the fool.

“You’re going to be okay,” he promised.

They hissed, baring teeth. “Let me out.”

“I can’t.”

They thrashed at the bars, but they wouldn’t budge. “Let me out!” they screamed.

David didn’t let himself wince. There was real fear in their voice. “I’m sorry. You’re going to be okay. I promise,” he said again and then stepped out and closed the door.

Darlin screamed so loud that he could hear them through the plated door. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to the wall.

David called Asher. He wasn’t far from Dahlia, checking out a club where a rogue vamp had started a fight with some elementals after nearly draining one. David told him what had happened and that, wherever Quinn was, he would probably be on the move soon.

And then he called Vincent.

And then he waited in the den. He wasn’t going to be able to leave as long as he had Darlin caged up in there. He couldn’t risk someone getting soft and letting them loose. There was no way to predict what they could do if they got out thinking this pack had abducted them. Darlin was not to be fucked with on the best of days. They’d spent the first hour screaming and beating the wall loud enough that he could hear the thud even from the main room. He hadn’t been back to talk to them again.

The phone on the table rang. Not his phone, but Darlin’s. He picked it up and held it to his ear. That voice was a silk noose. “How far out are you, Misfit? You better put your foot on the gas if you’re going to make it before sun up…”

He was close. A few hours out from Dahlia. The city Asher was in was that close. He really had been catching up to him.

“Misfit?” Quinn’s voice sharpened, the threat so clearly there.

David sat back in his chair. “It’s done, Quinn.”

Silence, tense and heavy, and then, “Shaw,” Quinn seemed to realize, laughing darkly. “It was bad luck that they went back there…”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Is this where you tell me that if I release them from the invocations, you’ll call off your dogs?”

“No,” David said. He might have been willing to make that deal if he thought for a second that Quinn could keep his word—or if he thought that he could keep his word not to kill him now. No, they were past that.

“Really? Because you’ve got to be sitting on my Misfit to keep them from me now. How long can you do that? How long before you let them go and they come running back to me? A month? A year? A decade? I’ve got time…”

David felt cold at the idea of having to keep them prisoner that long, but he knew he’d do it for a lifetime if he had to. He’d be right there with them, in this den, captive, until he could save them both. He would not, absolutely not, let Quinn put hands on them again. It was a hard decision and an ugly decision, but he knew he could trust Darlin to do the same for him if things were reversed.

“You’ll fold,” Quinn said, but David heard the doubt in his voice now.

“When you were messing with their mind,” David mused, really just keeping him on the line now to see if he’d give anything else away. They’d never spoken before, he realized. “Why didn’t you make them hate wolves? That might have saved you from this moment…”

Quinn was quiet.

David smiled slowly. “You did. It just didn’t stick.”

“You don’t know anything. We belong together. They wanted this life, Shaw. They’re happier, freer, safer.”

“Safer? With you?”

“No one else can hurt them now. They don’t need a pack. They’ll never grow old and weak. They’ll never have to sleep with their back to a door, so they’ll know if someone tries to get in. They’ll never go hungry or be homeless because their parents threw them out,” he seethed, words rushing out.

David sat forward, holding the phone tightly. He knew those things about Darlin’s life, but how did Quinn know? Had he invoked them to tell him? No. That didn’t seem as likely as Darlin having told him once, before all of this, when they had been friends. And that was the cruelest part, wasn’t it? There had been a moment, when Darlin and Quinn had been friends. Real friends.

“Do you know where their parents are, Shaw? No. You don’t. You don’t know where I dumped those bodies. Neither you nor your daddy went looking for them. You just let them treat my Misfit like shit and then abandon them. You let them leave…just like you let my Misfit leave. What right do you have to keep them now? None! They belong to me. I made them. I took care of them. And now, they will never be alone because I will always be here.”

“Quinn,” David said, not soft but not angry anymore. “You want to protect them? You want to be the person that killed their abusers?” His voice was deep and dark in the silence that stretched between them. Quinn was still there. He had to be putting the pieces together too. “Then finish it, because you’re the last one left standing.”

The silence stretched.

David waited.

Finally, Quinn whispered, “I will never let them go.” He hung up.

David sat there for a while, listening to the thumping of Darlin in that prison cell start up again. It would be smart of Quinn to run—to buy time with distance and test their resolve. But Quinn wasn’t thinking with his mind. He was thinking with his heart, as rotten as it might be. David understood him better now. He called Vincent and when he answered he said, “He’s coming.”

Sam stood outside the door, staring at the keypad.

He hadn’t really thought David would let him see them. Honestly, he’d been more than ready for David to kill him the moment they walked into the Shaw den. He wouldn’t have blamed him—wouldn’t have fought him or even tried to escape. It would have been justice. David had walked up to him and Sam had stood ready, head down but back straight. He felt the other man looking him over, deciding something. How to kill him? When he lifted his hand, Sam didn’t even close his eyes. He was ready for judgement. He was prepared for pain.

But he hadn’t been prepared for that hand to settle so gently against the side of his neck, palm covering the old bite mark that had turned him like it was nothing but clean skin. David leaned in and touched his forehead down to Sam’s head, the way Sam had seen him do a hundred times with his pack. It was confirmation, affirmation, and affection. David dragged a breath of relief. “You’re okay,” he said, and it sounded like it was both to reassure himself and to tell Sam.

Sam cried. He didn’t mean to. He just wasn’t ready for that. It had never occurred to him…

David hugged him. “You’re okay. And they’ll be okay,” he’d said, and it sounded like truth then—like this man was going to make it true.

But standing in front of that door, he wasn’t so sure. He tapped in the code for the door and heard the locks slide back. He took a breath and then stepped into the room. The motion activated lights came on and there they were—his Darlin. Not a wolf anymore, but a vampire. He couldn’t help but think about their death, about how he’d felt nothing when he helped drain them, when they thrashed and begged.

Darlin rose from where they’d been sitting so still in the corner, gaze flicking over him. They rushed forward, grabbing at the bars, hoping lighting up their face and it was a stab in his heart to see it directed at him. “Sammy?” they exhaled hard, relief so clear they were almost smiling through their panic. Darlin had never called him Sammy before all of this—before Quinn went playing in their mind—before they died. “Open the door.”

Sam took a step closer. The door to the hall swung shut but he made no move to touch the door of the cell. He just stared back at them. His beautiful Darlin. They usually had bruises and scratches from throwing themself at life, but not now.

“What’s going on?” Darlin demanded now, distrust edging into their voice. “Is Alexis here? Is Quinn?”

He winced at the other man’s name, baring teeth before he could stop himself.

Darlin didn’t miss it. They reached suddenly through the bars and snatched at the front of his shirt, dragging him in. Sam didn’t fight, his chest hitting the bars hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. Darlin hissed, baring long fangs and wrapping their other hand around his throat. “What have you done?” they snapped in his face.

Sam didn’t know where to start. He almost laughed. Should he start with failing to protect them? Or with how he had treated them when he was invoked and they were so confused? Or with how he helped Quinn get them back? Or maybe when he sank teeth into their arm and helped the other man drain the last of their life?

Their fingers bruised his neck, and as much as he wanted to let them end him right here and now, he remembered suddenly and violently that they were still in there. That his Darlin would remember this moment with the clarity they did not have now and have to live with it—the way he had to live with all the things he had done when he wasn’t in control.

He moved fast. He grabbed their hand on his neck and twisted almost to the point of breaking bones to get loose. But then he held on to their hand, even when it wasn’t around his neck, he held on because he wanted to cry out and cling to them the second he had contact.

Darlin flashed teeth at him again. “You shit! Are you working with them? Is this one of her fucking games?”

Sam sighed, thumb stroking Darlin’s wrist on instinct and Darlin didn’t seem to notice either—like it was normal to their bodies even when Darlin’s mind couldn’t possibly know that. “Alexis is dead.” His gaze trailed down Darlin’s arm, to the bite scar near the inside of their elbow. His bite. The one that had ended their life.

He let go of Darlin’s hand and jumped back a step. He had no right to be touching them. “Quinn’s going to die,” he promised. He wouldn’t leave them like this, and he would face them when it was done. He wouldn’t run. They deserved better than that—better than all of this.

Darlin’s eyes widened, confused and upset. “Don’t you touch him!” they shouted, slamming the bars and reaching for him again. He was just out of reach now. “I will kill you!”

He took another step back. “If you really want me dead when this is done, I’ll make it happen, Darlin.”

“Darlin? Who the fuck do you think—”

Sam had taken another step back and out of the room, the door thumping shut between them again.

Darlin screamed and raged inside, muffled by the heavy walls, and Sam clamped a hand over his mouth and cried.

While Quinn was sneaking into Dahlia, calling on favors, and plotting to make David regret taking what was his—Asher was closing in on him from behind. Quinn was so focused on that den and the wolves he thought he could make targets out of, that he didn’t even notice the ones missing.

There was no waiting when they caught up. When Asher found the basement blood club, the wolves surrounded it. It wasn’t dawn yet. They didn’t have the advantage of daylight. But when Stealth came back from taking a look inside the club and gave him that nod, Asher sent off the text to the Solaires and the rest of the pack. Before it could be answered, the wolves shifted on the dark streets of Dahlia and descended on the club.

The vampires that had nothing to do with Quinn fled fast, any that stood in their way met with teeth and fury.

This hunt had brought Asher home at last, and he meant to stay.

The club was a blood bath by the time the Solaire’s arrived. Wolves chased leaches through underground tunnels, flushing them out to the wolves that followed above. Quinn had really been amassing an army. Bold. Stupid, but bold.

Asher caught the scent at last, not the lingering stink of Quinn on other vampires, but his own trail. Asher rounded a corner and caught sight of him. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t shift to have a conversation. There was no conversation they could possibly have. He had killed Darlin—turned them and invoked them and… No. Nope. His teeth snapped but caught only air. Quinn was fast, shoving away and making a run for it.

Asher would have laughed if he had the throat for it. He was fast too.

He chased the vampire, literally snapping at his back. The hallway narrowed and Asher realized the fucker was trying to go where a wolf wouldn’t fit. Another turn. The walls were going to tighten again up ahead. He could see it and hear the way Quinn’s heart pounded with the thrill of escaping. The other man barely fit, twisting sideways to get through. Asher never lost a step, shifting human and tackling him right through that corridor and into the mouth of the next room. His shoulder scraped against the stone walls, tearing shirt and skin, but he didn’t feel it. He had hands on Quinn.

As soon as Quinn’s back hit the floor, Asher brough his elbow down into his face, cracking his skull back against the floor.

And then he shifted and finally sank teeth into that vampire.

Sam got to that room just as Quinn’s screams turned to gasps.

He stepped through the naked doorway and stared at the mess of blood all over the stone floor and walls. The ceiling had a big hole, letting in moonlight and the smell of the woods. Quinn had been so close to getting away… but then again, not really. Sam knew Asher wouldn’t have stopped chasing just because they hit grass. Nor would the wolves and Solaire vampires on the ground above, circling and hunting the rest. Tonight was going to be branded into the history of Dahlia—a moment that reminded everyone who the kings of the city were.

“Wait,” Quinn groaned.

Sam stared. The wolf was standing in the shadows on the other side of the room and the ravaged vampire was on the floor between them, looking at Sam—reaching toward Sam. Why? Did he not know that Alexis was dead? Did he think he would help him?

Quinn looked up at him with the one eye he had left. “Help me, Sammy, and I’ll make it right,” he offered, words wet with blood. He swallowed at it, like his own spilled red could help him now. “Right now, they don’t remember. My Misfit has no idea what happened to them—what you did.”

Sam groaned deep in his throat, deep in his soul.

“Do the dogs know?” Quinn coughed, smiling. Asher rumbled a growl behind him, but Quinn kept his focus on Sam. “You remember, right? How you and I killed them together? Your teeth are a mark in their arm forever and it’s not the only mark. Kill me, and they’ll know. Right now, they’re just a vampire out there enjoying the night. Blissful and free of all that pain and past. Do you really think they want it back, Sammy? Do you want it back? You could find them. You could meet them all over again, without the guilt and the weight. I can make that happen. They’re happier now. You could be happy with them.”

Sam felt sick.

But Asher waited, his attention sliding from Quinn to him. Maybe he hadn’t known the part Sam had played? Or maybe he was waiting to see what side Sam picked?

Quinn thought he was making headway with him, so maybe Asher wondered too? “You really want them to remember what you did, Sammy? How your teeth felt in their arm while mine were in their neck? You watched them die and did nothing! You let me take them and did nothing! Fuck, before that you were already turning cold on them. Do you remember the things you said?”

Of course, he remembered. He remembered every word. He remembered every time they asked if he was okay and he gaslit them, using their inexperience with relationships to twist the situation in his favor. He remembered the sex during those weeks too, when he was cold and distant, when he was rough and taking without giving. He remembered cutting their shoulder with his teeth—not an accident but a curiosity to see how far he could push before they finally left. No one had healed that. If he looked now, he’d probably find a scar. Just like he’d find the scars of his teeth in their arm. Of course, he remembered.

Quinn had crawled toward him, away from Asher who hadn’t moved and inch. Sam knew when Asher moved it would be to kill one of them—he just hadn’t decided which one first. Sam loved him suddenly for that—that if he faltered here, now, Asher would put him down. He might even tell Vincent and Darlin that Quinn had done it to save them from the shame of his weakness because Asher would always care most about the results—about the living.

Quinn dragged another soggy breath. Asher had been playing with him—dragging out his end. He was a mess, on the brink of death but nothing he couldn’t heal from with time. “Sammy, I promise. We can share them.”

Asher flashed teeth but managed not to make a sound.

Sam looked down at Quinn for the first time. Share them. Like they were a possession—a toy? Share them. Take turns? Share them. Like the had when they killed them together? Sam didn’t realize he was talking out loud until his voice raised loud enough to bounce off the walls and hit him. His breath was coming fast, his teeth long. “I didn’t come to help you. I came to collect your body before it was ripped to shreds so that they could see you were dead with their own eyes.”

Quinn’s breath caught, panic washing his features. “They’ll never forgive you. They’ll never be with you after this.”

Sam shook his head slowly. “That’s not the point. They don’t have to forgive me or be with me. I love them and I would rather die than take those choices from them.”

Quinn flashed teeth, dragging down a breath to say—

Sam moved fast, snapping his neck and then dropping him dead at his feet once more.

The room went still, Asher still in wolf form and watching, waiting. Considering?

The wolf took a step forward but instead of attacking, he lifted his head and howled. It was nearly deafening, echoing in the stone room and up into the sky, soon joined by other calls that continued to ring out through the night long after Asher had stopped. He shifted back to human, blood still on his face and all down his front. He put his hands on his hips, catching his breath and spitting some of that red on the floor like it tasted bad. “So, you really going to carry him? Because that would be awesome.”

Sam nodded. As much as he didn’t want to touch Quinn more than he had to, he knew Darlin would want to see the proof even if they could feel the collapse of the bond. And after all the work Asher had done, it didn’t seem right to make him carry the asshole back too.

Asher nodded too and then looked up at the hole in the ceiling. “Let’s go this way. Seems faster than dragging his dead ass down those halls again.” He started climbing out. “Sooner we get this done, the sooner I can go home.”

Sam watched him easily hoist himself up and out of the ground, realizing that Asher and the rest of the pack had spent months hunting for Darlin and Quinn—taking turns away from their loved ones. Even if Darlin wasn’t a wolf anymore, they still belonged to the pack. And so did Sam.

Asher turned around and reached down. “Pass the leach up.”

Darlin sat on the edge of the cot, staring at the floor.

Someone would come soon.

Or maybe they wouldn’t? Maybe Quinn had let go of his invocations but no one knew? They didn’t look up at the bars or the small room. It would freak them out and they had plenty of that going on already. Their mind was a mantra of, ‘You’re okay. You’re alive, sort of. Same as Sam. And Sam’s alive and with the pack. You’re with the pack. You’re okay.’

The door to the room opened but they didn’t look up.

There were drops of water on the floor between their boots, like it was raining but just in that one spot.

“Darlin?”

Their vision blurred and they started rocking a little.

Something clanked loudly. The cell door?

David was on his knees in front of them, hands on the sides of their face, thumbs stroking at their cheeks to wipe away tears.

They held onto his arms, like they could anchor themself in that moment rather than being swept back to the last several months. Oh god. He had turned them. They weren’t a wolf anymore. They couldn’t catch their breath. Which was sort of hilarious since they were supposed to be undead.

“You’re okay,” David said, holding on like he knew he was an anchor. “You came home. You’re home.”

They nodded slowly, trying to drag deeper breaths.

“He’s dead,” David said.

Darlin tried to believe that but it seemed impossible.

“Sam’s safe. Alexis is dead.”

Darlin cried harder because this asshole totally knew them—knew exactly what they needed to hear.

“You are still pack. And you came home. I’m sorry I had to lock you—”

Darlin pushed forward, off the cot, and wrapped their arms around his big stupid shoulders, burying their face in one of them. “Don’t fucking apologize. I would have rather been in this box for the rest of my life than be with him for another second. Thank you for finding me, David.”

He sighed and hugged them to him tight. “Always, troublemaker. Always.”

Sam dragged Quinn’s body to the back door of the Shaw den, dumping it on the concrete. Asher stood there with him, outside, listening to the night and the river rolling nearby in the dark. It would be light soon. The sky hadn’t quite started to turn but Sam could feel it.

The back doors of the den opened and David and Darlin walked out, a few more wolves in human skin flanking them, holding the doors and watching.

Darlin’s gaze flicked over Sam only briefly, almost nervously before turning down to Quinn’s body. There was no sign of feeling one way or the other when they looked at his remains—proof of his death. But they exhaled hard like they hadn’t been sure until that second if he really was gone.

Asher came over to them and David leaned in to thump the sides of their heads together briefly before messing up his blood wet hair. “Thank you,” Shaw whispered, before shoving Asher a step back. “Go home to your mate and clean the hell up.”

Asher flashed a big grin but it tempered when his gaze moved to Darlin, lingering. How long had it been since Asher had seen Darlin? Not since they were a wolf… He took a step toward them, something uncertain in his body language but hopeful. Darlin leaned in like second nature, head tipping to touch his. Asher sighed and palmed the back of their head to hang on a few seconds longer.

When he let go, he was grinning big again, visibly exhausted but happy as he turned and walked away.

Darlin nodded to themselves, still looking at Quinn’s body. They rubbed at the back of their own neck, the way they did when they were deciding things. And then they gave David a little shove. “Go home.”

David lingered, watching Darlin.

Darlin didn’t have to look back. “Go home to your angel. I’ll lock up the den and stay here tonight.”

David grunted but looked at the body on their doorstep.

“The sun will clean it up,” Darlin said. This wall always cooked on a hot day, bathed in direct light.

David seemed to consider that again, or maybe something else, but he nodded once. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yes,” Darlin replied, and it sounded like a promise.

David’s shoulders visibly sagged in relief and the weight of his own exhaustion. No one had been able to relax since Darlin disappeared. He nodded once to Sam and then turned and left back through the den, the other wolves with him, the door still open behind Darlin.

Sam didn’t move, just studying them. “I’m so sorry, Darlin…”

Darlin shook their head once, hard, still looking at the ground between them.

Sam bit off the apologies that wanted to come tumbling out of him. That wasn’t what they wanted right now. If they gave him the word, he would leave. If they told him never to come back, he wouldn’t. If they told him to sit there with Quinn’s body and wait for dawn, he would do it. So he said the things he needed them to know first. “You are the most incredible person I have ever known. You are kind and strong. You did nothing to deserve what Quinn did to you. You deserved so much better than what you got in life and in death. You deserve to be happy and safe, Darlin, and I hope you find that now, however you want. I know this isn’t the life you chose, you know I get that, and I never wanted this for you,” he had to pause, to catch his breath and fight the tears. “I wish I could have protected you and I will respect any choices you make now. But I need you to know that none of this was your fault. Nothing he made you do was your fault. You know who you are, Darlin.”

Darlin’s gaze met his, eyes brighter than they used to be before the change, but still all them. “You mean that, Sam? I did some really bad things…” Their voice was tight and quiet, like they were fighting to get words out without crying.

It took everything he had to stay right where he was and not step closer, not put his hands on them and try to hold them. What if they cringed back? What if they flinched? “Those were his choices, not yours, Darlin.”

Darlin nodded slowly. He could see them still thinking. “Do you still love me?” they asked.

His knees almost buckled. It was the last thing he’d thought they’d ever ask. Darlin would have been afraid to ask that even when they were at their best and he saw the nerves in them now, the way they forced themself to hold his gaze despite that fear that he’d reject them. “More than anything,” he promised. “I love you, Darlin. I will always love you.”

Darlin stared at him, unreadable for long seconds. “Why does that sound like a goodbye?”

Sam stared at them, heart aching. Did they actually want him to stay? After everything?

Darlin looked away, to the ground, to Quinn, then out at the lightening night. “Yeah. I mean, I get it. Everything’s changed. I’m not… I changed. And we did a lot of stuff to each other and…with them.” Their words were tumbling, tripping out of their mouth, catching on their teeth and making them flinch.

Sam’s shoes scuffed the ground when he lurched a step closer before stopping. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Darlin. And none of this changes you, not really—not who you are. You’re a good person and this was a bad thing that happened to you.”

Darlin nodded, but it was tight, eyes still down and jaw tight. “Yeah. Okay.”

It was so quiet. So far from okay. Sam wasn’t even sure what parts of this were getting through.

“So, we’re done?” Darlin got the words out and they were somewhere between a question and a choke. “You’re…We’re breaking up?”

Sam’s whole heart ached. How could it still be breaking, after everything? “Darlin…” How could they think he was breaking up with them when they should be screaming at him? He’d hurt them in so many ways. He’d failed them in so many more. There were scars left by his teeth in their skin. “I killed you,” he reminded, the words cutting their way out of him.

Darlin’s gaze snapped up to his, staring. Surprised, confused, and then, finally, a flicker of anger. “So, you didn’t mean what you said…about me not being responsible for the things he made me do? To other people…to myself…with him.” The words got quieter, darker, as they forced them out.

They both knew.

He bared teeth and bit back a growl. “No. That’s not your fault. None of that is anyone’s fault but his. Those are things he did to you.”

Darlin blinked, on the edge of a decision, he realized. “But…You and Alexis are different?”

There was a horrible familiarity with how his Darlin said her name now. He opened his mouth to say it was different—that he had to hold the weight of the things he had done and the way he had treated them even when he was invoked—but was it different? He had no choice. He would never have touched them like that, used fists and teeth against them, or let Quinn take them away if he had been in control of himself. Tears cut down his cheek before he realized they were gathering. Alexis had told him to love her and he had. She had told him to hate Darlin and he had. No. It wasn’t different. And if he drew that line just to feed his guilt now, he wasn’t sure Darlin would ever believe him when he said they weren’t responsible for the things Quinn had done.

He took a step closer, breaths struggling, but he finally stood right in front of them. He had missed them every moment since Alexis first invoked him. His soul had been screaming out even when he smiled for her. “No. It’s not different. Those were her choices, not mine. It’s over now. We’re both free. And I love you so much. But it’s okay if you need time, Darlin. It’s okay if you can’t just forget what I—”

They threw their arms around him, cutting off his words with that desperate hug. Their breaths came staggered just like his, their tears on his cheek. His arms came around them and just that connection sent a wave of relief through him that almost knocked him out. “I missed you,” they whispered, so tired that he wanted nothing more in that moment than to carry them to bed just like he might have before all of this happened.

“I missed you too, Darlin. So much,” he said.

They held each other for a long time, until the sky grew shades brighter. Sunrise was close but he still couldn’t will himself to break this moment.

Darlin finally did, leaning back but not completely letting him go. They caught his hand and tugged him gently toward the doorway behind them, toward the den. He was more than happy to let them lead him in, the door closing hard behind him with an automatic lock. They went around the building, checking locks and lights before going to one of the temporary apartments upstairs. They had a lot to talk about, despite being tired down to their souls. Everything came out in whispers, in the shower and then curled up in bed in the dark. But they never let go of each other.

They would never let go of each other again.

#hurt/comfort #angst #sam/darlin #darlin&david #so much pack feels #super protective david #my sweet bloody boi asher #Quinn is the worst relationship #all the Quinn warnings #vampire darlin #shit gets dark but in a good way i think #redacted asmr #redactedverse #dominimoonbeam #<3

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smvillainsweek · 10 months

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Favorite Dracul Myu villain

#bishoujo senshi sailor moon #bssm #pgsm #pretty guardian sailor moon #sailor moon #poll #Shin / Henshin - Super Senshi e no Michi - Last Dracul Jokyoku #Kessen / Transylvania no Mori - Shin Toujou! Chibi Moon wo Mamoru Senshi-tachi #Kessen / Transylvania no Mori (Kaiteiban) - Saikyou no Kataki Dark Cain no Nazo #Last Dracul Saishuu Shou - Chou Wakusei Death Vulcan no Fuuin #sera myu #count dracul #undead berserk #death lamia #le fay #Bloody Dracul Vampir #dark cain #Magi Saint Germain #death vulcan

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morisdann · 7 months

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Today I finally admit (after 3 weeks of denial) that our professor's assistant is fucking hot. I cannot believe there's a real ass man that isn't somewhere up in the ass of the world and I find attractive. Like what the fuck?? Didn't know they existed.

But don't get me wrong, he's hot not on a scale of "conventionally attractive and hot person", he's hot according to my "that's a little itty bitty nerd person that seems to be queer and they're real fucking smart" scale, so most people may find him... ok, at least. At most they'd side-eye me.

#i'm cringe but i'm free #personal ramblings #also this fuck is super bloody quiet and he manages to appear out of the void at most random fucking moments and scare the shit out us #just imagine #you code in an almost complete silence in a pretty dark room (cuz ✨computer science✨ major)#and then suddenly you hear a soft almost feyrish voice “there's a mistake” behind your back #sir. respectfully. stop it.#if he does this to me I'll either slap him in the face on autopilot and die of embarrassment or die of a heart and panic attack

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girl-bateman · 8 months

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when I think about it I've always been "a little off". like.. as a kid i was super obsessed (!!!!!) with tuberculosis and thought it was the most beautiful and tragic way to die (?). Pair that with my frequent hobby of drawing weirdly elaborate gore, something was definitely wrong with me from the start </3

#for reference i was like 10 lmaooo #i remember writing a story for class about these dragon rider girls #and i went into detail abt the main characters mom having died from tuberculosis #paired with a drawing of her bloody handkerchief or whatever #i also remember drawing my mom getting killed when i got mad at her #and when she found it she was like 'ur so creative💗' completely unfazed lmao #it happened several times like am i the only one who finds that super concerning in hindsight 😭#like obviously im well adjusted now but from an outside perspective that gives off total psycho killer vibes #likeeeeeeee if my kid frequently drew me getting impaled id be nervous to sleep at night ngl #this is why i cant blame my mom for saying i have 'a dark aura' or an inner darkness or whatever it is she always calls it #it pisses me off but ig its fair 🙄#hahahahaya its like that corny 'dark passenger' shit from dexter omgg #but yeah anyways

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qsmb2012 · 11 months

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Dark Sonic + Super Sonic. (With Blood)

#Sonic X #Sonic the hedgehog #Super Sonic #R rated sonic stuff.#Dark Sonic #Dark Super Sonic #Bloody Sonic

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rickyriddle · 4 months

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (Anime & Manga), Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (Musicals) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Tsukino Usagi, Mizuno Ami, Hino Rei, Kino Makoto, Aino Minako, Tsukino Chibiusa, Bloody Dracul Vampir, Vampiru, Lilith of Darkness, Olam Tiphareth, Le Fay - Character, Sailor Astarte, Queen Serenity Additional Tags: Dracula References, Vampires, Sera Myu, Adaptation, 90s anime continuity, Dracul Arc, Inappropriate Use of the Bible (Abrahamic Religions) Summary: After the defeat of Nehellenia, new enemies after Usagi lurk in the shadows. Creatures of darkness the Sailor Senshi thought only existed in myths and legends. And one of them is none other than the daughter of the sinister Count Dracul, seeking revenge for the death of her father.

Inspired by the Dracul Arc in the Sailor Moon musicals.

#sailor moon #fanfic #my fic #sera myu #Pretty Soldier Sailor Moon ~ New/Transformation - The Road to Become the Super Sailor Guardian - Overture of Last Dracul #Bishoujo Senshi Seeraa Muun Shin / Henshin Suupaa Senshi e no Michi Rasuto Dorakuru Jokyoku #Decisive Battle / The Forest of Transylvania – A New Arrival! The Guardians Who Protect Chibi Moon #Toranshirubania no Mori ~ Shin Toujou! Chibi Muun o Mamoru Senshi-Tachi ~#transylvania no mori #The Enigma of the Ultimate Enemy Dark Cain #Saikyou no Teki Daaku Kain no Nazo #Last Dracul Final Chapter - The Seal of The Super Planet Death Vulcan #Rasuto Dorakuru Saishuu Fumi - Chou Wakusei Desu Barukan no Fuuin #bloody dracul vampir #vampiru

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muntitled · 9 months

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COULD U DO MATTHEO X F READER DURING HER OVULATION WEEK AND SHES SUPER NEEDY AND HORNY? (Pls I’m ovulating and craving ur fics so bad babe😭🙏🧎🏼‍♀️)

I love how feral this is lmfao -

𝐍𝐨 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐬 | 𝐌.𝐑.

Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, Dark Fic, Violence, Language, Mention of drugs and alcohol, Slight fluff, Public Affections, Possessiveness, Smut (+18), Dirty Talk, Touch starvation, Fingering, Humping, Grinding, Whining, Sub/Dom Undertones, Blood Kink, Fighting Kink?, Squirting, Major Degradation, Praise Kink, Breeding Kink, Slight Humiliation Kink

The night is deep, and the dungeon is dim as a few sunken eyes peer curiously at you while you make your way through the crowd. Seeing you emerge from within the walls of your private dorm room was a rare and curious sight for everyone involved. It was especially rare for you to embed yourself amongst your fellow pupils shenanigans, seeing yourself as above such baseless devilment.

You were not here for them.

You were scanning the crowd for him because an unfamiliar warmth had been festering inside your stomach and it had propelled your feet forward, until you reached the very centre of the Slytherin soiree commencing in the common room.

Your core is still aching with the after affects of your fingers as you manoeuvre your way through the party. You were touching yourself under satin sheets only moments ago-spurred on by the imaginings of his bloodied fingers slipping inside you, stabbing your cunt until you mewled like a useless whore and he affirmed you as such. His recklessness and delinquency cracked something vital in your brain and you felt yourself get wetter as you pushed through the crowd. You needed him to touch you, your body practically burned for him to absolutely ruin you, and you set out to do just that.

Although you had turned down a concoction of Firewhiskey from an already inebriated Ravenclaw student, your stomach burns with the anticipation of seeing him.

Feeling him.

Smelling his near constant fragrance of Firewhiskey along his lips. You were never clingy but you wished for nothing more than to be in the presence of your insufferable and clingy boyfriend.

A month into your courtship, and you had failed to bring up how much of his habits bypass all sensibilities in your brain. If only he knew how much his recklessness brought about an unmistakable moisture in between your thighs. That,coupled with his bruised and bloody knuckles, spurred on your need, especially during this time of the month.

It had been easy to maintain your composure throughout the rest of the month, effortless, even. Detachment and independence was a by-product of your personality, showing up in the way you shied away from Mattheo's public affections and always appearing uninterested in any of his verbal charms.

One such occasion; you had found him taking up purchase on your bed after an incredibly tiresome day as a Slytherin prefect.

"Make yourself scarce, Riddle. I'm not in the mood," He, of course, was delighted in your indifference- truthfully, he basked in it. Mattheo was somewhat of a masochist, craving the attention of someone so emotionally detached. The very second he noticed how unaffected you appeared with his shenanigans. He might as well have transfigured into a mermaid, because he was hooked.

"How easy you are to repel my affections," He said, letting a bandaged hand fall on his chest as he lay supine like a starfish on your Satin sheets, "How swiftly you deny my companionship-"

"Dont you have any orphans to torture?"

You mourn the past you... how indifferent she had been.

How utterly in control!

The bed dipped as he slithered closer, letting a hand rest on your shoulders as he began to knead the tense muscle there.

"Don't I get a 'How was your day, Riddle?' How did you sleep, Riddle? How did you acquire these bruises, Riddle, and I hope you looked hot doing it, Riddle" it was then that you glanced at the hand on your shoulder. Busted knuckles bred bloodied and broken skin. Riddle's hand was a smorgasbord of cuts and bruises that disappeared up his black, cotton sleeve shirt. You ignored the useless warmth knotting in your core as you continued to undo your shoelaces.

"I needn't ask you because I know you were in the centre of yet another degenerate fight," you had said, burying all the feelings of need amongst your usual, scholarly distractions.

"You love it"

"I hate it actually. It makes me question my affiliation with you.

"You say that princess, but you secretly love it"

You did love it, and right now, distracting yourself is not an option. You watch with bated breath as the object of your affections walks into the Slytherin common rooms. There are plenty of bodies swaying in the dungeons illuminated by various Ravenclaws who have casted Lumos

You see Riddle across the room, head thrown back while he nursed a cup of Firewhiskey. When his head comes back, he sees you too, he raises his cup and he pushes himself off the wall to lessen the distance between you. Your legs certainly achieve a quicker gait as you push past the swaying bodies and soon enough you're bombarded by firewhiskey, with an undercurrent of sweat and leather.

The second you’re close, Riddle lowers his cup on the desk, already having his explanations ready for the impending combat. "If you think I'm gonna let you take my freedom away again, you’re fucking crazy. I'm barely buzzed and I'm getting drunk, or high by the end of this night and there's nothing you-" But your fist is already digging into the softness of his button up shirt and your lips are open as you force them onto his.

Right there, in the open.

Mattheo is naturally stunned, possibly discombobulated.

Had he really gotten higher than he thought?

Did that fucking Hufflepuff make him a stepped on joint?

Frankly, he couldn't care less, and as the shock of it all wore down, and he could feel you begin to slip away, Mattheo slithers his battered hand around your waist and pulls you impossibly close. He smirks into the kiss, as he brings his hand up, fingers gliding across your collarbone, while the other hand lingers around your waist.

"What happened to your hand?" It is a question that threatens to burst the bubble established between the two of you. Why would you ask him this? Why would you bring him back to the events of earlier today when you were so prettily malleable in his hands right now?

"Nothing,"

"Matt..." You say, clouding your words with innuendo, which has him looking up at you with furrowed brows.

"Nott," Is all he says before he buries himself in the crook of your neck. His proximity awakens something animalistic inside of you, it pushes you to the depths of your lascivious desires and has you melting right there on the dance floor. All around you, fellow Slytherins continue to sway to the beat, letting the thrum of the enchanted muggle music speak for them. You throw your head back, gasping at the overwhelming need pooling in your core as Riddle begins to send reckless kisses down your collarbone, all while you imagine beating another guy silly. You blame your cycle. You blame your body. You blame every single hormone responsible for allowing you to emit such a wanton moan so openly in the very centre of a crowd.

"Who do I have to kill in order to get this reaction out of you everyday?" Mattheo is panting, with his hazel eyes dilated (whether from pleasure or substance, you might never know). Who do I have to curse in order to get you to be this slutty for me every single day?" His breathing is shallow and audible, even through all the noise. Mattheo's mind is foggy and the party guests are reduced to a memory. The only image he's able to conjure up is his lips between your wet folds - his tongue eager to find the source of your need while you moaned above him and kneaded your own breasts in a slutty haze.

"I need you, Mattheo," it was fucking infuriating to admit but the wetness has completely soaked through your underwear and a fresh scar is present in the corner of Mattheo's eye. There's a slight red smudge under his nose, and his knuckles are red and angry at the best of your neck, cradling your head close to his.

"Say that again-"

"What? No, I will not fucking-"

Mattheo's grip on your neck immediately unhooks and he detangles your limbs but before he ventures any furthers you're pulling him down to you and with your lips to Mattheo's greedy ears you angrily mutter, "I fucking need you. I need you really badly,"

He stares in your desperate, dark eyes with wonder and awe before letting your wrist be enclosed by his iron grip. Soon, you're being dragged through a Slytherin party with a boy adjusting the front lf his pants and barking orders at the drunken strangers to move before they fucking died.

Just as you succeed in cutting through the crowd a voice stops both of you in your tracks.

"I'm going to fucking kill you, Riddle," the voice booms from over the thumping bass of whatever muggle music was enchanted over the dungeon. Mattheo's gaze cuts away from you, but before he turns completely away, a slow Cheshire cat grin curls at the ends of his lips.

"That threat has grown so unimaginably tedious after years of overuse, Theo but I can't do this right now-" His sentence has already been cut short by an audible blow to his lower jaw. Theo Nott blocked your path towards the darkened hallway, leading to your dorm room and you're left wholly unsatisfied as Mattheo is sent barreling backwards. He lets go of your hand, stopping to wipe the wetness at the corners of his lips and checking to see if it's blood. It is. And something scratches inside of you.

The Prefect inside you wants to intervene but an even darker part of you tells you not to.

Theo is livid, and his wide chest rises and falls as he descends on Mattheo,

"Why the fuck am I being told by Draco of all people, that I can't play Keeper because I'm stuck in the hospital wing-"

"Theo, I really don't have the time for this-" Mattheo begins, but Theo cuts him short,

"Are you trying to steal my fucking place, Riddle?"

Mattheo's voice is leveled as he raises his fingers and says, "Okay, first off, yeah, I am. Obviously I'm trying to take your place. You're a shit Keeper and secondly, I've got somewhere to be," Theo's barreling towards Mattheo once more.

A silly, borderline maniacal smirk explodes on Riddle's face before he makes the shotgun decision to charge and lands a punch at Theo's jaw, allowing for the taller boy to stagger backwards. Your shoulders jump, and you flinch at the sickening sound as you watch with a wide gaze as Mattheo nurses his hurt hand. Theo is a raging bull, but Draco appears from the crowd, with a firm grip on Theo's shoulder. A stern, quiet reprimand.

At the exact same moment, Mattheo's hand finds yours and he smirks as he stalks past Nott, wiping away at his chin as he leads you towards your dorm.

The quietness within is almost jarring compared to the noise out there and as soon as the door closes, Mattheo's lips descend on your neck, "I know, I know," He sighs heavily, as he brings his hand up to your shoulder, "I’m sorry. I just hope I haven't ruined the vibe-"

"I want your fingers inside me, Riddle." He stills at your quiet command, and you leave him standing by the door as you pad over to your bed. "I don't know why, but I just need you, okay? And my own fingers aren't quite doing the trick and I keep thinking about how fucking crazy you are and-", You sigh as you sit at the foot of the bed. Lifting the skirt of your dress, Mattheo watches in the dimness of your room as you venture your fingers under your dress and hook them into your panties. He walks towards you, propelling the wings of the butterflies in your stomach.

All he says is, "Which hand?" He doesn't know why he asks, but he does and his voice is barely above a whisper as he hopes you pick the right answer. His cock twitches in his underwear at the thought of seeing his blood on your skin.

Mattheo stops in between your legs, causing the fabric of the dress to rise while a breeze drifts over your soaked pussy. You bend forward and reach for his bloodied hand.

"I want your fingers inside me,"

Mattheo's resolve immediately snaps and his hands grip tightly at your hips, pushing you backwards and exposing your wet core to him.

"You're fucking dripping through the sheets like a slut- you're a fucking slut,"

Excitement. It rushes through you like a wave of magma at the neediness in his own voice.

Matheo rushes to rid both of you of the excess fabric, casting Evansco, until all he can see is your warm, glistening skin.

"Oh my fuck-" Mattheo's voice cracks as he stares down at your aching cunt, his fingers almost instinctively rubbing over the wetness.

"Touch your breasts," He commands, "I wanna see you do it,"

Your eyes pierce into his dark ones as you bring a shaky hand up towards your puckered nipples. The smallest brush elicits a violent streak of pleasure which would have occupied your entire mind were it not for Mattheo's long fingers already stabbing into your dripping cunt.

"Fuck, you're so wet," He whines, unconsciously burying his hips into the sheets at the foot of your bed as he watches. He is utterly transfixed by his middle and ring finger disappearing into your cunt. Every time they sink deeper your mind gets filled with images of Riddle's unrest and violence. You're utterly wrecked with the thought of his bloodied fingers being inside you, touching the most private parts of you.

"Pick up the pace, Riddle,"

"Shut the fuck up," He mumbles as he takes his time in exploring the very depths of you. Your voice soars to higher octaves as you feel your first orgasm cresting quite literally against your will. How utterly embarrassing, to cum so quickly.

"You're fucking squeezing my fingers- fuck-" You're desperately humping at his hand, hoping your hips might achieve the feat of sinking his fingers further into you. "You're humping my hand so fucking well." His cock aches as he continues to grind it into the sheets, in tandem with your swollen cunt taking his fingers.

"Are you seriously going to cum so soon? Are you that desperate to get fucked-" Your cunt spasms around his fingers and you're moaning as you squeeze your sensitive breasts, already soaring to the heights of your orgasm. Your screams rival the music outside but Riddle never tells you to keep quiet, instead he watches with hungry eyes as your body melts into its orgasm.

"Look at what the fuck you've done," Mattheo's words have you slowly coming back to earth, but not quite... his voice is heavy with lust as you raise yourself by your elbows. Your stomach sinks as you watch Mattheo, he's frozen in front of you, with his head lowered and his gaze on his palm.

"I-I'm sorry-" Your sheets were soaked with your release, leaving a visible damp spot. You squirted everywhere.

"You're gonna do that on my cock," before you can comprehend your words Mattheo already has his cock positioned at your wet folds.

"I'm going to fucking cum inside you and you're going to take it, yeah?" The serious shadow in his darkened eyes hold no room for negotiation, you'd never seen Mattheo quite this serious because seriousness just didn't run in his bloodstream. However, he's utterly ruined by your neediness, needing to take advantage of your compliance before it slipped through his fingers.

"Oh my fuck- Mattheo!"He pulls your hips towards the edge of the bed and his cock forces itself through your folds, until Mattheo is quite literally fucking you with reckless abandon.

"Matt- I can't-'' You're still riding on the sensitivity of your previous high and you think Mattheo could be a little mindful of this but his goal, it seems, is to leave you overstimulated.

"You can," he mumbles, with his eyes squeezing shut before he quickly opens them, wanting to see every emotion flowing over your face.

"You're a slut but you're not a useless slut, are you?" You tits bounce with every movement of Mattheo's hips, and you're shaking your head despite the fog. Your cunt is squeezing the life out of his cock and you feel him pushing at a very sensitive part of you.

Your head is buried in the pillows as your back arches and you swallow him deeper.

Mattheo bends forward, his hips quickening into a needy, restless rut as his teeth sink into the skin around your nipples.

"FUCK-" The pain bleeds into pleasure which streams into your next orgasm. Riddle moans around your skin, suckling at your nipple while he fucked you like he is as touch starved as you are.

"I'm cumming, Matt-" The fact that you're still able to form words is a complete and utter mystery because, not a second later, you're exploding around his cock. A gushing, clear liquid rushes through you while your lips chant his name like a prayer.

"I'm going to fucking breed you, baby- oh fuck, you're so pretty squirting around my cock-" the cracks in his voice; the desperation laced on every word has him cumming inside you, pushing his hips with every spurt of warmth.

You're still shuddering when Mattheo slumps over you. You're both huffing and puffing and basking in each other's release with his cock still very much inside you. "You're getting a contraception potion from Madame Pomfrey tomorrow," you can do nothing except nod as your satisfaction settles.

"I'll come with you," He says.

#mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheo x y/n #mattheo x you #hp fanfcition #hp fanfic #hp smut #harry potter x reader #harry potter smut #harry potter fanfic #mattheo riddle x black!reader #x reader

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spacedace · 1 year

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It was the final hour. Doomsday at their door, with only hours left before the world was consumed entirely and every last living thing was devoured right along with it.

Summoning the High King of the Infinite Realms was the only option left, and even then felt more like choosing a firing squad rather than a noose at the end of the day. Pariah Dark might - might - accept the task of destroying the foe they faced, but tmit would come at a cost that was near equal to doing nothing at all. Provided the tyrannical ruler simply didn't let them all die, an entire planet dead was an entire planet to add to his endless armies.

They had to try. Stupid and suicidal as it was.

Zantanna and John worked in silence as they created the summoning circle, hands shaking and stomachs cramping as they worked under the apprehensive eyes of the rest of the League. They all understood that no matter what happened, they would all likely end up dead by the end of it. That the best case scenario meant that death was only the beginning of their problems.

Candles were lit. Insense burned. Blood spilled. Words spoken.

Nothing.

It failed, not so much as a flicker of magic. Which was impossible, they'd checked and confirmed a dozen times that they had the right ritual, that they were following the steps, they had done everything right way wasn't it working? What had they done wr-

"Ugh, gross is that blood?"

Elle Phantom, fifteen minuted late to the site of the ritual with both the boys Super, the most murderous Robin and a sugary abomination of an iced coffee from Starbucks, scrunched her nose in disgust as she looked at the summoning circle.

"This ritual is so out of date, where did you even find it? Wait is that Latin? Who tries to summon someone from the Ghost Zone in Latin?"

John had burned through every drop of alcohol and cigarette he owned hours ago while trying to find this bloody damn ritual and was very much not in the mood for the little hellspawn's color commentary on the process.

"I don't bloody well seeing you providing with any alternatives for summoning the Ghost King." He swore, turning away from the gremlin to tear through the ancient book he and Zantanna had discovered with the ritual inside.

There was a loud slurping noise as the undead hero sucked the last remnants of her drink through the straw. John's brow twitched, even Zantanna - who usually seemed endeared by the chaos goblin - looked at the end of her rope.

Then - "Oh, is that who you wanted to summon? Why didn't you say so?" She drifted over, handing her empty drink off to a disgruntled looking Batman, and began rummaging through the unused magival supplies left over from the - failed - summoning circle. "Here, give me like, five minutes."

John was fairly certain his head was about to explode.

"You know how to summon the Ghost King? You?"

Phantom rolled her eyes at him. "Duh, obviously."

"Obviously." Zantanna repeated, looking like she was half a moment away from having a breakdown. She didn't try to stop the ghostly girl, though, and to be fair neither was John. They were already fucked, might as well let the gremlin try her hand at it.

It took less than the five minutes Phantom had claimed she needed.

When she was done there was a significantly smaller circle on the ground. At the cardinal directions of the circle, written clockwise she'd drawn not any magical runes but instead what appeared to be the Roman Numerals for one, then two, then something akin to a sideways T with an additional mark rising upward from the long horizontal bar, then the letter L.

It had to have some kind of ancient magical significance John didn't know as Shazam made a noise like a dying goose and squeaked out the word Loss like it was a question. Phantom gave the Champion of Magic a sharp toothed grin before adding some words in a language John didn't know before she finally allowed gravity to pull her back to earth and plant her feet on the ground.

She wiped her hands together a bit dramatically, looking pleased with herself, but at that point John didn't care. He could feel the building magic, heavy and oppressive as she had begun her task. Unlike the circle he and Zantanna had attempted, this one was working.

He couldn't help thr nervous swallow he gave as Phantom then declared, with a strange amount of seriousness. "All that’s left are the words."

She took a deep breath, eyes closing for a moment, and the world went utterly silent around them. This, John could feel, this was the real deal. Fuck him sideways the hellspawn was actually doing it.

Phantom's eyes opened, glowing with that bright eerie green light of her power. Another deep breath and then -

"You are my dad! You're my dad!" He watched, any scraps of hope she'd instilled in him dying an undignified death as she gave a terrible little wiggle dance while she sang(?) Off key, "Boogie woogie woogie!"

Every last person on Earth was going to die and one of John's last moments was going to be spent watching the little undead shit do the Macarena. Well fuck him, he guessed.

Then there was the sound of the veil between the world's tearing in two and the fucking Ghost King was standing in Phantom's summoning circle screaming in a screeching falsetto:

"When will you learn? When will you learn that your actions have consequences!"

You know what actually at this point John would rather the apocalypse kill him.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #batman #justice league #danielle phantom #danielle fenton #john constantine #zantanna zatara #danny fenton #ghost king danny #Danny got to make up his own summoning rituals when he became king #there's a general one but he also has personalized rituals for each of his family members #all of them involve memes #the day is saved #but it's also the day that the Justice League find out Elle is the daughter(?) of the Ghost King #except for Damian Jon and Con #they already knew

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luveline · 7 months

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I'm in an angsty mood.. and I love love love Spencer x bombshell!reader.

maybe she gets hurt somehow (maybe like an unsub or something) but refuses to get checked out

ty for requesting!! sry this isn't super angsty

cw criminal minds typical gun violence

Blood is a strange thing. It can run quickly or slow, feel tepid or burning hot. It's warm and uncomfortable as it slinks down the curve of your shoulder to the very tip of your index finger, dark as coal pitch in the poor lightning.

The gunfight is promptly ended, so quickly that no one even knows you've been hit. Morgan throws himself at one unsub and the other is shot in the thigh. Your ears ring, a gun firing too close to your head, clearly.

In all the hubbub, nobody notices you're hurt.

You'd like to keep it that way.

It's not that you believe you're infallible, nor that the others believe it either, but in the grand scheme of things it is a very small cut that you can attend to in your hotel room alone with a butterfly stitch or even a roll of bandages. There's no way it requires real stitches, and no way you're gonna sit in the back of an ambulance for the next hour.

Your jacket is black. The wound clots itself while you're in the SUV —you choose a window where your arm faces away from everyone and you manage it. And truthfully… you would like the others to think you're smarter than getting hit by a stray bullet. After everything that's happened lately, you've reason to build yourself up. Let the others hold you in some prestige again.

It works for a time. You get back to the hotel, and everyone says goodnight. Your room is clean and waiting for your return.

You'd collapse into bed if it didn't mean you'd leave a bloody line on the linens. You shed your ruined jacket and throw it in the trash. Your shirt is split where the bullet nicked you, and that comes off next. The wound begins bleeding sluggishly at the agitation but doesn't erupt, and stays strong as you wipe the skin clean around it. Your fingers mar with copper stain, the face cloth you've sacrificed turning an ugly brown, but eventually you've cleaned the skin enough to see the damage.

It's deep but small. A nick.

The issue is your lack of bandages. It's a hotel room, a small one. There's no first aid kit and your go bag is sorely lacking. Which means…

You have to go bat your eyelids at someone, and if you're being honest, you only ever want to do that to one Dr. Spencer Reid.

He's not expecting you, clearly. You weren't expecting it either. "Hey," he says, rubbing his eyes, his pyjama pants flush to the floor.

"You were sleeping? I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, are you kidding me?" He opens the door wider to encourage you in, turning away from you as he murmurs, "S'like my dream."

He must be very tired. You beam like a fool and follow him inside. "I had a dream like this once, too. Same kind of dream, do you think?"

"Knowing you, probably." He's growing more comfortable with you, but he's still clearly a little flustered to be this suddenly presented with you, wrapping himself up in a cardigan hanging over the single sad chair. "What's up?"

"I'm glad you asked." You take your uninjured arm out of your coat, and then the other. You know what you're doing, laughing softly as his eyes turn to dark dimes in an otherwise pale face. "I need your help with something, Spence."

"Uh–" He stammers, looking you up and down with shock. "Um, I–" He licks his lips quickly. "Okay."

You kind of hate that you aren't there to seduce him for a split second. Too bad your arm has started to throb. "I need a bandaid," you say, turning your arm into his line of sight. "Help me out?"

—

"I know something you don't know," Morgan sing-songs. Emily sips her coffee, mildly interested by her friend's taunting. She doesn't give him any feeding, waiting, and sure enough he cracks. "What, you don't want to know?"

"You want to tell me, right?"

"Mm, no. I'll tell Penelope."

"Fine! Alright, what is it?" She breaks, putting her coffee down on the little table in front of her. They're sitting in the hotel lobby waiting for Hotch and the others to collect their things. The jet awaits, as do a few hours in the air before she gets to sleep in her own bed again.

"I saw–" Morgan laughs. "This is too good. I saw a certain bombshell visiting Reid last night. After hours."

Emily's heart kicks in. "No way!" she gasps. "I mean, I know there's something between them, we all know that, but– his room, seriously?"

"He didn't even question her. She knocked, he answered, she went inside."

"What were you doing up?"

"That's my business," Morgan says.

Emily leans forward to gossip. This is insane. Sure, you flirt with Spencer relentlessly, and sure, he blushes like he loves it the majority of the time, he even manages to get you back, but you're sleeping together? "This is so scandalous," she whispers.

Her job is hard, but God does Emily love her team. She's genuinely happy for you both, but seriously! She giggles to herself at the drama of it all, and Morgan looks like he might say more, but then he looks behind her and stops.

Emily turns. You and Spencer are walking out of the elevator together, and while you aren't looking more coupled than usual, Spencer's acting unusually. "You're sure you're okay?" he asks, hushed but carrying in the relatively quiet lobby.

"I promise I'm okay, Spence." Your voice drops. "It's our secret, okay?"

"Sure, but–" He takes your hand, there, where everyone can see, the love in the line of his shoulders clear to anyone who might be watching, which Emily and Morgan very much are. "Can I look at it again?"

Morgan laughs into his hand, hiding it with a cough too late. Emily kicks his leg and he looks admonished, but it doesn't convince you where you look up from your conversation, the same surprise written in your features as Emily herself feels while Spencer continues, "You need to let me take care of you," he says, practically pleading.

"Spencer," you say, looking Emily straight in the eye, "you took care of me just fine last night."

She gawps.

Spencer whispers in response to your lowered tone, making his answer partially inaudible, "It was my first…" He shakes his head. "I've never… and I know you said it didn't hurt that much but… go see a doctor–"

You stop him with an affectionate smile. "You could never hurt me, handsome. Do I look like I'm in pain?"

"No." Spencer drops your hand. "If you're sure. Let me go get you a drink, okay? Go sit down."

"Yes sir."

Nothing about you says anything different to usual as you sit on the lobby chair next to Morgan's, beside your worn hoodie. You fiddle with a fraying sleeve as you kick one leg over the other, giving your friends a pleased smile. "Morning," you say lightly.

Emily genuinely doesn't know what to say. Her mouth hangs slightly ajar. "I…"

"You're shameless," Morgan says with a laugh.

"Look," you say, shrugging though the action makes you wince, "I could tell you the truth and you wouldn't believe me."

"Sure we wouldn't. Reid looks like a lost puppy right now."

Spencer stands anxiously by the coffee machine across the way, his gaze locked solidly on you where you sit. You throw him a smile and he looks away.

"I don't deserve him," you say softly.

Spencer carries your bag for you all the way to the BAU. Emily doesn't think it's a question of deserving, though you do, only an example of Spencer's big heart. And, you know, post hookup appreciation, or something.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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