#the next fic will be shorter i kind of have it planned its my pain projected in a fic ✌️ and jaemin is my victim | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blzzrdstryr · 3 years

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Storge

Yandere!Childe x reader

CW: Yandere themes, swearing

Requested by anon, I am not going to post the ask, since it will spoil the fic

It’s snowing when you finally escape.

Snow and thin layers of ice like rustle under your bare feet as you run as fast as you can, uncaring of whatever injuries you’ll get in the process. Servants and guards scream and run after you too, eager to catch you before any of the news reaches Childe.

“Стой! Стой кому сказал!”, a lumping and balding middle aged man screams after you. You can’t understand the words yet recognize the desperation it was said with - this man can’t afford to fail, lest he loses his job. Too bad for him - you also can’t afford to fail, lest you lose your freedom and you are a better runner than him.

“Eat shit”, it escapes you, raw and hopeful and despairing at the same time - the freedom you yearned for months is here, you just need to push a little more, run a little faster. You don’t know to whom these words are addressed to - to the man behind you, Ajax you’re running away from or the world, that is so cold and unfair, constantly giving you a shorter end of the stick.

Fate proves itself a cruel mistress once again, as you trip on the ice, bones cracking upon the impact of your body against the ground.

“Вот тварь, побегать любит”, the man bends in half from the exhaustion and then comes closer to you, grabbing you from behind and yelling something to the couple of women catching up to you. You, of course, writhe and hiss in his hold, like some feral and disgruntled cat, scratching and biting their hands when the occasion rises. They mutter something unpleasant in Snezhnayan, yet don’t retaliate, afraid of what He will do once he learns of their slight.

You curse them and their entire bloodlines as they drag you back to the mansion.

He comes back from whatever bloody business he has the same day, when the Sun almost settles and dyes everything in purple-red hues. You look at this view from your room, seated in the comfy chair near the brightly lit fireplace and tightly bundled in the multiple layers of fur blankets. Your left leg is also covered - in bandages and herbal ointments, meant to soothe the pain.

You also got sick - maybe it’s because you bolted in nothing but your nightwear, or maybe because people who returned you back to your cell were dragging your unwilling body on the snow and at the end of your “journey” you were wetter than a recently used mop. Maids gave you some herbal tea for that too, and now you were nursing a warm cup, awaiting his arrival.

“I’ve heard that someone misbehaved again”, Childe enters the room, a manic and creepy smile plastered over his face. Seems that this “talk” will be as much of a test to your sanity as any other.

“Ajax”, you say in exasperation, more to yourself than to him - he rarely reacts to your sighs or glares, his overblown ego making him blind to your obvious discomfort.

“I’ve also heard that this someone got very very far. Almost naked. In the middle of the winter”, he continues, coming closer to you with each word: “I wonder who would be crazy enough to abandon this beautiful and majestic estate to return to their sad, miserable life”.

“At least I don’t have to see you in my sad, miserable life”, you quip and turn in your chair away from Ajax as much as you can. It’s hard to do with one injured leg.

“Oh, is it? Well, you don’t see anyone in your horrifically miserable life”, he quickly steps around, appearing in your vision again.

“Shut up”, you can sense what he’ll say next, already seeing red. Childe’s grin turns even wider. How does he always manage to do and say things to get under your skin?

“You have no friends to spend time with, you don’t even have any family. Whom will you return to? No one is waiting for you there”, and with this he leaves, shutting the door just in time to avoid the thrown cup of tea and you have to simmer in your own anger alone.

***

The boy appears on the next day, when Childe leaves for work. Ginger, pale and blue eyed, he doesn’t leave you even a shadow of doubt who his relative is. You plan on ignoring the boy just for this fact, yet the child proves himself just as stubborn as your captor.

He pesters the maids and other servants, who don’t rebuff him which proves your relation theory even further - who would be allowed to behave like that except you, Childe and his relative? When bothering staff proves itself fruitful, yet unsatisfying he turns his attention to you.

You sit on the sofa this time, your injured leg preventing you from escaping from that mini-Childe and the maid assigned to you pointedly ignores your pleading and threatening gazes. You have no choice, but endure.

***

Ajax’ little brother, Teucer as you learn turns out to be a way better person than you imagined him to be. It’s harsh to talk like that about a prepubescent child, but you can never be too sure or lax when it comes to Childe and his family.

He’s loud and stubborn in the way his older brother is, yet there’s no hidden malice or motive in his words, no mental game to test you with. As you already said it’s crazy to think about a little kid like this, like some manipulative and cunning bastard, yet you can’t. Living with Childe stripped you of it too - you can’t not just relax and trust everyone you meet, especially if they happen to have ginger hair and blue eyes.

You end up humoring Teucer as he tells you of his adventures with Tonya and Anton, and how he misses his big brother Ajax. A short, yet awkward pause ensues, as a boy casts his gaze down, sadness coming off of him in tangible waves and you do something unexpected.

You ruffle his hair and offer to play with him and he beams at that, his smile rivaling Sun with its brightness.

Servants bring a couple of board games - you can’t really move and participate in something more intensive, and the two of you spend several hours just playing.and enjoying yourselves. You get so engrossed by the game in fact that you miss the moment when someone else enters the room. You realize this once Teucer lifts his head and gasps, his eyes shining.

“Ajax! You are here!”, he squeals as he runs into Childe’s arms.

“Of course I am! Once I heard my dearest baby brother visited my house I dropped everything to come here”, Ajax effortlessly lifts the now laughing boy and spins him around, his eyes crinkling as he does so.

Teucer immediately shifts his attention from you to his brother, and while this is something very predictable, the hurt at this disregard is not. You never expected to get attached to a random kid just by spending a couple of hours with them, but here you are: watching your captor play with him and wishing that you could join too.

The boy leaves in the evening as Childe orders his men to take him back, yet before that Teucer runs up to you and hugs you too, thanking him for the time you spent with him and your heart flutters. Warmth the kind you never felt before washes over your soul, you feel complete.

You watch how he departs, your eyes trailing carriage until it turns into a tiny dot on the horizon and Childe watches you.

“If you behave I will invite Teucer more often”, he says on the next day. How can you decline such an offer?

#yandere genshin impact #Yandere genshin #yandere childe #yandere genshin x reader #Yandere tartaglia #Yandere tartaglia x reader #Yandere genshin impact x reader #Yandere genshin x reader #Yandere x reader #Male yandere #Yandere imagine #My writing #Flexing my russian skills because I can #And because I didn't learn it for years for nothing

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klixxy · 3 years

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Genshin Fic Recs

so... i ventured into the vast world of Google looking for some good GI fic recs... only to find such a pitiful amount that i was promptly devastated. therefore, the solution is to make my own! :D

keep in mind most of these will be ChiLi or XingYun, and yes, i will try not to include smut unless it was one i really really liked. if anyone wants a separate list for just smut (though that will most likely be shorter) i can try to make one later.`

ft. my bookmark comments :)

CHILI

wrapped up in pure gold by beyondwinter

(chili; accidental marriage; chili/childe-centric; 22k words; ongoing)

"Do you understand its meaning, Childe?" He finally asks. There's a hard glint in his eyes, like he's trying to steel himself for his answer.

"Yeah." Loyalty and devotion, right? Between business partners? "I do. It's traditional, isn't it?"

Zhongli's eyes glow a warm amber in the near darkness, reflecting the soft shine of the lanterns. He studies his face with a strange intensity, as though Childe were a piece of high quality Nocticulous Jade being sold for suspiciously small sum and he's trying to find the blemishes that would explain the price. The weight of his gaze should be uncomfortable, boring into him like he can see into the very depths of his abyss-tainted soul, but Childe finds himself preening under the attention instead.

Childe accidentally proposes to Zhongli. Zhongli accepts.

The World is Water by Millereflets

(chili; smut; hurt/comfort; chili-centric; 7k words; oneshot)

Childe doesn't visit Zhongli until it's almost too late.

(my bookmarks: HOW DO YOU MAKE A SMUT SCENE SO POETIC HOLY SHITTTTT)

Set in Stone by seredemia

(chili; fake dating au; angst; some smut?; chili/chiilde-centric; 55k words; ongoing)

What do you do when you write about a certain six thousand year old consultant so much in your letters that it somehow convinces your entire family you're not only dating each other, but that you're also engaged?

In Childe's case, the answer is plain and simple: he goes along with it, of course. Absolutely nothing can go wrong if he makes a contract with the God of Contracts, vowing that the two of them will pretend to be lovers for the duration of his family's stay in Liyue. Afterwards, they'll return as normal and speak no more of this mess. No feelings or complications involved whatsoever.

Contract accepted. A fool-proof plan set in stone. Right?

Private Ledger of the Eleventh Harbinger by JuHuaTai

(chili; humor; getting together; chili/ekaterina-centric; 5k words; oneshot)

“So guess what I did next?”

Ekaterina contemplated not answering, but Harbinger Tartaglia was just… grinning and waiting. It’s honestly rather creepy the longer time passed.

In the end, she gave a long suffering sigh that seems lost on him, “You bought him the Erhu—“

“I bought him the antique, cor lapis based Erhu,”

When she first left her homeland for the unknown nation of Liyue, Ekaterina was ready to be many things: To be a soldier, to fell Tsaritsa’s enemies in her name, to bring glory to Snezhnaya and her leader.

Being a receptionist in a cozy bank wasn’t so bad in comparison, but she absolutely can do without the front row seat to Harbinger Tartaglia’s (expensive) love life.

i know i'm where i'm meant to go by paperclips (pastel_paperclips)

(chili; humor; fluff; chili-centric; 12k words; ongoing)

"Childe," Zhongli says suddenly. "I am enjoying myself greatly." Childe’s face breaks into a grin. "Then-" Zhongli gasps, grabbing his wrist and tugging him over to an unsuspecting peddler with a cart full of rocks. "Is that an intrusive igneous pegmatite formed in the Inazuma regions?" Childe’s grin smooths into a small, adoring smile. He has all the time in the world to figure the other man out.

OR: Finding the Geo Archon is on Childe's to-do list but hanging out with Zhongli is significantly more fun.

CHILIVEN

Crumbling Stone by avtorSola

(chiliven; ANGST; PAIN; mind control; zhongli-centric; 74k words; ongoing)

When Morax unleashes his plan to test the Liyue Qixing and his adepti, he does not take into account the stirring of the Abyss Order in the north and the corruption of Dvalin - for why would he fear an organization that works in such shadows? He is secure in his power, after all, unlike his flighty ex, the absentee archon of Mondstadt who rises only when his people are in danger.

But, somehow, the Abyss Order discovers his plan. Somehow, they capitalize on it. And he, the God of Stone who cannot sicken, is struck down - taken by an order bent on destroying all of humanity as Liyue crumbles around him. For even Archons aren't immune to Durin's blood, and Morax is no exception. But then the question becomes - if even Archons may fall to the agony of this corrupting burn - how is their traveling friend Aether immune?

The answer comes from beyond the stars - an ancient malice that knows no kindness or mercy. A malice whose legacy the Abyss Order now bears, seeking to topple all the Archons and their people into the void of utter destruction. And they have begun in Liyue.

Fortunately, it takes a long time to erode stone.

(my bookmarks: IM SCREAMING AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)

PLATONIC ZHONGVEN

left-behind city by trixstar

(platonic zhongven; angst; ANGST; venti-centric; 1k words; oneshot)

"An associate of mine has just informed me that Rex Lapis, the Geo Archon has been assassinated."

Venti blinks.

Or: Venti and how he copes with finding out he is all that remains.

i circle ten thousand years long; and i still do not know if i am a falcon, a storm, or an unfinished song by birdsofpassage

(platonic zhongven; angst; hurt/comfort; zhongven-centric; 4k words; oneshot)

Venti and Zhongli, and the vignettes of a much-needed vacation around Mondstadt.

(my bookmarks: ; - ; ; - ; )

oh ye with little faith by air_fried_air

(platonic zhongven; angst; hurt/comfort; zhongven-centric; 2k words; oneshot)

Two former archons do a little tour around Mondstadt.

(my bookmarks: why are all genshin angst fics so melancholy.... i feel so empty)

the wind through the mountain tops by glassdrachma

(platonic zhongven; humor; hurt/comfort; zhongven-centric; 21k words; finished)

Boredom brings Barbatos of Mondstadt to bother a certain ex-Archon of the Earth.

(my bookmarks: venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship-)

XINGYUN

the art of exorcism by Agried

(xingyun; ghost au; hurt/comfort; chongyun-centric; 9k words; oneshot)

On the road back from one of his jobs, Chongyun runs into Xingqiu, the wandering swordsman. And then they keep meeting, over and over again. or, alternately; how a ghost and an exorcist learn how to love, one step at a time.

Bane of All Evil by tzitzimeme

(xingyun; humor; romance; chongyun-centric; 24k words; hiatus)

When Chongyun unintentionally offends Liyue's second most powerful adepti, he vows to mend the thorny relationship between Adeptus Xiao and human exorcists-- even though no one has succeeded in currying Xiao's favor for over a thousand years.

His best friend Xingqiu offers to come alone, mainly because he's worried about what kind of trouble Chongyun will run into. Along the way, they receive help from others: Xiangling packs them meals for their journeys, while Zhongli gives them advice on what demons to track.

Childe is just there because he thinks the whole thing is hilarious.

[On indefinite hiatus due to burnout; sorry!]

kiss me slowly (so i don't forget) by xiwangmu

(xingyun; humor; romance; light angst; xingqiu-centric; 8k words; oneshot)

Wangshu Inn Bulletin Board

Guest Message: My best friend whom I harbor affections for kissed me last night, but due to his special condition he does not recall a single moment of it. I am quite conflicted about whether to disclose these events to him or not, because that would most certainly require me to confess my feelings as well. If anyone has experience in romancing boys with excessive positive energy, this one humbly asks you to share some advice.

Reply: Our greatest apologies—although we would like to offer some words in response, we simply cannot decipher your handwriting. Perhaps you may return with a neater message next time?

time trials by idlestars

(xingyun/many ships; humor; modern au; xingyun-centric; 2k words; oneshot)

A modern social media AU.

Xingqiu Teases Demons. Chongyun Almost Cries. [The clip shows Xingqiu, lit by the sickly green of night vision, as he stares bored into a dark room. He’s alone - Chongyun left to see if Xingqiu could lure out the ghosts. Xingqiu glances at the camera, smirks, and then opens his mouth.

“Hey demons, it’s me, yah boy.”]

OTHER/GEN

woe be the wallet of the god of wealth by glassdrachma

(gen; humor; identity reveal; keqing/zhongli-centric; 12k words; finished)

Or, the story of how the Yuheng of the Qixing came to idolize, befriend, and discover the identity of the God of Geo, in that order.

(personal comments: hilarious, made me burst out into laughter multiple times, and was just a masterful piece of writing)

to dream of dust by miao_x

(guili/gen; ANGST; hurt/no comfort; zhongli-centric; 5k words; oneshot)

Some nights, Zhongli dreams.

He dreams of soft light, golden song, and a gentle breeze whispering tales of millennia past. It is warm, familiar, and comforting.

It feels like home.

And then he opens his eyes, and awakes to reality.

(my bookmarks: oh zhongli... made me cry)

To drown in your own tears by C_rin_nyan

(guili/gen; ANGST; TEARS; PAIN; zhongli-centric; 2k words; oneshot)

As Rex Lapis, he had never shed a tear, even as he slaughtered hundreds, destruction following his every step. As Zhongli, he had shed much more than he would like to admit, however.

Or, “Zhongli’s soul gave its last scream long ago, yet even now, the echo of said sound was still strong enough to reach Rex Lapis.”

#fic rec #fic recs #fanfic #fanfic recs #genshin #genshin impact #ao3 #chili #tartali #zhongchi #xingyun #childe #zhongli #xingqiu #chongyun #venti #zhongven #guili #guizhong #angst

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triptuckers · 3 years

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The Necklace - Captain Rex

Request: no Pairing: Captain Rex x jedi!reader Summary: Five times you and Rex have given each other your necklace, and the one time you wear it for the last time Warnings: major character death!!, angst, mentions of serious injuries, burning, blood, bruises Word count: 3.2K A/N: I always wonder why do I do this to myself .. anyway, my brain made me write this and put it out there. I deeply apologise for this feel free to send me ur therapy bills TAG LIST (all star wars fics): @parker-natasha @romanoffstarkovs @just-deka

One.

It’s quiet in the Temple. You have to admit it’s rarely crowded in the halls. The Temple is quite a large building, and not nearly enough Jedi to fill it. And even if there were, at least half would be off fighting the war.

You’re grateful for the time you get to spend at the Temple. The long hallways always calm you down. No matter how long you had been away, it always felt good to come home to the Temple where you’d grown up.

It’s the place where you learned the ways of the force, where you’d spent hours reading everything you could find on the Jedi and their ways. You’d meditated in the gardens countless of times, and you’d found your family.

But most importantly, you met Rex.

He knew just as well as everyone else attachment was against the Jedi code. Still, you were pulled to one another by some sort of feeling you couldn’t explain. It made you want to spend every moment you got with him.

As your relationship blossomed, you knew you had to talk about the restrictions. You didn’t like it, but there were just some rules you had to follow, for both yours and Rex’ sake.

It didn’t stop you from occasionally sending a flirtatious wink his way, if only to watch his cheeks flush as he tried to remain focused on his tasks.

You were desperate for some kind of affection outside the safe walls of your quarters. When you were on a planet near the Outer Rim, and you waited as they refuelled your ship, you took the opportunity to check out the local market.

You found a beautiful, handcrafted silver necklace, and you just couldn’t leave it behind. When you got back to Coruscant, you showed the necklace to Rex, and you noticed how much he loved it.

When you wanted to give the necklace to him, he declined, saying it looked too good on you, that he couldn’t take it from you. So, you made a promise. The one wearing the necklace would give it to the one who wasn’t wearing it whenever they saw them, with the promise they’d be there to wear it again next time you’d meet.

Your walk around the Temple takes you through the silent halls. You don’t really notice where you’re going, your mind wandering off to other places. You turn a corner and see a door opening in the distance.

A few Jedi, Anakin, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, Mace and Yoda exit the room, followed by Rex and Cody. You smile at them and they all greet you as they go their separate ways.

Rex is deep in conversation with Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Cody, but briefly stops when you pass him. He takes the necklace off and gives it to you with a smile. You return the smile as you put it on, and Rex continues his conversation with the others while you continue your walk, the necklace bouncing against your chest with every step you take.

Two.

You’ve done it a thousand times before, but landing near a battle is still something that could get your anxiety up. That creeping fear that a well aimed blaster shot could take out your engines and send you to the ground a lot faster than you intended, would never ease.

You hold on tight as the ship starts its landing.

The 501st and the 212th were already on the scene, fighting for their lives. Everyone had thought that they would manage, but that was before the Separatists sent in reinforcements. Because you and your men were closest, you received an urgent comm from Anakin and didn’t hesitate before gathering all of your men and heading towards their position.

Once you’ve landed and everyone has left the ship, you start giving out orders. Even though you’re not near the heat of the battle, you have to yell to be heard over the shouts and blaster shots from others.

You send your men to the frontlines while you take your second in command to look for the other generals and commanders.

As you’re running through the chaos, you’re contacting Anakin. Luckily, he responds almost immediately.

‘We saw your ship!’ he says loudly. ‘We’re on the right side, near the trees!’

‘Copy!’ you shout in your comm and you wave your second din command over, making for the tree line in the distance. You glance at the troopers as you’re running, trying to find Rex. He might be next to Anakin and Ahsoka, waiting for you to arrive. But you know Rex, and it’s also very possible he’s in the front lines.

It takes shorter than you expected to cross the battlefield. When you make it to the trees, you quickly spot your fellow Jedi, and Rex and Cody along with them. Ahsoka is the first to notice you, and she waves at you as you’re running toward them.

You come to a halt in front of them, panting.

‘Thanks for coming so quickly.’ says Obi-Wan.

‘Yeah.’ you manage to say in between breaths. ‘What’s our status?’ you ask as you take off your necklace and blindly hand it to Rex, who is standing next to you.

‘We’re suffering a lot of casualties.’ says Ahsoka, not taking notice in you giving Rex the necklace.

‘You and your men are much needed.’ says Rex, and you turn to look at him. ‘We’re severely outnumbered.’ he says as he puts on the necklace.

‘We have a plan, though.’ says Anakin, and he starts explaining it.

Three.

It takes you a while to figure out what caused you to suddenly wake. You didn’t have any plans or meetings you had to attend to today, and you had planned on a relaxed morning of just staying in bed.

Your legs are tangled with Rex’, and one of his arms is swung across your stomach. Mornings like these are rare, and you wish you could stay like this forever.

No war, no pain or suffering, no Separatist this or Jedi business that. Just you and Rex, holding each other.

Occasionally, you hear soft snores coming from his side of the bed. You raise your hand to softly run it over his back. It’s only then, that you realise it isn’t his snores that woke you.

You comm is beeping furiously on the bedside table.

For one of the first times, you’re seriously considering just ignoring it. You didn’t have any plans today, you even declined Ahsoka’s offer of a training session, stating you needed your rest now that you didn’t have any formalities to attend. And with rest you meant staying in bed with Rex.

But what if it’s important? Says an annoying little voice in the back of your head.

You groan softly, reaching out to try and get a hold of your comm. You can’t reach it, but you also don’t dare to shift, scared of waking Rex. So instead, you use the Force and let your comm device land in the palm of your hand.

‘Yea?’ you say. It’s Anakin who answers.

‘Hey, Y/N, do you think you’ve got time to go over some maps with me? I’m assigned to traveling with Senator Amidala, she needs to go settle another trade incident. It doesn’t seem like a big deal, but these maps sure do.’ he says.

‘Can’t Padmé go over those maps with you if she’s the going to the planet in the first place?’ you ask, not wanting to leave your comfortable and warm bed.

‘She’s on Naboo. I’m supposed to pick her up on the way there.’ answers Anakin.

‘Okay, fine. I’ll come see you at your quarters in a few minutes.’ you say.

‘Thanks!’ says Anakin.

You sigh and throw the comm device on the bed. You look to your side and see Rex is still asleep. It makes you chuckle. You could probably drop a bomb on the building, and the sound just wouldn’t wake him up.

You slowly untangle your legs from his and lift his arm so you can get up. You silently get dressed before hovering over his body.

Kisses are pressed to his cheeks, nose and forehead. Rex only shifts a bit, but doesn’t wake up. You take the necklace off and carefully place it around his neck. With one last kiss, you leave your quarters and head for Anakin’s.

Four.

You exhale sharply when you land on your back.

‘And that-’ says Ahsoka’s voice above you. ‘Is how you take someone out when you don’t have your lightsaber on you.’

A small round of applause comes from the younglings you’re teaching. Originally, they were Ahsoka’s class but she asked you to join her in some examples, and you agreed. Though she hadn’t told you just how many times she was going to throw you on the ground.

‘Impressive.’ you say as you take a hold of Ahsoka’s extended hand and allow her to pull you to your feet.

‘All right kids.’ you say to the small group of younglings in front of you. ‘You’ve seen how it works now. Pair up with someone else and go try it out yourselves.’

They all excitedly pair up and get to work. You smile as you watch them struggle, thinking back to your own training sessions as a youngling.

‘I’m pretty sure we weren’t that small when we were younglings.’ you say to Ahsoka. ‘You were.’ she says, making you raise your eyebrows at her. ‘I’m taller than you.’ you protest, making her laugh out loud.

You watch the younglings for a while, correcting them every now and then. They’re very good for kids their age, and you can tell they’re fast learnings. You’re wondering if one of them might become your padawan, and about all the things you could teach them.

Just as Ahsoka tells everyone to take a break while she explains the next useful movement, the door to the training hall opens.

The clones didn’t train much in the Temple’s halls, but they did on the occasion theirs was too crowded. Or if they had been near the Temple and didn’t feel like traveling far.

A couple of the 501st have entered the room, and you scan their faces for Rex. He’s the last one to enter and you smile at him as he makes his way toward you. When he’s almost reached you, he takes off the necklace.

Just as he hands it to you, one of the younglings gasps loudly.

‘You’re Captain Rex of the 501st!’ he says.

Rex looks at him and nods. ‘That’s right kid. Keep up your training and I might see you out on the front some day.’ he says and the younglings look up at him in awe.

You chuckle at their reaction and shoot Rex a wink. He smiles at you, waves at Ahsoka, and then returns to his brothers to start their training session.

Five.

You don’t get a lot of free time nowadays. So when you do, you use it well. You’re currently in the gardens, meditating.

When you were younger, you didn’t like meditating very much. You would much rather be working on your lightsaber skills, than sitting in one spot of hours.

But as you got older, you realised the importance of connecting with the Force, and you started to appreciate alone time more.

Luckily, the gardens weren’t very crowded when you arrived. You took place in your favourite spot, closed your eyes and slowed your breathing.

After a while, you noticed other people’s presences in the force fading away one by one. Until you could feel no one else’s presence, and it was just you.

You’re unaware how much time has passed, when you sense a familiar presence coming closer.

You smile, but keep your legs crossed and your eyes closed. You hear footsteps coming closer, until they come to a stop right next to you.

There must be no one else watching, because you feel how Rex presses a kiss to your cheek. You then feel something cold be placed carefully around your neck. You smile again and after another kiss to your cheek, Rex leaves again, and you continue your meditation.

Six.

This war had taken too much from too many people. Everyone was tired of it, and everyone just wanted it to end. You were tired, too. You’d seen too many of your friends die, and too many innocent people you couldn’t save.

You weren’t a soldier. You’re a peacekeeper. But you can’t remember the last time you actually referred to yourself as one, let alone feel like it.

Still, the war raged on, like a hot fire turning everything in its path into ashes, leaving nothing but grief and sorrow behind. The war was unforgiving, merciless, swallowing everyone and everything in its path.

You couldn't stand by and watch anymore. Especially when all the fighting got too close for your taste.

You'd been sent to a planet you visited a lot when you were a child. It was a peaceful, neutral planet. Until the Separatists came to claim it. The planet's original inhabitants didn't have the proper training or recourses to fight, so the Republic sent you and your men there.

When you got to the planet it was nothing but chaos. The Separatists had wanted to take control of the planet for its strategic location. It seems they would do anything to get their hands on it.

Including wiping out an entire race of people.

You couldn't let that happen. You had been right there to see so many people get injured or killed because of the Separatists. You wouldn't stand by and watch yet another peaceful planet be taken.

The Separatists were using a new kind of droid, one that could follow orders all at once because of one single command center. You'd sent your men to keep fighting on the front lines, and to protect the people.

You would disarm the command center, so their commands couldn't get to the droids on the battlefield.

But you weren't an expert on shutting down such a massive command center on your own. While thinking back to all the happy memories you made in the past when you visited this planet, the only option you could think of was to blow up the entire command center.

You didn't have any explosives on you, so you decided to fling both of your lightsabers into the power generator. At the time, you didn't even know if it would work. Turns out it did. Maybe it worked a little too well.

The blast was enormous. You successfully blew up the entire command center, and your men could pick the droids off like target practice.

But when your second in command didn't hear back from you, he sent a few men to go and look for you.

They found you near the center of the blast, severely injured and barely alive.

They rush you back to the ship and on the way back to Coruscant, while the medical droids aboard the ship do the best they can. But they're losing you, and it's unwise to move you at this point, so they keep you aboard the ship.

Having heard of your state, both Anakin and Ahsoka rushed to the ship you're on in the hangar.

They watch anxiously as the medial droids fuss over you. Ahsoka can see your body is as good as lost, but she can still sense your presence in the Force. It's all she can hold on to.

Meanwhile, Anakin is trying to get a hold of Rex. He'd been suspecting something was going on between you and his captain. He figured if anyone needed to be there, it's Rex.

'Yes?' says Rex when he finally answers his comm.

'Rex, you need to get here.' says Anakin, voice slightly breaking as he talks. He was so terrified to lose you.

'Everything alright, sir?' says Rex.

'It's Y/N.' says Anakin.

Rex is quiet for a while.

'Rex?' says Anakin.

'Where is she?' asks Rex, and they can all hear how he tries to keep his voice steady.

'On the ship in the hangar. They just arrived but they can't move her.' says Anakin.

'I'm on my way.' says Rex.

Anakin knew for a fact Rex was nowhere near the hangar, but he arrives there in mere minutes. He must have ran all the way here.

Ahsoka stops Rex before he can enter the room you're in. Rex is breathing heavily, pressing a hand to his side which is aching from the sprinting.

'Rex.' says Ahsoka softly. 'She's not-'

But Rex doesn't let her finish, he pushes her aside and enters the room.

He nearly breaks at the sight of you. Rex blindly reaches for something to steady him as he stumbles on his feet, and Anakin catches his arm.

Rex' eyes fill with tears as he looks at you.

This is not how he remembers you. This is not how you looked when you cheerfully waved him goodbye as your ship took off.

The robes you always wear are covered in dust and ashes. There's burn marks all over them. On some places, the fabric of the robes was completely gone, showing the burn wounds on your skin.

The side of your head is crusty with a mixture of dried blood and dirt. One side of your body is littered in bruises, from where you must have hit a wall.

'There was a blast.' mumbles Anakin. 'She blew up the generator and disarmed all of the droids. She saved an entire planet from the Separatists.'

Rex presses a hand to his mouth and mumbles something in Mando'a which Anakin doesn't understand.

He slowly approaches the bed, one hand reaching out to hold yours. His other hand is clutched around the necklace he wears.

This wasn't happening. You still had to win the war, get your own apartment for the two of you, tell war stories to new friends. This couldn't be the end of your story. This couldn't be his last memory of you.

Rex lets go of your hand to stroke your cheek.

Anakin and Ahsoka leave the room, giving Rex a moment of privacy.

'Wake up, mesh'la.' says Rex softly, voice breaking at almost every word he says. 'Wake up so I can give you the necklace. You promised you'd always be there to take it from me when we'd see each other.'

And you do wear the necklace one more time. Rex slid it around your neck, and buried it along with your body.

And every battle he fights in the future, he does in the name of his beloved General Y/L/N. There was no reason to keep it a secret any more. He'd dedicate every single fight to you. He owed you that much. He kept your memory alive.

Every night, his heart aches because of the absence of your shared necklace. The absence of your love, and your promise to always be there.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

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hraishin · 3 years

Text

Au-gust Prompt: Day Twenty - Dystopia

This is actually something I've been meaning to write for a while but I never got the inspiration for it (+ I always thought about it as a long fic, which I have no time for). BUT with the au-gust prompt right there telling me to write a shorter thing for it I decided to give it a go. Hope you enjoy this!

P.S.: Cassandra Nova is here but she isn't related to Charles.

P.S.²: This concept was inspired by this edit.

WC: 2k+

Charles woke up with a sigh, seeing the pale sunlight entering his room through the glass pane on the wall. As he turned his head to face it, eyes blinking to get used to the light, he saw the world outside from his small apartment.

There were green fields in the distance, the Wall standing tall but looking small from where Charles looked, and the sky was grey, thin clouds covering its blue, but the sunlight still reached him, hitting his pale skin but not warming it. It was the world he knew ever since he was a child, familiar and safe.

He couldn't understand, then, why it pained him to see that familiar view, and why the cold side of his bed felt wrong.

Charles looked at himself on the glass window of the small cafeteria where he ate, fork and knife in hands, frozen in the place his hands had stopped as he caught a sight of his reflection. There was something wrong with him, he knew that, although he couldn't remember what, couldn't pinpoint why his own reflection looked wrong, distorted. Blue eyes stared back at him, questioning him.

What is wrong, Charles? What is wrong? What is wrong?

There's a frown on my face, he noted to himself, immediately putting the frown away, wondering why he had a frown.

His eyes lowered, staring at the reflection of his wheelchair. For a quiet moment, he didn't remember how he ended up in it in the first place, what had caused him to need it. Around him, no one else had one, and Charles felt a quiet burst of something fill his body, as if suddenly the others would judge. He was different. He shouldn't be.

Remember to eat healthy, the dull voice said on the speakers around the cafeteria, Charles' eyes moving from his reflection to his food again, his mind quickly pushing back all the other thoughts to focus on his food, that dull sensation coming back to him after a few moments. No feelings again, as it should be.

Even so, Charles filed away another thing that was wrong with him.

Emotions.

"And how are you today, Charles?" Cassandra Nova asked in a plain voice, almost cold. Her eyes moved to look at him as he thought about his answer, hands moving to stay between his legs as he did so.

"Healthy, productive," he answered, because it felt like the right answer. The woman's expression didn't change. "But my- my back hurts today."

"We can't have that," she offered back, walking around the room towards a cabinet as Charles' eyes followed her. "I can give you one pill for the pain today, but, if it comes back, you'll have to come back another time. You know the rules- Civilians can't be in possession of drugs."

"Of course," Charles confirmed. Something about the way she looked at him made Charles feel that feeling again, the same one that overcame him in the cafeteria just the day before.

Fear, it was fear, somehow…

"Anything else you'd like to tell me?" She inquired, their eyes meeting again as she held the bottle of pills in hands.

Charles thought about it, staring at the woman, before shaking his head. "No, ma'am."

She didn't smile, no one there ever did, but for some reason Charles could clearly see what a satisfied grin would look in the woman's face.

Charles, the voice called, warm and familiar, sweet as nothing Charles had ever felt. Charles, where are you?

Charles.

Charles, wake up.

Charles, please.

Please, answer me.

My love…

Charles' eyes opened, the room dark as he took a deep breath, eyes looking at the room as if the voice had been all around him.

A dream. How odd.

He moved on the bed after a few moments, getting his chair to move towards the glass pane that showed him the world outside, his eyes instinctively looking at the Wall in the distance.

For some strange reason, Charles could swear that, even far away, and even with the darkness, there was someone standing at the top of the Wall, looking back at him.

"And how are you today, Charles?" Cassandra Nova asked, making Charles tear his eyes away from his reflection as he stared at the woman, something cold settling on his stomach at the question.

Her eyes looked cruel for a moment, even though he knew it was impossible; In her hands, she held Charles' pills like she was keeping them away from him.

"Fine," he replied.

"Fine?" She pushed, head tilting to the side for a moment. Charles nodded, not sure of his answer anymore.

"Fine," he repeated. "But in pain."

The woman stared for a moment, and Charles panicked at the thought she wouldn't give him the pill.

Panic. Fear. Dreams.

What is wrong, Charles? What is wrong? What is wrong?

When she offered him a pill, Charles held back a relieved sigh.

"Let's fix the pain, then," she muttered, her voice dark.

His chair moved through the pavement, his eyes set on his destiny — work, the one he had been in for most of his life now, the only one he'd ever have. Each day, Charles wondered why it felt wrong, why everyone else around him seemed to have the muscle memory to know where everything was, while Charles hesitated.

He stopped himself in the middle of a plaza, hands placed on his wheels to move them again, but unmoving. His eyes fell to his lap, a weird feeling taking hold of him.

He stared at the fountain in the middle of the plaza, the innocuous monument standing there as its water made noise where the only sounds were of the steps against the pavement.

He stared at the fountain, the ghost of an enormous pain making itself present at the base of Charles' spine, right at the scar on his back, although he didn't know why.

He stared at the fountain again, looking at its grey more intensely, his breathing coming in short all of the sudden.

He stared at the fountain, and he saw a dark stain against the concrete it was made of, faded but there, as if it hadn't been able to be fully cleaned. He could almost see it was red.

Charles, the voice called, lovely. Worried. Charles, we'll get you back- I'll bring you back.

Yes, Charles thought back in his dream, longing hitting him like a wave. He felt almost desperate, trapped. Please.

The voice hesitated, silent, and Charles panicked, until it was back, strong and determined.

Wait for me, it said, right before Charles woke up with his heart clenched, tears falling from his eyes as he tried to understand what was happening.

Emotions, once again. Strong and painful.

He understood why they had been taken from him and the others — what a burden, to feel.

"And how are you feeling today, Charles?" Cassandra Nova asked, Charles' eyes widening ever so slightly as he realized the shift in the question.

In her eyes, Charles could see she knew about his little secret that he had been able to hide for the past month.

She seemed unhappy.

"I don't-"

"Don't lie to me, Charles," she demanded, her voice making Charles' body tense up for a second. "I know when emotions are active on someone. When were you planning to tell me?"

"I thought they'd go away…"

She smiled then, but it wasn't kind, it didn't seem natural.

"They never go. Not on their own at least," she said quietly, moving towards the cabinet in the corner to take a syringe. "But with a little help and time…"

Remember to exercise, the dull voice said in the speakers as Charles followed the instructor's orders, arms and torso sore from the exercise, his back starting to give signals that it would hurt later.

A healthy body makes a healthy mind, the voice kept going, monotone.

Charles didn't look at his reflection on the window pane, nor the world outside.

"Come with me, Charles," a blonde woman said, her face serious and voice commanding. Something in her face made something stir deep inside Charles, a fog being lifted from his mind slowly.

He stared at her clothes, seeing the insignia that showed she worked for the Leaders. He barely could notice how they didn't fit her right, too wide on the shoulders, cuffs pulled back to let her hands free, as if it was someone else's.

"Of course," he finally answered with a nod, seeing her nod back.

They walked away from Charles' building, Charles following her obediently towards one of the older buildings on the outskirts of town — unused now, too unstable for someone to live in according to Nova; even so, he didn't frown.

Inside, it smelled of dust and mold, the first reaction from Charles finally showing in the form of disgust, his nose itching, a quiet spark of a doubt making itself present in his mind.

They entered one of the lower apartments, the place dark with the dusk and without the aid of lights to make seeing what was there easier. Charles noticed, whoever, the silhouette of a man next to the glass pane, standing there before turning around to look at Charles.

From far away, Charles couldn't see his face, but the man's form made an ache take hold of his body and mind. When the man walked towards him, hurried and seemingly desperate, the ache almost turned into agony.

"Charles," the man said, and his voice — the voice, the sweet voice from his dreams, who asked him to wait for him.

When the man's lips touched his, the agony felt less painful, but panic took over again as he pushed the man away, staring at him wide-eyed.

"Who are you?" Charles asked, his voice barely leaving his mouth.

There was silence, the man staring at him with desperate eyes that Charles could now see better now that he was closer. The man's mouth was thin, his jaw sharp and hair a mess, a stubble over his cheeks — Charles felt the panic of not knowing who that man was mixing with the relief of seeing him, emotions running through him again, painfully, making Charles wish they'd stop.

"They made you forget," the man muttered, more to himself than to Charles, and Charles' brow finally furrowed, trying to understand what the man meant. "They took that away from you… Charles, you don't belong here…"

The man's hands moved gently, holding Charles' face as his thumbs brushed against the skin of Charles' cheeks. The touch was calming but too much at the same time.

"This place- Tell me… Where were you born?"

"I'm… Here, I was- I was born here."

When the man shook his head, Charles' frown deepened, a chill running through his body.

"You're from outside the Wall," the man gently said, Charles' body tensing up for a moment. "You're from far away, Charles Xavier. You found me here, and you took me out. But they got you-"

"No-"

"Yes," the man nodded, his eyes moving to the blonde woman for a moment. When Charles looked at her, she seemed to be crying. "Yes, my love, it's the truth."

"You saved people, Charles," the woman said, voice shaky. "We breached the Wall and woke them up, brought them outside the Wall, where they could live."

"But I-" Charles tried, feeling his breathing short. "My memories-"

"Do you trust them?" The man asked again, and he looked afraid of Charles' answer.

After a few seconds, after he realized the answer was "no", Charles let out a shuddering breath. The man seemed to do the same, although his was a sign of relief.

"Let me take you home," his voice was gentle now, thumbs once again caressing the skin of Charles' cheeks. "Come back with me. Come back to me."

Charles stared at that man, whose eyes seemed more familiar now than the view he'd see outside his window; whose touch brought Charles emotions he couldn't even name.

With a shaky breath, Charles nodded. The smile on the man's lips and the tears in his eyes showed him relief and happiness; the feeling of his lips against Charles' felt like a promise of home.

#charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #cherik #raven darkholme #mystique #magneto #professor x #xmen #fanfic #writing

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luci-four · 3 years

Text

Catnap {Diavolo x Reader/MC}

A/N: a fic in which i wanted diavolo to experience PAIN but also know he is L O V E D because i couldnt help but remember that he once said asmo never invites him to parties and it broke my frozen heart,

{Diavolo x Reader/MC}

Diavolo’s eyes were downcast as he walked along, listening to Barbatos drone on about his schedule for the rest of the day. Of course, he knew it was important and definitely something he needed to do as it was his duty, yet, he couldn’t help but long for a sense of freedom. He longed for a time he could simply be himself, not worry about his princely duties—he longed for something, he just wasn’t quite sure what. Of course, he knew Barbatos was simply doing his own job, but it didn’t stop the prince from zoning out. He could hear the shorter man give an exasperated sigh before repeating his last few sentences. Maybe a walk around R.A.D.’s campus would help him focus.

It wasn’t helping. He sighed during the entire walk, each time getting a little more dramatic; he hunched his shoulders and slouched a bit more with each heave, dragging his feet along the ground as though he were a toddler throwing a temper-tantrum. His pitch was whiny, and he secretly did feel bad for his unbecoming behaviour towards Barbatos, but he couldn’t help himself.

As though it were a beam of light on a cloudy day, something had caught his attention from the corner of his eye, and turned his entire mood around. Without raising Barbatos’ suspicion—or so he thought—his gaze honed in on a small, stray kitten walking along the path behind the shorter man. His face instinctually turned to one mixed with shock and adoration, both attempted to hide behind the thin veil of collectiveness. Golden eyes kept flickering from his butler to the tiny mammal behind him.

“As I said before, after meeting with Lucifer to go over the budget for...” Barbatos scrunched his nose before interrupting himself. “My lord, you aren’t paying attention again.”

“What?” Diavolo’s shoulders stiffened as he let out a half-hearted laugh, “Of course I am!”

“.....What are you distracted by?”

“It’s nothing! Wait--”

Before Diavolo’s outstretched hand could stop him, Barbatos turned to lock eyes with the kitten that had caught his liege's attention. He held his stare as if the two of them had a contest going without so much as a word, until the kitten had meowed up at him.

“It’s talking to you!”

“I wish it wouldn’t.”

“Don’t be mean to it, it’s cute!”

“My lord, we do need to get through this schedule for the day--”

“I’d much rather sit with this kitten.”

Diavolo quickly jumped at the chance to get down on all fours to level with the kitten, ignoring Barbatos’ pleas for him to not ruin his uniform. He cooed as the kitten rubbed against his face, meowing softly at him in response to his badly-attempted meows, and rolled onto its back to play with one of the pendants hanging off of his coat. A genuine laugh erupted from the man as he pet the creature.

“I’m glad you’re thoroughly enjoying yourself, Lord Diavolo, however we do need to get going now--”

“I’ve decided to keep it!”

“Absolutely not.”

“What!”

Like a child who was told no in the toy store—or a better comparison would have been a kicked puppy—Diavolo looked up at him with pleading eyes and a pouting lip. He mumbled to himself, about being the prince and frankly doing whatever he’d like, as though he truly were a child.

“My lord, a cat in the castle would be a terrible idea. You are too busy to see to one--”

“You could do it!”

“--and I’m too busy ensuring you’re taken care of to worry about the cat as well.”

Diavolo groaned and rose to his feet, keeping his back towards Barbatos. After agreeing that he would be right, he attempted to walk off and change the subject towards the schedule Barbatos was so adamant about, only to jolt to a stop as the butler cleared his throat.

“My lord--”

“I thought you said we were busy!” Diavolo chuckled, attempting to continue again, “Let’s go!”

“The cat, my lord.”

“It ran into the bushes--”

“Please take the cat out of your coat pocket.”

Hanging his head as he was caught, he placed the kitten gently onto the path, watching it scamper away, chasing after some sort of bug. He crossed his arms and jutted his lip out into a pout, keeping his glare just a tad icy towards Barbatos. Again, he was aware he was just doing his job, but the kitten was so adorable and just the distraction he felt that he needed, and his friend simply just wouldn’t allow him to have it; so, he listened. He listened intensively, absorbing each word Barbatos had thrown him and repeated key points to prove he had listened. His eyes, however, flickered to the small animal who kept running in and out of the bushes, tempting his willpower and attention an embarrassing amount.

Before he had realized it, however, one of the seven brothers had also been walking along campus. Noticing the two of them talk, Satan minded his own business and only stopped as a kitten randomly appeared in his path. Without so much as a second thought, he scooped the animal up and kept on his way, not realizing the heartbroken, utter shock that had washed over the Devildom’s prince.

“That seems to be the end of it, Lord Diavolo. Shall we move on to our meeting--”

“Did you see that!”

Barbatos tilted his head and looked behind him where Diavolo had been pointing; he used all of his might not to raise an eyebrow at his boss.

“See... what, exactly?”

“The--”

“If you’re going to mention the cat again, then please forgive me for cutting you off. We simply cannot have the cat.”

“But Satan took it!”

“Ah, then you should take solace in knowing that cat is well taken care of. Now, moving on to our meeting, my lord.”

Without so much as another word, Barbatos ushered Diavolo off towards their next location, the cat never left his mind.

***

By the end of the day, MC had noticed something weighing on the prince. He seemed sluggish, lost in thought, a million miles away in those eyes as they sat across the room from him. During the rare moment he sat alone, MC approached him casually.

“Hey,” they leaned against the edge of his desk, “something on your mind?”

“Oh? Was it obvious?”

“I’m just a really good guesser.”

Diavolo leaned back in his chair and shot them an award-winning smile, the hearty, whimsical laugh he’s known for followed suit.

“Then that must be your version of magic, interesting. I’ll admit there is something on my mind that I just can’t shake.”

“Care to tell me what it is?”

Before MC could even get the last syllable out, Diavolo slammed his hands on the desk and stood instantly. He leaned in towards them with wide eyes and a slight pout, not noticing that his sudden closeness caused MC to swallow hard.

“Satan took my cat!”

“..... I’m sorry, what?”

“My cat! He took it!”

“You... had a cat?”

“Yes! No! Kind of?”

“Diavolo, not to sound rude but... I’m really not following.”

He sat back down and bit the inside of his cheek, sighing heavily before explaining himself.

“There was this kitten, outside, it was absolutely adorable. The roundest little face, big eyes, soft fur—it was tiny, too! Just the perfect little thing, and I wanted to take it home! Take care of it! But--”

“But?” MC dragged out their syllables.

“But,” Diavolo mimicked their actions, “Barbatos said it was impossible to take care of a cat as of now. He refused to let me take it, and not only that, but I had to watch in silence as Satan came along and took the cat as his own!”

“Well, if Satan took it--”

“Then it’s in good hands, yes, Barbatos said the same; that isn’t the point!”

Diavolo held his tongue on what truly bothered him, hoping that MC-the-great-guesser wouldn’t take notice that his burst of emotions dug much deeper than just a little cat he met outside. A thought passed his mind and it clicked for him—a plan—he'd have to think more about. He composed himself, stood up and straightened out his coat before shooting another large, fake smile towards the human.

“Anyway, I have other meetings to get to, unfortunately. It is my duty, after all. My apologies for being so... emotional, but thank you for lending me your time.”

MC’s eyes followed as he stiffly walked from the room. He may have been the prince of Devildom, but MC couldn’t hide the smile on their lips towards his childish behaviour they grew to find endearing. They did wonder what deeper emotions were hidden behind his need for the cat, however.

***

Relaxing by the window, MC was startled to hear a light knock against the glass in the middle of the night. Terrified, they very slowly turned their head to meet face to face with a disheveled prince, smiling from ear to ear. Tossing fear and confusion aside, they rushed to open the window and called out to him in a hushed tone.

“Diavolo? What are you doing here? I mean... here, and also, at my window.” They grabbed his hands and helped him start to climb in. “There is a front door, you know. I’m pretty sure Lucifer wants you to use it. Should I let him know you’re here--”

“No!” Diavolo cried as he fell forward through the window. He sat up as though nothing had happened. “I’m here in secret, please keep it between the two of us!”

“Al...right, but why exactly are you here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but it is the middle of the night, and you know it seems...” They couldn’t finish their statement due to nerves and turned away to keep the red on their cheeks hidden.

“Hm? Oh, about that!” He stood up suddenly, “I’m going on an adventure! Come with me!”

“Shh! You’re the one who said this was a ‘secret visit’, so keep your voice down!”

“Right!” He lowered his voice, “I’m going on an adventure, so come with me.”

“Where exactly is your adventure going to lead us? Does Barbatos know--”

“No, he does not and he doesn’t need to!”

Diavolo’s eyebrows were drawn together, nose scrunched in irritation. He sighed and shook his head, forcing an apologetic smile on his lips.

“My apologies, I mean, this isn’t a matter that concerns Barbatos. I came to you for assistance this time, I thought perhaps we could have some fun; what do you say?”

MC twisted their lips to the side, eyeing whatever the tall man was hiding; it didn’t take much to see that he was, in fact, hiding something... but what was it? They nodded, agreeing to whatever plan he may have, knowing they couldn’t just let the prince of Devildom run off and make childish mistakes on his own. MC would get in trouble with Barbatos at that point, and they shivered at the thought of being on bad terms with him. Once they silently agreed, Diavolo captured their hand in his—blind to the eruption of blush across their face—and quickly slipped into the hall.

They were dragged along as Diavolo tiptoed dramatically, peeking around corners and hiding in the shadows. MC was flung around as though they were some sort of paper doll. Diavolo seemed way too out of his element to sneak around properly, so MC called out to him quietly to have him take a moment and explain just what he was doing.

“Stop, stop. You’re terrible at this. Where are you going anyway? The front door isn’t up the stairs--”

“Our destination is, though!” He said in a hushed shout, his movements a bit antsy. “We have to go up.”

“To where, exactly?”

“Hush!”

He covered their mouth with his hand, oblivious to how it caused their heart flutter, he focused his attention to the sound of walking in the hallway behind them. Diavolo rushed them along, stopping at a door and quickly attempting to jiggle his way through the lock. MC faced the hallway, wary of the approaching footsteps and faint voices as they kept watch; Diavolo simply used magic to unlock the handle, and pulled MC in so quick he literally swept them off of their feet. Both of them held an ear against the door and heard as two of the brothers made their way back to their rooms. Before MC could give a sigh of relief, they could hear Diavolo cooing at something in a baby tone. A light bulb went off in their head as they slowly turned to face the room, a look of distaste, disbelief, and irritation graced their features.

“We broke into Satan’s room.”

“Yes!” Diavolo held the kitten up to his face, laughing as it give his cheek a few kisses.

“A cat.”

“Yes!”

“We broke in... to Satan’s room,” MC put heavy emphasis on Satan being the owner, “to steal a cat.”

“Yes.”

“Diavolo!” MC shouted before quickly quieting back down, “We’re dead if we’re caught in here! Well, I will be. You’re the prince of Devildom, you probably won’t be. But I will be. Satan is going to get pissed, oh my god, I’m going to die, aren’t I? I am. I’m going to die. I’m--”

Diavolo held the kitten up to MC’s face, the latter stopping their rant in their tracks as the kitten gave their nose a few kisses. They couldn’t stop themselves from getting red at how cute the prince seemed to smile at them, but they forced disapproval on their features.

“He had the kitten I wanted. I couldn’t simply ask him for it, even if he agreed, Barbatos would make me return it.”

“What difference is that opposed to stealing it?”

Diavolo sat on the ground and stared at the kitten in his hands, a faraway look of longing replaced his usual cheerful smile. MC refused to let him play it off again.

“What’s actually eating at you?”

“The difference, I guess...” he couldn’t meet their eye and instead focused on petting the cat, “is the adventure. The ability to do something so ridiculous for the thrill and fun of it all. Throwing aside the fact that I’m the prince, for once. Just being a person, since people don’t tend to treat me that way. I thought... if I could have this cat, even after being told no, I could have a sense of freedom. It sounds absolutely ridiculous hearing myself say it out loud. Definitely not the presence a ruler should have, huh?”

His sad smile broke MC’s heart in two. Without a word, they moved next to him; he thought they were going to pet the cat so he offered it to them, but their hand landed on top of his head instead. Their voice was quiet and filled with honey, each word dripping with sincerity.

“I dunno. I think you’re pretty neat. I like hanging out with you, as you are.”

It was Diavolo’s turn to look dazed with wide eyes and a blush across his face. He quickly composed himself with a tender smile and a whimsical laugh; there were quite a few things running through his mind that he wished he could say to MC, but nothing would come out clear enough. Instead, the two of them resided in a peaceful silence, his smile and relaxed shoulders showed how thankful he was to hear that from them. They had gotten lost in the peace, petting the kitten and playing around with the spunky little thing, they hadn’t heard anything come up behind them, nor had they felt the frightful aura shift in the area.

“What are you two doing in my room?”

#om! diavolo #obey me! diavolo #om! diavolo x reader #obey me! diavolo x reader #om! fic #obey me! fic #om! writing #obey me! writing #satans bookmark #anyway stan diavolo i love him and his lil puppy self

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gryffindors-weasley · 3 years

Text

Lover

Ron Weasley x Reader

Summary: After a day of unpacking and delving into memories, a moment of fondness is shared with your lover.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: mentions of food, fluff fluff fluff, kissing

A/N: This is my fic for @gcdric ’s Taylor Swift writing challenge! It’s based off of the song ‘Lover’. Lyrics I’ve used will be bolded and italicized!

The day was quite perfect, you must admit; almost as if it’d been just so in correspondence with your plans. The late afternoon sunshine cast warmly across your skin, beaming bright before the clouds sweep over it fleetingly only to return just as glowing as before.

It was beautiful as you stood in front of the little cottage before you. You must have gone back to do so a thousand times by that point, but it was an act all too irresistible as you gazed at it, hand enveloped in Ron’s. It was your house.

It stood much shorter than the Burrow, most anything was now that you thought about it, but it radiated the same kind of warmth nonetheless. Wildflowers sprinkled and flourished tall and bright amongst the grass in patches of blues and yellows and reds, sprouted up from around the edges of the cracked stone slab pathway leading to a very golden yellow front door. The roof bowed inward a bit at the center, a chimney standing on the far left side of the sweet little home.

Moss and vines had mingled and curled up the side of the stone house, swirling around the door and curving around the window above it on the second floor. A small set of matching yellow benches had sat on either side of the door, its paint chipped and worn with use, telling of their exposure to the elements, but you think you like them better that way. Perhaps your favorite part was the wind chimes that still remained, singing softly each time the wind had pushed them together. It was all encompassed by a wooden sage green fenced, the numbers of your address stamped on a metal oval slab fixed to the very front. You could have asked for a better place to live with the love of your life, it was entirely more perfect than you could have imagined it to be.

Even with the beauty and dream come true standing right in front of him, Ron still couldn’t manage to hold his gaze on anything but you. With the four times you had come to the very end of the walkway to admire just what your fate had been, he found himself looking at you each and every time. He always did that when you were around, and he always would. When you’d catch him doing just that, the crimson burning in his cheeks was expected and far too worth it, for your smile melted his heart when you casted it upon him.

His hand squeezed your own as he smiled, taking a moment to admire the soft smile you held as you looked at your very first home, your forever home. And the way your gaze bounced around every little detail and every little flower. He took one last look before his smile widened at his next words.

“Love, we’ll be unpacking clear into next month if we come back out here a fifth time,” he quips, your own grin widening as you turn your head and look at him.

“Be quiet, Ronald, or there just might be a sixth,” you counter with a smile so sweet his heart nearly leaped out of his chest right then and there. But rather than gushing over you he simply scrunches his nose in response to the use of his full name, in response to your lighthearted teasing he so fully loved.

He’s got no time to gaze at you a moment longer as you squeeze his hand, tugging him along the stone path to the front door and slipping inside the house as your laughter trails behind.

Box after box littered almost every surface you could think of, the only thing of use having been the mismatched furniture dotting around the living room and kitchen, and the unmade bed upstairs. Most of the boxes had been opened simply to see what was inside before they’d been left in favor of looking in another or sharing a kiss far too distracting. Some of said boxes had been dented, their corners pushed in from when Ron and Fred had dropped them, but it’d been far too amusing to hold even a drop of anger about it. Unbeknownst to you it’d been your very lover’s fault, having been so caught up and fawning over the way you’d twirled in the living room, the breeze catching in your hair and a smile on your lips—so caught up he’d stopped abruptly and promptly got run into by his brother following just behind him.

The laughter that left your lips was much too worth it for him to care about most anything else, especially Fred’s grumbling and swat to the back of his head. Okay, maybe he’d interrupted his adoration to toss a glare in his older brother’s direction.

A gasp sounded from you and pulled his attention, and he watched as you pulled something out of a box labeled ‘Miscellaneous’. In your hand was a very crooked and poorly taped wand, a thin layer of dust coated on it. He hadn’t used it in quite a while, having gotten a new one that has yet to be broken, yet to be encountered by the Whomping Willow.

“You saved it?” He asks, laughter in his words.

“Of course I did. How else would we honor the very first time you stole your dad’s car?” You tease, tapping it against the very tip of his nose. While his heart fluttered at the thought that you’d pulled it from the trash and saved it, he snatched it from your hand with a frown soon turned to a smile.

“It doesn’t really work anymore, you know,” he says, brushing his thumb over the tape he’d put there just over a decade ago.

“Maybe it’s just the user and not the wand,” you quip, his eyes narrowing at you as you stifle a laugh.

“No way!” He raises the bent wand his eyes fixed on the lamp seated on a small table by the window. “Wingardium Leviosa.”

The spell is spoken with the utmost of concentration, the lamp in question rising very wobbly off the table before clattering unceremoniously to the floor. He flinches at the dreadful noise and you couldn’t fight your laugh any longer as you stole it back from his hand.

“Reparo!” You state, watching as each broken shard had mended with its matching piece, each fitting together so perfectly it’s like it’d never been broken at all.

Ron bites the inside of his cheek at the sight of your triumphant smile. You were right, you were always right. But, with a simple movement of his hand and a glowing orange beam of light, you found yourself pulled to him with ease, Carpe Retractum falling from his lips.

“I’m quite better at magic than you think, love,” he murmurs, smiling against your lips as you kiss him.

Your laughter puffed against his lips as you kissed him once more, spinning from his embrace much to his dismay in favor of digging through more boxes. “If you insist.”

He hadn’t missed the smile that had accompanied your teasing words, and you hadn’t missed his, and he was tempted to utter that spell once more just so he could kiss you again for far longer than just a mere moment. In fact, to do so until the end of time seemed perfectly well to him.

You pulled back a flap of another cardboard box that had yet to be labeled, smiling at the sight. You tugged the tangled clump of Christmas lights out, it’s cord thoroughly, knotted and woven with itself in what surely will be a pain come time to hang them up. In that moment, the thought hadn’t bothered you quite as much as it assuredly would in three month’s time, your smile beaming and bright.

“You kept these?” You ask, mimicking his earlier tone. He chuckles, nodding as he fumbled with the end of the cord that hadn’t been so terribly mangled.

“Christmas lights are essential to the holiday season, you know,” he defends. Regardless of your playful teasing, you knew just how much he liked them when it came time for the festive spirit. Well, they came second only to the assortment of cookies made every year without fail. “I suppose we can leave them up for as long as we want to now, can’t we?”

“This is our place, we make the rules.”

He smiled at the very thought, you both shared the same smile for that matter, and you knew for a fact that you’d been thinking of the same thing. You could make the rules. You could stay up past midnight to read without complaint of the glow of the lamps light streaming through floorboards and waking one of his siblings. He could practice quidditch with you in your very own backyard without his mother worrying over you both from the sidelines, though you’d done a well enough job worrying over him when she’s not around. Ice cream can be had for breakfast and breakfast can be had for dinner, dishes can be left in the sink and you can sleep in together till however late you wanted.

“Yeah,” he smiles, “yeah, we can.”

He takes a moment to look around the small living room, at the bookshelves encompassing nearly the entirety of the far wall. You’d filled that readily with your shared books, taking little effort to fill the old wooden shelves with stories read at least two times over. Scattered amongst them sat picture frames and trinkets, photographs of the two of you so gingerly placed behind glass frames to display a moment forever captured. Some of them were polaroids labeled haphazardly with the date they’d been taken, a brief caption scrawled at the bottom. Some of them had been family pictures taken by his mother, gifted to him for the time the day had come that you two could display them in your own home and you most certainly did.

Tiny treasures sat amongst them—bookmarks still tucked in books, little gifts from hogsmeade tucked atop shelves. Even the since emptied bottle of broom oil you’d gotten him for his birthday in fifth year. You knew he’d been eagerly excited to be a part of the quidditch team, his dreams of being a keeper rapidly becoming more than just dreams. He opened that little gift and saw that little bottle, something that might have seemed so awfully simple and practical to just anyone else. But the thought behind it was something more than just simple and more than just practical, even if your shared feelings hadn’t been known just yet. So there, in front of old books and photos, sat a little glass bottle, it’s label worn and faded as dregs of broom oil sat at the bottom.

He looked to the couch, it’s fabric frayed and worn in a few spots and edges. His cherished Chudley blanket taken from his childhood bed lay strewn across the back of the checkered material. The blanket you made after you insisted you could crochet lay splayed beside it, put together in uneven squares of colors that didn’t match as much as you’d hoped. Regardless of the outcome, Molly had been quite proud of it, and she adored the time well spent with you in the making of it.

He thought of how Harry could come and stay the night, for old times sake, Hermione too. There weren’t any guest bedrooms, so the living room would have to suffice. The couch and the loveseat hadn’t been too terribly comforting for slumber, but you suppose with a few extra pillows and blankets it’d be just fine. They never seemed to be one to complain anyway, always simply happy to spend time as a group without worry of danger or life changing events anymore. That very moment was put behind you six, nearly seven years prior.

It was fine, and everything was okay.

Your gasp had pulled him from his thoughts once more, his gaze finding you as you tugged his old quidditch sweater from a box labeled ‘Important: Do Not Lose’.

It was torn at the collar and a few strings of yarn had been pulled free from their stitching, and certainly it was washed more than a few times to rid it of its smell. You loved the tattered thing to pieces, he knew that. He knew from the very first moment you’d worn it that it’d been more than just a sweater to you. He remembers the way you smiled upon slipping it over your head, and the way you let the cuffs curl over your hands. He remembers the way you nuzzled into it that very night, the smell of cinnamon and a bit of his cologne still lingering on the fabric. He knew from that very first moment that it wouldn’t be the last time you’d stolen it from him, he knew you loved it and for that very reason he’d stopped his mother from turning it into a commemorative blanket.

You pulled it over your head, that very same smile on your face as there always was when you wore it. It hung from your shoulders in heaps of maroon and golden yellow, effectively staving off the cool September breeze. He’d had plenty more quidditch sweaters and jerseys considering his once fond hobby had turned to a career, but none of them seemed to hold as much sentiment as this.

He couldn’t help the way his heart swelled with pride when you wore it, when he thought of just how proud you’d always been. Even when he hadn’t had a successful match, even when he hadn’t been at the top of his game—you still cheered for him fiercely and boasted so highly of him that his cheeks burned at the mere thought. Whether it was just the two of you on the quidditch pitch the night before a match against Slytherin or it was from the stands at a match hours from home, you had always done it.

You looked so utterly beautiful, so completely radiant he felt his heart just might burst in his chest should you be anymore ethereal. He hadn’t known how he’d gotten quite so lucky, but he had.

You look to Ron across the unfinished living room, his smile soft and beaming and focused entirely on you.

“What is it?” You ask, laughing softly as your cheeks flush under his gaze, your hands smoothing over the yarn. The look on his face then is photo worthy, but holding it in your memory will have to suffice.

“Dance with me?”

Your smile widened, heart hammering in your chest with lovestruck excitement at the mere thought of it. Not to mention the grin tugging so cutely at the corners of his mouth that made it absolutely impossible to keep from mirroring it. It was often that Ron Weasley’s actions spoke far louder than words, that a simple look could declare a thousand ‘I love you’s’. It was then, in that very moment as he stood contently amongst a dozen boxes yet to be unpacked, that the look he so lovingly held just might’ve spoken a million.

You walk to him without a second’s hesitation and take his offered hand, squealing when he pulls you close. His own laughter soon fills the room as he twirls you once, twice, the action wonderfully dizzying as you settle into a rhythm not quite in sync with each other. His smile was beaming and bright as the sun streamed into the room, everything it landed on golden and orange.

“Ron Weasley, I thought you hated dancing?” You say, your smile just as teasing as your words.

“People change, right?” He shrugs, quick to rain a flurry of kisses across your flushed cheek as his laughter presses into your skin. That is, until he’d parted from you just enough for you to see a glimpse of realization cross his face. “Don’t tell my brothers.”

Your laughter is immediate as you kiss him, his brief moment of panic simmering into a smile that’s nearly too fond for his own good. “I can’t make any guarantees.”

He groans in protest against your very kiss, lifting you up to spin you in his arms in the sweetest of retaliations. Somehow, he believes the lifetime of teasing from his brothers would be entirely worth it if only to see you smile, if only to hear you laugh.

“I’m only kidding, my love,” you giggle, brushing the hair out of his eyes.

“Yeah yeah, sure,” he grins, kissing down your cheek.

Can I go where you go?

This very moment was one that’d stick with him for the rest of his life, happily, one that he’d get to live each and every day and the thought alone was unbelievable. It was your house, your home, a place entirely the perfect fit for the two of you to flourish and thrive and spend for seasons in. It was a culmination of the very things that made the two of you who you are.

Truthfully, he’d follow you anywhere without hesitation. He’d travel to the very ends of the earth if it meant he’d be with you, and you the same. He knew since he was sixteen that he’d wanted to be wherever you were and wherever you will be. He hadn’t thought at the time that he’d wind up in a home amongst the rolling hills, tucked away to yourselves. He hadn’t thought he’d even have the nerve to tell you he loves you. His future had been far brighter than he could have ever imagined it to be.

And you, you were right where you wanted to be, right where you needed to be. Ron Weasley was the love of your life, a dull moment never shared. You felt you could do just about anything so long as he was with you, go anywhere so long as he was there. He was loving, he was kind, he was true.

Can we always be this close?

The laughter had since dulled to breathy sighs and soft smiles, a gesture you’re very aware of when you lift your gaze to look up at him once more. A smile that’s shared most tenderly in the close proximity, noses brushing and breath sweeping warmly over lips. It was then that you lean on your toes and kiss him, his very grip on your hand tightening a fraction and your swaying becoming distracted and stilled. His smile was immediate against your lips, telling of just how profoundly giddy you’d made him, how wholeheartedly he loved you.

“Bloody hell,” he whispers, his lips brushing over yours as he kisses you once more. The softness of his laughter dances across your skin, his forehead resting on yours as he makes no effort to hide his smile. “I love you. I really, really love you.”

Your nose scrunches against his and your own smile widens and soon you find yourself kissing the very tip of his nose, his cupid’s bow, his lips. The warmth blossoming in your chest is a feeling most unbeatable to all else; it was love. It lanced through you with certainty and settled permanently within your heart, a feeling so frighteningly wonderful, and so dizzying in its wake.

The two of you began to sway softly again to music unheard, hands clasped as your other rests on his chest as the sun dips lower in the sky, the long yet happy day soon to be put behind you. One more kiss is pressed to his cheek before you dip your head to rest on his shoulder, your eyes fluttering closed with all the contentment in the world. And softly, you murmur, “I love you. I really, really love you.”

You’re my, my, my, my,

Lover.

—

Tags: @anchoeritic @vogueweasley @ch0colatefr0gs @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq @snitches-at-dawn @dracosathenaeum @harrysweasleys @awritingtree @writeroutoftime

#laniestaylorswiftwc #ron weasley #ron weasley one shot #ron weasley fanfiction #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley x you #ron weasley fluff #ron weasley fic #ron weasley headcanon #ron weasly imagine

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ciaran-archive · 3 years

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Serious question. How do you write long stories? Is there a technique or advice for that? No matter what story I have in mind, I can't seem to tell it in anything longer than 1 to 2k. Writing 5k is tiring already, where do people seriously get that stamina to even do 50 or 100 or 200k? It's mind-blowingly amazing.

there is nothing less worthy or amazing about writing shorter fic - i know writers who struggle with it, and i’ve come to inhabit that position somewhat myself, though i’m determined to stay in practice. it’s a different skillset, that’s all. your fics aren’t worse for being shorter.

that said i will not deny that longer fics generate far more engagement from fandoms simply by virtue of updating more often → being on top of the ao3 tag when people first open it → getting more clicks and being considered less ‘frivolous’ (which is bullshit, but what can you do)

if you’re dead sure you want to write longer fic, i would first recommend reading this post about writing drabbles, which i promise is relevant to the point i’m about to make.

Because drabbles are about one moment. You don't need to know exactly what happened before this moment of dialogue, or what happens next, or what's happening around it. You don't have to do any of the planning you might do for a longer fic, but you also don't have the space to let the scene lead in and develop naturally. You've got 100 words.

a lot of writing a longer story is about establishing the scope of your story, deciding what beats you want to hit. there are a lot of ways to go about this; [some people like to outline. i don’t outline, ever, so if you want help for outlining you should look at the other sources on the internet. there are quite a few.] i’m going to talk about the way i’ve learnt to do it.

so when i’m writing a short fic, the thing i’m considering is one or two ideas, and one or two moments (short in this case being under 5k). this also depends on the style i’m going for - fics with sparser styles can fit more scenes, if i’m going for my usual style, each scene takes about 700-2000 words at least and therefore takes up more space. a lot of how i eased into writing longer fics was focusing on stylistic changes - you can push up the word count of a fic by going moment by moment. note the difference between:

They’d been standing next to each other as they spoke; now Felix turned to him in the rain, startled by the admission of weakness. He reached out clumsily, bumping his hand against Ryan’s until he took the hint and grabbed on.

and

The rain made it near-impossible to hear Ryan speaking, but the harshness in his voice would’ve been audible through a hurricane. “So you ran away,” he said, like he hadn’t expected this.

“Course I did,” Felix snapped. “What was I supposed to do? Stick it out and let her kill me?” I almost did, he added under his breath.

Ryan’s sensitive werewolf ears, of course, caught that. “I’m glad you did,” he amended, as though it pained him to admit it. “I would’ve - I did the same. It’s all you can do, sometimes.”

Felix turned to him, blinking through the curtains of water. Ryan was slouching in the downpour, eyes narrowed elsewhere. Mostly he was startled by the admission of weakness - rare in a person who prided himself so thoroughly on being reliable and independent. He reached out, struck by the urge to offer whatever clumsy comfort he was capable of; his hand bumped against Ryan’s, and he held it there until Ryan caught up and wove their fingers together.

His hands were wet and cold, and he gripped so hard Felix’s very human bones ached, but he wouldn’t have pulled away now. Not when he’d been the one to offer.

it’s not even that one is necessarily better than the other - they both work, and they’re working in different ways. they’re set in the same scene, conveying the same beat - reaching out to comfort someone in the wake of vulnerability. it’s just that one is longer, and therefore gives you more room to - set the scene (rain, being unable to hear each other) - use dialogue to show what is being told in the first example - convey extra information about the characters (actually, if this was a scene i was writing in a fic or novel, the stuff about ryan being a werewolf would already be known to the reader, so i would use that space to convey something else about ryan in that moment) - elaborate on felix’s internal state: the transition from defensive to curious/surprised to gentle - linger for a sentence or two on the moment of connection

this is about unraveling a scene and making it bigger than it was, breaking it apart into tinier beats and describing each one in the narrative. what happens when you do that and your fic doesn’t get much bigger still?

back to scope! we understand, as people who read and write and live, that the part of a story that you choose to depict in a narrative is not the entire story: events happen off-screen. some of them happened before the story started, and they will continue to happen after the story ends. the narrative is only showing you an arc, a particular series of events.

when you’re writing fic, you have in fact tremendous amounts of flexibility when it comes to the scope of a story. you can write something that is about a single moment in canon, and trust that your audience is following along because they have the context already. so you don’t need to waste time on setting it up, which often means - if you’re given to a certain kind of fic writing (canon compliant / small divergences / missing scenes / character studies) your fics will end up not being very long because you’re not reiterating what you don’t need to reiterate. your idea is small because it inhabits a small space, is squished between canon events, and so doesn’t ever get bigger. if this is what is happening, it’s good, and you should try to preserve this going forward.

people who are writing longer fic are, simply, working with bigger ideas*. they’re not just going “what if he said what he wanted in this scene instead of going home?” and writing the bit where they kiss immediately after - they’re also going “what if this changed everything in the future? what happens if they tackle all their problems together from now on? what new problems arise from this?”

*hopefully they are working with bigger ideas. i have seen longfics that are just incredibly fucking tedious because the author swallowed a thesaurus and had a tenuous grasp on plotting to begin with.

that’s for a canon divergent fic, presumably. you might also be writing a post-canon fic, with its own set of pre-fic events and a new set of problems to deal with. currently, for example, i’m writing a fic where akira and goro were dating after canon, broke up, and stayed together in a deeply dysfunctional way after that - and the consequences for them now that they’re forced to deal with the mess they’ve made of their lives, together and apart. so now they have to deal with: the catalyst for dealing with their old problems, which is a problem in itself, and their old problems, which have been festering for a really long time.

which forms the core of the scope i’m talking about. i have to go through a bunch of scenes to set this fic up - i need to show their old problems and their new problems, i need to explain why the old ones haven’t been dealt with already, i need to set up the potential for dealing with them and the necessity of doing so, i need to give them places to start, and also i want to allow them to fail so they can choose to start again. i know these things because i have some idea of the kind of story i want to tell. if i didn’t know this, my story would not go anywhere by itself, and i would have to start outlining scene by scene the way people who actually outline do it, and i hate doing that because then i never write.

if you can outline and it doesn’t make you want to chew wood, then i highly recommend picking up the habit. it’s very useful, and the methodical approach is a fantastic failsafe for the moments when you (me) get stuck on your fic (breakup au) and have to stop writing for several weeks in order to figure out a single fucking plot point that will let you move forward and

anyway.

so yeah! to sum up;

find a larger scope for your story

get in the habit of picking apart beats into discrete moments and guiding the narrative through them

learn to outline if you can

last thing - which is perhaps the most vital and least reliable - stamina.

you WILL lose interest in half the longer fics you write. it WILL suck. if you think you know pain because you have 700 words of a fic and can’t get through the last 400, i promise you it is like that but much worse because you have 7000 words now, or 17000 words, and you are stuck with no way forward. it will suck so BAD.

don’t beat yourself up over it. once you’re in the habit of writing something long, you will retain that habit, and be able to apply it elsewhere. the words aren’t wasted, they’re practice, and they’re worth what they’ve taught you.

but! all the scope and internal scene-building and outlines won’t help you if you do not (and this is not as bad as everyone makes it sound) actually write. you HAVE to learn to actually write. you have to figure out what you like about writing and make a longfic outline [/ scene beats notes chart / themes mind map / tumblr tag of inspiring quotes and photography] that consists entirely of stuff you love and then you have to sit down and write your fic. it is not terribly scary. it’s okay to fail, but you also have no way around this.

i hope this helped, and good luck!

#writelogging #ok 2 rb #anon #asks

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deepdarkdelights · 3 years

Text

Content Tag Game!

Thank you @yoongsisbae for tagging me! I love Handshakes of a Lifetime, by the way, it feeds my need for OT7 wonderfully 😫💜

1. what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)?

Oh boy, okay: Twilight, Black Butler, Attack on Titan, My Hero Academia, Teen Wolf, Young Justice, Batman Arkham Knight (video game), Marvel, Once Upon A Time, Narnia, Doctor Who, Rise of The Guardians, HTTYD, Fable (video game series), Percy Jackson

2. what fandoms are you currently writing for?

BTS 💜

3. how long have you been writing?

Okay, this is kind of weird, I wrote my first fanfiction when I was nine but never published it, when I was twelve I began posting to Quotev and Wattpad so I would say...eight years? I refuse to look back at either accounts because my writing was horrendous...I was a child.

4. on which platforms do you post your stories?

At this point in time, Tumblr and ao3.

5. what is your favorite genre to write?

Dark / Yandere / Horror. Anything that would make you freaked out I guess 😅

6. are you a pantser or a planner?

Uh, a bit of both? I usually have an idea of what I want to happen in a story so I have a vague outline, but as I am writing I tend to add more things and branch out from the plan. When I first started writing and posting to Tumblr, I used automatic writing and was a full-fledged pantser.

7. one-shot or multi-chapter?

If I had to choose, one shot. I feel less tied down and not as pressured to write when it comes to a one-shot. I would like to make a multi-chapter story one day though!

8. what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion?

I like usually something longer, so anywhere from 6-10k is good for me.

9. what is your longest published story? is it complete?

Actually, 10 Seconds is my longest story because it has multiple chapters. At this point in time, it is 38,250k.

10. which story did you enjoy working on the most?

Hmmmmm, probably Predator. It was my first fic after the end of The Bouquet Series and I got to flex more of my creativity and relax with it. It was fun to play with more classic horror tropes as well.

11. favorite request you’ve written and why?

I don't really take requests, I did ask for help in writing Tae's fic for The Bouquet Series and I had two asks that suggested an actor element and that was how Cut was made! So, that 😂

12. are there reoccurring themes in your stories?

Hm, the concept of time is rather prevalent in a lot of my fics now that I think about it. Weather and location are reoccurring, I like to write scenes in forests or scenes with rain. I think another common theme is not to trust grandmothers as funny as that is, in two fics we have had grandmas with bad intentions! Also, references to good and evil, Hades and Persephone, Adam and Eve, temptation, as well as predator and prey dynamics.

13. current number of wips?

Three! One is currently being written, and the other two are in the planning phases.

14. three things you have noticed about your own writing?

(1) It's fucking long 😂. I always go in with a plan to write something shorter, 8k max, and I always end with a fucking monster of a story. I also tend to overexplain, I think. (2) A lot of my writing is describing an action, facial expressions, scenes, and inner monologue. I think that is my way of trying to immerse readers or make them see my exact vision. But it can be pretty tedious and probably boring to read. I need more dialogue too, I feel like I spend too much time showing instead of telling. (3) Sometimes I think I sound like a high and mighty asshole like I am trying too hard to be profound or something so I try to dial it back a bit.

15. a quote you like from a published story.

"He could tell she had injured her head as well, scarlet drops of blood had streamed down the contours of her face and a pool of blood had formed beneath her sprawled tresses. She looked like she had a crimson halo beneath her head, carving its way into the soft, white snow under her. She was ethereal, like an angel that he had found just after they had been dropped from heaven. Forever resting, forever beautiful, and forever young." (The Stranger)

16. a quote from an unpublished story.

"Loving you has been the one pain I always want to endure. Being with you sets my heart on fire, it makes my muscles ache, it makes my lungs burn, and everything so much more complicated. But it’s the best brand of pain I could ask for.”

17. a space for you to say something to your readers.

Hi! I hope you enjoyed learning more about me and my writing if you stopped by and read this! I have been having a tough time writing as of late, but doing little things like this has made me very happy and has made me want to write more often! I am still working on my next fic, progress is going a little slower though. School starts soon too and I am going to be working two jobs and hopefully going back to cheerleading. So let's spend as much time together as we can before I get busy again! I am still aiming to write during the school year so wish me luck! Thank you for reading 💜

I tag: @chummywchimmy @chimchimsauce @chaoticpuff17 @sinning-on-a-sunday @celestial-moonlight @unfurlingtwinklingstarx @scribblemetaetwo

#tag game #content tag game #get to know me #get to know the author

17 notes · View notes

vorish-musing · 3 years

Text

Please Don’t Go (I’ll Eat You Whole)

U//nbrella A//cademy Vore Fic!

Hey guys! its been for FUCKING ever since I’ve created a story, its a bit shorter,, but if you guys want i do have a bit of a follow up fic I can post later on!

but this is the Klaus Hargreeves fic i promised y’all!

Spoiler Warning for Umbrella Academy S1 and S2.

Trigger Warnings: this story contains soft, safe, G/t vore. if you do not like this, I suggest not reading. this story also mentioned digestion and death--neither of which happens! there is also substantial alcohol mention-- klaus is literally drunk the entire time.

It was chance that Dave came by to the house, wanting to apologize to Klaus for the argument and the fight in the diner-- and even though Klaus was happy to see him, the fact that he was piss drunk made it a whole lot harder to keep his mouth shut about what he knew about Dave. the alcohol in his blood wanting to word vomit his way into telling Dave everything.

From his favourite food, favourite book-- and to some details Dave didn’t even want to know about himself. Walking through the garden, it was very apparent that Dave could not believe one word out of Klaus’s mouth.

Klaus didn’t blame him, all he really did was lie and con-- exactly what he was doing with the cult. If Dave was talking about anything else, he would’ve been right.

But he wasn’t. And Klaus had to make him believe, had to try and save the kid, even if that meant Dave would never be with him.

It had all come to a head as Klaus stumbled, trying to get him to not enlist, and he let it slip. Dave's death date--and where he had died.

As Klaus spoke, he could see Dave's hand shaking as it balled into a fist, “Even if I believed you. It wouldn’t matter, it's an honour to die for your country”

Klaus laugh at the naïve patriotism, “that's Bull--”

“I’ve already enlisted.”

Dave's words sliced through Klaus’s hope like a sword, his breath hitching as the words escaped daves mouth, the kid looking at Klaus with anger and confusion.

“you...What?! That's not supposed to happen yet.”

“The other day after i saw you, my uncle took me down to the recruitment office” He looked Klaus down, clearly trying to make it seem like he was disgusted by the man before him, but no matter what Dave did or said, Klaus knew him, knew his secrets, almost like he knew his thoughts.

‘It's all some kind of parlor trick, he’s a con artist’

“He made me sign up, I ship out next week”

Though Dave couldn’t shake the strange feeling that crept up his spine, like he knew who Klaus was, he could feel his face go red

‘Don’t let him get in your head’

Klaus almost fell to his knees at the reveal, he couldn't save him, he was going to that war and he was going to die, and there's nothing Klaus could do to stop him.

He couldn’t stop thinking back to the nightclub, when they were dancing together, holding each other-- even if he could never have that again, he was willing to do everything in his power to make sure Dave wouldn’t have to suffer a death to a stupid war that ended in the same way it had started.

“I have to go, save this story for the next time you want to recruit someone” Dave blinked a few tears away, looking away to quickly wipe them, as if he wasn’t phased by this at all.

As the man tried to walk away, Klaus took his chance-- he had no idea what chance that was, but he was going to do whatever his mind came up with.

“W-wait!” he blurted out, erratic and desperate, making Dave turn around, shocked at how loud the outburst was, not hearing him speak louder than a regular speaking voice before now.

‘Shit...he's staring at me’

“Y-you….” Klaus took a deep breath, calming his voice, trying to sound more rational “you got me.” he shrugged.

Dave blinked, “...what?”

His curiosity peaked, Dave turned around fully, Klaus let a smile slip out

“You’re got me, I’m a fraud” he spoke these words almost gleefully, his own pain being masked by the pure glee of someone he could finally tell the truth to “I didn’t mean to start all of this, but I’m so fucked up, I can’t stop”

Dave straightened his back, looking Klaus up and down “I thought so...glad you could admit it?”

Klaus smiled a big, toothy grin “can I get you a drink? What you’re….23 correct? I can get you the best drinks that’ll knock your socks off-- think of it as a going away present--O-or better yet, a congratulations to finding out my con”

Klaus stumbled over to Dave, who stepped back slightly.

“This...isn’t another attempt to...convert me, Right?” Klaus laughed, shaking his head--like Dave was crazy to even think that-- “fine. One drink, then i'm gone.”

“Of course” Klaus lied through his teeth. Taking a deep breath as he walked towards Dave, right passed him. “One drink.”

The two of them walk to the house, Klaus leading Dave, who was apprehensive, but putting on a brave face.

Ideas swarmed into Klaus’s head on what he could do, he could try get Ben to lift him up again and show he’s not actually lying, and he could also just keep him here for a few days, convince him the war was idiotic.

With every thought pulsating through his head, an even more ridiculous one came to light, it was like his brain was trying to one-up itself.

Suddenly, it was like a lightbulb flashed into his head, it was the perfect plan--

Klaus jumped back a few steps as Ben appeared beside him, almost making him fall--he looked at the drunk man with annoyance before speaking, “Klaus, show him to the door and leave, I know what you’re thinking”

Dave jumped back as well “what the hell are you doing?”

Klaus looked to Ben, who almost had a pleading look on his face, then to Dave--it was clear he was on thin ice with the kid.

“Sorry sorry!” Klaus brushed himself off “thought i saw a bee, disgusting things” he turned to Ben-- he turned to nothing in Dave’s eyes--”Such pests, I think they need to stay in their own business”

As ben rolled his eyes, Dave's face twisted into more concern for Klaus, rather than anger, “...Right”

“Anyways” Klaus cringed at the look Dave gave him as he turned to the house again, and quietly, as Ben walked back up to him, he spoke to his dead brother.”

“I won’t if I can convince him.”

“You’re plastered, you won’t convince anyone”

Klaus waved his hand in the air “wow! These bees are crazy tonight! Don’t you think, Dave?” he turned to the man, who just stared back, following him sheepishly as they got to the door.

“I don’t see any bees.” he spoke matter-of-factly.

As Klaus opened it, gesturing for Dave to come inside-- he almost felt like the Witch in Hansel and Gretel, luring the man inside. “I guess you’re not looking hard enough.”

Dave could feel a pit in his stomach as he walked into the giant manor, paintings of Klaus plastering the walls with plants up to the ceiling.

With every step Dave could feel something sinking deeper and deeper in the already established pit in his stomach-- he couldn’t put his finger on it, it just felt so...off.

Surly he wasn't the only person who had found out his Con, and why was he being so nice about it all of a sudden? He was denying and Denying all he could a little bit ago, what was going on?

Klaus looked over his shoulder to look at Dave from time to time-- almost to make sure he was actually following-- Through the corner of his eye he could see Ben following, giving Klaus a death glare--- which technically every glare would be a death one since he was….dead.

Klaus finally stumbled into his personal room “This is my sanctuary away from the mob”

It was a small room, only a small bed, and the floor was covered in pillows, it actually looked quite comfortable.

“Feel free to sit wherever you want. I’ll get you a drink.”

Once Dave had taken a step into the room, Klaus closed the door quickly, making the kid jump ever so slightly.

Finally, Klaus had hit all of Dave's red flags, “Actually I need to be back to my Uncle, I should get going before he finds out where--”

“Sh sh shh.” Klaus shushed him, “Sure you don’t need a drink, but just stay a bit longer? We still have so much to talk about” with those words, Klaus popped open a random half full bottle of alcohol, and without another moment to lose, drinking almost all of it, cringing as it burned going down his throat.

Dave stared, just shocked that one person could drink so much alcohol, since he was already drunk.

“Talk about?”

Klaus, now losing any more of his sobriety that was left, finally spoke, his words slurring ever so slightly, “I know you’re all ‘patriotic’ and shit, but joining a hopeless war and--”

He was cut off

“Are you kidding?” Dave scoffed at Klaus, “I fucking knew it. I knew you wouldn’t just admit to me that you’re a fucking con.”

Klaus shook his head, “you have to listen to me, Dave. I may not be an actual prophet but i do know when you’re gonna die, you have to believe me”

“Shut the hell up! You’re just… a wannabe commie with a shit for brains group backing you.” Dave turned around, preparing to leave without another word.

That was before Klaus bolted up, practically sliding into the door-- a loud bang following as he used himself to barricade the door.

“You are going to die on February 21st, 1968--”

“Get out of my way--”

“Its on A Shau Valley, Hill 68--”

“Shut UP!” Dave pulled away from the drunken man, “I don’t care--Whatever you’re pulling out of your ass, you need to stop. This is ridiculous.” Dave backed up until his back hit the closet, startling him slightly, making him flinch.

‘Why am I so scared?’

Klaus turned to ben, as he sat on the bed, watching-- as if he was witnessing a car crash and couldn’t look away.

“Let it go, Klaus. Let Him go.”

“I fucking CAN”T” Klaus yelled at Ben, “He’s going to DIE.” tears threatened the older mans eyes as he wobbled back and forth.

Dave took the chance he got as Klaus was (or what he thought he was) hallucinating, He bolted for the door, pushing Klaus to the side, who fell to the floor with a yelp.

“Just stay away from me!” Dave grabbed the door handle, about to twist it-- until he felt Klaus grab onto his ankle, making him look down.

He was sprawled on the ground, hanging onto His pant leg tightly.

Pain, anger, and sadness, mixed with a shit ton of alcohol finally took control, bubbling up into him as he allowed his emotions to take control.

Dave couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. “You have to know that's not going to stop me.”

“I’m not stopping you.” Dave's stomach dropped as Klaus chuckled back at him, a deep, almost menacing chuckle.

“Wha--” Dave couldn’t finish the word as a deep, dizzying feeling washed over him like a tsunami.

“Be careful, I don't want you hurt you”

Dave fell to his knees, which seemed like a much farther drop than he would’ve thought, he could feel Klaus’s hand slip off of him.

Klaus watched, sitting up into a crouched position, elbows resting on his knees, hands on his face, almost like a child, a smile wide as he watched in fascination as Dave fell to the floor and began shrinking.

He was always interested in this part, how each person he would shrink, reacted once they really understood what was going on, he called it his own guilty pleasure-- he would never admit it-- people would think he was nuts.

Not that shrinking people isn’t nuts.

“Wh-Whats happening?”

The same thing everyone said-- Dave held his head tightly as the dizzying feeling got worse and worse--though he opened his eyes as wide as possible, though his vision was extremely blurry--he could see one thing.

Klaus standing over him.

‘What the….fuck?’

Klaus looked down at the shrinking man, getting smaller and smaller by the moments passing by “What's happening? Exactly what you think.”

Ben rolled his eyes “Give him a chance to change his mind, please”

“I will!” I will! Now go haunt someone else”

Finally, as if by some miracle, Dave’s vision came back-- though once he saw what was in front of him, it seemed like regaining his vision was more of a curse.

Seeing a drunk, probably psychotic Giant in front of him staring him down, and he was talking to himself.

“I-I” Dave finally found his voice in the turmoil his head was put through, “w-what the fuck did you...you do?!” his voice started out small, but it was like it grew with every word he spoke.

Klaus couldn’t help but giggle softly, “Sorry, I know this is probably really bad for you but, you just look so goddamned cute~” Klaus reached his hand out slowly, and to that, Dave backed up right into the doorframe.

Klaus was wrong, this wasn’t just ‘really bad’ for Dave, it was Terrifying for the young lad, he felt the wood hit his back, his eyes darting around to find another way to get away from the looming man.

‘I could run under the door’ he paused for a moment ‘He’d get me before then’

“But…” Klaus pulled his hand back and shifted, so he was sitting with his legs crossed, hands still resting on his face. “To answer your obvious question; I shrunk you”

“I--How--you…” Dave sputtered, his mind scrambled in between what was really happening and how to stop it “Make me normal again!” Was all he could come up with, having to deal with the fact that this was actually happening.

Klaus then frowned, “Well that's entirely up to you, pal” The normal-sized man shrugged at Dave, who just blinked in surprise “You just have to do one thing for me.”

Dave could feel his heart sink at his words--‘what the fuck did he want?’

“s-Sure man, Anything, what is it?” Dave spoke, not even trying to mask the desperateness in his voice.

“Two words.” Klaus held up two fingers, “Draft” one finger down “Dodge” the other finger went down.

‘It’s still about this?’--Dave was almost surprised at what lengths this guy went to so he could just simply not go to war--”I-I can’t, I wasn’t even drafted--”

Klaus just waved a hand “Oh sure you can, millions of men did the same, some for multiple wars, its not too much of a big deal, just lay low for a bit. They’ll stop eventually”

‘Multiple wars?’

He was fucking crazy.

“I-I can’t”

“Why not?”

Dave couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just agree with this man, his uncle would probably say his pride to honesty or some shit like that----“My uncle will kill me! I’d rather die for my country instead at the hands of my shitty family!” Dave paused, realizing what he had just said-- he wasn’t lying, which is really what surprised him.

There was a pause from Klaus as well. Seeing the shock climb onto Dave's face made his fall into a frown, shaking his head.

“You could live here. No Cult shit needed.” Klaus tried once again to get him to agree, just a simple ‘ok’ would work for him, anything that could make this man stop his own death sentence… though one look from Dave made him realize that it was a dumb idea, letting out a slight sigh that turned into a chuckle “Scratch that, they never leave you alone--Fuck they never leave me Alone.”

Dave Stared up into Klaus’s enormous eyes, though Dave's eyes wandered seeing Klaus smile--his Mouth, it was huge-- Don’t think about that, you’ll give him ideas, Dave.

Though unbeknownst to the shrunken man, Klaus was already thinking it.

And his brain was close to considering it.

Klaus stared down Dave.

Dave stared up at Klaus.

It was a standoff.

Klaus could hear ben-- right beside his ear, in a hushed whisper “Let him go.”

He shook his head

“If i let him go, he dies”

“w-What?!” Dave called out, his heart sinking lower and lower as he watched this man seemingly talking to air. “w-what are you doing?!”

“He won’t forgive you for this if you do it.”

“---I don’t care! You're not the fucking angel on my shoulder--fuck off!” Klaus slurred throughout his tirade, turning to Ben with a glare “dead people don't get an opinion on what I do with the Living”

When Klaus turned, Dave took his chance.

The boy turned--stumbling into a run towards the door, he could barely feel the steps he was taking, it almost felt like he was floating--his heart pounded right outside his chest, if he was just fast enough maybe he could get away before Klaus even noticed.

Maybe.

Possibly.

No.

“h-HEy!”

Dave spun around at Klaus’s outburst, being caught red handed, right by the door, ready to crawl under it--- his stomach sank in, forming a large pit in the bottom of it.

Though before Dave could register what he was looking at, a pair of extremely large hands scooped him into their clutches, and he could only think of one thing---

getoutgetoutGETOUT

Klaus held the man tightly as he pushed against his fingers, kicking, screaming, punching--you name it, he was doing it--- all in an attempt to get out of the giants grasp.

“Come on, you didn't have to do that! I wanted to let you go.”

Dave paused, hearing the soft, almost disappointed tone Klaus’s voice produced, the tone hiring with each word, it was eerie how hurt the man was by this.

Klaus was even more upset on the inside, his gut twisting and his chest tightening. He didn’t look up to Ben, but the ghost could tell who he was speaking to.

“I have to do this”

Dave was about to yell out the obligatory “do what?!”

That was until he was brought closer to Klaus’s face, he cringed at the lingering pungent smell of alcohol on the mans breath.

“h-Hey...Klaus-- Listen I--”

“Don’t talk, It’ll make it worse”

“W-what?!”

Klaus didn't need to use words, as his lips parted, it was all too clear what his intentions were.

Dave's mouth hung open for a moment, waiting for a yell to claw its way out of him, something that would at least make sure that he was fighting back.

But nothing arose, he was just frozen in time, as the man before him simply pushed him into his mouth.

Dave's eyes watered as the smell of alcohol burned through the air, making him slightly gag. Fucking gross.

Somehow, this was what brought him back out of his shock.

Klaus laid back, smiling softly he rolled his eyes back in pleasure, it had been so long since he had eaten someone...at least someone that he actually wanted to eat.

For the first few years, having the cult members beg for him to eat him was exhilarating, he had never gotten to eat people before, and having these people basically put themselves on a silver platter was fantastic.

Until it wasn’t

He didn’t realize that he could actually get sick of this feeling.

The feeling of being actually full, having something alive inside of him, moving, breathing.

When its said like that I sound like a psychopath.

Dave let out a yell as Klaus began rolling him around, pushing him against his tongue, tasting the poor lad. The thick drool clung onto him, he couldn’t fight back, his limbs sliding against anything he tried to push against, the tongue, the teeth, he couldn’t grip onto anything.

This was really happening, he was in another human beings mouth.

He couldn’t stop himself, he had to yell out “HELP ME! ANYBODY PLEASE!” every second he yelled, the more hoarse his voice was.

Klaus couldn't help but smile, maybe the arrogance and narcissism in him was bursting at the seams, it was strange how some of the people in that very house would be on their knees--begging Klaus to do this to them.

Klaus rolled his head backwards slightly, head hitting the wood of the bookshelf as he did so.

“You can still let him out”

Ben sat right in front of Klaus, staring at him with disgust.

This hadn’t been the first time he had watched this same scenario, though it usually involved drugs and alcohol.

“Mmmm!” Klaus shook his head, shushing the ghost, and rattling dave around, the man sliding from side to side across the tongue below him.

“Come on Klaus the kid learned his lesson--”

“Mmm!”

Ben should’ve known this wouldn’t work, Klaus being angry, drunk and overconfident--it was a bad concoction destined to go wrong.

“Just let him go!”

“Mmfine!” finally, a slurred out word ben could recognize emerged out of it.

Klaus’s lips parted as he opened his mouth wide for Ben to watch.

Dave wheezed as his eyes adjusted to the light before him. He was staring at the other side of the room, the mountain of pillows and blankets on the other side of the room.

Out….outside!

Through the slippery and slimy cave, Dave pushed himself forewards, which was less of a push, more of a slide foreward.

Ben couldn’t help but feel pity for the poor dude, and if he was alive, he’d probably just outright snatch him out of the drunkards mouth.

But alas, being dead sucked.

And simply out of spite, Klaus swallowed. Staring into Ben's eyes as he did so.

Dave let out a loud gasp as his legs were pulled into the darkness, forcing himself down his throat

“NO!”

The throat muscles began to drag Dave down, pulling his body deeper and deeper into the tube below him.

Klaus shut his mouth, his point made very clear to Ben, who just sat there---mouth agape and looking disgusted at the man.

Though Klaus paid no mind to this, letting his head roll back into the bookshelf, a small thud following.

He wished he could just enjoy what he could, without his brother bothering him about every little thing under the sun.

It’s not like he was hurting the kid!

Klaus brought his hand to his throat, prodding, feeling the lad kicking through his skin as he began his descent into the esophagus.

Dave couldn’t believe it.

But he had to.

He was being eaten alive. His body being shoved down an esophagus.

Actually no, ‘being’ shoved, would imply that it was force. No. he was being pulled gently down, just another piece of food for the stomach to enjoy.

As dave traveled down his throat, slowly but surely, klaus found himself grinning, a hand on his stomach prematurely, waiting for the moment his prey arrived.

Though a small pout on his face formed as his tongue dragged across his lips

“Dammit Ben!” Klaus lifted his head, “I didn’t even get a good taste of ‘im!”

Though as he looked to face the ghost, Ben was nowhere to be found.

The room was empty.

“Fine! Be like that!”

Dave cringed as his body spilled into Klaus’s stomach, the putrid smell of alcohol pungent in the air.

Dave could’ve gotten drunk right off the fumes.

“no….nononoNONONO!” Dave pushed against the organ, cringing at the squelching sound it made around his hands. “PLEASE---PLEASE STOP!”

Klaus dropped his hand down to his bare stomach, the organ slightly mishapen, he blamed it on the kid, not the massive amount of alcohol he consumed.

He pushed back at the skin below his hands as Dave struggled, “thats not gonna do much, its best to just relaaaax”

Klaus began softly massaging the organ, small circular motions, though it didn’t help much, feeling the man continue to kick and yell to him.

But damn, it felt good.

As he continued to ignore the yells-- the pleading from within the confines of him, he could feel himself growing more and more exhausted.

“Well then, davey” Klaus patted his stomach, covering his mouth as a small burp escaped his stomach. “this has been a great time, but I am exhausted.” he groaned, getting up from his sitting positon, bringing his hand back down to his stomach.

Daves heart sunk...that meant...that meant….”p-please klaus…” his voice choked out “please don't kill--”

Dave let out a loud gasp as his surroundings shifted with each step, feeling a sickness inside of himself as if he was on a ship at sea.

Klaus shushed the man, “I already said you're gonna be fine!” did he? He couldn’t remember “I’m not going to hurt you, and if i was, I wouldn’t be this elaborate, trust me.” he fell right back down to the mountain of pillows, the softness engulfing him all around.

It was hard to believe a man who had eaten him alive.

Klaus brought his head up, poking his stomach. “Hey dave?!”

The kid paused his struggling, feeling the finger specifically prodding at him, “w-what?!”

“If its any consolation, you tasted really good”

“...its really not.” the disgusted tone in his voice growing slightly.

“Welp, can’t blame me for trying. Try and get some rest now.”

“W-wait you can’t just leave me in here!” dave pushed at the slimy walls, his hands slipping and sliding around, it was hard to get a grip.

Klaus just shifted around, making Dave wobble even more-- Placing his hand overtop of the organ containing the young man.

It didn’t take long for klaus to pass out, his full stomach mixed with the comfortable position, it was almost instantaneous.

For dave, it took a few more hours.

He fought for quite some time as klaus slept, seeing if he could do anything that would annoy the man into spitting him up. though as the hours droned on, and the fact that he was still fully intact, not even a tingle or twinge of pain started to dawn on him. Sure, he was okay, and sure, he wasn’t going to die in there--

But how long was klaus going to keep him in there for?

It really didn’t take long for the adrenaline he once had to wear off, his body begging for sleep, and even as the kid protested, not wanting to lower his guard, he couldn’t help but feel his eyelids pulling shut, the warmth and darkness almost forcing him into sleep.

He hated to mention it, but the sounds around him were quite helpful too.

Sure, he had bouts of anxiety with every gurgle and groan klaus’s stomach created, but he ended up growing used to them, the low drum of his heartbeat calming and rhythmic, even as klaus breathed in for air, he could hear the ‘wind’ going back and forth from his lungs.

As he finally gave into his own body’s pleas for sleep, he hoped to god that Klaus would let him out in the morning.

And with that thought, he was out like a light.

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

and that’s it! please let me know what y’all think! I’m glad i’ve been able to share this with you guys and show off the fic i’ve been hyperfixating on for so long! and as i said above, if y’all want a part two i am so happy to do so for you guys!

-Q

#soft vore #safe vore #Quentin's writing #vore story #vore fanfic #non fatal vore #alcohol mention #digestion mention #g/t vore

55 notes · View notes

ka-writes · 3 years

Text

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Notes: I am posting every week now.. :/ <3 also sorry it’s shorter than usual, I did it within a day instead of a full week.

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Incase you missed:

Chapter 1:

Chapter 8:

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Inspired by:

Humans are Space Velociraptors

By:FreshRoses_InMyGarden_NeedTheRain

Some kids come from storks, others come from crashed spaceships

By: mmmajora

Home Again, Home Again

By: teeth_eater

All works can be found on Ao3

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Ao3 link:

Other fic:

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Warning: cussing, lots of pain, panic attack, mentions of blood.

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Chapter 9: Lost.

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What the fuck just happened?!

That was the only question racing through Tommy’s mind.

One moment he was finally drifting into a peaceful sleep, the next one of the crew members was getting him and Tubbo up and ushered them out of the ship. Now they were on an unknown planet attempting to gain any energy possible.

Once he finally blinked his tired eyes open, he looked at the surrounding terrain. They were in the middle of a field at night. Stars were the only thing lighting their patch of land. Soft flowers and grass flowed easily with the small chilly breeze. A forest was to their left, an ocean to their right. Both leaving conflicting peaceful aromas mixed with flowers and a crisp breeze. Behind them were huge cliffs blocking and hope of going that way. Leaving the only option to head to a town that lay ahead of them.

After he surveyed the environment he turned to his partner, who was currently sitting on the ground, presumably to read the land through the plants.

That was an interesting ability to find out. One night he found the droneling sitting next to a small plant, Dream had left, talking about what the others were doing. If Tubbo was connected to a plant his senses were tripled and he was even able to echolocate if other plants were connected to the one he was using. His eyesight was very poor in the dark leaving the crew to have to make night vision goggles, making him look even more like a bee. Sadly that was left on the ship along with the rest of their gear. All of which was Dream’s and only his.

“From what I am seeing there is a village ahead.” Tubbo gestured towards the plain in front of them.

“Affirmative.”

“We head there then. I will either have to crawl or hold on to you.”

“It would be better if I led you. You wouldn’t look as stupid then.” Tommy playfully responded, receiving a small sting from his counterpart’s nail. “I am just joking! You look stupid either way.” A hoofed foot kicked Tommy’s shin, and with that they headed towards the warm glow.

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“Dammit George!” Sapnap yelled into the pitiful night, which still felt like day in the busy port city.

“Language! And yes I am very mad at his actions too.” Bad added, which was unnecessary but only furthered the other’s rage.

The blazeling started fuming. His eyes turned into orange embers and smoke escaped out of his mouth, which only furthered as his fangs doubled in size revealing a glowing orange at the back of his throat.

The other shook his head and pulled the other into a tight hug. It was as if all pent up rage vanished, leaving only hurt and betrayal in his mind.

After a few hours of sitting at the end of the dock looking into the vastness of space, the pair got up and looked for new job opportunities, hoping to find at least one.

They wandered from place to place, before finally landing in a small bakery.

Even after four months of living a relatively normal life they felt lost within its seams.

Eventually Bad found a partner and became head manager of the small bakery, finally weaving himself into the domestic lifestyle.

As for Sapnap?

He was lost. Guilty, hurt, and cold to the world. He pondered on the thought of what he could’ve done differently so he wasn’t just discarded when his ex-best friend claimed to not need him.

His endless drifting led him to a casino. He met his fiancés who turned from fury to concern quickly after they noticed his disheveled appearance.

Only after the trio was reunited for three months did he let down his wall. It took two more months to confess to everything.

Surprisingly, they didn’t leave him to be lost again. They helped weave his story back into society, and he was found.

——————

“George…. Not Found.” A computer voice rang through the cabin for the twentieth time.

The captain pressed the code again, switching it mindlessly to another planet. His patience no longer there.

“George…. Not Found.” The captain’s hand punched the monitor, “ERROR” static filled the cabin and blood tainted the deathly clean smell.

He mindlessly walked through the halls and switched on a small illusion box and watched the ISF news for the hundredth time. Hoping that there was an update on the human’s whereabouts. And for the hundredth time no news was reported.

——————

They finally made it to the edge of the town. Slipping down a small alley they scanned the area.

Odd.. why weren’t the signs written in common? That was a law everywhere, it made it so much easier for people to understand the purpose of shops.

The lamps also seemed dated, and the buildings were a different kind of structure than what most towns used.

There were also strange illusions, they only moved within the confinement of the screen.

Tubbo turned to the human who stood shell shocked.

He turned his head to what his partner was staring at.

It was a human.

What the hell??

Tubbo started falling in on himself. His brain became a static escape. Tommy turned to the now panicking droneling.

The other human noticed the commotion.

They started walking towards the pair, which only led Tubbo into a more panicked mindset.

After a minute the world spun to a stop and he woke up in an unknown room, a human sitting beside him anxious beyond belief.

——————

They certainly weren’t expecting to find two teenage starlings panicking in an alleyway, on their nightly walk.

It started off wonderfully. The night was crisp and the colony was flourishing.

No one knew of the colony’s whereabouts and even few knew it existed.

Eret the monarch of the first non Earthian colony. It was full of refugees, most of which being humans, few having other heritage.

He usually took a patrol every night. Checking in on new colonists and shops. Reviewing stock supplies, and any suggestions from the colonists.

Most of the time nothing happened. But this time two starlings that have been circling the news for sometime wandered into an alley, luckily they were found by none other than the monarch of this land.

He was stressed to say the least. They were supposed to be under the care of two of the most well known ships on this side of the galaxy. Both of which had declared war on eachother.

On one end if he took them to the Dream Team ship, he would most likely be unscathed when it came to confrontation from the ISF. Yet they would know of the location of the colony and probably would attack him sooner or later.

On the other end, he would be handing off two starlings to the biggest pirates in the galaxy. Meaning they would have no obligation to keep the colony a secret if it benefited them.

She made the decision to talk to the two in the morning, when all of them are less lost when it comes to plans.

——————

The news struck all of the crew in the heart.

Two starlings were reported missing. Both said to be returned to the Dream Team ship.

None of them knew whether to be ecstatic or terrified.

Either one. The pair had figured out a way to escape, or two they were dead. Both are plausible when it comes to what Dream could’ve done.

Either way, tears streamed down all of their faces for the first time in months.

——————

There was one thing Tommy was sure of.

They were lost, within the vastness of space and had barely any hope to return Tubbo home.

Instead of taking the time to sleep, he voted to sit by the window and watch the town end nightly activities and start on morning routines.

He was tired, sure. But for the past six months he couldn’t find it in him to sleep. When he did it was dreamless and empty. Furious voices yelling at him for things he had done in both present and past. It was unbearably lonely and more often than not he got lost within the confines of his mind.

So instead he sat by a window, resting his head in his arms and staring at the people moving past shops and such. He matched stories with faces and entertained the idea that many of them had much worse lives than him. Or that they had better lives than he had ever known.

There was a pang in his chest, as he watched siblings walk through the streets carefree and happy.

His tears fell silently as he stared at the scenes.

He told many stories to himself that night.

He got no sleep.

And the galaxy’s pain crashed down on him.

——————

Chapter 9-End

Words: 1497

——————

Everyone be lost.

——————

Remember to go take care of yourself! Also likes are appreciated but reblogs are better!!

——————

Chapter 10:

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frightfurtabby · 3 years

Text

HimiKiyo Week 2021: Day 1- Creeping Darkness

//HimiKiyo Week 2021 is finally here! Took a little bit tonight to finalize edits and come up with a title. Look forward to more each day for the next week~

I’m proud, this is one of my longest singlechapter fics ever if not the longest

Links to other Platforms:

Amino: https://aminoapps.com/c/danganronpa/page/blog/himikiyo-week-2021-day-1/5B58_R2MsVulaQEnXkXVBzYlGjd3mXnP3Z

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34119466

The seaside village Himiko moved out to was more out of the way than the usual cities and suburbs. Apparently, her mentor couldn’t come. It was going to be a pain being out in that little house all alone. Who knows, maybe he’d sent another student of his the same kind of message?

To her disappointment there wasn’t anyone else, still not a single other apprentice known to her. She decided that after not doing anything yesterday but unpacking and eating and sleeping she would go over to the shrine marked on the local map. If nothing else she could pray for good luck before really getting down to working.

The course of this assignment and her whole life changed the moment she saw that strange figure at the offerings box while nobody else was around. They wore a long green kimono with beautiful dark hair almost matching that outfit in length. They looked to be glowing ethereally, with pale white skin akin to a porcelain doll.

Their hand was in the offerings box. At first she assumed they must be giving their own prayers and as such stayed back so as to not intrude. She noticed then that the figure was taking something *out* of the offerings box and that’s when she wondered if they were a thief.

“Fret not, these offerings are for me, dear human.” a voice came to her, seeming at first separate from the figure still several feet ahead. Someone addressing a person as “human” and saying it was their offering… She’d never seen a kami before, but that was the sole explanation that made everything make sense about them.

“Then you’re a kami?” she asked, quirking her eyebrow.

“That I am, I am called Shinguji. This family name refers to residing here, at the True Temple. My given name Korekiyo means just and pure”

“I-it’s a beautiful…” The mage was torn in half between the word ‘name’ and the word ‘place.’ The brook not far behind the pair was babbling audibly and birds were chirping. The water went past the trees and out to the river, which fed it almost directly into the ocean.

Even if something wicked this way was coming there was nothing yet to taint the natural beauty. She wasn’t sure if it would even be able to with a keeper this pretty.

“A beautiful what?” The spirit gently prodded her with the question. They had noticed her biting her lip in uncertainty.

“Name, your name is pretty. Uhh, and I’m…” she was too flustered to easily find any of the necessary words.

“You are Yumeno Himiko.”

“So you knew that already?” It was not that surprising in hindsight, but in that moment she was caught off guard, focusing on trying not to be so tense in their presence like she had been up to that point. She worried she was giving off the wrong message.

“I intuited it, but I don’t blame you for being surprised. Most humans think of us Kami as mythology, but I’ve known these old figures, and dealt with many creatures as my neighbors in my centuries of life.”

“In that case then are you able to intuit why I’m here?” The mage tried hard not to sound too much like a schoolgirl talking to her popular crush.

“I could. It would be easier if you told me. Whatever it is, you seem particularly stressed out by it.” They tilted their head slightly, a very human gesture, and it was clear they were reading deeper. Either humans had gotten it from the ancient gods or vice-versa. One of those things nobody would ever be able to remember the origin of.

It was better to answer the question than get too off track wondering about that.

“Well, my master who is a magician told me there was something that was going to go wrong here. He gave me the mission to stop it.”

It was Kiyo’s turn to be concerned.

“Well, I have been given whispers that a nasty yokai is approaching this land. It comes from the far north and wishes to sap power for itself. Very few claiming to be survivors of this have shown up, and we’re all so isolated these days...”

That was a bad sign.

“Is it because of us?” If her master had worried so much about it then there was no doubt in her mind that this thing would be going after humans if it hadn’t already started.

“Not all of you, but some who are greedy have broken many natural connections and scattered the so-called mythical creatures and spirits away. In a way it’s beautiful, the circle of life even. Although, it is believed perhaps negative energy has attracted this beast from its home and onto its rampaging path.”

A realization hit her. In her research she found that even things that you would not expect to have a soul or a consciousness did at least have the same kind of natural energy as things that did. So objects and anything/everything else with a soul would be susceptible to producing negative energy.

“So it's a cycle of things feeding into it.”

“Yes. I fear if it gets to a certain point it’ll have enough momentum that there will be no stopping it. So you should think about what you will do to face the possibility.”

Something about those words felt familiar. Even though it was a serious topic, Himiko was comforted.

“And you need someone like me to stand a chance?”

“The more the merrier, of course. There are things even I may have missed and for that you can be an extra set of eyes and ears. We’re going to train and prepare.”

The rest of that afternoon was spent, at first guided by Kiyo and by the end on her own, getting more used to the area and learning some specific landmarks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Starting the following day, Himiko started up a routine to come back every day, which would last for several months. Each day she learned new things about the old times that had only ever been guessed about from artifacts. She learned that even Kami had a cutoff point in memory, even if it did happen to be thousands of years stronger than mortals. The only truly omnipotent beings were those that had created earth eons ago, who were as elusive as ever.

She also trained. Oh, how wonderful it was to train again. And with a more formidable opponent than most people she would ever encounter normally. After each session she was told more about the species of yokai, and which were more likely to be dangerous foes that needed preparation for.

They would pray and make wishes for having strength and safety at the lucky rock on the path along the brooks. Kiyo allowed Himiko to take and keep a bit of power from it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It happened when she thought it was going to be just another day of what they had been doing. It was not.

There was something off in the air. And it wasn’t just the dead trees, those were normal for winter. What wasn’t normal was the small patches of rot in them already, the rot had even spread to the grass and other plants on the ground. There was a trail of it and it reeked of a nasty yokai. A being only interested in death and destruction.

Even worse was that Kiyo was nowhere to be found. They had made a game plan about that, Himiko was to check somewhere inside the shrine in order to find clues. Inside the prayer chamber proper it was a mess just like it would be in the case of any other type of break in. The rot hadn't set in because the room was blessed and was better able to resist, but there was a distinct trail of slime that showed its movement and the room.

She could picture Kiyo weaving around it and dodging attacks to have a chance to hit back at it. The fight had torn up the screens and the ancient art it depicted, and even punctured holes in the inner walls and flooring. An extra band of beads like one Kiyo would often wear was left behind. The signal was received.

Something wasn’t right, however. A presence that was too strong to be explained by the evil residue. It seemed like what they were working against had minions left behind, for the exact reason that someone like her was in the area and had to be stopped. The question was how many were there?

Five of them came up from either the ground or one of the holes puncturing the walls, one right before her and four circling around, forming seemingly out of the shadows and the goo. They quickly solidified into dark shapes that were much like werewolves, though she recognized among them different animal traits expressed. One even had bunny-esque lop ears.

Himiko took out her wand and started muttering some spells under her breath, making a broad sweeping motion to keep all at bay. The one closest was pushed back and stumbled in surprise. Trying to charge her led to an acrobatic maneuver: it leapt over onto its back and she whipped out a stage magician-like string of handkerchiefs and pulled it up to start choking the beast out.

They surprisingly weren’t as vicious as she’d imagined from how each of them had shown up. It couldn’t do any of its special moves. Unfortunately, its friends could, and they did. They rushed and she let go for a moment, tripping up one and using its momentum in a way it crashed into the first one before it could recover.

Swinging off it allowed her to jump up and kick a third before lashing a whip of electricity from her wand, yanking the fourth and gaining momentum by bouncing off it with a drop kick right about where the lungs were.

Watching them struggle, she realized they had once been animal spirits for sure, only to have been corrupted. They weren’t just something conjured by their boss.

Hesitation for even one second almost cost her when one swiped claws, just barely missing her and taking her hat instead. The advantage of being shorter than the monsters was they’d miss like that. And much like the stage magic she pretended to use in daily life, the hat was spring-loaded with some friends for them to play with. A magic box that was shattered by the attack let out doves of magical energy that distracted each as well as a jack-in-the-box dummy that took her place as a target for just long enough to take one out.

Even though the trick had been figured out, she could tell from their expressions changing the exact instant of the realization there wasn’t much the poor things could do when the tide had been turned. The rest of them were dispatched with a quick volley of attack spells. She sprinted out, conjuring another hat loaded with a similar trick from her storage at home, just in case. It was more physically exhausting than mana draining so she borrowed from her reserve to recover breath and catch up sooner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She crossed her fingers that those things weren’t going to be much more of a problem on the way over. The trail grew cold on her about a dozen times already the past 4 days but each time she doubled back to a previous checkpoint, there was another sign she’d accidentally glossed over. Each time something was left in an obscure place: a back alley or a bush only to be dragged out by a cat, occasionally right to her.

Whether it was an order from Kiyo or someone else, she wasn’t sure, but all the help was appreciated.

It seemed to be that when it took someone, it had to complete a loop back home. It was much faster than she could follow on foot. So the mage took to various buses and trains when she needed to.

Himiko hadn’t slept in nearly 24 hours by the 4th night, and all the past nights had been similarly lacking in rest. She’d set alarms to go off within a few hours of very scattered naps so she’d at least run decently when it finally came down to it.

She snuck out of an inn somewhere very rural and very cold in the northern reaches of Hokkaido. She could just feel the cave system nearby was definitely the origin point of the attacker.

Before she could even begin the climb upwards, an upright, tall figure came barrelling down in her direction, diving from above off of a rock and gliding down gracefully, coughing and panting, falling to their knees after the taxing stunt. That fall easily could have killed a human, plus most people couldn’t fly without magical objects.

“We need to get back up there, hurry!”

“Kiyo!”

However, before the first shape could speak further they were interrupted from behind Himiko. Just a few feet downhill a second Kiyo was standing.

“Don’t Himiko! That thing can become other entities!”

The first Kiyo to arrive chuckled and shook their head. “Well, that’s true, clever of you to tell her first.” A deep sigh later, they continued. “Shame I’ve heard of that little trick before and prepared something for this kind of thing.”

“A double cross is it?” the second Kiyo asked. “It’s quite a claim you have there, being the real me, having planned for your own deception.”

Whichever Kiyo was the real one, it was hard to tell at first. The two auras had been in close proximity so a mage in training would have a hard time pulling apart which was which. Then the first Kiyo cleared their throat again.

“Well then, I have a proposition.” they said, turning their attention back to Himiko. “Yumeno Himiko should be able to ask a question, then see how both of us answer, and she’ll know which of us is real.”

“Of course, after spending so long with me she’s bound to know the real one. I’d be crazy to decline,” the beast said.

Kiyo knew this thing would do anything to avoid being pegged as suspicious. It was a double bind for the beast. The only way this was ending was fighting it. This was part of that plan. Delaying it just a tad until the right time.

Himiko cleared her throat, glancing between the two one more time before she closed her eyes. It was nerve wracking but as long as it wanted to not out itself, the yokai would never blindside attack her.

“My question is very simple: What is it that I was training to do?”

The creature nodded. “Understood. This one is easy. We were going to stop the one who’s taken all those others and stop them from taking enough power for its plan.” It turned to Kiyo, giving a taunting glare. “And before the monster tries any trickery, to be specific, we were practicing your magic and got you a mana boost. It’ll help the new technique not be so taxing on you.”

That was almost entirely correct. Kiyo knew then their suspicion was right and something in the area had been spying and relayed all its gathered information back to prepare this creature for any threats that may spring up. That’s what attacked first, the helpers that Himiko had to fend off to get here.

“Alright. My turn.” Kiyo remained characteristically calm face to face. “We were training. So I don’t have to repeat what the other me said, I’ll agree. However, there was something missing from that answer.”

“Missing? What, pray tell, did I miss?”

“The mana boost served as a test to see if you were already there. And I felt something that may have been a minion performing recon.” Emphasis on the last word. That was something Kiyo had been anticipating. Before they had been taken, she was given a code word. They only mentioned it to her in a whisper on the day that they felt a presence leave to the north with no other context. ‘Recon’ was that word.

Eye contact was made, Himiko gave a slight nod to show that she understood and it was off to the races. She went on ahead, up one path leaving the Kiyos behind. It was a signal to the real Korekiyo. And so, the two fought again, much like they had when the faker had invaded the temple and kidnapped them to try and complete the ritual.

They weaved in and out, sometimes further to one side away from Himiko and her destination when Kiyo was having their way and closer, forcing her to duck and use repulsion spells to avoid being caught up in the scuffle. Kiyo’s attacks looked like needles when they flew at their enemy, so she even gave those attacks a boost. She heard the cries of anger and pain when one managed to hit just the right place.

The yokai was a resilient one though, it would just pluck them right out and fire back energy attacks of their own. One of them hit Kiyo and sent them tumbling back down the mountain some distance, dropping several dozen feet to a thud.

They got back up almost instantly, knowing how much danger the girl ahead was in, and pulled out a pair of scythe to quickly dig into the mountain’s side and climb up to a point where they could launch up and gain enough momentum to catch up right behind that yokai.

Faster than ever, Himiko ran. It seemed being tired was starting to slow both down the further up the mountain the climb went. She dove and rolled right into the cave and the faker caught up, confirming even further that it was the yokai when it dove to try and stop her from entering, the disguise melting away grotesquely. She didn’t even have time to be offended at it ruining and distorting those beautiful features because of how fast it barrelled back into the base.

All she could do was point her wand directly in its face and say the words. Like a bullet, red light with a pointed tip struck right through an already gaping hole that showed the black flame-like matter that was its heart. The evil and corrupt soul was pierced.

It could barely re-shape itself anymore with its wounds. It stared at her with half its true features and half rippling nothingness as the face it wore sloughed off and dissipated like a puddle under sunlight. Even the animal-like maw began falling off, fangs first.

Then Kiyo wrestled it from behind and wrapped it in chains of light. It was likely already dying. But part of its corrupt nature would linger in this spot if it was not sealed and purified.

“What no! Nooooo”. It started shrieking when the shock of being blindsided had finally worn off and it found itself in chains, being dragged away towards the cave’s inner chamber. It was powerless to do anything but watch these interlopers ruin everything.

“Unfair, unfair, unfaaiiiiir.” Most of the thrashing came in the form of weak kicks. It was truly pitiful for something that had beaten kami before. .

“What a childish temper tantrum.” Kiyo scoffed at it, only briefly turning a shoulder to pay it any mind as they continued towards the end of the mission. It was so mad, and nipped away trying to bite its captor in spite of there being no chance of succeeding now. .

Himiko came to a strange spot on the back wall and Kiyo lifted the beast over their shoulders and used its paw to unlock a big room full of artifacts, a bunch of seals on them to keep its victims contained. Many tomes of black magic and scribbles showcased a plot to steal power from all the shrine deities to build a “Domain of Darkness”. In which it plotted to prevent the sun from ever rising above Japan, and the whole planet after long enough, ever again. This would remove power from any being who got magic from natural resources and would kill billions of mortals.

Himiko looked at the plans and laughed nervously, sweating a bit.

“So um… you don’t think that this would have worked?” she asked, desperately wanting this to just be the pipe dream of an arrogant monstrosity.

“Absolutely not. I’m by no means the strongest of my kind, and you’re still training. It took prisoners, yes, but this is delusional. We won in part because we were underestimated. That kind of fatal mistake would have doomed this plan eventually.”

A sad whimpering came from it, laying on the ground in defeat.

Himiko was tasked to watch over it while Kiyo performed the unsealing rituals. Each one she spared glances at, admiring them from her spot in the center of the room. She could almost feel a tinge of jealousy among the defeat and anger emanating from their felled foe. It was way more interesting watching Kiyo work and chat with each spirit that was freed. Each time they agreed instantly to help get the rest out, which hastened the process.

Each one helped before some left to make sure their shrines were fine. The remainder, led by Kiyo, thanked Himiko. Their hands warm around hers. Kiyo felt every little soft spot on her hands and even some slight callusing, presumably from the fighting. Even those bits were lovely.

“You can go home now. It’s getting late but we need to stay for now. I will return to you with the important news.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Himiko got home first, since that was decided as the meeting place. It was far enough from the shrine that it wouldn’t be immediately obvious if that entity came back for another round. She got on her knees in front of her bed, elbows firmly leaning into the mattress so she could clasp and pray. She was exhausted.

“Please let it be gone once and for all.” She trusted Kiyo could do that much.

Then she was awoken by footsteps and sat upright to who was joining her. Her door had opened and glowing in the moonlight, Kiyo came in, closing the door behind them.

“I have seen to it that this chapter is done.” The spirit held a hand to her cheek and gently brushed a long finger across part of her face. “Thank you, your journey has only truly just begun but you can relax for now.”

Himiko was flushed a bright red.

“I was struck by your beauty from the moment that I walked to your shrine.” Her heart raced. They’d touched a couple times by now but this was the most breathtaking and close. The most intimate. She raised a hand of her own and touched Kiyo’s arm gently.

A soft smile spread on the spirit’s lips. “Oh, I could tell. I could also tell that there was a pull here. Some call I needed to answer for you and it's only become more clear that there was more to it than that.”

Time felt like it slowed down to a stop as the two maintained soft eye contact.

Then they kissed her. A warmth emanated from them, pulsing like a heartbeat.

“More to it?” she asked, even though the kiss gave her a very good idea of what they were going to tell her next.

“I love you. And so… I want it to actually be *our* journey.” They heavily emphasized the word indicating that the adventure would be shared. It already was, it had been since the day she came to this place.

“Would it really be okay? For you to leave your shrine I mean. When it comes time for that.”

“No worries about that, I can find someone for that when that’s necessary.”

#HimiKiyo #Himiko Yumeno #Korekiyo Shinguji #himikiyo week #fanfic #writing #ao3 #amino #danganronpa #danganronpa v3

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downwiththeficness · 3 years

Text

In the Bond-Chapter 1

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~4,900

Warnings: Blood (go figure)

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Next Chapter Read on AO3 Masterlist

Taglist: @symbiont13

Lilah McNamara knew, in that moment, that she was definitely going to die. Hanging from the ceiling, harness digging into her hips, she swung back and forth in a long, slow arc. Arms waving wildly, she glanced around the room, looking for the first one to strike. Richie had said no more than five. Five culebras hiding out in a nest, easily taken down with the right firepower (which they happened to have). All she had to do was lay the explosives, get to the roof, and repel down the side of the building. Easy peasy.

As the swing of her movement slowed, Lilah was able right herself enough that an involuntary, nervous smile, flitted across her lips. There were, indeed, five of them. And, they were looking at her, confused. This was good. Confusion bought her time. Her brain worked to come up with a logical excuse for having crashed their...ritual?

The room was a large, open space with little in the way of furniture. The domed glass ceiling had partially fallen to the tile floor below. There were a few chairs here and there, but the focus of the décor was the altar at one end. There was a copper bowl sitting in the center, the liquid inside thick and red. She filed that away to examine later, when her life wasn’t in immediate danger.

Standing behind the altar was what she assumed was the real target of their mission—which had not been brought up during the briefing for the job. Lilah was going to kill Richie for leaving this out of their plan—she just knew he was hoping for a special guest. And, this special guest was pretty much the end all, be all, of special guests.

Brasa. Rival. Blood drinker. Sun god. He was dressed in all black, a heavy leather coat hanging from impossibly wide shoulders. Lilah stared at him with doe eyes, knowing the threat that he posed to her far outweighed the threat of the culebras now circling a few feet below. He had eluded all of their schemes to take him down, somehow dodging explosives, machine guns, arcane magic. He was untouchable, and he was here.

Above, a face peeked over the edge of the broken glass. Lilah looked up (or down) at Seth, knowing that panic was plain across her face.

“Pull me up!” she shouted, her gaze moving back to the more pressing danger. This was not how she had planned to die. Though, with the way she was living her life lately, it was the most likely.

Lilah had done some pretty stupid things, pulled jobs in extremely dangerous locales, and had narrowly escaped some serious prison time. In the last few months she’d been with the brothers Gecko, all of the close calls she’d had during her career had been blown to little pieces. Poof. Gone. Utterly unable to compete with the sheer insanity of learning that vampires existed, that demi-gods were roaming the earth, and that she had joined up in the fight against them. If she didn’t kill Richie first, she’d shoot Seth as soon as she got her feet on the ground. Speaking of which...

“Fucking rope,” Seth grumbled, his hands reaching down to grab at it.

He gave an experimental pull before bracing his foot on the ledge and putting his weight into it. Lilah heard the scrape of it being pulled, her body lifting a few inches. The next grind of material was drowned out by a rising growl that drew her attention, unwillingly, from the culebras’ hungry faces. Brasa was slowly circling the altar, his eyes so black that there was nothing of the white left. His lips were pulled back in a snarl that exposed a dual set of fangs—shorter, but no less sharp than the ones she’d seen on culebras they’d hunted down before. She felt her heart lurch in fear.

The circle of hungry predators opened for him wordlessly, their eyes sparking with villainous amusement, fangs out and teeth bared. Lilah felt her body go involuntarily lax, her arms hanging by her ears. So, this was it. After months of working to quell the flow of these enemies, months of listening to the brothers argue about how best to attack and the most effective defense system. After all the things she had stolen to give them an edge. After all that...this was her end.

The rope yanked again, lifting her another foot or so. She bounced in the harness, feeling it catch at her inner thighs and shoulders. Another yank. Another foot. Seth wasn’t working fast enough. Brasa was within arm’s reach of her, his fathomless eyes looking up and an unreadable expression on his face. She looked back at him, hoping her death would be quick.

Another yank, this one harder than the last. She cringed as she rose and fell with a little yelp. Looking around, she frowned at the ceiling, her breath stuttering as she caught the fraying of the rope where it met the jagged glass surrounding the hole she’d made by falling stupidly through the skylight. Oh, fuck...it was going to snap. She was going to fall...Lilah glanced back down (or up), and made a quick calculation. Head first, she would break at least one bone, possibly crack open her head. A painful end, then.

Seth yanked her again, and Lilah could hear him yelling in frustration about it from above. She grit her teeth and yelled back at him.

“Pull harder, you asshole!”

This man could pull a win out of his ass at any time, no matter the circumstances. And now, he was struggling to pull her up from the depths of her literal death. It figured.

From not so far away, Brasa chuckled and took a step or two back, his shoulders canting down. Lilah flicked her attention from the ceiling to him and back, did it again, then felt herself reach a blind panic. Two running steps, and he leaped into the air, arm outstretched. Lilah made a vain attempt to bat him away, earning herself a strained huff of laughter.

His gloved hand grasped the harness where the five points came together at her sternum. Air pushed out of her lungs as he dug them into the material. His weight, coupled with a counterpoint pull downward had the already frayed rope finally breaking from somewhere above.

For half a second, she was weightless, and then Brasa’s bulk began to fall, taking her along with him. There was no grace in what she did next, a reaction of pure instinct. Lilah’s hands went for his shoulders, the largest target she could get at on him. Her legs kicked out as she grabbed him, the complete force of her body landing on him.

She had intended to take him to the ground, to drop everything she had on him like a hot potato—and then haul ass out the side door. A couple hundred feet, and she’d be able to pull the burner cell from her pocket and hit speed dial. Boom.

That’s not how it worked out. He caught her. He fucking caught her. All her weight, all his weight, the pull of Earth’s gravity, and all. Lilah stared at him as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her about six inches off the floor. He didn’t even have the good grace to flinch when her toes smacked against his shins.

Arms tucked against his chest, legs hanging uselessly, Lilah could only look at him, agog. He looked back, brows rising towards his hairline. And then he smiled. All teeth, the skin at the corners of his eyes wrinkling. This smile was worse than the smiles of his companions. This was a real smile, one that indicated a level of happiness that his kind shouldn’t be able to achieve. That, more than anything, scared her shitless.

Above them, a voice shouted, “You let her go, you fucking snake. She’s on our team.”

Brasa let out a soft breath, his mouth relaxing a little, but the smile remained on his closed lips, “I disagree.”

Seth cursed again and was suddenly firing bullets into the crowd around them. Lilah ducked her head a little, noting that Brasa made no move, though his arms tightened even more. Growls and the ricochet of bullets hit her ears, her eyes shut against the flurry.

In his distraction, Lilah was able to blindly free her gun from the holster at her thigh, turn off the safety, and fire a round. The recoil set off her aim, and the shot that was aimed to shatter his femur swerved to the left and merely ended out in a flesh wound. Still, he yelled as he dropped her and that was all she needed to get her feet underneath her and haul ass through the wrong fucking door.

She’d gone right when she should have gone left, her eyes half closed in fear, the whiz of bullets flying around her. The panic made her blind and desperate. Lilah cleared an open doorway and hit the far wall, her feet skidding across the hardwood. She sprinted down the hall, feeling a scream worm its way out of her throat when a loud, angry howl sounded behind her. It scored through her chest and pushed her to move faster.

Not looking back, she moved through what must have been a common room to another hall, rounding the corner and heading for the only door left to her. It opened easily, but Lilah found herself hesitating before a set of stairs.

“God, damn it,” she breathed, wanting to not be right where she was at that very second more than she wanted anything in her entire life.

After a moment of indecision, Lilah stepped through and closed the door as quietly as she could behind her. It was dark, and she didn’t want to chance turning on a light. Feeling her way, she stepped down stair by stair until her foot stopped prematurely, nearly setting her off balance.

Inhaling deeply, Lilah swallowed back the urge to cough at the musty smell. She could hide out here for a bit, wait until the coast was clear, and then go back to the original plan. Wait it out. Original plan.

Lilah tried to breathe, her hands reflexively slipping the clasps of the harness free so that she could have something to do while she thought. There was next to no light—except for what filtered around a walk-out door. Lilah blinked at it for a moment, clearly not able to handle her good luck. She got two steps towards it before she was spinning around and flung the other way. The harness flew from her hand, landing somewhere in the dark. She might have screamed had her throat not clenched so damn tightly that not even air could pass through.

Lilah caught some pretty decent air before she hit the wall with a dull thud and a sharp pain in her side. Landing in a little heap, Lilah struggled to get her bearings. Pushing from the floor, she leaned against the wall and faced her attacker, hand already reaching for her gun. She didn’t even get it out of the holster before her wrist was being held immobile. A palm pressed against her chest.

There was no moving forward or backwards. Not without his permission. Lilah sucked in a breath, glancing at the door behind him, and then back to his face. Cast in mostly shadow, Brasa didn’t look angry, as she expected. He looked...rather pleased. Lilah would rather that he was angry. Angry, she could probably deal with. Pleased was another matter entirely.

Leaning in, he inhaled deeply, his face unnervingly close to hers. Then, he pulled back, looked at her, and breathed, “Finally.”

Try as she might, Lilah couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She just stared at him like a fucking idiot while he looked her over, assessing. His hand pressed minutely forward, knocking a little more air out of her chest, and then he was stepping back and away. With the extra support, Lilah teetered off balance a moment before she caught herself.

It appeared that her luck was more of a fluke, fate’s last taunt before she was snuffed out of existence. She mentally flipped the universe the bird. Physically, she held very, very still. Just because he wasn’t killing her yet didn’t mean that death wasn’t coming.

Brasa remained between her and the door, blocking any hope of a clean exit. Lilah widened her stance, hand reaching again for her gun. Her heart dropped into her stomach when she realized he’d snagged it. A glance at his right hand confirmed it, the glint of the barrel shining in the low light. Fuck.

Brasa set it on a nearby table, and then reached up and tugged on something she couldn’t quite see. A singular light bulb flashed, swaying gently. Lilah squinted as her eyes adjusted, blaming the way her eyes watered on the additional light. Her hands curled into fists, her palms sweating, heart thudding. Every second stretched out into eternity as she waited for him to make his move.

He was squared up with her, his broad body more intimidating with every passing second. A glance downwards told her that the bullet she’d put in him was about as ineffective as shooting him with an air pellet—he didn’t even appear to be bleeding anymore.

“You are,” he began, his voice low and rasping, “An impossibility.”

Her mouth opened, a moment passed, and then, “I’m a what?”

His jaw tightened, “An. Impossibility.”

She did not have the capacity for philosophical discussions right now. Her body was filled with similar amounts of adrenaline and ire, the force of it keeping her heart beating hard in her chest. She was lucky she even had the capacity to form words, her panic and fear squeezing her throat none too gently.

Lilah looked down at her body, sighing, “I’m alive. I’m real. I’m possible.”

Was this how it was going to go down? Mind games? All of her research told her that he wasn’t that kind of killer. He never played with his food. He simply killed. Quickly. Efficiently. It was this primary detail that had separated him from the others they’d tracked through the desert. Lilah had spent a long time trying to reconcile the horrific stories of his kind with the level headed determination and strategic planning of their leader.

Brasa shook his head, “Not for me.”

Purposefully stretching her jaw open, Lilah felt annoyance spark in a way that she couldn’t quite get a handle on, “Well, get over it. If you’re going to kill me, do it.”

He bared his teeth, a light chuckle escaping as he crossed his arms, leaning against the table, “I’m not going to kill you.”

Lilah refused to admit to herself that her eyes lingered a little too long on the shape of his body beneath the heavy leather. She’d seen him from afar a couple times, always either through the lens of a monitor, or the top of a building as she directed traffic for the mission. Lilah knew he was big, knew he was strong. Up close, he was far, far more terrifying. Broad in a way that made her think he could take a serious hit and stand, still in a way that told her he was confident she posed no threat. Which, she didn’t. He had said he wasn’t going to kill her. That left...

Torture. It was going to be torture. Possibly, he wanted information about her partners in crime. Seth had prepped her that they sometimes did that, though it was definitely out of character for him. Lilah couldn’t handle that. She was a thief, a procurer of things, a researcher, a team manager. She wasn’t equipped to handle torture. Fuck that, she’d do this her way.

Quick hands had the burner cell in her hand, her thumb on the speed dial, “Okay, do you know what this is?”

His eyes followed her movement, “A cell phone.”

The slow drawl of the words, the lilt at the end. He was amused. First, pleased. Now, amused. Lilah was neither. God, she hoped Seth had gotten off the roof by now. She wouldn’t be alive to feel guilty about inadvertently killing him.

“Its the detonator for a series of pipe bombs I’ve placed around the foundation of this building. The whole building. I press this button, and everything comes down around us.”

His mouth quirked, “It would take more than that to kill me.”

“But, not me,” Lilah countered. “You won’t get anything out of me if I’m dead.”

Not even bothering to pause for his answer, she dug her thumb into the button, eyes squeezing shut and waiting for the boom. That didn’t happen. She was once again grabbed and bodily moved, air whipping across her face and snatching at her hair. Lilah tried to pull her limbs into her body in a movement borne of instinct, tried to move to protect herself from whatever was happening next. She couldn’t get so much as an inch of leverage.

His arms were in a vice around her, and they were moving at incredible speed through the street outside. She winced as the bombs went off, the sound hitting her in the back as much as it hit her ears. Suddenly, she was dropping down, her weight shifting around and the light completely gone. Around her, she could smell him—coffee and caramel. His scent should not have been in the least bit soothing, but there she was—soothed. His breath was fast, but his muscle showed little to no strain. He moved with more grace than she’d ever seen, full sprint down a dark tunnel carrying her effortlessly.

They came to a stop in...a bunker? Lilah couldn’t get more than a cursory glance around before her brain was reminding her that humans weren’t meant to move that fast. He set her down on a chaise lounge, taking no more than two steps back. Lilah held her head in her hands, trying to ward off the vertigo that was threatening whatever was left of the dinner in her stomach.

“Breathe deeply,” he ordered, sounding just this side of angry, which he had no right to be.

Lilah flipped him the bird. He laughed. She groaned.

“What are you doing?” she said, finally, when her head stopped spinning.

“Saving your life,” he replied, with bite. “Since you’re so ready to give it away.”

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

She sneered, “I didn’t really have a choice about that, did I?”

“Neither do I,” he replied, adding, “It seems.”

Lilah stared at him, her brain a little slow on the uptake, “Well, I’m so glad we’re in the same boat, then.”

Brasa’s face relaxed enough that he looked a little bewildered. Lilah counted that as a win. At the very least, she’d bought herself a few more minutes of time by setting him back on his heels just a bit.

“Are you alright?”

The question startled her, true concern lacing his tone. Lilah narrowed her gaze at him, trying to puzzle out what the fuck he meant. Pleased. Amused. Concerned. None of these things matched up with how she knew he was. How she had always been told he was.

He repeated the question, taking a step forward. Lilah leaned back, tilting her chin up as she studied his expression. He looked like he didn’t know quite what do to do with himself. Lilah didn’t know how to take that.

“What do you want from me?”

Better to get to the point. The faster she knew what he wanted, the faster she could agree (lie) and try to get him to let her go in the process.

He blinked, “What do you know of Xibalban mating practices?”

She sputtered, “The fuck are you talking about?”

Brasa rolled his eyes, “Obviously nothing.”

Think, Lilah. Stall him.

“Well, its not nothing if you’re going to drag me into wherever this is to talk to me about it.”

His eyes dropped to the floor, his tongue rolling across his lips as he considered what she’d said. Lilah had to turn her head to keep from following the motion, her cheeks warming—which made no sense.

Brasa’s eyes returned to hers and she noticed that his irises seemed to contract, the pupils shrinking down so that she could see his actual eye color—a deep brown. Lilah took a deep breath, desperately trying to think of something to say to keep him from killing her long enough for Seth, or Richie to find her.

“You are special,” he stated, as a matter of fact.

Everyone she knew was special. Seth and Richie were special, Kate was special, the bar staff were technically special (and immortal). Lilah was a fixer. Lilah was a good problem solver. Lilah was not special.

“Bullshit,” she replied, unable to keep her mouth from firing off the first thing that went through her head.

He laughed, his chin lifting, head rocking back. Genuine amusement, “That is an appropriate response, I suppose. It is exceedingly rare for a Xibalban to bond with a human.”

Lilah drew back, “Who’s bonding? We’re not bonding? We are miles—leagues—away from bonding.”

Head cocking to the side, Brasa eyes her with curiosity, “I wonder if you know how wrong you are—deep down, of course.”

Feeling suddenly tired, Lilah rubbed at her eyes, feeling desperate in a way that came from long term exhaustion, “Just kill me. Just...kill me. I don’t want any part of your games.”

His face grew still and grave, “No games. You are my bondmate. It is best that you come to terms with that as soon as possible.”

Bondmate.

Lilah had heard this term a few times, usually when talking with Kate. She described it as something akin to a soulmate, a relationship that was deeper than love, bordering on obsession—especially for...Lilah drew in another breath.

“That can’t be true.”

He shrugged, an elegant motion, “It is. Not believing in it doesn’t make it any less true.”

Try as she might, Lilah could not detect an ounce of deceit in him, and she was pretty good at that. Her mouth tightened as she attempted to think of a way out and coming up short. She’d have to play his game, if she wanted to live.

“And,” she said carefully, “What are you going to do about that?”

He considered it for a moment, “You’ll have to come with me.”

Out of the question.

“Come with you,” Lilah repeated lowly. Then, “I can’t do that.”

Brows lifting, he asked, “Why not?”

“Because I have a life,” she shot back, frustrated. “Because I have a job, and obligations, and people who depend on me.”

She was exaggerating just the tiniest bit. She didn’t have a life, not really. But, she did have a job, obligations, and people (three people, really).

He shifted his weight, “I know the feeling. Intimately.”

There were a few moments of silence. Each of them looking at the other, drawing conclusions. Lilah could see strain in his posture, leashed ferocity in the utter stillness of his body. He wanted to move. He wanted to do something. He wasn’t, for some reason. He was standing a few feet away from her, just waiting.

“Let’s say,” Lilah offered, thinking she might be able to negotiate, “That I accept that I am your bondmate. Is there a way for me to go back to my people, and still—I don’t know—act...as… a bondmate?”

She hated how timid she sounded, how unsure. But, she thought the question legitimate enough that he might consider it, might give in. If this was true—and that was a big ‘if’--there was no way he was going to be able to hurt her. He couldn’t. It was impossible that he could kill her. Kate had said so.

When he didn’t answer, Lilah gestured to the room around them, “Where are we?”

He moved, she flinched. He stilled.

“Its an old hideout. Unused for maybe half a century, possibly forgotten.”

She nodded, “Okay. And you know about it because…?”

One side of his mouth lifted, “I built it, a long time ago.”

Lilah nodded again, looking at the walls, the masonry cut so tightly together that it couldn’t have been mechanical. This place was old. Very old. Old as balls.

“Its good work,” she murmured, her hands curling on the lounge beneath her.

The cushion was still intact, but the fabric was beginning to fray. It was at least fifty, possibly sixty years old. The wood looked hand carved. There were a few boxes scattered around, but the room was mostly empty.

Brasa dipped his head in acknowledgment of her compliment, “There is a way that I could send you back.”

Lilah perked up, “I’m listening.”

He took a step forward, “I would need to know that you are safe at all times. I can’t be distracted by how human you are, how fragile.”

Lulled by the idea that she might come out of this unscathed, Lilah motioned for him to continue. He licked his lips, hesitating only a moment.

“I would need to initiate the bond.”

She felt her mouth purse, felt her shoulders tighten up, “How would you do that?”

He knelt in front of her, a simple and smooth motion, “A simple blood exchange. Yours for mine.”

There was nothing simple about a blood exchange. It was never, ever simple. She had to tread lightly.

Heart picking up, she whispered, “You want to bite me?”

Brasa shook his head, producing a blade from somewhere on his person, “I wouldn’t need to. A little cut would be all it would take, to start the process.”

She swallowed, “And, you’ll let me go.”

A small, fervent hope built inside her that she might be able to gain some traction. Blood exchanges may not be a little thing, but Lilah might be able to manage it. All told, a little bloodletting was a very small price to pay—if he happened to be right and they did initiate the bond, she would have to figure out a way to deal with that, eventually. Bloodletting. Wiggle room. Escape.

He nodded, his expression so sincere that she had no choice but to believe him.

Before she could change her mind, Lilah held out her arm to him, “Go ahead.”

For half a second, he looked surprised, but he quickly grasped her forearm, pushing back the sleeve of her shirt and pressing the blade into her skin. It was sharp enough that it took a second or two for the pain to kick in. She hissed as he brought her arm to his mouth, sucking gently at the wound. It was an odd feeling. Her body was telling her ‘danger’, but her brain was telling her to hold still, lest he sink his teeth into her.

He was warm—hot, even. His whole body radiated heat that burned even through the gloves on his hands. Lilah sucked in a breath as he ran his tongue over the cut, a spark of pleasure rising along the little prick of pain. Abashed, she looked anywhere but where his mouth was pressed intimately to her skin.

Very carefully, his tongue swiped once more over the little cut, his palm coming up to apply pressure. Lilah bit her lip, taken aback by the bliss on his face. At this distance, she could see the way his skin glowed a little in the low light, could see his eyelashes sweeping against his cheek as he blinked dreamily at her.

Seeming to catch himself, Brasa quickly shrugged an arm out of his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeve, slicing into himself like it was nothing. Lilah hesitated, her mouth open, her breaths coming in hard.

“Only a mouthful,” he prompted, “That’s all it will take.”

Leaning down, Lilah pressed her mouth to the bleeding skin, her body resisting the urge to draw it in and swallow. Eyes closing, she forced herself to work against her own instinct, applying a little suction and pulling him across her tongue. Only a mouthful. That’s all she allowed, jerking away and making herself push it down her throat.

She wished she hadn’t done that. Lilah wished for all the world that he’d just snapped her neck in this dingy little room underneath the street. The sweetness of him, the utter honey still coating the inside of her mouth, was enough to make her want to die right there. She definitely never wanted to do that again just as much as she desperately needed more. Her tongue touched that back of her teeth, licking at the remnants so that she could taste him just a moment longer.

He swallowed audibly, “What’s your name?”

“Lilah,” she answered, brain too foggy to lie.

“I am Brasa,” he offered lowly.

She blinked, “I know.”

Brasa watched her for a few moments before standing, offering her his hand. Lilah ignored it, rising to her feet and moving around him.

“You said I could go.”

He stared at her, “I did say that.” And then, “I’ll take you to the surface.”

#from dusk til dawn #from dusk til dawn: the series #brasa #In the Bond

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cindersandroses · 4 years

Text

Digital Get Down, Chapter 5

AUTHORS: cindersandroses ( losille2000 and cinderella1181)

CHAPTERS: 5/?

PAIRING: Actor!Henry Cavill/ Plus-Size OFC

GENRE: Romance/Fluff/HUMOR

FIC SUMMARY: When SuperHank met OrcPrincessPeach on the World of Warcraft message boards, it was love at first raid. Now, almost a year later, they’re ready to take the next step and meet in person. Half a world away from each other, both decide to meet in Atlanta for DragonCon, since she was already going to be there for her work as a game designer at Blizzard… never mind that she is a devout nerd. They both have to face the fact that reality is very different from a digital world.

RATING: Mature

WARNING: Mentions of assault.

AUTHORS NOTES: Love you all!

Also on AO3!

Chapter 5

Opal turned to the side as she looked at herself in the full length mirror on the back of the closet door. She smoothed the front of her dress over her rounded belly and picked at the slight ruching that was meant to help hide her imperfections along with the black color of the dress, but it did neither. There’d be no hiding anything. This was about as bodycon as one could get, and indeed she bought it a long time ago because she thought she looked hot in the form fitting silk. As soon as she got it home, though, and really looked at herself wearing it in the harsh light of day, she put it away, in the back of her closet with the other beautiful clothes she’d bought but never found the courage to wear.

That was changing. Now. Today. Okay, not today. But as soon as she walked back into her house. She planned to go straight to her closet and pull them all out and wear each of them as soon as she had the right opportunity or occasion. Considering that most of them were on the fancier side of things, meant for dates, she figured she’d have more chances to wear them now, anyway.

Even though she and Henry would literally be halfway across the globe from each other after this weekend. She couldn’t dwell on that fact, though. If she did, then the sadness set in. She refused to let that particular emotion claw its way back. They’d make it work if it was going to work. It wasn’t like she couldn’t just take her computer places and work there.

If she could convince her boss to allow frequent trips.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t also spend part of his time in Los Angeles.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Henry walked by behind her, drawing her attention away from those troubling thoughts. He fumbled with the cufflink on his left shirt cuff. She was going to make a quip about it, but the words died on her lips when she noticed he looked at her like a fat kid looked at cake. He licked his lips, smiled, and walked into the bathroom.

She couldn’t help but blush. She never would’ve believed he was truly stealing glances at her, but that notion had been squashed earlier at the spa. In fact, now she was hyper aware of his long, molten stares.

And it was all because of the wonderful esthetician who completed her facial after their massage. What had started out as a traumatic experience ended up making her feel the most confident she’d ever felt in her own skin, thanks in part to Jessa the esthetician’s enlightening conversation.

“He’s looking at you like you are the purest water and he’s just had some hot sauce.”

Opal giggled, and blushed, looking at the woman. “I just keep thinking he’s going to be like, ‘Ugh, not my type’ and leave, Jessa.”

“Girl, please. You got one of those peach bottoms that men love to get a handful of. You already got him eating out of your hand, he’s not stopped glancing over here this whole time,” Jessa said, putting her hand on her hip. “And if he does do that, I got a handful of fine brothers who would eat that peach bottom up. So you just let Jessa know and I’ll hook you up.”

The comment made Opal laugh loudly, disturbing the serenity of the spa and resulted in a few perturbed glares from other clients. Henry had glanced up, one eyebrow raised in interest. She smiled at him sweetly and he went back to his shave. Opal smiled. “Thank you, Jessa. I’ll keep you updated.”

Opal had made sure to slip Jessa an extra tip, even though she was sure Henry had tipped everyone well. Stingy wasn’t really a word she would use to describe this man, not materially or emotionally.

Or physically.

Definitely not physically. He liked touching. Being affectionate.

She did not; or, more aptly, she was not used to it in the romantic sense. But she wasn’t even that affectionate with her family. There were a few hugs here and there as a child, but they weren’t overly huggy. And then there was the other thing he didn’t know about, because she never talked about it, that prevented her from initially enjoying his touches.

It was getting easier, though, the more he touched her. She found, with some relief, that she actually quite liked being close to him in that way. Perhaps there was hope for her, after all.

Opal moved away from the mirror and followed his trail to the bathroom. She rested a hip on the door jamb and watched him finish his grooming. He saw her in the mirror and smiled.

“Like what you see?” he asked, that insidious brow raised.

“Nah,” she said with a grin. “I was just thinking about how you use twice the product I do.”

Henry rubbed his hands on a hand towel to remove the remnants of whatever moisturizer he’d used on his freshly shaved jaw. “That’s because it takes a lot to make me look this good. You’re already bloody gorgeous, so you don’t need it.”

Her cheeks heated and she shifted her weight awkwardly on her bare feet. Why were compliments so difficult to take?

“And as an answer to your question, I do like what I see,” she replied. “I appreciate your efforts. But I also love getting to just observe each other. That’s what we were missing over the last year.”

Henry stopped and smiled at her. “I watched you getting ready, and that’s why I’m so behind. I couldn’t stop watching you. You are enchanting,” he whispered.

The air caught in her lungs upon hearing the deep gravelliness of his sentiment. He closed the distance between them. The hunger, the lust, the pain, the joy, the need, all passed across his face. He leaned down and brushed his lips across her temple. “We’re going to make a hell of a couple tonight, Princess.”

“Yes, we are,” she replied breathlessly.

“Let me finish getting ready. You are distracting.”

Opal giggled. “Pot, kettle.”

She moved away from the door and went back to the bed to struggle into the sky high heels she had thought would be great to wear, but now she regretted the decision to pack them. Her feet were going to ache by the end of the night. But--the minx inside her reminded--that could possibly lead to another massage. This time, just with Henry.

As she finished up the last buckle on the strappy things and stretched her legs out to check how they looked, she noticed Henry watching from across the room with a glazed look in his eyes. She laughed at him, because it was the exact same look she’d had as he secured the waistcoat around his trim torso. “This… me putting on shoes shut you down?”

Henry reanimated with a shrug. “I have a thing for really high strappy, almost slutty, heels. Nothing like…” He stopped and blushed slightly. “Uh, never mind.”

Opal stood up and went over to him, just barely shorter than him now, and grinned. “I will have to remember that for later,” she replied.

“Oh, god, please do. Bonus points for silk stockings and the whole belt contraption,” he murmured.

She giggled. “You know, men and women are so different. You want the littlest piece of clothing on me, but I’d rather see you in a three piece suit.”

“I can fuck in a three piece suit just as well as I can without,” he teased.

His comment, and the harsh word, caught her off guard. Taking the opportunity, he went over to grab his cell phone. He beckoned her with a crooked finger. “Come here.”

She didn’t ask for clarification or even think about it; her feet in their dangerous footwear moved of their volition. When she reached him, he wrapped his arm around her and kissed her head, all while snapping a quick picture. He looked at it, smiled, and turned it around for her to view.

Her cheeks were high with color. Her skin glowed; her eyes sparkled. Her smile showed almost every one of her teeth. Everything about it made her seem so vital, so alive, so… beautiful. She had never seen herself so happy. Simply being near him made her want to beam from ear to ear.

He smiled softly. “Now you see what I see when I look at you.”

“I don’t always look like this,” she protested.

“You do,” he replied. “Let me send this to you so you can send it to Amber.”

Opal shifted uncomfortably. She’d completely forgotten about sending Amber a picture. What kind of friend was she, anyway?

“We can’t bring our phones tonight,” he explained. “Something about making sure nothing unflattering gets out.”

Opal looked up at him and nodded. “Okay. Let me just send Amber a text telling her I’m going out for the night.”

She saved the picture to her phone and opened up the text stream with her friend. She took the picture, sent it, and wrote, “I don’t think I ever expected my Hank to be this real. Going out for the night. Talk to you in the morning.”

She plugged her phone in, stood up, and took Henry’s hand. “Okay. Let’s go.”

~~~

Opal stood in the atrium of the Georgia Aquarium and sighed. She was enchanted. She’d been here a ton of times before at previous cons, but never on a night specifically designed to be an intimate cocktail party with all of the con’s celebrity guests.

What actually was her life right now?

Henry talked to Dany and Dwayne, and she couldn’t get over the fact that she was standing next to The Rock. How many times had she sat next to her brothers while they watched this giant man wrestle? If someone had told her this was going to be her life when she left Los Angeles the night before, she’d have told them they were lying. It was all a little surreal.

Dany smiled at her, obviously picking up on the fact that she had zoned out and had literal stars in her eyes. “So, Opal, what do you do?”

Opal hummed and blinked at her. “Yeah, sorry. I’m a designer and programmer for Blizzard. I have been there, oh gosh, almost ten years now. Best job I have ever had.”

“And you live with?” Dany inquired.

Opal understood Dany’s reticence to accept her into the group. Dany didn’t want anything to harm the business, and even though she seemed tough, she clearly cared deeply for both men as friends. Still, though, Opal didn’t think she gave off a crazy fan vibe.

“My best friend, from like middle school,” Opal said, moving to stand closer to Dany. She leaned in to speak quietly. “I know you’re worried about me using him, I get that, trust me. If I was in your position I would, too. But honestly, Dany, I didn’t even know he was him… until this morning when I arrived. I just thought he was a dorky British guy named Hank. That was it. In the months leading up to this I just got to know his heart and who he is, not Henry Cavill, God’s gift to women. I knew SuperHank, the cleric who runs around healing people, because he is that guy. I got to know the Hank who was shy and loved to cook and gets excited about Warhammer and new fantasy novels. Who tells me constantly that I am worthy and beautiful.”

Dany beamed at her. “That’s just what I wanted to hear.”

“And frankly, you scare me a little bit, so I won’t do anything untoward,” Opal said.

Dany laughed and flexed a bicep. “Don’t you forget it.”

“I won’t.”

“But seriously, Opal,” she said and grabbed Opal’s hand. “He needs someone he can love with his whole being, and I’ve never seen him happier than when he has spoken to me about you.” She squeezed her hand. “It’s not going to be easy, but I promise to make sure you’re okay and safe, and that you can be with him.”

Opal grinned. “He is pretty special.” She looked beside her, expecting to find him there. “And... gone, apparently.”

Lauren smiled at her. “He and Dwayne went to get some drinks.”

Opal felt her stomach clench. She tried to smile, but before she could muster one, Henry was back by her side. He handed her a flute of champagne. “Here, Princess.”

Opal took the glass from him and didn’t say a word. Her jaw clenched and it took everything in her to stop her hand from shaking.

Henry frowned. “Is that okay? Do you want something else?”

“Huh? Oh, no, it’s fine,” she replied and tried to smile again. Even though she couldn’t see it, she knew it came off as more of a grimace because of the expression Henry returned. He knew something was wrong, but the words to explain it to him failed to form on her tongue.

Not that she really had the chance to say anything, anyway. A loud, booming voice rang out across the atrium, “LITTLE BRUDDA!!!”

Opal spun around and watched in abject horror as two grown men raced towards each other and chest bumped each other like drunken frat boys.

Dwayne shook his head. “Seriously, you two? We’re in public.”

Henry came back and smiled. “Jason, my man, this… is Opal.”

Jason looked at her, his eyebrow raised. “Well, hello there, beautiful. I’m Jason…” He took her free hand and kissed the back of it. “If he gives you any trouble, let me know.”

Opal blushed. “Thank you. I will.”

Dazzled once more by the Man Also Known As Khal Drogo, Henry startled her with a hand on the small of her back. She looked up at him, still holding the flute from which she had not yet had a drop of champagne.

Henry leaned down into her ear. “Do you want me to get something else for you?”

She shook her head. “No, I just, uh… I’m going to get my own drink.”

She excused herself and headed over to the bar, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t running away from him and running away from the conversation she should have already had with him, even before they both decided to meet here in Atlanta.

She wasn’t in line long when she felt his presence behind her.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, concern written all over his face.

“I am, honestly. I just… well… it’s stupid. I don’t drink anything that I don’t see poured myself, and I very rarely drink alcohol in public. I should have told you. It’s just my hang up and, gah... I’m sorry I freaked out a little bit.”

Henry’s eyebrows knit together. He nodded, but he clearly wanted more.

“Let me get my drink and we’ll take a walk and talk, okay?” she asked, hoping to smooth things over.

He nodded and stood quietly with her. Even though he was clearly confused and maybe a little angry, his presence was still one that calmed her and she found herself resting against his sturdy bulk as they waited. Opal ordered her cranberry juice in a martini glass. To anyone other than herself and Henry, it looked like a Cosmo. It was her fallback when she wanted to hang out with the cool kids but didn’t want to do what the cool kids were doing. Because that one time she did what the cool kids were doing? She lived to regret it.

She took his hand and started to walk through the first exhibit. Opal paused at a tube enclosure in the middle of the room full of jellies. A black light shone down into the water, illuminating the sea creatures as they performed a graceful, haunting dance around their tank. She stood quietly, Henry standing next to her, silent, thinking.

Finally, she cleared her throat from the heavy emotion making it difficult to breathe. “I was drugged.”

Henry’s fingers curled into her back. Though he tried to mask the sharp intake of air, his gasp was still audible. “Opal, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because,” she said, just barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t just that. Amber and I were freshmen in college and I wanted to fit in. We went to a frat party. A guy we had art history with invited us.”

His anger was palpable; it wasn’t anger directed at her, though. Somehow, she knew that, as she stared at the gelatinous orbs bobbing through the water. She took a sip of the cranberry juice before moving on.

“I woke up the next morning, head fuzzy, in a room I had never seen before, and my panties around my ankles.” She braved a look up at Henry, to gauge his reaction. The sharp line of his jaw was set, his rage evident.

For some reason, it was cathartic to share this secret with another human. Amber knew, of course. Amber had nursed her back from the brink after they got home from the hospital.

“It’s the reason I pull away sometimes when you touch me, and the reason I am so unsure of myself. I’m sorry I never told you before, but you have a right to know.”

Henry didn’t speak; he looked at a point beyond her, staring in stony silence for the longest time. He finally tore his focus away from that point and gazed down at her. His face spoke volumes, even before his words did. He rested his chin on her head and wrapped her in his arms. “You know I would never, ever do that.”

“Oh, no, I do! I just… I want so badly for you to touch me, to be yours, I just need… time,” she said. “I don’t even know if I’m actually a virgin or not. I don’t know what they did to me. The next morning, Amber took me to the ER and a rape kit was done, but it was inconclusive. I’m sorry if this changes the way you feel about being with me.”

Henry pulled away from her and put his drink on the floor. He took her face gently in his hands. “I never, ever would feel any different about you. I just… I understand now.” He kissed her forehead, but didn’t move his lips from the spot they’d touched. His next words were muffled, but the meaning behind them was everything. “My promise to you is that I will not hurt you, and it’s all going to be at your pace.”

She smiled and pushed his hands away from her face. With her free hand, she reached up and let her hand rest on the nape of his neck. “Well, then, we can do this, cause I’m very ready for it.”

With little strength, she pulled him down to her and kissed him. It wasn’t passionate or chaste; it was somewhere in the middle. A reassurance. A promise. Her promise to be as open with him as possible. His cue that she was okay with him pushing her boundaries. And she loved him for it.

#Henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fan fiction #henry cavill fan fic #dgd #digital get down #tw:mentions of assault

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whumpflumpthump · 3 years

Text

Mac Whump...again...

Hello again!! I’m back with more Mac whump. However, this fic doesn’t have as large of a focus on whump as my last ones have, because I got kind of carried away... There is also some very questionable science in this fic, but it is based on facts. I will admit this isn’t my best work, but I wanted to get something out today, so here it is...

Warnings: This fic contains a gunshot and other related violence, so if this triggers you, please be safe!!

As always, if you guys have any MacGyver related prompts you would like me to fill, just send me an ask!

So, without further ado, enjoy!!

...

As Mac was running through the woods, being chased by a highly dangerous, armed, and not to mention gigantic gang member, her was wondering how things had gotten so bad, so quick. It had started out as a simple mission, infiltrate a gang of drug dealers who had recently started meddling in more dangerous affairs, just long enough to allow Riley to download some information that they could use to take down the gang. However, as with most missions the team went on, that was not how it ended up. The gang had somehow gotten wind of who they really were, and that unfortunate slip had led to Mac’s current, tiring predicament.

A gunshot rang out through the trees, and Mac risked a quick glance around to each side, making sure Riley and Jack were both still okay. Jack had turned around to return fire, and Riley, seeing Mac’s concerned glance, gave a small thumbs up. Mac sighed in relief before focusing again on not getting shot by the increasingly aggressive gang members chasing him. However, he wasn’t able to relax long, the team was quickly tiring, it had been a long trip and they were all running on low sleep. The hostiles were gaining quickly. He needed to come up with something soon, or this would not end well.

He looked around, and an idea slowly formed in his mind. About forty yards to the left, there was an old shack that looked like an old wood shop. Why it was there? He had no idea, but he was thankful regardless. If he could just get over to it, he would be able to use the saw dust as an explosive, and use it to cause a distraction that should give them enough time to escape and call for backup. But, in order to do that, he would need a distraction of his own. He turned around once again to look at Jack, and nodded his head towards the wood shack, hoping he would get his message.

It turned out all their years working together had paid off, because Jack nodded and almost immediately turned around and started firing.

“Take that you good-for-nothing scumbags. I’ll have you know, no one messes with an angry Jack Dalton and gets away unharmed.”

Jack’s threats seemed to work, at least for the moment. The gang seemed distracted, enough so that they didn’t seem to notice when Mac quickly darted over to the wood shop. As he approached, he was happy to see that his assumption was correct, and there was saw dust scattered in piles all over the ground.

Mac immediately set to work, gathering up the driest bits of dust he could find, and made a pile on an old table. After he had collected a good amount of sawdust, he started to look for something airtight to place them in. After about five seconds of frantic searching, Jack’s firing speed was slowing down as he was running out of ammo, Mac found what he was looking for, a roll of plastic wrap used to cover the wood when it rained. He quickly tore off a decent sized section, and wrapped the saw dust “bomb” he had created, leaving a small hole where he placed a rolled up piece of paper, found on the table for some kind of plans or something, to act as a wick.

As he was busy trying to form his makeshift bomb, Mac was oblivious to the gang member walking up behind him, gun raised and aimed at his chest. Right as he was about to light the paper, he heard a shout.

“Mac, watch out!”

It was Riley, eyes wide, as she watched the scene play out from safely behind a group of trees. She was presumably trying to call for help, before yelling at Mac.

He quickly turned around, and saw the gun aimed at his heart.

Time seemed to slow down as he watched the man’s finger move towards the trigger, a cold smile playing across his face. Just as his finger arrived at the trigger, he was tackled to the ground by Jack, who then promptly knocked him out with a swift right hook to the jaw, but not before a single shot was fired.

...

Mac’s mouth formed a small “o,” as the bullet tore into his body, not at the chest like it was intended, but in his right leg, right above his knee.

He fell to the ground as his leg gave out, and landed hard on the forest floor. For a few seconds, he was blissfully numb as his brain tried to catch up with what had just happened.

He was not so lucky for long.

First, there was a throbbing pain as the blood poured out of the wound, and then came the burning. A searing pain that felt as though his leg was on fire shot through his body, causing him to shudder. His breaths were coming in short gasps as he tried to look down to assess the damage.

Blood was pouring out of the bullet hole, and pooling on the leaf-covered ground. That was as far as he got in his examination, before Jack was kneeling next to him, gently pushing his shoulders back to the ground.

“Hey bud, you need to stay still for me okay?” he said, and then got his first real look at Mac’s injury.

“Oh Mac, that does not look good. I’m so sorry bud, if I had been a little quicker...”

He was cut off by Mac, “Not...your fault.” Mac was already starting to lose focus, and blood was still pouring out of the wound. He looked down again, “How bad?”

“Well, its not great...can’t see an exit wound, so the bullet is still in there. From the looks of things, your femur might be fractured too.”

Mac nodded, before closing his eyes tight as another shudder racked through him.

Jack seemed to have realized that he needed to stop the bleeding, so he was back kneeling next to Mac.

“Okay bud, this might hurt, but I need to try and slow the bleeding. Riley, what’s the ETA of exfil?”

That seemed to snap Riley out of her shock, and she pulled out her phone, while Jack started to push on Mac’s leg.

“Four minutes!”

Mac gasped as Jack pushed the bullet farther into his leg, causing it to put pressure on the already injured bone. Black spots were forming in his vision as his breaths got shorter, he was rapidly losing his battle to stay conscious.

“Sorry Mac, we can’t take the bullet out, and you’ve already lost enough blood as it is.”

“It’s...k” Mac said, his eyes fluttering.

“Come on bud, stay with me. You’re doing so well, just a few more minutes,” Jack said, in vain, as Mac’s eyes had finally closed and he fell unconscious, going limp in the dirt.

“Riley, how much longer?”

“Two minutes now,” Riley responded, looking nervously at the blonde between them.

Jack checked Mac’s pulse, and sighed in relief as he felt it, slower than normal, but there.

They both waited out the next two minutes in silence, and when exfil came, they moved out of the way as the medics lifted Mac’s prone form onto a stretcher, and got into the truck.

As the truck drove away, they were both thinking the same thing, why was it always Mac?

...

Thanks for reading!! I just wanted to let you know that tomorrow should be another creepy Murdoc fic, and I am working on a continuation of my first Murdoc fic, which should be done some time this week.

Thanks again, have a wonderful day!!

#MacGyver #macgyver whump #macgyver whump fanfiction #macgyver whump fanfic #fanfiction #mine #gunshot wound #leg wound #long tags #thanks for reading #angus macgyver whump #mac whump #jack dalton #riley davis #Angus MacGyver

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