#with blood dripping from the ceiling. ominous whispers filling the room. the works | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

urlocalbunny · 3 years

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*kneels down before you* MA'AM. NEIL CONTENT PLEASE? MA'AM. can you make gramps be the feralest man alive?

ask, and you shall receive, my sweet, ominous Bal.

The chilly wind hit the trees outside Eloise's room, making her set down her mug on the balcony table to open the window, bring her things in and settle on the bed instead. She almost left her cup there. The storm outside roared. She sighed, a worried frown on her face.

"I hope there will be no thunder... I should check on Ethan."

The girl moved from her curtains to the door, only to hear a bang on the glass. She jumped, clutching her chest. The shadow in the window was nothing but a tree branch. She locked the window, moving to the door again. Aaron was already home since the full moon was gone. Passing through the halls and rooms, she could see each vampire. At least they weren't going to get the flu or something. The house creaked under her feet. Eloise was never fond of storms herself because they were ominous and brought memories.

She found Ethan in the kitchen, pouring himself a beer. Eloise knew he was still feisty, but when she silently extended two earplugs, he smiled gratefully and put them on, sipping his beer. Eloise gave him a pat on the head, then left. After a while of being friends and trying to get along with her, the vampires deemed her very fitting. Eloise found herself getting used to vampires around because living alone was scary, especially after surviving the fall from the window.

She remembers drinking a lot of blood that wasn't hers. She could've called the police on them, but she realized that having six men living with her wasn't a bad idea, especially if they had at least 30 years old. Strange for some people, but it was a win-win situation for everyone.

Of course, Neil came and was gone when Asmodée died (which was more proof that she should keep these guys around), and she contemplated asking them to turn her many, many times. She was still making up her mind. But something about them allured her. Something about never dying. About hunting, learning as much as them. Being as smart, seeing the world go round and round under her feet while she never changed. She had nothing to lose.

Maybe that also came from the fact that Neil entranced her in ways she knew she shouldn't be thinking about, but just the fact that he could control a demon and fight for his own life mesmerized her. His will to live, the way he drank her blood and left to live as much as he could. She wondered what types of things the man did. Where he went, who he could be with- No. That was too much.

"Shit!" She hissed, running to close it. She was pretty sure she secured the window before checking up on Ethan and looking for the others before it rained. That was weird. She let out a frustrated sigh, pressing her fingers against the mug and feeling the heat coming from it. The coffee was still too hot, so she grabbed a few rags to dry the floor. The noises were dull and calming, but the weather made everything creepier. She kneeled on the floor, trying her best to use the rags to drain the water, but before she had the chance to take them back to finish, she felt two drops on her back.

But it was the truth. Eloise wished she could have seen it up close. She could only use a telescope she had gotten from Aaron when they became friends. The girl remembers seeing his golden eyes from afar, mouth dripping with that black, strange blood. She felt this incredible urge to follow. But she knew he could kill her even after they knew each other's motivations.

Every night, her heart would clench when she remembered him towering over her. The sweet yet masculine and sickening scent he had engraved on her mind. Eloise walked around a little more. Then she found herself back in her room. She was never good at sleeping during the night, so she just stood there, thinking about what to do now that the pitter-patter of the rain slammed violently against the roof. Her eyes wandered to the window again.

They were cold and came from somewhere like the ceiling. Eloise grabbed the bucket she was using to wring the rags and put it on the places where the droplets fell, moving to the side and continuing her task. Then more droplets fell on her back, this time, followed by a snort. She gasped, looking up. Those eyes of his shone in the dim lights. His hair was down and parted to one side, as long as she could remember. The black button-up was clinging to his slender but muscular figure. Her eyes were directly in front of his crotch.

He had this nasty smile on his face, but she didn't yell. It wasn't worth it. He seemed way healthier. His eyes didn't have that crazy glimmer of the first time they met.

She sighed blissfully, looking up at him. Neil didn't expect such complacent behavior from the human, given how much she loved to argue, but he wasn't going to complain.

"Are you going to kill me?"

"Not quite. I can't do what I was thinking about doing if you're dead." Eloise crawled away to get a better look, resting her head against the glass and listening to him. "You know... I have been thinking this whole time I had been in here. It was one of the only things I could do." He crouched to get to her eye level, watching how her panties showed through the skirt.

"I kept telling myself you were just like your parents and I was doomed, but it was your idea that made me join your friends to get my freedom back. The thing is, you are just like them in a way. You're clever."

"Uh- thanks? What are you trying to-"

"Say? I remembered the things you used to say now that my judgment isn't so clouded. I remember how you smell... How your voice sounds... Your small giggles and even when you have fun by yourself... You know what I mean." Eloise gasped, eyes never leaving his, while he checked her out.

"When I saw you for the first time, it was almost sad to have to kill you when you looked like this. You look so pure, so... Sweet." His finger approached slowly and touched her warm, soft knee. She didn't flinch. "You can tell me if you want me to stop, doll."

Eloise opened her leg slightly and pulled the hem of her dress up enough to show him her lace panties. Her eyes were as clear as day when he held her thigh and slid his wet hand against it. His jaw clenched, eyes shining ominously in the dark. Neil pounced, kissing her urgently, a groan leaving his lips as if he'd been waiting. Eloise's tongue went out to play with his. The faint taste of iron mixed with Neil's made her suck in a breath. It tastes good.

Neil was surprised. He expected more talking and less... Of this, but she was so intoxicating that he was gone as soon as she opened her legs. Tiny groans filled the room as Neil held her thigh to keep it open, but soon that wasn't enough contact, and he grasped the back of her neck with the other hand, pushing forward and placing her on the floor, letting his weight fall on top of her. Her legs locked themselves on his hips, and her hands looked for his shirt's buttons, undoing them as fast as she could. Neil couldn't have enough of her little mouth, but it didn't mean he had to kiss her forever.

Neil smiled lovingly at her, watching her hands work on his shirt clumsily.

"You're so pretty like this..." He whispered in her ear, a sly grin spreading across his beautiful face. She whined, looking for his mouth again, but he moved to rip the top of her dress, making her yelp. His mouth attached to one nipple. Eloise was already damp from Neil's clothes, so his hot mouth sucking on her nipple made her shiver. He rolled his eyes, sucking on one nipple while he groped the other breast. Eloise moaned, leaning her head back and showing him her pale, delicate neck. His eyes darted towards her face, contorted in pleasure. His hands ripped the rest of the dress, then pulled her panties as quick as he could.

His hand found itself on her hair, yanking it forward and making her kneel. Eloise didn't waste any time and stripped him fully. Her eyes were hazy, her body wet and bare just for him. He stood up and kicked his unbuttoned pants aside. She licked her lips, opening her mouth slightly to accommodate his length. He sighed, seeing this was too much for him. He felt his resolve breaking way too quickly.

He moaned when she lost patience, sucking on his tip and licking the slit. He loved how her face showed how much she liked the taste and her hands roamed on his thighs. Her lips closed around the head, making eye contact as she put more and more on her mouth. It was too much. He thrust forward slightly, making her moan in approval, and pull him towards her with her hands.

He started with a slow pace, but she groaned in frustration. His hand squeezed her fringe and pulled her head towards him, thrusting quicker than before. Her gagging sounds and moans filled the room. He kept his eyes shut as her hands caressed him, hissing and moaning from time to time as her throat closed in on him. The pleasure was almost blinding. She was so, so sweet that he could cum on her face just from this. However, he pulled out to have her sucking him again and pumping what she couldn't take without his help. Her eyes were teary and pleading. Neil could only comply. He kneeled, opening her legs to accommodate himself in between them, and barely waited, testing out the waters to see if she was ready, then sliding in. He'd thought about that for days.

"Neil, fuck me. Please." He hissed, bottoming out. She rubbed her clit while he held her fringe again, groaning in her ear. His mouth found her perky nipple he left before, sucking on it, then her neck, where he created as many marks as he could, cherishing every moan and plead she gave him.

"Pretty one... You don't know what you've gotten yourself into." His voice felt strained as his hips began to slap against hers. It was hard to get used to the pace. Eloise gasped, rubbing her clit and enjoying the near overstimulation he was providing her. He pulled on her hair, keeping her head on the floor as he had his way with her. Eloise keened, arching her back and smiling at him. Her expression was full of some wicked form of peace and bliss.

Neil didn't care about the slapping sounds or the way Eloise's whimpers crossed the door for sure. His mind was somewhere else entirely. The vampire pushed her legs further apart, pressing his upper body against hers. He felt her perky nipples dragging against his chest, his hips dragging ever so slightly on her fingers that worked on the small bud between her legs.

Eloise clawed at his damp back, both of them panting and moaning, kissing and letting go. When the brunette rolled her eyes and shut her mouth, he practically cried.

"Yes, yes, this is it, give it to me!"

Eloise's legs trembled, her back arching off the wet floor and closing the little space between them. Neil didn't let up until he was gasping for air, cumming inside her for all he was worth. They both panted, silent. The house didn't creak. The others were probably alone in a room, thinking about which one of them could be doing this to her. Probably wishing it was them? Maybe. But tonight, Neil was the only one.

"Are you ever going to be mad at me for everything that hap-"

"Stay. Just for tonight."

"...I suppose it's too late to leave without being noticed anyways."

#moonlight lovers #moonlight lovers headcanons #moonlight lovers neil #neil x eloise #nsfwbunny #grampa #moonlight lovers smut #ml neil

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ill-skillsgard · 5 years

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Patterns in the Ivy, Part 7 - Bill Skarsgård

Title: Patterns in the Ivy

Description: A continuation of Smoke & Money. Ghosts from the not-so-distant past come back to threaten her. She must choose between a lavish life of servitude or have everything she ever loved stripped away.

Warning: 18+ smut/swearing/mentions of drugs/kink & fetish themes

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

The master bedroom was just that —a master of a bedroom. It was a room that had been so meticulously designed you would be afraid to touch anything in it. The King sized bed was off in the corner surrounded by a cacophony of taupe drapes rucked around from the ceiling, closing it off from one side. A block for the sitting area was carved into the architecture just in front of the stage of a bed, laid with ivory carpeting that perfectly matched the thick glass tea table and Sheraton tub chairs that turned out towards a frosted glass window. On the other side of the room there was a writing desk made of glazed petrified wood with four iron posts as its base but there was no stationary or anything of importance on the surface beside a silver tray that was home to a collection of sparkling beveled decanters all half full of what I thought to be bourbon, cognac or brandy. There was a wooden cigar box too as a steel cigar cutter gave away to. When I inhaled, I was plagued with memories of the first time I ever met him. We were only five years younger then but when I looked at him standing in the middle of the room, the first three buttons of his shirt open and an ominous look darkening his already striking facial construct I could see that he had definitely matured into a man, outside and in. I saw nothing but his assertive masculinity, no hint of a teenager left in him at all. He was mad at me and I stood there with my hands clasped in front of me like I was hiding my body from him, though I had on a dress, opaque black pantyhose and a pair of patent ebony heels that I had owned for years and was surprised weren't terribly nicked up. Being fully dressed aside, I still felt naked in front of him when those eyes glowered at me like fanned green embers. "I don't even know where to begin..." He said, tone low and riddled with disappointment. I know that all of my questions and the way I reacted when we arrived had gone completely unappreciated. His patience had been short the entire duration of the evening. I was glad that the trip had taken so much out of Ivany that she had passed out cold right after we had dinner together in the dining hall. Ivany had babbled herself into an early sleep and after I put her to sleep in her new room I knew that I was in for it once I met Bill in his extravagant master bedroom. "You have been such a bad girl... I don't know how to deal with your insolence." I swallowed hard and avoided locking eyes with him though I knew his blazing green ones wouldn't be straying from me anytime soon. The worst part was, I knew he was genuinely unhappy with my behavior and I couldn't help but feel a sense of guilt as he stood before me, smoldering and trying to work out just how he wanted to exact my punishment. "What do you have to say for yourself?" He asked. "I'm sorry." "You don't mean it." He said, finally taking his eyes from me. "I am sorry, Daddy. Please... Don't be angry." He crossed his arms but graced me with his gaze again. "What are you going to do to make it better?" "Anything." "Anything?" "Yes, Daddy, anything." He chuckled deeply and it sent a chill through me. "You don't mean that either." "I promise." "We'll see." I watched him turn around and walk towards the bed so he could sit on the edge with his legs spread wide apart, elbows coming down to rest on his knees. He looked up at me again and sighed deeply. I wanted so badly for him to be in a better mood. It made me miss his smile and yearn for the worship be had given me back at home. I really meant what I said when I told him I'd do anything to make it up to him. All I wanted was for him to smile again and whisper all of his nasty soliloquies in my ear as he fucked me hard but I knew it wouldn't be that easy. With two fingers he beckoned me forth and like the obedient house pet that he wanted, I approached him and didn't stop until I came up a foot from being between his long legs. "Closer." He said. I took another step and he grabbed me by the hips, turning me so I was facing away from him. "Bend over for me." Folding at the hips, I lowered myself and waited for what was to come next. His hands ran up the backs of my thighs and up, smoothing over the partially see-through material of my tights. "Fuck, I want to beat your sweet ass but... I just can't bring myself to hurt my little girl." "I deserve to be spanked, Daddy." His hands snuck further up my dress but instead of pulling down my nylon tights he lifted the hem up, stretching the material so he could see more of my skin. With a low growl, he squeezed one of my cheeks and then the other. The sound of his hand rubbing over the stretched material was as stimulating as the feeling of it. My knees were locked into place as I bent in front of him, awaiting what he would do or say next but he took his time squeezing me, taking handfuls of my ass and then kissing the material shielding my skin. "Fuck... Such a bad bad girl, aren't you?" "Yes, Daddy." My response earned me another purr and a kiss. I held onto my ankles for balance and that's when he decided to raise his hand and clap it back down over my stretched out nylons, hissing through his teeth after the hit landed with a satisfying thwap. "Hold still baby," he warned me. He spanked me, grabbed me, let little murmurs of satisfaction escape him and my skin prickled. The slaps didn't hurt too much at first but after a few whacks on each cheek, I began to feel the stinging burn filter through the pleasure. I winced after a particularly hard one and he wrapped his left arm around my waist. "You know I gotta make it hurt." "I know, Daddy." "Such a nasty girl... I think you like it when Daddy hits you. I think it makes your pussy wet." I didn't reply but I did whimper and try to rise up to keep the blood from rushing to my head. "Everything you do makes my pussy wet, Daddy." "Oh, does it?" He said in a hoarse voice that indicated his rising arousal. "Yes, sir." "You know how to talk real pretty but I'm going to need proof," Bill said to me as he tossed my skirt up higher and bent me down further so my breasts were pressed against the tops of my thighs. His hands all over me filled me up with desire and pain. He muttered about how filthy I was for liking his punishment and continued to bestow it upon me, winding up high and giving me one particularly hard spank that made me lurch forward and nearly lose my balance. I offered my help by holding the skirt of my dress up for him and arching my spine as far out as I could. "Are you getting all nice and wet for me, hm?" He asked me, tone full of air, superiority and pure sexual prowess. "Yes, Daddy. I can't help it." "If I check and you're not dripping, Daddy's going to be very disappointed." He warned. I didn't lie about how I was feeling already and he hadn't even begun to touch me anywhere but my ass and it was all leftover angry handprints and buzzing skin. The anticipation of the night was exciting enough and I craved more of his touch, his approval, and his forgiveness. I felt him gather up as much of the thin material of my tights as he could in a fist and used his other hand to pinch a good amount so that it was easy for him to rip them open, revealing my mostly bare ass with a satisfying shred. "Oh fuck... Look at these," he practically sang. "Look at these dirty little fucking panties you've got on." I bent further for him, hoping he was enjoying the view from his seated position on the bed. "Do you think about Daddy when you put these on?" "Yes, Daddy. I think about pleasing you always." He ran his thumbs over my inflamed skin, kneading me and spreading me apart so he could admire the tiny amount of soaking fabric covering my most intimate parts. "You weren't thinking about making me happy earlier today, were you? No. You were just thinking about yourself. I bet you're still only thinking about yourself... You're probably thinking about how badly you want my cock, isn't that right?" "I'm thinking about making you happy." "Don't lie to me, little girl." Bill pulled me closer so that I fell onto the bed beside him. He ripped my dress up again and moaned as he ran a smooth palm over my ass. With a seductive whisper, he asked, "what are you thinking about? Tell me the truth." "I'm thinking about... Your mouth. I can't help it, Daddy. I want you so badly." "Wet for me?" "Yes, Daddy." "How wet, baby?" I couldn't answer his question before he was hooking a finger underneath the string of my thong, pulling it aside to see if I was lying. "Oh, fuck... Yes. That's so nice. Fuck." It was my turn to purr when I felt the air hit my hot skin. It was a challenge not to squirm especially when he was so close to me, extorting my submission to him by the way he fondled me and spoke with such easy carnality. The businessman-turned-sexual predator worked for him well and when I twisted my neck to look at his face I saw lust drawn all over his lips, the way they hung open and audible breath escaping him. What I truly longed for was to lunge at him to capture his face so I could kiss him the way lovers did but I knew that when he was playing this version of himself he did not want to be reminded about anything but the endeavor at hand. I thought to myself that it would be worth it to entertain this fantasy for him and that I might as well have a fun time doing it but having fun was never a problem when he looked at me like that. I would imagine most any woman would melt at the sight of him and that in turn made me grateful that I was the one to make him groan with unabashed pleasure. Getting spanked by him as I knelt on a satin bed cover beneath a marquee of drapes above us with my tights ripped open was a perfectly ironic display but I didn't want to think about that. I didn't want to remember all the time I wasted fighting him because that would mean acknowledging my defeat and as I looked up for a moment at the painted ceilings with all of its thick crown molding and carved cherubs spilling baskets of flowers and fruits down from on high, I didn't feel like I had lost. Quite the opposite. "Up. Stand up." He said as he pulled away from me. I slid off the bed, curiosity brimming for his next request. I watched on as he rubbed his hands over his face and shook his head as though he were trying to keep himself awake. "Yes, Daddy?" "Pour me a drink." He pointed toward the writing desk. With next to no hesitation I walked over to the giant nebulous slab of wood and looked at all of the different coloured amber liquids at home in their crystal bottles. I chose what I knew to be a bourbon, I had many years of bar-tending to thank for not making me look foolish at that moment. After I had poured a healthy amount into a tumbler I turned around and saw him staring at me with severity, the summits of his cheekbones presumptuous, his jaw flexing in a way that reminded me of the coked-out patrons I would serve at the last job he had forced me to quit. Now I served him and only him and that verity was awakening something inside of him that I saw coming towards me like a storm in the distance though he remained sitting on the bed with his legs angled out wide. "Put that down. Get up on the table and face me." Gently I set down the glass tumbler far enough away so that I wouldn't accidentally knock it off. The slice of polished wood mounted atop the solid iron posts hardly moved as I shimmied myself on top of it and he watched me like I was a car wreck, eyes stuck to every detail of what was before him. "Show me," His voice was rougher than gravel. "Show Daddy that pussy." There was a new kind of power I felt as I lifted my legs up onto the desk and spread my knees so he could see what he had already gotten started. I watched myself too and suddenly I felt this heady rush like I was no longer in control of myself. I wasn't J anymore. The self I had gotten used to was walking out of the door and what was left was watching her back, wordlessly and unflinching. This other person was newborn and untouched by the premise of independence, vulnerable only to the dangerous set of eyes from across the room. I pulled apart the crotch of my nylons and showed him what he wanted to see. He began to nod as I leaned back on the base of my spine, eagerly awaiting his instructions. "Show me." Pulling aside the fabric of my panties, an excitement in him seemed to flare by the way he raised his shoulders and shuddered, savoring the visual feast that was me perched on an expensive table with my legs spread and my tights ripped open, lacy material off to one side. If I didn't know any better I would have said a fire lit behind those green marble eyes and once I went the extra mile and used two fingers to spread myself apart for him I knew his blood went rushing South. "Take your dress off." His words rushed out of him like he was deflating. I hauled the dress over my head and tossed it on the carpet. In only a bra, ripped nylons and panties, I felt the drafts of air begin to tickle my skin. My hand went back down between my legs and he nodded studiously and pleased that I was so willing to show him what he wanted. "Play with your pussy, bad girl. Show me what you do when you think of Daddy fucking you." Putting on a special show for the man that held my life in the palm of his hand, I sighed longingly and drew circles around my clit gently, hardly pressing down but applying just enough pressure to start giving myself a touch of the pleasure I craved. He rubbed his face, covering his mouth and readjusted his position as he watched me. When I slipped myself a finger I moaned but more importantly, he moaned and let his eyes flutter slightly. "Fuck that looks good." My own wetness was enough to impress even myself and it wasn't long before Bill stood up and strode up to me so quickly it was almost frightening. His long legs carried him right up to where I was, leaning back on the table with my knees bent and parted. "Keep going. Keep teasing yourself. I want that pussy dripping." Fingers curling around the glass of bourbon, he brought the drink to his top lip, smelling it before taking a tiny sip. His tongue glided over his bottom lip after he swallowed and then he took a long sip. He swirled the liquid in the bottom of the tumbler and let his free hand slide down my knee, pulling my leg closer to him so he could watch me play with myself and drink his whiskey at the same time. Tossing back the rest of it in one swift shot, he set the glass down and knelt in front of me, hands grabbing the backs of my thighs, his beautiful face coming up close to me. "Spread that pussy for me." He demanded. I did as I was told and hardly felt an itch about how boldly I was able to expose myself to him. If it had have been anyone else I would have something to say in protest over pushing my lips open. With myself agape for him, he chewed his lip and purred. "You want Daddy's tongue?" "Yes. Please... Yes, Daddy." "Tell me. Tell me how much you want it." "I want your tongue Daddy. I want it so bad. I'm so wet for you." His mouth was close enough that I could feel the hot air hitting me from his nostrils and throat but there was no contact yet and that was maddening. When he finally graced me with one sweet soft lick I gasped with delight. "Oh, Daddy." "You like that, little girl? You like Daddy's tongue on that hot, wet little cunt?" "Mhm. Yes, I do." His eyes focused on my slick opening that he felt the need to spit on. I felt his saliva drip down my folds as I continued spreading for him. He replaced my hand with his own as he hooked his arms around my thighs and rocked me further onto my back. The vision of him spreading me out so that I could clearly see him descend on me was so much I could hardly find a breath to take. He exposed me so obscenely, dripping spittle all over my unsheathed clit so that he could lick it up again. "You know Daddy would do anything for this sweet pussy, don't you?" "Yes." "I love my little girl's delicious fucking cunt." Currents of lucid sensuality shot through every nerve in my body and I couldn't believe how easily he could send me to the edge. Every disgusting little word that fell from that gorgeous mouth of his was vexatious like the world's most profane poetry spoken only to me. I whined as he slipped his tongue into my opening to bathe in the warmth and fluid and the feeling was unparalleled. Nobody had ever made me feel as turned on as he did. Luxury and money meant fuck all when his mouth was over me, devouring, slurping, spitting and sucking. It was then I realized it was not the opportunities nor the freedom of financial struggle that lured me. Not the promises he made to give our daughter the very best. Not the security or the opulence or fast cars. It was purely and simply him. As long as I had him to make me feel this way I knew I could attain happiness. Panting and mewling, he worked his oral magic on me and ravished me right up until my thighs started shaking. I had propped myself up on my arms so I could watch him eat me but I knew I wouldn't be able to last long. Bill knew this and pulled away, cheeks and chin wet with my juices. "Oh no, no, no. We can't have you coming. No." He lifted one leg from his kneeling position and boosted himself up so he was towering over me once again. He grabbed my face in one hand and gave me a sloppy slack-jawed kiss that was more tongue than anything. The warm muscle entered my mouth just like he had done to my pussy and he used his fingers like a vice to jar my mouth open. He spat into my mouth and growled. "Spit on your pussy," he commanded through clenched teeth. He took a small step back and began to undo his belt, watching as I let the collection of saliva fall from my puckered lips onto my slit. When the hem of his pants came down loosely around his hips he pulled his navy blue button-up shirt off. The stark contrast of his pale skin against the backdrop of the extravagant walls was unequivocal. He was the most beautiful thing in the entire room and he could tell I thought this by the way his lips quirked into a smirk as I drank in his form. He took one more step back and pulled his hard cock out of the confines of his designer trousers. He seethed, stroking himself in front of me for a moment before locking our eyes again. "Oh, Daddy." I gushed, feeling myself get ever the hotter for him. "Yes baby girl, I know you want my cock but I want you to beg for it." "Please... Please, Daddy. I need you inside of me. I need your nice, big cock inside my pussy. Please." My begging didn't sound forced at all. I truly wanted him more than anything else. I whimpered as I watched him running his palm up and down that perfectly thick shaft, envisioning it pushing into me, slowly passed my pussy lips and deep inside until there was nowhere to go but back out and in again. "Beg!" He rasped. "Please, please Daddy. Please fuck me." "Yeah... That's right, baby." He inched closer to me but wasn't willing to give me what I needed quite yet. "Nobody's cock makes you this wet. Your pussy is mine, isn't it?" "Yes. Yes, Daddy. All yours." It was a slow process watching him edge up to me, fingers tangled around the crotch of my panties, yanking it over so he could position the head of his cock right in front of my opening. He rocked his hips forward and only let himself barely touch me before pulling back, lips hanging open, loving my needy whimpers with a smile on his face. "Please, Daddy." He bristled with sickening pleasure as he teased me, giving me just enough of him and then pulling back out. The slow build-up was cruel and I could feel desperation painting my skin rosy but even he couldn't resist the urge to fully envelop himself in me for long. Once he had pushed his cock all the way inside and felt the entirety of the wet warmth, his head rolled back and he moaned. I felt so full once he was inside of me that I swear that was the state of being I should have always been in. His attention gave me life and sent sparks flying through me like we were completing an electrical circuit. "My fucking God. I can't believe how fucking wet you are. My little slut." It was true and we both knew it. The salacious dewiness that was my dripping wet pussy was aural enough for us both to appreciate. Every slippery movement of his cock inside of me could be heard and it was enough to make him slam into me, pressing himself closer so he could gather me up and repeat himself. My angle and him holding me tight was just as good as it was biting and I knew he was going to fuck me raw until I couldn't handle it anymore. That's what he liked to do. He liked to build it up and keep it going until I lolled over like a rag doll, slouching into him like I was about to pass out. Bill had this endless supply of energy and once he got going he was as hard to stop as a freight train. It was like nothing satisfied him at all. Bill had me in every position and then some. Once I couldn't take being leaned back on my tailbone any longer he pulled me off the table and turned me around so he could fuck me from behind and thread his hand through my hair, pulling my head back so he could growl in my ear. He gripped my throat, slamming into me hard and making it that much more vicious when he slapped my face and forced me to look back at him. "You like getting fucked like a whore, don't you? You're such a dirty fucking slut." He spat on me, spanked me, spread my thighs apart so wide it nearly tore muscles. He had me on my hands and knees on the floor and then lifted me up as easily as if I were a child and tossed me onto the bed. He forced me to open my mouth so he could fuck my face and made sure to push beyond my limits, gagging me off with his hardness. He commanded me to use up every last drop of saliva I had to spit on him or myself. Then he finally laid down and told me I had to climb on top of him and sit on his cock, facing away from him so he could watch me fuck myself on him. He drawled his nasty words of praise as he watched my ass bouncing up and down on him and that was when he did something I wasn't expecting. I felt the pad of his thumb trail up the cleft of my ass and brush over my hole. When I looked back at him his attention wasn't on me but on where he held his digit. "Don't be scared, baby. Daddy just wants to play with that ass a little, hm?" I knew that he knew I wasn't overly enthused about that type of intrusion but I found it harder to deny him what he wanted than to stop. After all, I wanted to make him happy. "Oh yes, I know that hole is tight," He murmured as I rose my hips and lowered them again, angling myself so his cock would hit that nice spot inside of me. When he pressed into me slightly my breath hitched and I jerked away but he caught my hips and rose from his laying position, chest pressed against my back. I settled down on him and our rocking ceased so he could whisper into my ear. "I just want to play a little, don't worry." "Daddy..." I whined in protest. "You want to spend your nights in Daddy's bed, don't you?" "Yes." "Well... Let me play a little bit. I promise it won't hurt." He spoke into my neck before replacing his words with a kiss. He brushed my hair aside and trailed little kisses down my neck to my shoulder, starting up a gentle rhythm again to distract me from what was to come next. I reveled in the feeling of his hardness swirling inside of me and tried not to overthink it. When he pulled out of me I wasn't sure what to do until he pulled my arm, turning me around so I could climb back onto him but face-to-face. He went straight for my nipples with his mouth as they were the most accessible thing when I reversed my position. His hands slowly skittered down my hips and over my ass. He got close but not too close, only helping me move up and down on him with his grip on my cheeks and his arms lifting my body weight so I could drop back down on him, satisfying our mutual want for deepness. When he looked at me, eyes hooded and lust burning, he fed one long index finger into my mouth. "Yes, get it nice and wet," He encouraged me as I sucked on the digit. I held my breath once he pulled his finger out of my mouth, coming away slick and ready to be used against me. The whimpers escaping me did nothing to deter him from pushing the tip of his finger into my other hole and he gasped in unison with me, only his was laced with thrill and mine, choked off by unfamiliarity. "Oooh," He cooed when my body tensed. "That's not so bad, huh?" I didn't quite answer but I didn't remain silent. He used his grip on me to move my hips and I squirmed, unsure if I liked the sensation or if it was too foreign for me. "Fuck," He said, eyes rolling back in that telltale way that let me know he was finding genuine enjoyment in it. "That tight little asshole... Fuck. So good. Come on, baby. Fuck me good." He bucked his hips up, urging me to get going harder. I put aside any doubts I had in my mind and obeyed him just like I knew he wanted me to. "Yes, fuck me. Yes, yes, yes." He hissed. Our rhythm picked up and he couldn't get enough of it. He rose his hips up to slam into mine each time I descended on him and gradually worked his finger in a little bit deeper even though I was fussing. He used his other hand to spank me hard and I couldn't help but cry out. The punishment was short-lived though as he took his finger from me and leaned back on his elbows so he could watch me ride him. "Hit me." He breathed but I wasn't sure if I heard him right. I continued to bounce on his groin, hands supporting myself on his chest. "Hit me, baby. Slap me." I looked down at his face all contorted with pleasure and I knew he wasn't joking. "Fucking hit me!" I slapped him across the face and it was enough to make him twitch inside of me and groan happily. His hair that had been so neatly combed back from his face all day was falling over his forehead and sweat started to break on his brow. "Again." He demanded. Each time I wound back to slap him I felt his legs stiffen. As much as I didn't want to harm him, I knew he was a man that knew what he wanted and if he wanted to get slapped across the face I would do my best to make it convincing. He bucked up into me harder and harder and soon he was sweating, panting and holding onto my waist like I was going to float away. "I'm going to fucking come." His voice muffled from between my breasts. "Yes, Daddy." I whispered. He grabbed my wrist and took my finger into his mouth, sucking on it hard as his bucking grew inconsistent. I stared down at him in awe, cheeks hollowed as he used me to fulfill every little desire he had. I had never seen him so frantic to come. It was as lamentable as it was enamoring and I couldn't believe the desperation in his eyes as he geared up to release. He smashed into me a couple more times before his moans all strung together and turned into an animalistic growl. I was unable to move off of him as he came deep inside of me, using his arms to squeeze around my torso to keep me from moving anywhere. "Yes. Yes. Take all of Daddy's cum. Oh, fuck." A few minutes were spent in the quiet aftermath of his orgasm and I only moved to get off of him after he his breathing had slowed and he laid back down, eyes trained to the canopy. When I laid down next to him I half expected him to come at me as he usually did but when the minutes trickled away and the rolling of his chest calmed I started to get a strange feeling. "Good girl. That was amazing. You did so well." I reached out to touch his chest but he caught my hand and rolled over onto his side to face me. He planted his full lips on the back of my palm, eyes wide as plates. "I'm afraid your punishment isn't over quite yet, baby girl." "Oh?" "No," he gave a gentle shake of his head. "Unfortunately, because of your bad behavior, Daddy isn't going to let you come tonight." I recoiled only slightly, not wanting to let him know that I was hurt he would withhold himself from me. "But... You can sleep beside me tonight with my cum inside of you so that you'll be reminded of what happens when you misbehave." Rendered speechless, I only stared at him to make absolutely sure he was serious. He goggled at me back and that was when I figured out that it was a test. "Yes, Daddy. I understand." He smiled at me, pleased as could be. Pushing my hair back from my face he leaned in to kiss me long and lovingly on the lips. "That's my good girl. So good for me. What did I do to deserve such a sweet, obedient little kitten?" I laid my head down on the pillow beside me and sighed at the sensation of his seed still up inside of me. I supposed he didn't care much about his expensive sheets. They were probably changed everyday regardless if they had been used or not. Bill got up to turn off the light and came back into bed, cuddling up close to me so he could press one more kiss to my lips. "I love you, baby... I do." Nothing that night affected me more than those words and I was thankful that I could not be seen in the darkness of the master bedroom. No doubt my face was screwed up as I let the sound of Bill's words replay over and over like I couldn't believe them. "I love you, too."

~*~

The sun was shining bright and we were up having breakfast with Ivany who had slept well but was very eager to start exploring her surroundings. Bill had awoken in a more than pleasant mood and made sure to speckle my face with kisses, particularly when we were all in the same room together. I sat in a high-backed chair and simply listened to their exchanges over our food with a smile on my face. "What are we going to do today, Mommy? Do I have to go to school?" Ivany looked at me and then at Bill as she swung her legs beneath the chair that was far too big for her. "Well," Bill began. "As much as I would adore spending the day with my girls, I have a lot of work to do. So I think you and Mommy should go take a shopping trip to pick out some new clothes." Bill looked at me with a shrug as though what he said was a suggestion. Ivany seemed pleased with it and when he was certain we were both content enough, he smiled. He rose from his seat at the head of the table and walked around so he could kneel in front of Ivany. "How does that sound? Hm? Some new clothes? You and Mommy can have some girl time while Daddy does boring stuff." "Okay but then we have to talk about my horse." She said in a way that was charmingly assertive but cute enough to get a laugh out of him. "A horse! Of course." Ivany laughed too and Bill stared up at her and I could see the sparkle in his eyes light up like fireworks. He stared at her like she was the sun to his flower, following her everywhere even though she was right there. "I'll see you later tonight before bed, okay?" "Okay, Daddy." He stood up, kissed her forehead and looked down at her for a little while longer. "I love you, sweetheart." "I love you too, Daddy." It never occurred to me how strong those words were until that moment. I had heard them leave her mouth a thousand times since she had learned them but he hadn't. I remembered the night before when we laid there in the darkness and he told me he loved me and how much my heart twisted up. When I saw him I could tell he was feeling the same thing. Ivany and I both watched him circle the long table to come over to me. He kissed me on the cheek before he said, "can I have a moment with you?" "Ivany, are you all finished eating?" I asked her. "Yep!" "Can you go get ready, brush your teeth and put your shoes on?" "Yes, Mommy but I can't brush my teeth because the sink is too big." "We'll have to get your room remodeled as soon as possible," Bill remarked. "I'll come to help you in a minute. Go on and don't get lost." Ivany hopped down from her seat and took off in the direction of her room. I stood up as Bill pulled his wallet out from his back pocket. When he produced a shiny black card with silver flecks in it I looked down at it and then back up at him, musing to myself how familiar it seemed to me. "Get her everything she needs. Everything." He said, handing the card over to me. "Where are you going?" I asked him. "I have work." "Really?" "Yes. I've put it off for a long time." "Is there a point in me asking for details?" Bill gave me a look as though he felt sorry for me. "All you have to know is that I have a lot of meetings with a lot of people and my absence can't be prolonged any further." "Alright," I said quietly. "Go shopping, buy yourself anything you want. Take one of the cars from the garage. My driver will be with me so... You can take whatever car you like." "Oh, however will I be able to go on knowing I have to drive myself around?" Bill tried to hold back a smile but he knew how comical it was for me. His lavish lifestyle had yet to rub off at all. "Take your time and don't wander off too far. I'll be home tonight and then..." He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my lips so softly I could melt. "It's all about you tonight. How's that sound?" "That sounds great to me but you have a four-year-old who is going to start asking a lot of questions very soon." "We'll cross that road when we get there. Now... You going to be a good girl?" I bit my lip. "Yes, Daddy." The look of desire he projected on me was strong and I loved the way he gathered me up like I was nothing but I knew he had pressing matters that made him eager to get going. I went with him to the front hall and there was a man standing at the door staunchly. "Mr. Skarsgård," He acknowledged. Bill nodded and unfolded a pair of sunglasses that had been left on one of the four accent tables in the foyer alone. He put them on and I watched as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out from his jacket pocket to take one out and place it between his lips. Next to come was his chrome-plated lighter which he flicked the top off with a metallic clink and fed the end of his cigarette to the flame. The unnamed man stepped aside and opened the front door to allow Bill through. He looked at me from over his dark sunglasses one last time. "See you later, baby," Bill said before taking his leave. "Ma'am." The driver said to me. Once the door was shut and all that remained was silence I took a look around and couldn't fucking believe what was starting to happen.

#bill skarsgård fanfiction #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgård smut #bill skarsgard smut #fanfiction

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theclearblues · 6 years

Text

Hades | Chapter 4 | TomHolland

Pairing: Tom Holland X Fem!Reader (Mobster!Tom AU)

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex trafficking and slight NSFW

I apologize if the read more tab doesn’t work on mobile

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“In what world do you own me, Holland? I may work for you, but you do not have control over me,” her stance was powerful as her eyes dared him to say more.

Oh, how he knew. She was a wild tigress locked down only by a thread tied to a shackle.

Tom glared from his seat, wanting to shout bloody murder at Y/N. Tell her that her employment meant he could make her do whatever he wanted. But as she stood over him, with her eyes filled with a wildfire of entitlement, he wanted nothing but to watch that exact moment over and over. But as Harrison coughed into his fist, Tom was pulled back into reality. Y/N had a secret, and Martin had a motive and he needed to find out what it was. It all tempted his urge to have blood dripping down his hands, seeping between his fingers.

“If you don’t tell me what Rob Martin is talking about, I may just have to let you take the fall.” Tom replied, a smug grin flourishing.

“Yeah? Then what’s stopping you from doing it right now?” Her eyebrows furrowed, face growing cold. Tom didn’t have an answer for her, he couldn’t describe why he felt like he couldn’t

“Harrison, take her back to her room.” Tom said nonchalantly as he rose from his chair and started to walk out of the office. Harrison paraded across the hardwood and tried to escort Y/N towards the door.

“What the fuck is this? You won’t answer me?” She slapped Harrison’s hand away from her shoulder and grabbed Tom’s wrist, “what is it?”

He stopped in his path, looking back at her with a lack of expression, “I’m going to make a plan,” he yanked his arm out of her grip and continued out into the hallway.

+++

Tom decided to go walk in the library, he didn’t read much, but the library was always a place that invited thought. He walked past shelves and shelves of books, none of them dusty due to an invaluable cleaning staff at the estate. While Tom strolled down the shelves of books, he tried to devise a plan. The ultimatum ran through his head like computer code; let Y/N go without a witness, or intervene but risk being investigated. The investigation would start a domino effect of problems, all them resulting in the termination of the Holland mafia, even the legal parts. He pressed his hands into his face, then ran them up through his hair.

Why couldn’t he let Y/N take the fall?

Tom pondered on the question for what seemed like ages. He didn’t love her, there was no reason for him to. He knew that she was beautiful, in her looks and her personality, even when her eyes danced with defiance. Tom knew she deserved more than to get convicted for a crime she did not commit, she deserved more than to go in without support. But at the same time, Tom was not willing to risk everything his family had worked for. So he was left with a gray space he had yet to fill with an alternate solution.

+++

“Harrison! What is going on?” Y/N mind was blazing with thoughts, eyes wild with uncertainty.

“I don’t know, Y/N. We need to find out Martin’s motive,” Harrison spoke with kind eyes, trying to bring peace back into the woman.

“Do you know his plan?”

“No.”

She determined Harrison as a dead end, and that he wanted her to go to her room and leave everyone alone from the way he stood. He loomed over her in height, and he spoke softly but he meant to hint that she should leave. To satisfy him, she walked down the hall and climbed up the staircase to the bedrooms.

After an hour, Y/N had torn the room apart. Bed sheets were pulled off the bed, towels from the bathroom lay scattered around the room, books that had sat peacefully in shelves were open and misplaced. It was a strange habit, but it was what she did when she needed to think. A messy surrounding gave her a sharp mind, where in most cases it would drive people mad. She had thought enough about the plan, but was stuck without a retaliation. She needed to bounce ideas off of someone, Harrison would be fine but he had left the estate and taken the package to the warehouse he spoke about earlier.

Unfortunately, Tom was her only option.

Y/N found him in the library, located at the far end of the East wing of the house. From the double door entrance, there were rows and rows of neatly placed books with their spines facing outwards. The vaulted ceilings were paired with long french windows that let the last few rays of the sunset peek through and illuminate various book titles. The hushed atmosphere was interrupted only by the sound of Tom’s boots clicking against the hardwood and the faint crackle of the fire.Tom was walking through shelves, not looking for anything in particular. His eyes were blank but Y/N could tell his mind was anything but. His back was turned to her as he sauntered down the row, his shoes clicking against the floor.

“My plan is to kill him,” Tom stated ominously, his back still turned.

“Then you’re an idiot,” her laugh floated through the room, bouncing off the walls and returning back to her.

“How so? It would be a simple job, and it would be staged.”

“You believe he doesn’t have an accomplice? Or atleast a confidante?” Y/N challenged his plan, wanting him to think deeper.

“Martin’s a loner, he’s never gotten on with anyone from the club.”

“It doesn’t have to be a friend,” she lowered her voice to a whisper as she walked beside the shelves across from him, “you should know that better than anyone.”

“Hm?” He heard her.

“I’m saying that he wouldn’t do this alone. He knows you’re a violent man, he’d be counting on you to come after him,” she let him think for a moment before continuing.

“Let’s say you did send Harrison or you went yourself to kill him, this is if he hadn’t gotten a tip that you were on the way. You’d kill him, set it up as a suicide, but he’d already sent a copy of everything he meant to expose to his confidante. Someone he barely knew but had the same motive, before you’re back in your office pouring yourself a glass of scotch he’d have every single thing you’re wrapped up in out in the public eye. By the time you’ve drank the glass, the police would be at your door.”

He spun on his heel and leaned against the wood, a grin peeking through his lips, “very good, darling. You aren’t as dense as I thought,” he wet his lips then walked over to the fireplace and sat in one of the leather patent chairs.

He didn’t have a plan, Y/N gathered, but he wanted to test her. She was annoyed with him and the way he toyed with her to make himself feel superior. Though, a part of her was pleased she had passed his test. She settled herself in the chair across from him, crossing her ankles as she adjusted her posture. Y/N looked over to Tom, who was watching her. She saw the opportunity to make her move in their game, a reprisal to his test he pulled on her. She bit her lip as she reached her arms over her head and started to pull off her sweater. Y/N felt the tank top underneath slide up her torso as she pulled at the sweater’s sleeves, revealing her lower stomach. As she hung the sweatshirt over the side of the chair, one of Tom’s men walked into the library cautiously.

“Boss, just wanted to give you an update on the Riley money.” He spoke to Tom with a failed confidence while Y/N observed him. He was relatively young, maybe about 20. He had dark hair that hung over his brow and constantly caused him push it to the side with a free hand.

“Yes please, give us the update.” Y/N answered for Tom, eyes lingering on Tom’s as she spoke.

“Oh, um,” the boy paused, not sure whether to continue so he glanced at Tom, who merely nodded.

“He’s paid 30 of the 35 thousand, said it’d be ready by this Friday.” He was reading a piece of paper in his hand, obviously nervous as his hand shook with each breath.

Tom nodded then waved him away, Y/N stopped him.

“What’s your name?” She asked with a friendly manner, leaning seductively over the arm of the chair.

“Frankie, ma’am.” Frankie’s voice got caught in his throat as he realized he had been caught up in the game between Tom and Y/N and it made sweat rise above his brow.

“Frankie, come here,” she curled her finger, telling him to lean into her. She ran her tongue along her bottom lip and then pressed her teeth into the pink flesh.

Frankie hesitantly bent down, where she grabbed the collar of his shirt and tugged him down to her so his ear to her lips, Frankie swallowed hard as he braced himself for her words.

She whispered so Tom wouldn’t hear, “next time, fucking knock.”

She grinned up at him as she slid her hand from his shirt and beckoned for him to leave. Y/N pushed her hair behind her shoulder, looking over at Tom as she pulled her feet up onto the chair.

“Y/N,” he growled, his hands gripped the side of the chair with so much force his knuckles had turned white. He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled forcefully, a failed attempt of keeping focused.

“Yes, Tommy?” She smirked, knowing the nickname would either push him over the edge or shove him back into his cave, she counted on the former. To her good fortune, it made him jump out of his chair and push her into the back of the cushioned leather she sat in.

“We can’t keep playing this game,” he breathed just under her ear, lowering himself down to the soft skin of her neck, “I know you want me too.” His breath was hot against her, Y/N grabbed at the loose fabric of his shirt and pulled him into her. Her other hand sneaking up his chest and up into his messy curls. His body hovered over hers, Y/N chest began to rise and fall.

“Do I?” she smiled as she said the words. Her eyes looking up to his. The brown in his eyes was smooth like chocolate as the dim light from the fire beside them lit up one side of his face. She tugged on his curls knotted in her hand, his head moving backwards, making him groan. He kissed her neck and sucked lightly, the hand of Y/N’s that wasn’t laced into his hair rested on the top of his belt. Her fingers danced along the thick leather, knuckles brushing against his lower abs. Tom moved his lips to hers, no tongue to begin with but then gradually adding more as time went on. He wasn’t rough like she expected him to be, but soft with his movements. But then, to her surprise he hooked the tip of his tongue under her front teeth, pulling her head forward, like a finger beckoning her closer. Y/N took this as a sign to slip her tongue into his mouth, while she did so she slipped the tip of her fingers under his belt, teasing him. He groaned into her mouth, urging her on, his mouth pressing harder against hers. Y/N was getting engrossed in the moment, moving her tongue expertly. Tom slipped his hand under her tank top, pushing it up higher as he got closer to her breasts. He ran a finger underneath the wire of her bra, threatening to take it off.

Y/N became lost in the moment, all she was thinking about was Tom. The way his body was suspended over hers, how the warmth of his body radiated down on her as she moved her tongue in sync with his. Her hand was about to unbuckle his belt but then his warmth was gone, and suddenly the fire’s warmth was not enough to keep the goose bumps from rising on her arms.

“Nice try, princess,” he muttered. He was walking back over to his chair, smiling to himself as he stared into the fire. The orange light danced along his face, his eyes were in a haze as he watched the flames lick the edge of the stone that contained it. He exhaled harshly, “Martin’s motive, it must have something to do with his personal life. He’s never had a wife or a serious girlfriend. But his father committed suicide when he was 17 and then his mum became a full fledged alcoholic.”

Y/N was annoyed, once again. But she was impressed with his dedication to winning their little competition of taunt. As much as she enjoyed toying with him, Y/N knew they had to formulate a plan, and quickly. “Who was his mother?”

“Um,” he thought for a moment, squinting his eyes, “Penny Martin, journalist for Wallace, a London based newspaper. One of the best.”

“His mother must have taught him a bit on fact finding, and maybe blackmail,” suddenly, Y/N was interested in Rob Martin’s family history, “and his father?”

“David Martin,” he stopped briefly, “I’ve heard that name. Who is he? Why would I know that name?” Tom rubbed his face with his hands and perched himself on the edge of the chair. He pondered for a few minutes, then suddenly got up and walked down an aisle of what was supposed to be books, but were actually thick binders filled with papers.

“These are all the documents of all the people that have worked for my family, all the way from the 19th century to now.” he ran his fingers along a row of binders then stopped on one, and slide it from between two others. Tom flicked through the pages for a while, then walked back over to the chair where he sat. He read over a few pages then snapped the binder shut, Tom turned to Y/N with a look that gave away his sudden understanding of Robert Martin.

“He owed my father over four hundred thousand pounds, he couldn’t pay to cover up his affair with the Lord Chancellor at the time, nor the time he’d spent sex trafficking women from Russia. He couldn’t pay, and when he knew my father had sent men to collect he killed himself. My dad never got around to uncovering all the shit, so nobody really knows about David Martin’s sins.” Tom growled, disgusted with how messy his father had handled the situation. Tom had been taught to never do anything for free, even after they’re six feet under.

“Tom, that’s his motive-”

Tom cut her off, finishing the sentence for her, “he blames me and my family for his father’s suicide.”

Despite the gruesome circumstances, Tom smiled at Y/N softly and she smiled back, this time with nothing but cordiality. Glancing at the grandfather clock behind Y/N, Tom rose from his seat and walked over to where she sat observing him. He kissed the top of her head and silently exited the library, leaving Y/N wondering who Tom Holland was behind the Armani suit and the blood that stained his hands.

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williamshakespaw · 5 years

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Chronicles

“For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.” Romans 3:23

A short story I wrote with a horror character I’ve been working on for a few years. Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed finally writing something for him.

“Hey! Knock it off Mike!” David screamed as his older, torturous brother twisted his arm in an indian burn. They were only children then and sessions like this were a daily occurrence in David’s home. Only this time Mike wouldn’t stop twisting. He kept twisting and twisting until flesh peeled from muscle and the young David watched as his skin began sloughing off of his body.

David awoke screaming in pain. His scream was cut short as he instinctively moved to get up but was immediately pulled harshly back onto the ground. David’s head hit the stone floor and for a moment he saw stars. A dream. Just a dream. He thought to himself as he waited on the floor for his head to stop spinning. “But where am I?” David whispered aloud to himself as he sat himself upright. The pain in his hands still persisted despite being awake and David looked down to the bailing twine wrapped around his wrists.

Come on, it’s like a long night of partying. Put back together what happened. David thought as he felt his heart rate accelerate in fear. You went over to Sara’s to fix her sink. Things got hot and heavy as usual, and then… His brow furrowed in thought as he tried to swim through the fog of his memories. “John.” David finally said, his voice dripping with malice. “That scrawny bastard. Where are you!” He screamed into empty air. “I swear! If you’ve hurt Sara I’m going to put you six feet under!” Silence hung in the air of that empty cell for a long few seconds. That silence was only broken by the cawing of crows in response.

A shiver went down David’s back as those caws filled the void of his dungeon. “Always knew he was a fucking creep.” David mumbled to himself as he awkwardly stood up without the use of his hands. Thankfully, David’s eyes had mostly adjusted to the darkness surrounding him. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all made from rough cut stone. A heavy wooden door was the only way in or out of the small space. The only thing provided was a small bucket in the corner and the entire room smelled of stale piss and dried blood.

I need to get these restraints off first. David thought as he looked down at his bound hands. He started by examining the walls on the perimeter of the cell. The only thing David needed was something sharp enough to cut the twine. From his own experience on a farm he knew there was no way to simply rip them off. After coming up with nothing sharp enough, David anxiously glanced at the bucket in the corner. “God damn it.” He said and sighed to himself. David awkwardly knelt down next to the bucket and examined the rusted metal. It was just corroded and textured enough to be able to saw a hole through the twine.

After a few moments of trying to position his wrists on the lip of the bucket, David lost his balance and knocked the bucket down with him. It’s rotten contents spread across the stone floor and partially onto David himself. He shakily righted himself and violently wretched from the smell. After a few ragged breaths, David put his wrists back to the bucket and began sawing through the twine.

David sighed deeply at the instant relief he felt by breaking his bonds. His wrists were rubbed raw and at some parts David thought he could even see muscle. David’s eyes went to the imposing wooden door as he wracked his mind trying to think of how to get passed it. He looked back down at the rusted bucket and an idea came to him. David stomped hard and the brittle metal snapped underneath his boot. After looking at all of the possible pieces to take, David decided on a long sharp piece of the handle. He moved to the door and began to pick the old lock and prayed that the rusted metal wouldn’t break. Finally, a small ‘click’ echoed out through the cell and the door slowly creaked open.

“Yes!” David said to himself with a small smile. He quickly ran out into the hallway and stopped dead in his tracks as he was met with about 15 crows that turned to stare at him with black, hollow eyes. David covered his ears in pain as a cacophony of birds and feathers echoed through the hallway. A rush of black plumes and sharp talons flew by David and knocked him to the ground once more.

As soon as it started it was over and the dungeon was quiet once more. “What the fuck is this place.” David mumbled to himself as he examined the fresh scratches dotting his skin. He shakily stood once more as he looked around the hallway he found himself in. Old, flickering lights lined the ceiling which cast the hallway in a dismal glow. Various doors very similar to the one David just went through lined the walls. Some of them swung ominously open, almost inviting him to step inside. Others were shut and, David assumed, locked.

Groans of pain hauntingly echoed through the stone hallway and David’s blood ran cold as he realized he wasn’t the only one here. Sara. He thought as he made his way cautiously down the hallway. David glanced in a few of the doors but the cells were too dark to see into from the outside. He pulled on the handle but the door didn’t budge. “Sara?” David called into the dark cell. Once again, his only response was a cawing from somewhere deeper in this nightmare.

David continued this pattern multiple times on multiple different doors. Each time met with the same reply reverberating through the halls. He eventually turned a corner and came face to face with a single crow standing in the middle of the corridor. The crow cocked its head and looked at David with those dark, beady eyes. The two stared at each other for a few seconds before a chill ran down David’s spine. It suddenly felt like there was someone, something, else in the hallway with them. A horrifying something that was slowly getting closer and closer.

All of a sudden, the crow squawked and fluttered its wings as it flew down the hallway and rounded the next corner. David watched as it’s shadow disappeared and was replaced with a different silhouette. Something larger, something more humanoid. John! David thought as adrenaline coursed through his body. He quickly glanced around for something to hide in or, better yet, use as a weapon.

Without wasting much time, David ducked into one of the open cells and pressed himself up against the wall behind the door. The sound of boots on the stone floor began to approach David’s hiding place. “I ain’t got time to deal with this. Sara is waitin’.” John said to seemingly no one in particular. A crow cawed in response and David heard John sigh heavily. “Alright, alright. Ya make a good point.” He said. Is he talking to the fucking birds? David thought in a mix of terror and confusion.

David waited until the footsteps passed and faded completely before exiting his hiding spot. He made his way quietly down the hallway and strained to hear the sound of John’s boots or more of those damn crows. But the only sound David could hear were his own footsteps and the sound of his heart beat drumming in his ears.

After a few more corners David stopped and frowned to himself. I am absolutely lost. Is there any end to this place? He thought as he tried to get his bearings. However, David’s thoughts were cut short when he heard the sound of wings flapping. He turned to see a crow enter the hallway and land on the floor. “CAW!” It shrieked as it fluttered away back where it came from. “Come on, David. Yer gonna make it a lot easier on yerself if ya just stop runnin’.” John said, his voice coming from the direction the bird flew off to.

John’s shadow crept up the wall like a creature in a horror movie.David turned as fast as he could and bolted for the opposite direction. I might as well be in a horror movie. He thought to himself as he ran through the twisting halls of the dungeon. There has to be an exit here somewhere. David thought as he rounded another corner and was met with another crow. “Shit!” He exclaimed as the bird cawed and flew off past David and down the way he had just come. “Sara is scared and alone. Let us gentlemen hurry this up so we ain’t keepin’ the lady waitin’.” John’s voice said from somewhere down the hallway.

Fuck Sara! I’ve got to get out of here myself! David thought in a panic as he turned and sprinted as fast as he could. It seemed that around every corner there was a crow and John was only a step behind him the entire time. David heaved heavy, tired breaths as he ran around in this seemingly endless maze. He was about to give up when he finally rounded a corner and found a set of stairs that led to a hatch in the ceiling. Please don’t be locked. Please don’t be locked. David desperately thought as he took the stairs two at a time.

David pushed the wooden hatch with all of his strength and it swung open. He all but lept out of the exit and was ready to finally smell something other than decay. Instead, he walked into something worse. Corpses in varying states of decay and consumption hung off of meat hooks suspended from the ceiling. Crows were covering the blighted corpses and picking off bits of their flesh. The concrete floor was covered in various bone fragments and body parts. Some of them look like they’ve been laying there for years.

David struggled not to vomit for a second time as the crows stopped their feast and turned to look at him. David’s eyes quickly moved to another set of stairs to the left of him. He just had to outrun the birds then freedom was his. As David turned to make his escape that horrible sound of wings fluttering filled the room and began to rush toward him. David practically crawled up the stairs in his desperate attempt to flee as the sound of crows came closer and closer.

David launched himself off of the top stair and closed the hatch by kicking it down and standing on top of it. The force of the frenzied birds caused thd wooden door to bounce him up and down. David fumbled with the lock for a moment trying to latch it close. As the lock slid into place the clamor of birds suddenly stopped and David was met with sweet sweet silence once more. He kept his eyes on the hatch as he slowly backed away from it. David expected any moment for that lock to break loose and the crows come rushing out. Or worse, John. He thought grimly.

David didn’t know John very well. No one in town did. If John wasn’t at church or coming into town to pick up something small he was always on his farm. As far as David knew, he lived there with his mother. John’s father, the towns pastor, had passed away about 6 years ago and left the property to his son. Thankfully John didn’t follow in his father’s footsteps and instead he devoted his time to running their small farm. The town got a new pastor and John got to keep his creepy ass secluded to his house. It seemed like it was a win win for the whole town.

Who knows what that guy is going to do to me if he gets his hands on me. David thought as he finally took his eyes off of the hatch. Various stalls lined this room and in the dark David could see the vague shapes of horses. Smells like horses too. He thought as he crumpled his nose against the smell. David quietly made his way to the side of the room and was careful not to spook any horses or run into any more crows.

Once David finally reached the wooden walls of the barn he quickly found a metal door. David put his hand to the cold metallic knob and prayed that this was the door that was going to save him. This was the door that could lead to his freedom. He slowly turned the door knob and felt the warm summer air brush over his skin.

David stepped outside and took in a deep breath. For the first time in this whole ordeal David felt that he could finally breathe again. He looked around at John’s small farm and actually felt a moment of calm. Outside of that nightmarish dungeon, the property was quite peaceful. The nearby field of sudan grass rustled soothingly in the breeze. A few chickens roamed about in the fading light of the setting sun and picked at the ground. The faint sound of dogs could be heard down near the farm house.

Dogs. Dogs aren’t good. David thought as that sense of terror began creeping up his spine once more. The cawing of crows could now be heard on top of the barking and David froze for a moment while thinking of what to do. If I just pick a direction and run I’ll get out of here. This place can’t go on forever. I’ll get to town, I’ll find the police, and I’ll lead them back to this sickos lair. He thought and clenched his fist out of anger.

David saw a figure walk out onto the porch of the farm house. “I’m gonna find ya’, David. You can’t hide from the eyes of God.” John yelled. He then pointed off toward the barn and David could see the two faint silhouettes of dogs slowly and quietly slinking their way toward the building. David looked over at the tall stalks of sudan grass and decided that hiding in the field would be his best bet. At least those stupid crows can’t get to me. He thought as he pushed the tall plant aside and began to creep quietly through the field.

It wasn’t long after that David heard the flapping of wings once more. He stopped in the field and crouched down in hopes that the birds couldn’t see him in the approaching darkness. The murder of crows above David circled the field and squawked desperately while trying to find him. It seemed that whatever they see, their twisted master sees as well. Not to mention those dogs. David remembered as he nervously looked behind him.

It seemed that the field continued on and on and on. For a moment, David wondered if this was some kind of holy punishment. A purgatory made just for him. Of endless crows, sudan grass, and the one guy in town you don’t want to be left alone with. Perhaps this madness would never truly end. Maybe when John’s dogs got to him David would simply wake back up in that cell and start all over again.

His thoughts of penance were cut short at the sound of rustling in the grass behind him. David quickly spun around as the crows went silent and two low growls could be heard in the dark. Two border collies, one black and one brown, could be seen moving between the stalks and making their way toward him. The sight of the dogs eyes reflecting in the moonlight caused adrenaline to course through David’s body.

That basic human instinct of fight or flight kicked in and David ran as fast as he could. The rough texture of the grass whipped across his face and stung his wounds. The growls behind David turned to barks as the dogs sprinted toward him. It wasn’t long after that he felt one of the border collies fangs sink deep into his calf.

David tasted dirt and blood and his head hit the ground. Despite the pain, David reached his hand out to grasp something, anything, to pull him away from the animal. From the corner of his pain blurred vision David saw the other dog appear. It lunged for his outstretched hand and David screamed in pain as he felt his bones crack under the pressure of the dog’s mouth.

“Down.” A low voice commanded from somewhere outside of David’s field of view. He gasped in relief as the dogs released their grasp on him and then David began to cry. Hard wracking sobs ran through his broken body as he lay there weeping and mangled in the field. David then shakily turned his head to look at his assailant for what he hoped would be the last time.

From David’s position on the ground, the full moon cast an ethereal halo around John’s head. The two border collies retreated back to their master and sat like guardians on either side of him watching David for any sign of defiance. A crow sat perched on John’s shoulder and stared at David with those piercing black eyes. In fact, many more crows flew above and hopped around on the ground next to him. The birds seemed to be completely silent in their movements as the ones on the ground slowly began to approach David.

Is this how I die? In some psychos field? David thought to himself as he whimpered and placed his head back on the ground. “Ya ain’t dyin’ yet.” John said as he knelt down onto the ground. David winced as John took his head in his hands and turned it so that David was facing him once more. “Ya got a lot to answer for, Mr. David Johnson. And I’m here to listen to every last confession.” John said and he took out a rag covered in some kind of liquid.

John put the rag to David’s face and he thrashed against the man’s iron grip. Not long after, David’s vision began to blur even more than it was and his field of view began to darken. The world began to spin and the crows circling above him looked like a hurricane of feathers and darkness. David felt hands under his arms and the bottom half of his body being dragged along the dirt and then he fell unconscious.

David awoke with a sharp, rhythmic pain in his abdomen. John had thrown the broken David over his shoulder and was walking down those dreadful stairs to the basement of his barn. With every step John took his bone would dig into David’s bruised and battered stomach. He tried to fight against the pain. Tried to fight to stay awake. But it was all too much and it wasn’t long before David blacked out once more.

The smell of rust, death, and decay filled David’s nostrils and woke him up from his comatose state. He groggily opened his eyes and blinked a few times to clear his vision and his clouded thoughts. How am I not dead yet? Am I actually in hell? David thought as he looked around the small room.

He was kneeling and his hands were bound together by handcuffs and resting on a long piece of polished dark marble that was littered with candles. David attempted to get up only to find that the chain of the handcuffs were stuck to the altar by a heavy weight. In his drugged and injured state David had no hope of breaking his bonds from sheer strength alone.

David looked around his surroundings and was momentarily entranced by what he saw. The ceiling was domed and at the crown was breathtaking painting depicting angels of justice dressed in glittering plate and armed with holy weapons. Lower down the wall the mural transitioned into depictions of martyrs being brutally executed for their faith. David remembered learning about martyrs in Sunday school alongside John and Sara when they were kids. Though now he couldn't remember the name of a single one. Never thought I would regret not going to church. David thought with a tired smile to himself.

The closer to the floor of the room the painting got the more gruesome it became. Pictures of unholy looking creatures that were dismembering and sodomizing their victims in every way David could imagine possible. In the flickering candle light David could have almost sworn he saw his own face amongst the sinners that were sentenced to an eternity of punishment.

The sound of the door to the apse opening brought David back to reality. He looked over at John who entered the intimate space with his two dogs tailing at his heels. A small flock of crows followed soon after and scattered about the room. They perched on various candelabras and smaller offering tables that were placed methodically around the chamber. A few squawked at David and landed on the altar to peck at his exposed skin.

John calmly walked over to the polished marble slab and shooed away the crows that were closest to David. They squawked and fluttered off in a huff to perch somewhere else in the unholy sanctuary to watch whatever judgement John was about to pass on him. David could feel all of the eyes in the room on him. Almost like all of the animals were the jury in a hellish courtroom.

In the light, David was finally able to get a good look at John. He was tall and lanky for being as strong as he was. John’s face was square and angular and it looked as if he hadn’t shaved in an few days. His dark tousled hair lay to the side of his head and his eyes flickered with a sense of righteousness that caused David to look away in fear and guilt. What have you done wrong? This freak is the one that kidnapped you.

“Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.” John said in the low monotone voice of someone lost deep in prayer. “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our tresspasses, as we forgive those that have trespassed against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.” As he finished the room went deathly silent. “Do you remember what those words mean? I remember sayin’ em with ya every Sunday for a long time.” John added seriously after a moment.

“Fuck you and fuck your words.” David said and spat a mixture of spit and blood at John. He looked down and lightly brushed off his button up shirt before looking back at David. “They ain’t my words. You abandoned God and therefore recent the privilege of Jesus dying on the cross for your sins.” John said and reached for a hatchet with an intricately carved handle. “Which just means you gotta suffer for ‘em yourself.”

David nervously looked between the axe and John trying not to lose his composure. The room, the bible quotes, the crows. He refused to believe any of it was real. It was too ethereal and too ecclesiastical for this to be in a small town in rural Alabama. They had to be in hell. It was the only way to explain it.

“We’ll start back at the basics sincein’ you forgot what it means to be a good Christian.” John said as he set the sharpened end of the axe on the altar next to David’s uncrippled hand. He instinctively jerked away but there was nowhere to go. David was left completely to John’s mercy. If he has any. He nervously thought at he watched the flames of the candles reflected in the metal of the axe head.

“How many things have you stolen in yer life? I remember you bein’ the best lockpick in town. At one point you were makin’ a business out of robbin’ decent folks cars and homes.” John said and lifted the axe in his hand. “Let him that stole steal no more: but rather let him labour, working with his hands the thing which is good, that he may have to give to him that needeth.” He repeated methodically and set the metal lightly on David’s hand. “Let’s make that thieving hand of yours useful.” John said coldly as he raised the axe and struck down hard on David’s wrist.

David screamed out in agony as the sharpened metal cut through skin, muscle and bone. His vision went in and out from the pain as John continued to hack at David’s hand. After three swings his hand was completely severed from his wrist and David looked down in disbelief at the stump that was left behind. The blood that had spurted from his limb began to pool on the dark marble and drip off of the edge.

The shock of the situation delayed the pain long enough for David to watch John take his severed hand and toss it on the floor next to where his two border collies were guarding the door. The dogs immediately lunged at the piece of meat and devoured it in seconds. They looked at their master with blood stained mouths and wagged their tails in anticipation for more treats. “No beggin’.” John scolded and the dogs lowered their ears in disappointment and returned to their post.

The adrenaline began to wear off and David started to whimper at the increasing pain. Tears began to roll down his face and John smiled down at David. “Cryin’ is good. It means yer truly understandin’ the pain you caused others.” John said with a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

“Now, let’s talk about Sara.” John said as he wiped the head of his bloody axe on his jeans. “Sara never loved you.” David said with a short sniffle. He was going to die here. David had come to terms with that fact even before the whole hand chopping incident. The least David could do was torture this freak the only way he knew how. “She always acted so cute and so nice for you so you’d do whatever she’d want. Sara had you wrapped around her little finger and you ate up every minute of it.” David said as he grimaced through the pain he was in.

David looked up to John whose face had twisted into that of one of rage and anger. “How dare ya say that about her. Sara would never do somethin’ as...as...wicked as that.” He growled and a blush rose on his cheeks as he placed his hands on the side of the altar and glowered at David. He stared John in the eyes and listened as the sanctum echoed with the ruffle of feathers and angry caws.

John had always turned to a flustered school boy when it came to Sara and even in this moment, in his unholy menagerie of faith, the mere mention of her still seemed to have that effect on him. In John’s brief moment of weakness David felt in control for the first time since he woke up in this hell hole. Despite the situation a small smile cut through his pain ridden expression. “You were nothing to her. Remember when you found us? When you came in to drop off the groceries you bought her and we were fucking on the couch? Did you wish you were me in that moment? Kissing her lips and touching her ass and-” David blurted out before he felt John strike his head with the blunt side of the axe.

Something inside of David’s head cracked and the world seemed to flip upside down. The images of angels and demons and martyrs blurred with the crows frantically flying around the apse. John’s enraged expression flickered hauntingly in the light of the candles and the shadows of the birds. He was screaming something that David couldn’t make out over the cacophony of sound echoing in the small space and his own dazed state. Eventually, David couldn’t feel the axe coming down on his head anymore. In fact, he couldn’t feel anything at all.

John stood in front of the altar breathless with the bloody axe turned backwards in his hand. “Wrath!” One of the crows circling the room squawked out. “Cease from anger, and forsake wrath,” A different crow cried. “For evildoers shall be cut off: but those that wait upon the Lord, they shall inherit the earth.” Another crow finished.

John took deep breaths to calm his nerves and block out the crows mocking words. The images of Sara on top of David came flooding back into his thoughts. “She forgot you were coming over.” One of the crows reminded John of the excuse Sara had given him. “It ain’t what it looks like. David just came over to fix my sink.” A different crow said aloud in what sounded like Sara’s voice. When the crows knew John wasn’t going to reply the ruffle of feathers and agitated screeches began to calm down.

John looked at the shattered and maimed body of David that lie strewn across the altar. He looked down at his own brain and blood stained clothes and wiped a piece of viscera from his cheek. “Then the people rejoiced, for that they offered willingly, because with perfect heart they offered willingly to the Lord.” John said his prayer and looked up and toward the paintings of righteous angels and holy martyrs. He looked back down to David’s body and smiled before adding “and David the king also rejoiced with great joy.”

#horror #short story #writing #OC #original chacter #John Hawthorne #creepy pasta #religious #crow #scary #David King #thriller

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riacannafon-writer · 5 years

Text

F.E.A.R.

Chapter Three

I stood in a lounge or study of sorts. High walls, two of which stacked with full bookshelves, a large, roaring fire in the middle of a third. Luxurious sofas made on fine red velvet, comfy armchairs of leather all arranged in a semi-circle shape around the fireplace. I took a step towards the ceiling-high window, but stopped when I noticed myself wearing my assassination gear, the hood of my cloak casting an eerie shadow over my face.

I recognised this room. I knew it, but couldn't think of how I did.

I kept going towards the window. The sky outside was dark in night. Something was off. I stared up, squinting this way and that, just trying to get an indication of what made me uneasy about the sky. Dark clouds sat ominously above, never moving, blending so perfectly it was as if they weren't there at all.

Because they're not there...

It's wasn't clouds at which I gazed. Instead, I found myself lost in the deep abyss that was the sky, devoid of any starlight or even one of the moons.

I blinked, and it all came at once. The stars and two moons flickered into existence like bulbs. They all stared down into my eyes, and their light whispered harsh words in my mind.

Murderer...

You did it.

You...killed them!

In blood of ice... It was you...

I slammed my hands over my ears to shut the voices out, but they only screamed louder and louder and louder. Voices. Wouldn't stop. I couldn't make them stop. Louder. In my head.

"Shut up!" I shrieked. "Shut up! I'm not a murderer!"

You are marked.

The mark tells all. The birthmarks going down my back burned, but I couldn't feel it.

I shrank back, desperately needing to hide from the light. I sensed someone behind me. I didn't think. I couldn't think. I spun around, whipped out my dagger and drove it deep into their neck. Hot blood splattered over my hands and face. They let out a piercing, strangled cry and slumped to the floor. They gripped helplessly at the dagger. All I could do was stand there, listening, watching. Their body convulsed, and a gurgling sound emanated from their throat as blood pooled around them.

Murderer.

You only hurt.

You made them all...suffer.

You killed him.

You. Killed. Athen.

"No...No! I didn't...!" The shock had passed, and now the tears came flooding. I twisted back to stare out the window, where the night sky glared at me through its pale light. "I never -"

Something grabbed my ankle and yanked it back, hard. I toppled onto the carpet floor, shock and fear once again filling my blood. Athen's sea-green eyes focused on me. Then at my dagger in his hand.

"Athen!" I begged. "Athen, please! I swear, I didn't mean - !"

He plunged the dagger deep into my stomach. Everything went numb, and the wound ached worse and worse until it was all I could feel. I screamed, but Athen lunged forward and wrapped his hands around my throat. He squeezed. His face hovered over mine. Clotted blood dripped from his mouth.

"Ple...ase..." I couldn't breathe. I clawed at his hands, trying to get loose. "S...top."

He gripped tighter. My neck was going to break; I could feel it.

My vision blurred and my hearing muted. Blood vessels in my neck popped. My lungs were on fire. Something snapped in my neck. Blood dripped out of my nose. I lost all feeling, everywhere. Everything slowly turned black.

I lurched bolt upright, drenched in sweat. My breathing came in shallow rasps. A sharp pain in my gut bent me double, clutching at my sides.

"Cramps," I whispered to nobody. "Just cramps."

A faint tap, tap, tap brought my attention to my window. A grey dove perched on the windowsill pecked at the glass.

I shakily got up and went over to open the window. The dove flew in and landed on my bed, staring at me with large, orange eyes. I noticed a small piece of paper tied to its leg. Slowly, I crept towards the dove. Conscious of the creaking floorboards, I make sure to my steps light and quiet.

Carefully, I untied the paper from its leg. The moment it was off, the dove flew away, back out the window and into the starry night sky.

Stars, I thought. I think I've had enough of stars for a while.

I turned my attention back to the paper in hand. Hands still shaking, I unfolded the (surprisingly large) page. The paper held a note; the handwriting and stamp in the corner meant it was signed clearly by a noble. I scanned the note. My blood ran cold. I sucked in a huge breath and read it again and again, trying to convince myself it was part of some dream.

Dear "Crow",

I'm sure it comes of little surprise to you to receive a request for assassination. I, along with many others of many classes, have heard the tales of your daring missions. How it is said that you could sever a man's limb with such speed he'd never know you were there. How you can dissappear without a trace.

Perhaps I should offer a brief description of myself. I am the Grand Duke of the Georte Republic, in Risilia. I have come to you to ask one thing: does your king truly care for your nation? He rarely attends Peace Meetings, always with some excuse or another; surely this must show how little responsibility he feels regarding Novula's peaceful relationships. So, I offer you a mission with a hefty reward, and asylum withing Risilia should you choose to complete it.

Assassinate King Edwin Castillo. Do this, and your nation will be better off.

My heart hammered in my chest. Assassinate the king?! He can't be serious!

The Duke was smart, no doubt. There was no way I'd be able to expose him without exposing myself. Mind running circles, I re-folded the note and stuffed it under my pillow, for now. I needed to clear my head.

I left my room and made my way slowly down the hallway. I could hear Darren and Oliver's muffled discussion in the lounge downstairs. I stopped when I reached Athen's door, but I couldn't quite make myself grab the handle. The image of Athen's pale and bloodied face flashed across my vision.

I have to, I told myself. I need to see that it was only a dream.

I shakily grasped the handle and hesitantly eased open the door. I peered inside. A sigh of relief escaped me as I saw Athen sprawled clumsily on his bed, snoring slightly. Silently, I closed the door with a soft click.

I took a deep breath, then another. I crept over to the stairs and started down them. Oliver laughed at some story Darren was telling him. I paused halfway down, wondering if I really wanted to go downstairs. The last thing I wanted right now was unwarranted social interactions.

"Oh, hello, Arietta," Darren greeted.

"Hello," I simply replied.

"Everything alright? You look pale." Oliver stood up and stepped round the sofa towards me.

"I'm alright, thank you. I just haven't slept much," I muttered, politely waving off Oliver's attempted fussing.

"Why?" Oliver pressed. "Is the cut on your cheek hurting? Or your arm? I mean, you did hit the tree with quite a lot of force." He tried to lightly guide me to sit down, but I moved away, massaging my temples.

"No, not that. It's just... I've got a lot on my mind right now."

"Such as..?" Darren inquired.

"I... I'm just stressed. These last few years have been pretty rough. For both me and Athen."

"Hey." Darren sat up straighter and his expression got softer. "Why don't you sit down? You look like you want to talk."

"It's not really anything I want to talk about." I gave Darren an apologetic, but still somewhat awkward, smile.

"Just because you don't want to talk about something -" Darren gestured with one hand to nothing in particular. "That doesn't mean you don't need to." He gestured again with his other hand.

"Don't tell me you want me to spill my entire life story," I retorted.

"I'm just sayin', it's not healthy to keep things bottled up all the time."

"Alright," I sighed. I shuffled over to the bookshelf in the corner, scanning for my favourite.

I picked it out, flicking through the pages to where I left off as I wandered back. I plopped myself down on one of the armchairs, revisiting the candlelit world within the words. I let myself become submerged in the battle scene: watching, hearing, feeling it play out around me.

"What're you reading?" I jumped out of my skin as Oliver peeked over my shoulder. I twisted round to face him, almost falling off the chair as I went.

"I - sorry?" I panted.

"What book are you reading?" He repeated. He kindly took hold of my arm, helping me set myself upright again.

"Oh, right," I muttered sheepishly. "It... it's called Ashes of a Sun. It's basically about this universe where almost any structure is made out of metals or even plastics! Everything is run by electricity, there's carriages with no horse or ocard or anything like that to pull it. There's this group of people working against the government's immoral plans, and there's so many plot twists!" I stopped as I caught myself rambling.

"Sounds interesting," Darren piped up. "I think my cousin read that book. I remember her mentioning it when we were kids."

"Could you read us some?" Oliver asked.

"What," I joked. "You want me to read you a bedtime story?"

Darren yawned. "Sounds like a plan. That is, if you're willing." He added.

"Okay," I murmured. "Get comfy, you two."

"Yes, ma'am." Oliver sat himself down on the floor, legs crossed and leaning back against he sofa. His face bright with excitement, he picked a cushion from behind, holding it like a stuffed toy. Darren sat with one leg crossed over the other, tucked into the sofa corner, huddled in amongst more cushions.

I took note of my page and skipped back to the beginning. I cleared my throat, and started in my 'trademark' melodramatic reading voice:

"He longed to clear away the city, to no longer see the towering buildings, to no longer hear the rumbling of engines passing below..."

I'd made it to chapter seven uninterrupted (aside from the occasional question from Darren and Oliver) until the pale glow of sunlight glided in through the window. The first birds began their morning harmonies, and the misty trail of a caligo faded from view.

I looked up to see Darren asleep, Oliver - also out cold - leaning against his knee, still cuddling that cushion. I stopped reading and gently closed the book, leaving it the arm of the chair.

I wonder how long they've been sleeping.

I stood up and stretched my stiff limbs, earning a few pops and clicks and cracks from my joints. Yawning, rubbing my tired eyes, I quietly dragged myself up the stairs to my room. I immediately flopped on my bed, contemplating whether or not I could be bothered to get changed. I decided I will be bothered, whether I liked it or not.

Today was a gardening day, so I switched into my grubby working clothes. I ran a brush through my hair, and tied it back with a strip of fabric as I went to the water bowl in the corner to wash my face.

My routine's a little out of order today, I thought. Who cares? It's just today.

I shuffled down the hallway, back to Athen's room. I rapped my knuckles against the wood; no reply. I rolled my eyes and swung open the door. Athen lay as he was last night: sprawled. I strode over to his bed, snatched the pillow from under his head and dropped it back on him.

"Oi, dipshit." I nudged him to try and get him to move. "Get up."

"I'm not a dipshit," he mumbled from under his pillow.

"Yes, you are. Now get up, I'm making breakfast."

"Fine," Athen complained. "I'm getting up."

I hummed a short tune, walking out of his room and back down the stairs. I entered the lounge, where Oliver must have just woken up.

"Sleep well?" I smiled.

"Yes, thank you," he replied as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He chuckled lightly.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," he said shyly. "Thanks for the bedtime story. Haven't had a night's sleep that good since the last time someone read me a story before bed, when I was - what - nine?"

"You're welcome." I giggled.

An awkward silence descended upon the room. I tried to avoid direct eye contact with Oliver, so I picked up Ashes of a Sun, checked again what page I originally left off on, and placed it back into its spot on the bookshelf.

"Arietta?" Oliver sounded...nervous.

"Yes?" I turned to face him.

"Do you think that...mabye..." He trailed off, averting his eyes.

My heart pounded a little harder; I stood stil. "That mabye what?"

"Mabye... we could do something like this again?" A faint tinge of pink spread over his face.

"Of course!"

"Really?" His face lit up and he sat more forward, more upright.

"Yeah, I'll glady have you and Darren over again!"

Oliver's shoulders slumped slightly, and his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Oh, okay."

I felt like something wasn't right with him. Like I said something wrong.

"What's up?" I asked.

"What d'you mean?"

"You suddenly went all glum."

"Oh." He looked away from me, focusing instead on the softwood floor. "I guess I kind of hoped it would be, you know, just you and me."

"Sure." I flashed him a sweet smile, then turned and walked to the kitchen. "I'm making breakfast; you want some?"

"Yes, please. Want me to wake Darren, see of he wants anything?" Oliver got to his feet, patting the cushion back into its place.

"If you want," I replied.

Oliver nodded and nudged Darren in the arm. "Hey. Wake up."

Darren shot up, eyes wide. "Shit! I'm late for training, aren't I?!"

"Darren," Oliver said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You're thrity-two."

Darren pondered this for a moment, before his face reverted back to panic.

"Oh gods, I'm an instructor!" He rushed to get up, but Oliver gently held him down.

"Mate, it's Spring. You're not teaching the new trainees until Autumn."

"Oh." He relaxed. "Thank goodness."

"We wanted to check if you wanted anything for breakfast," I stated.

"Thank you for the offer, but I'm afraid I'll have to pass. My daughter, Ffion - she'll be wondering where I am." Darren beamed at the mention of his daughter, and continued on. "I left her with a babysitter last night and I promised to take her on a picnic today, so I best get going. Thank you again for having us over for the night, Arietta."

"It's been a pleasure," I replied. Darren stiffly got up from the sofa, and let himself out the front door. He paused suddenly in the doorway.

"One more thing: if you find or hear of anything else regarding the Crow, please let us know."

"Will do. Be careful going back up that trail, okay?" I raised an eyebrow to let him know I meant it. Darren waved and shut the door behind him. I headed back for the kitchen. "I'll start breakfast, then. Omlettes alright?"

"Sure," Oliver responded, following behind me. "Can I felt at all?"

"Why, do you want to?"

"Seems appropriate," he shrugged. "I mean, you've shown me wonderful hospitality. Shouldn't I return the favour?"

"You're a guest." I picked out a small basket from the pantry floor. "It's not mandatory for you to help out."

"But I want to. I'll feel bad about it, otherwise."

"Alright, then; follow me."

A single, loud thud came from the lounge, followed by a less-than-subtle sting of curses. Oliver and I rushed in to see Athen laying on the floor on his back, one boot on, the other loosely held in his hand.

"You okay?" I grasped his upper arm, pulling him back up to his feet. "What happened?"

"I lost my balance trying to get my boot on, that's all."

"As long as you're not hurt." I kept hold of his shoulder as he pulled on his other boot.

"I'm fine," he grunted.

"Alright, alright," I sighed. "I'm just gonna get some eggs from the chicken coop. We're having omlettes."

Athen nodded, watching as I left for the back door with Oliver in tow.

"So -" Athen trotted after us with a smug grin on his face. "- are you two dating?"

"*What?!*" Oliver and I both jumped back, faces beet red.

"Well? Are you?"

"No -"

"Why would you even -"

"We're not dating!"

"Yeah, of course," Athen smirked.

"Why don't you go skip out Hydrane's pen, huh?" I retorted, annoyed.

"Okay, fine." Athen winked and jogged away. "I'll leave you two alone together."

"How old did you say he is?" Oliver whispered in my ear.

"First of all: I didn't say." I turned and headed for the coop. "Secondly: he's fourteen."

"Fourteen," Oliver scoffed. "Forgive me for being rude, but I was annoying at fourteen, but not that bad."

"That's probably down to me," I admitted.

"Please, do explain."

"For the last five or so years of his life, he was basically raised by an angsty teenager - me."

"What about your parents?"

"Let's see." I stooped down do open the coop hatch, setting it in place with a metal rod as I picked out some eggs. "Dad left to work abroad when I was twelve, haven't heard much from him lately. Mum ran off with some well-earning bloke she met in a tavern a little while later; that was when I was about fourteen or fifteen."

"Woah, your mother sounds like quite the deadbeat."

"She wasn't too bad. She had a part-time that brought in enough to get us by, and I started selling herbal remedies she taught me."

"Then why'd she run off?" Oliver asked.

"Didn't really care enough to ask," I answered, shaking my head. "I think she mentioned something about 'being able to finally live comfortably'. She offered to bring me and Athen with her, but we didn't want to know - still don't."

"Still?" Oliver raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. She sends letters now and again, asking if we've changed our minds."

Oliver nodded and went to pick up an egg just as I did. Our fingers brushed and we both flinched away slightly; my cheeks started to get warm and Oliver coughed awkwardly.

Come off it, Arietta, I scolded myself. There's no way you like him in that way. You met him yesterday!

I decided that eight eggs should be enough for three omlettes, and so I made a beeline for the tomatoes. I added two perfectly ripe ones to the basket, as well as a little bit if rosemary.

I glanced up at the sky. It was painted grey, almost as one shade on a canvas. I shuddered, thinking again of the starless sky of my dream. I half expected the sun, or even the moons, to burst through he haze and blind me once more with wild, blaming whispers.

Today's gonna be a long day.

#writers on tumblr #writer #writeblr #writers #writing #chapter three #fantasy #fiction #original story #original

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ggtwrites · 5 years

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Haunted House

Rowoon a trip with your boyfriend to haunted house has an unexpected ending [fluff with some scenes meant to be scary] word count: 2464

a/n: Just a little something for Halloween! The inspiration for this fic came from this dingo video, and Rowoon generally being a soft bean.

“Are you ready for this? Once we go in, there’s no turning back.” Your boyfriend warned, leaning over you as he wiggled his fingers in what you assumed was his attempt at being spooky.

Rolling your eyes, you replied, “Rowoon, this isn’t my first time going to a haunted house, I know what I’m getting myself into.”

He nodded in consideration, “I suppose that’s true. But I’ve heard this one is super scary!”

“Oh? Does that mean that you’ll want to hold my hand as we go through it?” You asked teasingly, a small giggle escaping your lips.

Pretending to be hurt by your words, Rowoon huffed. “As it happens, you’ll be the one wanting to hold my hand. In fact,” he added, having gone from offended to smirking, “I bet by the end of this you’ll be clinging to me.”

“You bet, do you?” You raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend, one of the most easily frightened people you knew, despite his good looks and his height. “What do you bet?”

“How about this, whoever ends up more scared has to do one thing that the other asks, whatever they want.” He replied, rising to the challenge of your words, his eyes serious as he waited for your response.

“Are you guys gonna come in? Or are you just gonna stand there flirting all day?” Asked the attendant who was standing next to the entrance of the haunted house. He had been there during your entire conversation with Rowoon and was clearly starting to get fed up with the two of you. In his defense, you were standing right in front of the door.

Batting your eyes up at Rowoon you asked him, “What do you think? Do you want to keep flirting? Or should we get this scary time started? Are you ready to do whatever I want?”

“I’m the one who should be asking you that.” He replied, handing your tickets to the attendant. Leading the way, he forged through the door, believing himself to be ready for whatever horrors were waiting within.

The first few rooms were fine, just some decorations and sounds meant to set the mood and give a few small jumpscares. Rowoon was able to keep up his bravado, just giving little jumps when startled but not seeming worried yet. He led the way with you trailing behind, waiting for the moment when he would start panicking. It wasn’t a matter of if, but a matter of when.

And very soon that moment came. You had just entered the next room, pushing away spider webs, and Rowoon was standing in the middle of the room, looking around. “I don’t see a door.” He murmured to himself. But as soon as those words had left his mouth, a hidden door opened between the two of you, out of his eyesight, and something was thrown from it.

The thing, whatever it was, hit Rowoon’s back. He yelped and turned around, his eyes widening in shock. “Something hit me!” Stating the obvious in a panicked voice was all he seemed to be able to do, his body frozen, his arms held up to shield himself from further attacks.

Before you had time to respond, the lights of the room dimmed, and another door opened, smoke spilled from within, curling its way across the floor. On its own that might not have been so bad, but there seemed to be voices following the smoke, a thousand furious whispers cursing your soul. Even you found it to be rather alarming, not that you were going to admit it.

Rowoon was able to turn around just enough to see the smoke, having heard the voices. As the smoke neared him, he found the strength to move and practically sprinted towards you. Suddenly you found yourself being used as a human shield, your boyfriend’s hands on your shoulders as he peeked over your head to look at the smoke.

Just as the smoke reached your feet the whispers died away, and a third door opened. Both of you tensed, waiting for something else to come out. When several minutes passed with no new surprises you looked up at Rowoon, an eyebrow raised. His hands were still on your shoulders.

Realizing what he had done, and what he was currently still doing, he jumped away from you, his hands leaving your shoulders in an instant. “Oh!” He said, unable to look into your eyes. “Sorry. I just thought that maybe I could protect you better from behind!”

Your eyebrow was still raised as you looked at Rowoon skeptically. “Is that so?”

“Yeah!” He said, nodding his head, although it looked like he was barely convincing himself, much less you.

With a sigh you shook your head, “C’mon, let’s keep going.”

Rowoon nodded, and this time you led the way. You could tell that he’d been shaken, but there was no way that he was going to admit that, especially after your bet. Sometimes your sweet boyfriend could be stubborn, even when he was nervous.

The next shock to both of you came very soon after. You had both stepped into a room, the door creaking shut behind Rowoon. “Well that’s ominous,” you muttered, looking around for anything that might come out of the walls.

However, you had neglected to look up, and that cost you some dignity. Your boyfriend did look up, and quickly ran to an edge of the room. And before you could ask him why he’d done that, a giant spider dropped down right in front of your face, causing you to let out a loud shriek.

Bolting towards Rowoon you stopped just before you ran into him. You stood close to him, but not close enough to give him the chance to accuse you of clinging to him. Scanning the room, this time looking at the ceiling as well, there didn’t seem to be anything else in the room, save for the giant spider now dangling at eye level.

That is, it was the only thing, until puffs of air started coming in from under the walls. They felt like little creatures running across your feet, unnerving you more than you’d like to admit. The lights dimmed and skittering noises, like hundreds of tiny bugs running across wood, echoed through the room. You felt Rowoon move closer to you, and you thought for a moment he was going to grab onto you, but instead he raced around the room, feeling around for a way out.

There was desperation in his eyes, and as the sensations of bugs skittering around the room grew in intensity you started to feel that same desperation. Joining him in his search, you felt across the rough surface of the wooden walls for something, anything, that might get you out of there, or at least stop the bugs.

As your hands drifted across the walls, you found a panel in the wall that felt different from the rest. Pushing against the panel it clicked, and a door opened in the wall across from it. Rowoon heard the noise of the door creaking open and turned, both of you running towards the door and out of the room.

A few rooms went by with little issue, just small things not enough to really scare either of you, although the blood dripping from the walls in one room was definitely creepy. As the two of you kept going, Rowoon relaxed, and his guard dropped.

Which turned out to be a mistake. Just as he sighed, saying, “I guess that room with the bugs was the scariest we’ll see.” The lights went out completely. You both froze, unable to even see each other in the darkness that surrounded you.

You felt something coming towards your back and whirled around, wanting to face whatever it was head on. The something grabbed your wrist, but before you could start to fight back, a familiar voice whispered, “Hey, it’s me, it’s okay.”

“Rowoon?” You asked, your voice coming out shakier than you had hoped it would.

“Yeah, it’s me.” The voice said, and it did definitely sound like your boyfriend, although his voice sounded just as shaky as yours did. “Can I hold your hand? Please? I don’t want to lose you in the darkness.”

You sighed, although you were relieved at the idea of having him close. “Alright, and I won’t even count this as part of the bet, even though I’m totally winning.”

“Whatever,” he muttered as he took your hand in his. He held on tightly, the warmth of his soft hand a welcome comfort in the blackness that surrounded you.

The two of you slowly made your way forward, reaching with your hands and feet to make sure you didn’t bump into anything. However, those efforts didn’t protect you from the horrors that came next.

As you were reaching out, hoping to find a door to get out of the darkness, your fingers brushed against something soft. Was there another person? Suddenly a scream split through the air, coming from what you had just touched. It was a scream of pain and fear, a sound that you hadn’t heard before and one you wished you never had.

Then another scream came from behind you, then another, and another. Soon the room was filled with wailing screams. You felt the urge to run, but in the darkness you weren’t sure it would do any good. The lights came on, dim glows of blue and green that made things worse instead of better, casting soft yet sickly shades of color around the room. And as your eyes adjusted, you realized that you and Rowoon were surrounded.

Everywhere you looked you saw humanoid creatures in long formless clothes, their mouths open in unending screams as they reached towards you. Their faces spoke to a terror deep within you, faces etched with pain and torment and suffering. They were almost human, but in a way that felt unnatural and wrong.

As the creatures closed in Rowoon panicked and his resolve crumbled. He let go of your hand only to try and climb into your arms, his eyes filled with terror. But given the difference in height and your inability to carry his weight this didn’t work. Instead he ended up with his arms wrapped around your waist. While to someone on the outside it might look like he was comforting you, his arms wrapped around you protectively, he was the one who needed comfort in that moment. He clung to you like you were the only thing in the world that could save him.

Shaking your head at him you managed to fight off your panic enough to scan the room, looking for a way out. You saw a gap between the creatures, and a door off in the distance with a warmer light beyond it. Turning quickly to Rowoon, his arms still wrapped around you, you whispered, “Listen, we need to get out of here. If we run I think we can make it. Take my hand and follow me.”

He removed his arms from your waist and grabbed your hand. As soon as his hand was securely holding yours you started running, pulling him behind you. In a matter of seconds, the adrenaline giving you a speed boost, you were out of the room. As you both crossed over the threshold, the door slammed shut behind you.

Standing in a defensive position, your eyes searched the new room and found it empty, save for a sign hanging overhead signaling the end of the haunted house, and an attendant standing next to a closed door.

“Hello!” The attendant called out, “Were there any more in your party or just the two of you?”

“Just us,” you replied, Rowoon still recovering from the shock of the horrors he had witnessed.

He was practically glued to your side, and he didn’t seem eager to let go. As it set in that the haunted house was actually done, he started to relax. But unfortunately this didn’t last. “Boo!” The attendant jokingly shouted as the two of you made your way towards the door.

Having reached his limit already, even that noise was enough to make Rowoon flinch, his body going rigid as he clung to you. Surprised by this extreme reaction, she turned to you with concern in her eyes. “Is he okay?”

Patting his arm you reassured her, “Yeah, he’s just a little sensitive right now, but he’ll be fine.” Turning your eyes to your traumatized boyfriend you said, “C’mon, sweetie, let’s get you home where it’s nice and safe.”

He stayed quiet, letting you guide him out the door and onto the sidewalk. Once you two had walked away from the haunted house, Rowoon still clinging to you, he paused, pulling you to a stop.

You looked up at him questioningly and he looked down at you with a slightly embarrassed look in his eyes. “I lost the bet, I know I did. But you haven’t said what you want from me yet.”

“I’ve been thinking about it, deciding what the best thing to ask for is,” you replied, “and I think I know what I want. I want you to kiss me.” The two of you had kissed before, but it was rare, and something you wished happened more often.

“Oh.” Rowoon said quietly, his eyes widening. “Oh. Um.” He looked away, his cheeks reddening. “I guess, I could do that. If that’s what you want.”

With a nod you said, “It is.”

Rowoon let go of you for a moment so he could turn to face you, still flustered. Slowly and carefully, almost like he was afraid he would break you if he held you too hard, he leaned down and cupped your face in his hands, tilting it up as his lips met yours.

Closing your eyes you melted into the kiss, losing yourself in the feeling of it. His lips were soft, as was the touch of his hands as he held your face. Everything in that moment felt soft, almost like it would float away at any moment.

And then the kiss was over. Rowoon pulled away, his hands still cupping your face as he breathed heavily, his face flushed and his eyes wide. He leaned in once more, this time to softly kiss your forehead, before his hands fell from your face to your shoulders.

Moving closer you wrapped your arms around him, pressing your face to his chest as you murmured, “Rowoon, that was… really nice.”

Resting his head on top of yours he sighed, “It was. I don’t think I mind losing bets with you if this is what you ask for.”

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rosenfey · 6 years

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PLAGUE /pleɪɡ/ n. an epidemic disease that causes high mortality; pestilence

for julian week; day one | the arcana

The sky was weeping. Its tears soaked the croocked black roofs, pounding at the cobblestones like a horde of galloping horses. Nothing but the insistent sound of water filled the eerie silence of the deserted streets, black walls surrounded by ominous rivers of crimson, deep red amids the silent black.

Julian was half glad, for the rain deafened the screaming. He tugged his coat closer, shivering from the cold, and continued walking, his footsteps echoing through the Lazaret along with the frantic cries of the sky.

He entered the main building, where the newest victims were lodged, on separated beds in a large main hall. New people came every day, taking places of the dead ones, but Julian felt as if there were more and more, the doctors having problems to accomodate them all. Hence the largest building was used to admit in the new arrivals, people with still several days to live, at best.

He shrugged of his coat and spread it over a chair in front of a fireplace in the small room for the medics. He then fastened the beaked mask over his face, strong scent of herbs filling his nostrils. They purificated the air, in an attempt to ward off the plague, so it wouldn’t infect the doctors as well.

The number of doctors was scarce, and in a desperate want to secure more people to take care of the diseased, volunteers were taken in to help around, assisting the medical experts in their helpless endeavours to save a human life. He saw them in the room, going from pacient to pacient, washing the bodies in vinegar and rose water, hanging pomegranates and herbs on top of the beds, bringing water to the thirsty, all with sient dedication.

“Doctor…?” A young girl approached him, holding a bowl of vinegar in her hands. All who entered the building were required to wash their hands as an additional prevention against the plague.

“Devorak,” he answered. “Doctor Devorak.” He leaned in, taking off his gloves to wash his hands, the young woman silently watching him. She was rather short, coming barely to his shoulders, ginger hair tangled in a long braid falling over the left shoulder. “New here?”

He could tell. There were women helping around, of course, but these were mostly experienced doctors and in their thirties. Well, yes, the girl couldn’t be much younger than himself, maybe a year or two - it was just so uncommon to see someone of his age, yet so fragile, to volunteer in such a place.

He quickly realised she was well aware of what he was thinking, orange eyes sparkling in the dim light. “Not very much new, sir.” she answered calmly, yet with a hint of defiance in her voice. “I worked at the clinic in town, and was just recently transitioned here.”

“You say that as if it wasn’t your own choice.”

The cloth was obscuring one half of her face, but he still could make out the baffled, if not a little bit hurt expression. “Of course it was my choice.”

Julian opened his mouth in response, but he was interupted by a rather violent coughing fit coming from one of the patients. The nurse rushed away from him, Julian at her heels, dropping together on the floor near the bed.

The boy could be thirteen at best. Damp hair obscured his forehead, skin hot at touch, at the realisation of which Julian swore a curse under his breath.

“Shh, it’s going to be okay,” he heard the girl whisper, quick fingers putting cold weat cloth over the child’s forehead.

The boy let out another cough, clasping his gut, mouth opened in horror, eyes darting around the room.

“Move him!” Julian ordered, the girl helping him to support the lad’s back and making him sit.

A retching sound escaped the young boy’s lips and then he vomited, nothing but blood dripping out of his lips. The nurse held out a small bowl under his mouth, but it was too late, crimson mixed with saliva already spilling over her white dress, hitting her in the face. She didn’t wince, the firm fingers obbeying Julian’s orders as they slowly put the lad back on his bed, his coughs suddenly ceasing, with only a deafening silence echoing through the ears.

The child layed peacefuly, his fit ended as soon as it began. The damp hair was falling into the unmoving eyes, staring into the ceiling with unspoken desperation. Julian pressed his palm over the child’s eyelids, closing them, partialy so the coroner would know to take the body to the pire, partialy because he couldn’t stand the silent cry for help of the blue, blank eyes.

The young woman at his left was shaken. She had to witness several deaths at the clinic, yet she seemed very much taken away - slender fingers shaking, blood stains spreading around the white cloth of her dress like wine. She knew the boy, that much was apparent.

“This is no place for the soft heart,” Julian muttered softly, clearly seeing the girl’s attempt not to cry.

She looked him in the eyes, an undescribable expression on her face. “I’m not much younger than you, doctor Devorak. That doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to mourn.” She wiped a lonely tear escaping her amber eyes. “But I won’t let that distract me, I promise.”

There was such a defiant look at her face, so typical for a time when people were dying like flies every day and it was the living the doctors should care about. Not because they would be heartless, not because they wouldn’t care. Quite on the contrary. Julian remembered the day when he realised the same thing, his reaction not much different from the young nurse.

Maybe he was wrong, after all. “I didn’t quite catch your name.”

She paused for a short while, recomposing herself. “Evelin. Evelin Evanett.”

He watched her hands down in her lap, squeezing tight, revealing what the face obscured. He reached out, without thinking, wraping his cold fingers around hers.

She gave him a startled look, but didn’t move away. If anything, her grip tightened.

“I’m sorry, Evelin,” he whispered, and she nodded. Julian knew those were just empty words, offering little to no relief, but she seemed to understand.

“Thank you, doctor Devorak.” he could barely hear her voice, the grip of her fingers warm against his cold skin. “Thank you.”

#julian week #the arcana #the arcana game #julian devorak #the arcana fanfic #drabble #i didnt proof read this because i like adventure #also ive written this at 7am because i cant sleep #i like the adventure as i said #pairing: we need to stop meeting like this

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fer8girl · 6 years

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Ghost’s Dawn

Gladiator-days fiction for Dvasia. Also on AO3 and could use more comments >^,^<

A panicked buzz woke the small Cathar from her fitful sleep, whispers slithering through the slaves’ sleeping quarters. “Hide them! Hide them!” The words hissed around her as she shook loose her disorientation. Frenzied hands grabbed other younglings, tucking them under blankets and robes. Suddenly there was booming against the doors, just before they gave way.

Guards burst into the room, looking humongous from where she sat on the floor, and pointed at the scurrying bodies. “There!” one grunted.

Two small twi’lek were snatched up - five cycles old, just a bit younger than her - and she realized that the rumors were true. Since getting thrown in with this lot of slaves she’d heard about random pen raids where the smallest or weakest were carried off. No one was sure where they went but none ever came back.

She frantically looked for a place to hide, anything or anyone who’d help her, but it was a lost cause. The others were busy concealing younglings that they’d birthed or adopted, with no family she was an easy target.

Grabbing her thin pallet she tried dashing to a corner but she made the mistake of looking up. Her eyes locked with those of one of the guards and she shrank away. “Don’t see me,” she whispered, putting all of her will behind the words. It was a trick that’d saved her before and seemed to work this time. His eyes went blank and he looked from side to side, appearing confused. She darted backward in a relieved rush, just before flying into the legs of a guard behind her.

His hand dug into the scruff on the back of her neck, raising her as she spat and hissed. A lashed-out claw narrowly missed his face but he just chuckled. “Filthy vermin,” he said, poking her in the ribs and she lashed out again, baring her fangs in a snarl.

“Vermin with bite, eh?” muttered another.

“Good, maybe it’ll last longer,” he replied.

Still held at arm’s length all she could do was dangle helplessly as he carried her out along with several other younglings. Behind them were muffled sobs while the remaining slaves huddled together, already mourning those they couldn’t hide. She tried swiping at the guard again, but he just gave her a hard shake. “Save your energy, you’ll need it,” he grumbled.

While they tromped through the dank tunnels she glanced at the others. There was maybe a dozen of them, a few still squirming while the rest had gone limp with resignation. All like her, young, small... easily forgotten.

Taking one last chance she reached up to tear at the arm of the guard, this time her claws gashed deep into flesh. He dropped her with a surprised shout, cursing and grasping the injured limb while she rolled away, scrambling to her feet. Her actions spurred the other younglings, they started wiggling in their captors’ grips as she ran down the tunnel.

Fueled by adrenaline she sprinted down the hall, hoping to outrace the thudding feet behind her. She hadn’t made it far before a hulking body stepped from the gloom, blocking her path.

“Trying to wriggle off the hook little worm?”

The raspy voice sent chills up her spine and she stopped dead in her tracks, staring up at the wrinkled face. Thin braids fell from a knot atop his head, looking like tentacles, and a sneer twisted his leathery features. She glanced from side to side, searching for a new escape route, but before she could dash off a guard caught up and cuffed the side of her head. Reeling from the blow she felt warmth trickling down her face as he picked her up.

“Sorry Doran,” the injured guard muttered. “Damn thing snapp…” His words were cut off by a wheeze as the wrinkled man gut-punched him.

“I hate having to clean up after those I hire,” he intoned, then walked to where she was held aloft. Blinking warm wetness from her eyes, she glared at him while he chuckled ominously. “But at least I know who to wager on.”

He strode down the tunnel with the guards close behind while she was half-dragged along the stone floor. The brutal retaliation to her rebellion quieted the other younglings, they just whimpered until they reached a metal gate at the end of the hall. It creaked open and she lurched away, only to be chucked through with the others. They landed in heap but quickly sprang apart, some running to bang on the gate while she looked around.

So different than the pens it was like visiting another world. No ceiling, only more sky than she’d seen in her life, with red-orange streaks starting to chase off the night. Crisp air filled her lungs and she inhaled greedily, relishing oxygen untainted by the odor of unwashed bodies. The ground was hard-packed dirt, dusty but a welcome change over the clammy tunnels.

Curiosity had her wandering forward as dawn approached. More gates peppered the walls fencing in the area and there were bones littered about. There were deep gouges where they’d been gnawed on. By what? she wondered, and when a screech echoed across the area she had a feeling she was about to find out.

“Turn ‘em loose!” barked the wrinkled man.

In the waning darkness she could see the gates opening and tall, spindly beasts entering the arena. They were nothing like she could’ve imagined, even in her nightmares. With armored bodies and pointed insect-like legs, the creatures seemed barely tamed, swiping sharp limbs at the guards much like she had. Dawn light gleamed on bony crests and the multitude of teeth protruding from their upper jaws.

She swallowed hard, feeling rooted in place while the other younglings squealed in terror. The beasts’ heads swiveled towards the shrill noises and they charged. Behind her she heard pattering feet as the others scattered but all she could do was hit the ground and repeat, “Don’t see me, don’t see me…”

Hunkered into a tight ball, she burrowed into the dirt as much as she could, glad that her pale fur matched the dust. A stampede of pointed limbs ran past and she curled tighter, praying they’d miss her. Her silent pleas became more fervent when screams echoed through the arena, followed by noises she didn’t want to define. She clamped her hands over her ears, rocking and murmuring to herself. It was only when she felt the thud of legs close to her face that she grudgingly opened her eyes, fearing the worst.

Warm breath puffed above her head prompting her to look up, and when her gaze traveled higher her eyes met the three of the creature looming over her. It seemed curious and she could see that it was smaller than the others, its crest not quite as large. It jabbed at her with one leg tentatively then leaned down, opening its mouth.

‘NO!’ she thought in panic and it stilled, drawing back slightly as if it heard her. The three eyes blinked and she did too, just as surprised. When its face moved forward she tried it again, thinking, ‘No! Stay back!’

Something clicked into place like tumblers in a lock, and she felt herself in the mind of the beast. It was a jumbled place, thoughts swirling like leaves in the wind. She fought to not get swept up in them, to focus the best she could. It was so hard, the beast was starving, its body wracked by hunger pains.

Hunger was something she was painfully familiar with, she’d been shoved from the food bins more times than she could count by larger slaves. She grasped onto the pain, somehow drawing it into herself where she could bury it with her own. Once relieved of it the beast lowered its head and brushed its muzzle to her leg. Fine bristly hairs trembled against her fur and she giggled nervously at the tickle. Its eyes met hers again and when it tilted its head in anticipation inspiration struck.

She channeled the beast’s hunger back to it but a controlled portion, giving it purpose. In return she could feel its strength funneling into her, reinforcing their bond as she stood. There was a quiet buzz at the back of her brain, the creature making its presence known and she welcomed it. It crouched slightly and she sidled up one leg to perch on its back.

The rest of the creatures had decimated the younglings and a few guards were trying to wrangle them while others stared at her. Some looked wary, trying to figure out why she hadn’t been devoured. A frisson of anger shivered down her spine as she watched them, the creature’s feelings twisted into her own.

‘Food?’ she thought, still getting the hang of the link they shared, and the creature keened excitedly. Concentrating as hard as she could she stared at the guard who’d pulled her from the slave pens. “There,” she said. “That’s food.”

It charged him with a ferocious cry while she clung to its neck, limbs speeding along the hard ground. Overcome by shock the rest just looked on in horror as the creature speared a leg through his torso then dragged him along the ground. Doubled satisfaction surged as it sunk long teeth into his throat, ripping free his windpipe with a crunch. Warm fluids coursed down its throat and as the beast’s hunger abated she felt almost like it was her own stomach being filled.

Another juicy bite tore into the carcass’s leg, prime hunks of muscle dripping blood onto the ground. She became mesmerized by the spots of red, arcane constellations soaking into the dirt. The smell beckoned and she leaned forward, tempted to leave the safety of her perch.

‘That would be unwise.’ A melodic voice rippled more through her mind than her ears and she glanced up. The rest of the guards had regrouped, aiming whatever weapons they had at her and the beast. Most tried looking brave but she could smell their fear. A tall red-skinned woman stood in front of them, haughty but curious, and she knew that’s whose voice she had heard. ‘You’re safer there, little dis. At least for now.’

The guards started circling them and she watched them carefully, letting the creature know their positions. One jabbed a pike at them and together they whirled, the creature knocking his feet out from under him with a stilt-like leg.

“Back off!” the woman warned and this time they seemed smart enough to listen. She walked towards the pair and the creature bowed its head, surprising the rider clinging to its neck.

“I raised this one and many like her. They’re called Acklay,” she explained as she reached up and stroked under its jaw. “Not many take to being ridden though.”

Golden eyes peered up at her and she felt like layers of her will were being stripped away. ‘Don’t see me,’ she thought and the intrusion paused then pulled back.

“Interesting,” intoned the woman. Then she smiled slowly and whispered, “They’re afraid of you.”

The idea sent a shiver of pride through her, “Good.”

Her reaction seemed to please the woman. “But fear can make people do rash things, like attack at sudden movements. Stay still, stay quiet and you’ll leave here alive.”

“Promise?” she asked skeptically and the woman nodded.

“Yes.” The woman glanced back and stiffened, “But you have to trust me.”

Over the woman’s shoulder she could see a burst of movement, fury taking form as the Weequay she’d encountered barrelled through the guards.

“What in Am-Shak’s name is going on?” he bellowed, stopping at the guard’s corpse. He shook his head at the carnage and pinned the woman with his gaze. “Slaves, not guards Syble.”

“ Atenuâ just got a little overzealous, ” she stated. “I tried warning you about starving them.”

The Weequay huffed, looking exasperated until he saw the small Cathar atop the acklay. “And what is that thing doing up there?”

“It seems Atenuâ has found a friend,” said the woman, her voice softening like warm honey. “You know, you haven’t had a proper gladiator in quite a while. And don’t beast-riders do the best in the arenas? I could train them, rider and mount. Think of the credits.”

Even from her perch she could feel the coercion in the woman’s tones, swaying the Weequay’s thoughts. He looked doubtful at first but while the woman murmured coaxingly his expression relaxed.

“An acklay rider?” he mused, warming to the idea. “Unexpected, bold, I like it.” Tilting his head he looked at her again. “You’re the one I wagered on, aren’t you? In the mess no one could tell who’d lasted the longest. Guess I win!”

He laughed darkly and she shivered, noting his humor was more disconcerting than his anger. Tightening her grip she was relieved when he turned to the woman. “Fine, have it your way. Train them for the arenas.”

He strode off, the guards marching behind him, leaving her and the acklay with the woman. A shrill whistle summoned the other acklays near, a single noise accomplishing what a cadre of guards couldn’t.

“Now it’s safe, little dis.” The woman beckoned to her, “Come closer so that I may take a look at you.”

Sliding from the acklay she was still wary, ready to run. But where would she go? she wondered and she approached the woman. Long red fingers brushed dust from her mane then trailed over the scars on her cheek. The woman clucked her tongue before crouching down to her eye level. “My name is Syble. What’s yours?”

She shrugged at the question and Syble’s eyes narrowed. “No clan, pride?” She shrugged again and Syble sighed. “Maybe better this way.”

“You have unique abilities, abilities I can help you hone,” she continued. “Have you used them before?”

She nodded and concentrated hard. “Don’t see me,” she muttered and watched a smile of delight dawn on Syble’s face.

“Very good,” she murmured. “To the unskilled eye you’re almost a ghost.” The smile widened as if inspired, “Dvasia, it means ‘ghost’ in my peoples’ language. Do you like it?”

“Dvasia.” Her tongue stumbled over the foreign syllables before catching them and making them hers. “Yes, I like it.”

“Then Dvasia you are, a living ghost. Now come,” Syble stood and offered her hand. “I will be your Akirsera and teach how to use those skills of yours.”

“No pens?” she asked, hopefully.

Syble chuckled, smoothing her fingers over the small furry hand she held. “No my little dis, you will stay with me. And I have much to teach you.”

Walking hand-in-hand with Syble, followed by acklays, Dvasia knew she’d be eager to learn.

Translations for the Sith used in the story...

Akirsera - 'mistress' Atenuâ - 'stilts' dis - 'cat' Dvasia - 'ghost'

#swtor #dvasia #cathar sith #gladiator days #acklays #love my ocs #my fanfic #long fic

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viostormcaller · 7 years

Text

Unwell

I tried to write a thing! I worked hard on it so I hope it’s good! Here we go.

“…-ack? Jack!”

The Irish, green-haired YouTuber flinched at the sound of his name. How long had he zoned out for? He swallowed before he replied, removing his hand from his mouth cautiously.

“Y-yeah? Sorry I’m kinda quiet.” As everyone this side of the Internet knows, this was far from normal for the usually loud jacksepticeye. It’s what he’s known for, after all, so he knew his friends would pick up on it if he was silent for too long. Especially if everyone else is talking.

“Nah, it’s fine, man. Are you okay? We were afraid you fell asleep on us or something.” Mark’s voice. As much as Jack wanted to shout “SLEEP IS FOR THE WEAK” into the mic, he could barely bring himself to open his mouth, for fear he would be sick on himself in front of his friends (well, more or less, considering they were all just talking through the computer). He was fine all day up until halfway through playing, when he got a sudden, powerful surge of nausea out of nowhere. It’s a feeling he absolutely hated. He sucked in a labored breath and attempted once again to speak.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I dunno I just…I feel kinda sick. It’s weird because…” he paused to swallow and quickly covered his mouth with his hand as bile rose in his throat. He shivered as it went back down. “…I was fine all day until now.”

“It’s fine. Just take it easy, alright? Let us know if you need to take a break,” Mark reassured.

“Yeah, man, we’ll understand if you’re not feeling well.” Bob chimed in. Wade replied with a simple “Yeah,” to add to the conversation.

“Thanks, guys.�� Jack said. He looked back towards the glowing computer screen in front of him. Him, Mark, Bob, and Wade were all playing G-mod Prop Hunt, and as far as Jack was concerned, he was still pretty well hidden. For now, at least. A minute soon passed, and Jack reached out for his keyboard to switch objects and change his hiding spot when he felt his stomach suddenly lurch. Quickly, he leaned forward to speak into the mic.

“I’ll be right back, guys,” he said. He didn’t bother waiting for a reply from his friends. He hurriedly set his headphones down on the desk and left his recording room, jaw clamped shut and hand pressed firmly against his lips. He rushed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, and knelt in front of the toilet, one arm clutching the bowl and the other wrapped around his stomach. He stayed in that position for a while, dreading what was to come but at the same time wishing it would just happen already so he could return to his friends and his game. The stale stench of toilet water filled his nostrils, a smell that only became familiar in moments such as these, as he leaned over the toilet bowl, his breathing labored.

After what felt like an eternity, Jack began to cough, which then progressed to gagging. Finally, he heaved, shutting his eyes tight as he threw up whatever it was within him that was making him sick. His throat burned and his mouth tasted of vomit. Slowly, he wiped his eyes and opened them, gazing into the toilet bowl. His eyes widened at what he saw.

Blood.

Suddenly, the burning sensation was no longer just in his throat, but in his neck as well, accompanied by a powerful stinging and intense throbbing. Feeling something begin to slowly drip down his collarbone, he touched his fingertips gently to his neck. Blood stained them when he pulled his hand away. His throat appeared to have been cut open.

Frantic, Jack’s baby-blue eyes darted around the bathroom. This was no longer the room he was familiar with. The room was illuminated with eerie, dim red light, and blood dripped from the walls and ceiling, pitter-pattering onto the floor as a leaky ceiling would in a rainstorm. With widened eyes, Jack watched as the door slowly opened. There, in the doorway, stood a large, ominous figure, whose body looked not unlike Jack’s, its entire being cloaked in shadow. The most distinguishing thing about the figure was a pair of green, glowing eyes. The monster’s head tilted to the side and began to spasm and shake violently. Jack, frozen with terror, could only sit and watch for what felt like the longest two minutes of his life. Then, an unearthly scream emanated from the being, and rushed towards Jack, who also screamed in response, and he shut his eyes tight. Then, he reopened them.

And all was normal.

Frantic, with heart pounding and breathing rapid, Jack once again surveyed his surroundings. Normal bathroom. He touched a hand to his neck. No more neck wound. Shakily, Jack slowly stood up and flushed the toilet. All was…normal.

“What the fuck…” Jack whispered to himself. He made his way to the sink, and bent over it to brush his teeth and rinse his mouth of the horrid taste of vomit. Slowly he looked into the mirror, and what stared back at him was not Jack, but a doppelganger whose eyes were pitch-black, a wicked grin plastered on his face. A bloody wound stretched across his neck.

“A-Anti…” Jack whispered, terrified.

“I̺̙̪̿͊́ͮ̚̚'̫̱̜ͯ̍ͣ͑͛̽͘͡m̴̦͇̫̹̗ͣͤͧ̿ͮ̋͞ ̟̤͓͈͇͙̲̮̾̓̐̍̎͘a̢̺͉̰̺͌ḽ̇͝w̘̮̻͚̌̾͊͑͛ͤ͢a̴̮̾ͧ̊̈́͌̒̂͟y̡̛̻̼̥̓ͥ̐͞s̨̘̦̬͕̥̾̋ͤ͗͋͒͡ ̶̪̻̖͐͆̆̃t̐͐̽͐̉ͥͣ̏҉͎̜̫͓̳̜̞̰͘͜ḧ́̓͏͕̖̳͇̮̤͍̬̦ḛ̢̞̮ͬ̆̆̄͐̈́̎͠ŕ̩͙͖͙͙̙̖̫̄ͦͥ̑͟͠e̶̵̜͍̻̫̥͈͚̖̓͊̽̍̽ͮͯͤ” the being known as Anti spoke, and a loud, echoing, maniacal laughter emanated from his throat. The mirror broke, and Jack yelled out and jumped back in surprise, falling and smacking his head against the bathtub. His vision went dark and he conked out.

Jack awoke with a pounding in the back of his skull. His vision refocused slowly, and he pressed a hand to the spot where he had bumped his head. Suddenly, he remembered his friends, and he unsteadily rose, leaving the bathroom and returning to his recording room, worried that he had taken too long and they all had left. By the familiar sound of witty banter coming from his headphones, however, he knew immediately that that wasn’t the case. They were all still there, waiting upon his return. Jack checked the timer. He had only been gone for ten minutes.

“You guys still there?” Jack asked as he put his headphones back on and sat down in his green-and-black gaming chair.

“Hey, look who’s back!” Wade exclaimed.

“Hey, man, you feeling better?” Bob asked, sounding concerned.

“We were really worried about you. Hope you’re alright,” Mark added.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright,” Jack lied. He felt awful for lying to them, but if he told them the truth they would think he was going insane. Hell, if someone came up to Jack and explained to him what just happened, he wouldn’t believe them either!

“Sorry I took so long. I slipped over a bath mat and I hit my head on the tub. Blacked out for a bit. I’m alright, though.” While it wasn’t a complete lie, per se, it wasn’t the truth, either. It would just have to do until he could sort out that the actual fuck just happened. Even if he were to tell them the truth, what would he even say? He couldn’t begin to describe it, himself.

“Ooh. Sounds painful.” Mark said. “And you’re sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah…yeah, I’m fine.” Jack knew that was far from the truth. He was unsettled, disturbed. He was scared. He felt as if he was losing his mind. He’s seen Anti before, he’s been taken over by him before. But this, this was so much different than the last two times. It was as if Jack was living a real-life horror game. Until he figured out a game plan, he decided he was going to keep this to himself. So, he played off as if he were okay. Just for now.

“Are you okay to play a few more rounds, then?” Mark asked him.

“Sure, let’s do it.” Jack replied. Because at least playing a game with his friends could take his mind off of things. But, every now and again, through his headphones, he swore he could still hear the laughter.

“I̶͇͓̝̲̭̙͗͐̐ͯ͛ͨ͡ț̱̗̼̬̙͇̯͖̒̅̿̒̊̑ͤ͡'̗̜͓̂s̩͓̟̮̆͐͡ ̠̘͍̩͈͇̣̩̝̃͑̒̈́̈́̑ͤ̀̉m̨̖̻̬͂̒ͥͧ̓͂ͣ͒͗͡y̨̞̙̣ͭ̓̚ ̡̔ͤ̈̃͏̺̰͎̖͇͚ţ̹̱̜̰͙ͪ͐͡ų͖̣̼̹̯̅ͪ̒̔ͣͬ̍̋ŗ̙̦͍͔͒ͬͤͩͤ̏ͭ̌n̡̹̊̄̇̏̃̋̍͡ ̼͔̹͈̙̟̟͇̪ͨ͌ͪ̋ͭ͋̚͘͡n̷͖̦̮͋̍ǒ͎̜̳̺̗̦̹̹͐ͫw̧͎̤̭̺̘̗̘ͣͭ̈͑ͪͭ͒̉̐͞ͅ,̧̭̪̣͙̱̟͈̼̽̉ͣͬ̑̆ ͇̘̬̆ͧ͛̅ͮ͡J̘̞̩̲͔̞ͩ́̄́͘͝a̢͙͚̖̹̭̠͍̬̋̿́͟c̝̙̞̭̰̿̿ͪͤͯk̨ͦ̒̃̄͞͏̲̠̻̼͇.͓̤̥̥̂͗́ͩ̐̐ͥͧ̆̀ͅ”

#the first fanfic i ever posted #holy shite that took so long #i enjoyed it though #jacksepticeye #antisepticeye #markiplier #muyskerm #lordminion777 #fanfiction

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writingmask · 7 years

Text

Windows to the Soul: Ch. 1 (McHanzo Week 2017 Day 2)

Prompt: Canon Divergence/AU

Rating: Teen and Up (Gore/Violence)

Words: 3657

Summary: “Please, my brother,” said the man. Jesse drew his gun and bit the inside of his cheek as he realized the man was barely older than him. “My brother,” he repeated, eyes still staring forward, almost past Jesse. Jesse felt trapped by those eyes. They dragged him in, tugging him down into an empty void that pierced his very being. “Please help him. I think he’s dying.”

McCree gets more than he bargained for on a stake-out.

[AO3]

Notes: I didn’t intend this to run so long, but the idea stuck. I’m hoping that I can actually do chapters in this, but for now, this installment will serve as my McHanzo week participation. I know there’s not a lot of actual McHanzo, but it’ll get there eventually.

The estate was quiet. Too quiet thought the lone agent currently on watch duty. So far, the night was shaping up to look like literally every other night. The agent shifted restlessly from his tiny apartment room across the street. He and his fellow Blackwatch agents had been staked outside the Shimada castle for three weeks, and they’d gained nothing.

“Agent McCree, status report.” Jesse nearly fell out of the window he was leaning on as his communicator crackled to life.

“All’s quiet, ‘n’ I’m bored as hell,” he replied. There was an ominous silence on the other end of the line, and after a beat, he added, “Commander.” He could practically hear Reyes’ teeth grinding from here. “Seriously, though. There ain’t nothin’ I can see from here. I don’t se… Hang on, somethin’s up.”

Jesse grabbed his binoculars to get a closer look as a handful sleek, black cars drove up to the gate of the castle. Why was it all these gang-types had black cars? Was it some sort of rule? He wondered what’d happen if one of them dared to drive something more sporty. Maybe they’d get kicked out or something. “Boss, they’re meeting. Looks like all the big bosses are here.”

“Keep me updated. Don’t take any risks.”

“Yessir.” Jesse saluted though he knew perfectly well Reyes couldn’t see him. It annoyed his commander, but it was a hard habit to break. He settled in to actually do his job for once, wishing that they’d actually been able to put some bugs inside the place. As it was, all he could do is glean information from the grounds and hope he’d get lucky.

Unfortunately, luck was never on his side. The men exited their cars and headed straight for what Jesse thought was some sort of shrine. There was a sense of purpose to their walk, so whatever was going down was something big. The last man getting out of his car had a hulking brute of a guard with him, torn sleeves and everything. There was something slung over his shoulder, and when he turned to follow his boss, Jesse gasped as he made out a limp human form.

“Shit they’ve got a hostage,” he breathed. “What do I do?”

“You stay where you are,” came the immediate response. Jesse opened his mouth to argue, but Reyes cut him off. “I’m serious McCree. Wait for backup. We don’t even know who that is. Could be some inner rivalry.”

“Fine,” Jesse grumbled, but Reyes was right. Reyes was usually right. There was a time that Jesse would’ve taken Reyes’ advice and told him where to shove it, but that was about six or seven near-death experiences ago. If Reyes wanted him to wait for backup, he would.

Or at least that was his plan until everything apparently went to hell. Something erupted with a flash of bright, electric-blue light and a near-animalistic roar. That alone was enough to make Jesse bolt upright, but then the screaming began.

Now Jesse had seen a lot of men die. In fact, he’d killed them in the first place. He knew what death screams sounded like. This was worse than anything he’d ever heard before. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he listened to a chorus of voices scream before being cut short as a single voice ran on and on, raw and harsh with rage and heartbreak. That was a scream Jesse had only heard once in his life, when it’d torn its way straight from his throat. And through it all, the roaring continued, almost in concert with the raging voice.

After what felt like years, everything stopped. The light faded and everything went quiet as the grave. The silence was unnerving after the chaos, and Jesse felt shaken and deaf. Something pounded in his skull, and it took him far too long to realize it was his commander trying to reach him.

“JESSE! REPORT!”

Jesse put his finger to the communicator, swallowing as he gripped his gun with his free hand, trying to will some calm into his stuttering heartbeat. “I-I don’t know, Boss. Something just… I’m gonna check it out.”

“Wait, McCree, we don’t know--”

“Boss, I think someone’s dead. Or hurt.”

Reyes was quiet for a moment, and Jesse thought he was probably working on not trying to metaphorically strangle him until he spoke again. “Alright. But for fuck’s sake be careful. Backup’s on the way.”

“Understood, sir. … Thank you.” And with that, Jesse moved as quickly as he can, practically jumping down the stairs before bolting out the door and across the street. The gate was shut, but there was a tree taller than the wall that just begged to be climbed. A scan across the grounds showed nothing but deathly stillness and a sense of something horribly wrong. The sense grew stronger as Jesse dropped down into the courtyard and nothing immediately shot at him.

He made his way to the shrine as quickly as he could and still technically being stealthy. Urgency or not, he had no interested in gaining another scar from a bullet. Reyes would have his ass on a silver platter if he got hurt again. He paused as he drew close to the building, unease trickling down his back as he saw a lump in a dark pool outside the door. He gulped and took a closer look.

“Aw hell…” he whispered as the metallic scent of blood smacked into his nose. Whatever was in the pool used to be part of a human body wrapped in a grey suit, but he couldn’t tell what it was beyond that. He had not signed on for this. Undercover, semi-illegal taskforce work, sure. But this was way above his paygrade.

Which, of course, is why he couldn’t stop himself from edging into the building.

Fear slammed his heart in his chest as he examined what looked like a scene out of a B-rated carnage horror flick. There was blood splattered everywhere, practically dripping from the ceiling. Body parts littered the floor and-- Oh God was that someone’s ear? How the fuck did an ear get that high up on the wall? Jesse froze with a whimper in his throat. He didn’t want to be here. He wished Reyes or Ana was here, or hell, he’d even take Commander Morrison. They’d be able to handle this. Surely they’d know what to do!

His eyes continued to take in the horrific view, widening further as he realized something he should’ve realized sooner. He wasn’t alone. There was a man sitting on the floor in the middle of the shrine, covered in gore and holding a mostly-intact corpse. At first, Jesse thought the man was dead himself and just frozen in rigor mortis. And then his eyes opened. And stared straight at Jesse. And the corpse in his arms moaned.

“Please, my brother,” said the man. Jesse drew his gun and bit the inside of his cheek as he realized the man was barely older than him. “My brother,” he repeated in a rasping voice, eyes still staring forward, almost past Jesse. Jesse felt trapped by those eyes. They dragged him in, tugging him down into an empty void that pierced his very being. “Please help him. I think he’s dying.” Jesse’s grip on his gun tightened as the Shimada shuddered and cried out before slumping over his brother.

“Oh God…” Jesse’s voice shook as he pressed a hand to his communicator. “Boss… Forget backup. We need a paramedic. Several paramedics.”

oOo

When all was said and done, Jesse knew he’d have nightmares about literally everything. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the Shimada man’s empty, tortured eyes staring straight into what Jesse’s overactive imagination felt was his soul. He’d never seen anyone so… So… Broken. It was as though all the joy those eyes had ever known had faded along with his brother. It was haunting, and Jesse had to force himself to shove it to the back of his mind so he could work.

Backup had arrived with a medical team in tow headed by none other than the actual angel Dr. Angela “Mercy” Ziegler herself. Jesse breathed a huge sigh of relief as he caught sight of her Valkyrie suit’s glow enter the building. She hurried past him with a gasp of shock, headed straight for the passed out duo at the center of the mess. Or at least he hoped they were just unconscious.

He wanted to step forward and offer assistance, but he wasn’t a doctor. Hell, he wasn’t even a high school graduate. There wasn’t much he could do but watch. A hand, heavy and warm clasped his shoulder, startling him and drawing his attention from Mercy ordering her people about far too calmly for such a flurry of activity. Jesse looked up to meet his commander’s face and was filled with a reassurance that Reyes would roll his eyes at if Jesse tried to describe it.

“Report, Agent McCree,” he said, all purpose and professionalism despite the comforting hand on his shoulder and the quiet question in his eyes. Jesse nodded slightly; he was fine. Shaken, but he’d been through worse.

“I was monitoring the Shimada estate, as ordered, sir,” Jesse said, relieved at being able to hide behind a professional mask for a while. “There was a meeting that gathered in a shrine, followed by some sort of explosion. When all went dead--” Poor choice of words, he thought to himself with a wince-- “I went to investigate. And found…” Here he floundered, gesturing around him. “This? Boss, I don’t know what happened, but it was bad. There’s one survivor, maybe two? But…”

Reyes shook his head, squeezing his shoulder. “I get the picture. Stick close; Strike Commander’s on his way, and he’ll want to hear your report as well.” Jesse nodded quietly, for once skipping his opportunity to make a face at the mention of the head of Overwatch. He liked the guy fine, but he seemed way too good to be true. In his experience, someone that perfect had a rotten core in the middle. ‘Course, Reyes would probably have his head if he said that out loud.

Reyes squeezed his shoulder once more before stepping away to converse with Mercy. Jesse took a moment to rest against a pillar outside, turning his back on the crime scene. It was going to be a long night.

Hours and three reports and a flight out of Japan later, Jesse finally staggered into his room back on base, drained beyond all reason. Morrison had been unbelievably gentle about his questioning, and Jesse wondered if that was a usual thing or if he, too, had been subdued by the horror. He’d practically ordered Jesse onto the plane and to get some rest once he’d gotten all he needed. Jesse had almost been too exhausted to catch sight of the indulgent shake of Reyes’ head as he heard that. If he hadn’t been so bone-tired, he’d have wondered at that and why it was usually centered on Jack Morrison.

As it was, it didn’t matter. He was done with thinking and wondering for one night. At least he was too tired to have any nightmares for once, he realized as he sank down into darkness. A silver lining, at least.

oOo

When Jesse awoke the next morning, he felt like the dead. If there was any justice in the world, Reyes would give him the day off. Unfortunately, late nights and busy days were something of a staple in Blackwatch, and so with a groan, he stretched and dragged himself out of bed and got dressed.

There was already a report and set of orders waiting on his tablet when he made his way to the mess hall, which he read over something vaguely resembling oatmeal. The report was more debriefing of the night before, and the orders found him making his way to Reyes’ office for more information in person. Odd, that. Usually his part would’ve been done by now.

He thought about that as he knocked on the commander’s door. Had he done something wrong? Or did they need him to talk about it fresh again? Lord, he hoped not. He was done reliving that awful moment.

The door opened to admit him, and he blinked in surprise as he saw Morrison standing in front of him instead of his boss. Fortunately before his mouth could react and say something stupid, he caught sight of Reyes sitting at the desk with a tablet in front of him.

“Don’t stand there with your jaw hanging open,” Reyes said, with just the barest hint of a smirk on his face. “Come in.”

Jesse brushed passed Morrison with a quiet excuse and stood in front of the desk, feeling for all the world like a kid in the principal’s office. He’d fucked up, insisted a tiny, panicking voice deep inside. That’s why Morrison was here. He’d screwed something royally and he was about to get the boot or sent to prison. He tried his best to stamp out the increasingly hysterical thread of thought before it could show on his face. He must not have succeeded because Reyes rolled his eyes and shook his head as Morrison leaned against the desk beside him.

“You’re not in trouble, kid. Calm down and have a seat.” He pressed a key on his tablet as Jesse complied, and a resulting ding sounded from his pocket. “I’ve just sent you a file, and we need to go over it.”

Jesse pulled the screen out and thumbed over to the file. Inside was a bunch of technical jargon and a photograph of a pair of young men posed together in some sort of Japanese robes. Jesse took an immediate liking to the one with green hair and an impish smile on his face. Now there was someone who knew how to have some fun. Still, he found himself drawn to the second figure, a regal man with haughty features and a wealth of dark hair pulled back into a loose tail. There was a smile on his face, too, though it seemed more tired than joyous. And his eyes… There was something familiar about those eyes and the way they pierced the viewer...

Reyes and Morrison both let him study the picture for a long moment before he realized it. “This… This is the guy from last night?” he hazarded, looking up. “Which would make the other fella…”

Reyes nodded in approval. “Hanzo and Genji Shimada, respectively. The newest head of the empire and his brother. And currently, guests in our medbay.”

Jesse’s eyes grew wide at that. “Holy shit. What the fuck happened, then?” Reyes scowled at him for a second before apparently deciding to call him on his language was a waste of both time and energy. Morrison coughed and covered his mouth and Reyes turned the glare on the Strike Commander who just ignored it in favor of continuing on with the briefing.

“We don’t know. That’s why you’re here,” Morrison said, turning his attention to Jesse. “The older boy’s been non-responsive beyond simple questions, and since you’re close to him in age, we’re hoping he might open up to someone he sees as a peer.”

“Uh… That sounds like a longshot.” It slipped out, and there was another cough from Morrison while Reyes’ scowl deepened.

“It is, but right now it’s what we’ve got,” Reyes growled. “Is that clear, McCree?”

Jesse ducked his head in apology. “Yessir,” he said as meekly as he could manage. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a quick grin flash across the Strike Commander’s face. Was he laughing at Reyes? Lord he hoped so. “If I can ask one question?”

Reyes looked about ready to throw him out of his office, but he sighed and nodded. “Make it quick.”

“How is his brother? If he asks?” Jesse was more than a little worried about that. If Shimada was responsible for the mess last night… He really didn’t want to see what would happen if he carried bad news to him.

Morrison answered. “He’s alive and stable but unconscious. It’ll take a while and a few million dollars worth of cybernetics, but Dr. Ziegler assures me that he’ll live.”

Jesse gulped at that. “A few million?” Would Overwatch even be willing to foot that bill? He could see several government people being upset about that. Morrison just shrugged and smiled that dazzling moviestar grin of his.

“There’s a couple of funds that’ve been piling up without going anywhere useful. I don’t think anyone will mind if I redirect them to actually save a life for once,” he said with a wink as he breezed past him towards the door. Jesse blinked at his retreating back, feeling as though he’d missed something.

“Boss?”

“Yes, Jesse?”

“Did you know that he was like that?”

“... Just get to fucking work, Jesse.”

oOo

Jesse hated the medbay. No offense to Mercy, but the place smelled like chemicals and reminded him of the last week he had with his ma. But the medbay was where his target was, and so he went. He tipped his hat in hello to the angel herself, who was practically asleep over her notes. He slipped her a cookie definitely not stolen from Ana’s stash hidden in one of the supply closets. A quick glance over the screen by her elbow told him Shimada was in one of the back rooms, tucked safely under guard where it was unlikely anything could happen.

Of course, after last night, Jesse was just about ready for anything.

He knocked on the door, but there was no response. Fine. He’d expected that after what Morrison had said. Jesse opened the door quietly and ducked inside. Shimada was on the bed, and Jesse’s heart twisted in sympathy as he saw just fragile the man looked. He was paler than in the picture, his hair in a dark tangle around his head. But, as he turned to see who was intruding, Jesse was once again arrested by those dark eyes, still just as empty as they had been the night before.

Jesse shook himself as he realized he was staring. Right. He was here for a reason. Information. And there was really only one way to do that in the face of such hopeless.

Be as goddamned charming as he fucking could be.

He took a deep breath and plunked himself down in the visitor’s chair, tipping his hat in greeting. “Well howdy there! You must be Hanzo, right? I’m Jesse McCree, your liaison for the while! I ain’t gonna say it’s a pleasure, because after last night I’m gonna guess that nothing’s really a pleasure at the moment.” He aimed his most disarming smile at Hanzo. Who continued to just look at him. Okay then. Jesse frowned thoughtfully. This was going to be tricky. Wait. Could he speak English? Surely Reyes would’ve warned him…

“Uh… Can you understand me or do I gotta go grab a translator? Because my Japanese is utter shit. I understand it okay, but I have been told my accent is an affront to literally every decent person.” Jesse watched Hanzo closely. If he’d blinked he would’ve missed it, but there was the tiniest smile before the man actually nodded with a spark in his eyes. Good. He could understand and wasn’t quite as dead inside as he appeared.

“Okay, I’m gonna be honest, I’m supposed to ask you all sorts of questions about last night?” he started, and once again in a lightning flash, he saw the light dim on his face. “Buuuut you clearly don’t want to talk about that at the moment, so! Uh…” Okay, McCree think… “Do you have any questions?”

Hanzo was quiet for long enough that Jesse thought this was probably a dead end, too, but as he wracked his brain for another approach a soft voice almost completely at odds with the desperate, hoarse speech from the night before sounded. “My brother… Is there any news?”

Jesse did a silent, mental cheer at the progress of conversation. “Yeah, actually! He’s gonna live! It’s gonna take a lot, and there’s talk of cybernetics, but he’ll pull through.”

Hanzo practically sagged with palpable relief suffused on his face, the first real expression Jesse’d seen from the man. “I had not dared to hope…” he whispered, almost to himself.

“He’s in the best of care!” Jesse added. “Dr. Ziegler’s a bonafide miracle worker! A regular angel, she is!”

“I owe her my thanks,” Hanzo said, pushing his hair out of his face. Jesse ducked his gaze just long enough to avoid being caught staring again. “And you… You were the man from… After? The one who called them?”

Jesse scratched the back of his head, looking away. “Y-yeah. That was me,” he answered, hoping Hanzo wouldn’t ask why he’d shown up.

“Thank you,” came that quiet voice. Jesse found his gaze drawn back, and he was hooked. He could still see the hallmarks of pride etched into his face, but his eyes. Oh his eyes… There was light shining there, the emptiness receding, if only for a moment. Jesse thought he could drown in their expressions.

He mentally slapped himself. Reasons. Work. Professional. Reyes was going to kill him if he fucked this up. But Reyes was smarter than he let on. Maybe he’d understand if Jesse did this delicately, because he couldn’t push him. Not after seeing a bit of life return. He’d done enough killing lately that he wanted to save a life if he could. Reyes probably would be okay with that. Hell, Reyes himself had done it.

And if he got to spend a little more time looking into those eyes, that’d be nice too.

#mchanzo #mchanzo week 2017 #ovewratch #jesse mccree #hanzo shimada #blackwatch era #kat writes #i am literally shaking and the world is tilted funny because i stayed up too late writing this #if there are typos i will fucking fix them in the morning

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