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nightwishesworld · 3 years

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A Better Way

Because I am unhappy with our beloved wife’s death I decided to write my own.

That being said...SPOILERS!!!!!!!! I wrote this based on and referenced canon events in the game. If you wanna skip this and wait for the game’s official release in a few days I completely understand.

Alcina’s form trembles atop the pile of rubble she created during their fall. Somehow that lowlife Ethan survived the fall as well. Fuck, what does it take to kill that man? Even in her monstrous form, she failed to stop a flimsy little mortal man. Is he really that powerful? Or is she simply the weak little rat Mother Miranda always said she was? The answer is obvious now.

Alcina knows this is it for her. There is no winning or even recovering from this. She’s lost way too much blood and is in no state to replenish herself. She hears him stumble to his feet somewhere beside her and grab his gun. It doesn’t bother her anymore. Even now as she turns to stare down the barrel of a shotgun she knows she deserves what’s to come. She failed in her task.

Everyone that depends on her is now in grave danger and it’s all her fault. Because she wasn’t good enough to protect her family from a single human man.

Her family....

Images of her beautiful daughters' lifeless piles of ash lying abandoned on the floor like yesterday’s garbage hurt her more than any weapons could hope to. What kind of mother let her daughters, her own flesh and blood, get slaughtered because she was too incompetent to take care of a little pest? A failure of a mother. Their blood is on her hands, not Ethan’s.

Mother Miranda will have to make the call to Heisenberg to let him know why Ethan is on his way to the factory. And about them. After everything that this woman has done for her and her family and this is how Alcina repays her? How pathetic of her. And her little brother as well. She’s failed everyone she cared about on this god-forsaken earth.

Alcina sighs as Ethan cocks his gun and inches closer and closer to her. After letting out a long exhale she opens her eyes and stared down at him. He’s in shit-shape but he’ll survive. Suddenly that doesn’t sound so bad. If he can finish the job, at least.

“Do it,” she whispers, and her voice cracks. Alcina will not cry in front of this vile creature; she refuses. “I am nothing without the love of my daughters. I’d rather die than live a day without their presence.”

She could have sworn she saw a hint of remorse flash across his bloodied features before he grounded himself once more. He probably didn’t even believe her. Why would he? All he sees is a hideous beast that needs to slain. Not a broken-hearted mother mourning the loss of her darling children. No one has ever seen them for who they really are. Pity.

Her head hangs and she catches a glimpse of his shadow, his arms raising.

“I deserve this,” Alcina thinks to herself.

BANG!

Karl Heisenberg was sitting in his office, legs stretched atop his desk glazing over files. Pretending to work so no one would bother him. He was so lost in his own little fantasy land that the phone ringing next to him nearly started him out of his chair.

He let out a dramatic groan, knowing full well it was Alcina calling to continue their petty argument from earlier. A chuckle escaped his mouth remembering how he told her to drop dead before hanging up.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and begrudgingly brought the phone to his ear.

“Didn’t I tell you earlier to-“

“Heisenberg!” Mother Miranda’s voice spoke. The man nearly choked on air when he heard her voice.

“Miranda! Apologies, I thought it was Alcina calling me.”

Mother Miranda paused, but only for a moment. Her tone was as it always was; calm with a hint of disappointment. “That is what I am calling about, actually. Alcina failed to keep Mr. Winters under control and he escaped. I can only assume he is making his way over to you now.”

“Alcina and the girls, are they-“

“No longer assets we need to be concerned about. The Ceremony will continue on schedule with or without them, is that understood?”

He was completely floored. His beloved, pain in the ass, older sister is dead. And what of his adorable little gremlin nieces? They’re gone too? How can Miranda possibly expect him to just-“

“Is that understood, Heisenberg?”

He cleared his throat and nodded as if she could see him. “Of course, Miranda. The preparation will continue as-“

She hung up.

Heisenberg put the phone down and buried his head in his hands. He didn’t feel anything. Only numbness. The longer he sat there thinking about them the harder to became to think about the stupid ceremony. Or that human parasite on its way to him.

His anger got the best of him and he slammed his fists down on the desk. “To hell with Mother Miranda.”

He called one of his lackeys in and filled them in on the basics of the situation, warning him about Ethan mostly. Heisenberg was to depart for Castle Dimitrescu as soon as possible. Let the lycans have fun with their new incoming chew toy until his return.

The ride up to the castle was ghostly. He expected to hear the girls’ laughter as he entered the main doors as they always do when he visits. They were always happy to see their dear Uncle Heisenberg.

Cassandra’s ash pile was the first to be found. Simply because it was out in the open by the entrance leading down to the basement. It was obviously her because the smell of her lilac perfume was still infused in her ashes. He kneeled beside it and stroked it gently between his fingers, whispering apologies and words of comfort. Both for him and Cassandra. Then he took an old pendant necklace from his pocket and ever so gently, scooped some of her ashes into it.

“There you are, Cass. Safe and sound with me.”

On a hunch he decided to look around the basement before searching the rest of the castle for Bela and Daniela. He already knew where Alcina was resting. Bela was indeed laid in one of the extraction rooms of the basement. She collapsed behind a pillar as if she were trying to hide or shield herself. Heisenberg did the same thing and scooped up her ashes in his necklace, this time kissing the pads of his fingers and laying them on the ash pile.

Daniela was next. She was in the library, literally on the other side of the door. Heisenberg cursed himself for unintentionally spreading her ashes as he opened the door and nearly stepping on the poor girl. He stayed with her longer because of this, whispering a thousand apologies to her. The way she was laid down made Heisenberg think Daniela tried to escape and came really close to doing so.

A few tears streamed down his cheeks as she gathered her ashes in his pendant. That man will pay for what he’s done. For taking such innocent souls from the world that had so much more in store for them.

His beloved sister was last. She wasn’t where he thought she would be, which he found odd, but taking a closer look around it all made sense. The damn burst behind his eyes and he openly cried for the first time in decades.

“Fuck,” he sobbed, soothing his sister’s large heap of ashes. “I didn’t mean literally, Alcina.”

He grabbed a fist full of ash and clutched it to his chest. “I’m so sorry, sister. I should have helped you trapped that rat when he escaped me the first time. But I won’t let that happen again.”

Just like with the girls, he scooped up some of her ashes in the pendant. But this time instead of putting it back around his neck he gave it a few delicate shakes, mixing the four of them together as one.

“There. Now you’ll always be together; in this eternity and the next.”

He stayed there next to her for the rest of the night. They talked for hours (though it was a one-sided conversation) and watched the stars flicker into existence as the sunset. When there were enough of them out he pointed out the various constellations to her. The entire night went on like this; acting as if nothing had changed since they were children.

The sun was just starting to rise over the grassy green hills. Radiant shades of pink and gold colored the sky like never before. It was almost like looking at heaven itself. Early birds sang their song of the morning as they flew swiftly across the sky to wake the rest of the woodland creatures and the residents of the village.

Heisenberg exhaled a shaky breath. “I better be off, Sissy. Miranda will have my head if I don’t deal with that rat before the ceremony. But don’t you worry, I’ll take care of all four of you once this shitstorm has passed. You’ll be given proper burials and everyone will have a chance to say goodbye.”

He could feel the tears starting to build up again. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you or the girls. You’re a royal pain in my ass, but you’re still my big sister and I love you.”

The ride back to the factory was comforting. There was still a heavy weight on his shoulders, but he never expected it to go away. It will only go away after exacting his revenge. When he finds that man, oh boy is he in for a treat. The lycans should have done some damage to him already or at least exhausted him. Ethan is weak now. It’s time to strike back.

No one harms Karl Heisenberg’s family and gets away with it.

#Lady Dimitrescu #lady Alcina #tall vampire lady #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil village #resident evil 8

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johnkrrasinski · 4 years

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paralyzed;

full masterlist

Pairings: Dark!Steve Rogers x female!reader

Word count: 2,032

Warning: SMUT!!!! non-con, degradation, humilation, oral sex (male & female receiving), murder, mention of blood, kidnapping. (MUST BE 18+)

Summary: Steve Rogers broke into your house but not for your money.

a/n: i’m back on my dark!steve rogers bullshit.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

"You should be grateful." He stared down at your writhing form, with a knife in his hands that he had just wiped clean from the blood of her wimpy boyfriend. "I could've killed you too if I wanted to."

The tears of terror flowed from your eyes as you miserably attempted to free yourself out of the robes that were bounding you but to no avail. You wanted to scream for help as loud as you possibly could but all that could come out of your tapped lips were pathetic whimpers.

You wanted to run on your wobbly legs as fast as you could even if you knew you were going to stumble to the ground and scrape your knees and it would only make it so easy for him to catch you but at least you had that fleeting sense of freedom, an ephemeral glint of hope that you could actually save yourself from this psycho.

But it was hopeless. He was too strong. You stood no chance trying to outrun him, all it would lead you to was only in a worse scenario.

But hey, at least you are not dead yet.

Steve Rogers had been watching her and her pantywaist of a boyfriend for months now. Every day, he would sit in his RV for hours and he would park it across their house. He watched him leave to work every morning and she would peck him a kiss on the lips before he entered his car and drove away. He never understood what a girl as hot as her was doing with an average, tedious guy like him. She could do so much more. She should be with a man like him that could satisfy her in bed.

It started when she called for a plumber and the first time he saw her, he was instantly captivated by her beauty. "Fucking hell, she was gorgeous," he thought. She was only wearing a white tank top and booty shorts with a cardigan over her shoulders when he arrived. Her cleavage that was peeking through her shirt and her creamy thighs got him and jerking off at the thought of fucking her into the mattress that night. but he remembered the silver ring around her finger and the pictures of her wedding day in the living room, and he didn't like it. There was nothing that he hated more than what he couldn't have.

And so, a nefarious plan was forming in his head. he waited patiently for weeks, camouflaged himself in a baseball hat and hid in his RV. He observed her from afar, he learned her routines and broke into her house once when she left to the grocery store to memorize every corner and every room. He did it so neatly. He was ready, at another Friday night when it was nearing 12 am, after her husband came home and slumbering next to her, he snuck in through the back door with a dark mask covering his face and he tiptoed into the master bedroom.

He was as silent as a ninja that it was way too swift and a way to easy. He stood over the edge of their bed, he watched their peaceful states and he admired how divine she still looked even when she was deep asleep and the lights were out.

He walked to her husband's side of the bed and put his glove covered hand over his mouth and slit his throat. his eyes bulged as soon as he realized what was happening but he couldn't speak or scream, he could only thrash around until steve cut off his windpipe.

And in a matter of seconds, the schmuck was laying lifeless with his eyes wide open, the splash of his blood tainted his white sheets. He dragged the body off the bed to the floor and the thud woke her up.

It took her a few seconds to realize the gory calamity that was happening before her and before she could scream and run, he held her down on the bed and covered her nose with chloroform dipped handkerchief until she went unconscious.

That's how she woke up an hour later, bound and bare. her head was dizzy from what felt like hours of staying still in the same position now and the fear just kept rising and rising with every movement and noise he made. at least she was sure that he wasn't going to murder her just yet.

You had so many questions swirling in your brain, you began searching for the people you might have had done wrong or any suspicious behaviour that you might've had neglected... Not a single one had given you a valid answer.

"You must be wondering who am I and what do I want, huh?" he scoffed. "Don't worry. I'm not here to hurt you or for your money, I'm here for you."

You could feel the bed dipped with the weight of his arms behind you. He loved the view of your ass up in the air, face pressed to the blood tainted sheet and your limbs knotted with ropes. the things he was going to do to you...

"Remember when you called me to fix your sink a few months ago? Boy, you looked miserable as hell. knew it since the first moment I saw you that this guy doesn't have the guts to fuck your brains out. well... Didn't would be more appropriate." he smirked. "I met a lot of housewives and most of them practically begged for me to make them cum but, none of them was as sexy as you."

Gou could hear the clanking sounds of his belt being unfastened and him pulling down his pants and underwear just enough to spring his cock free. He pulled you down harshly to the edge of the bed, your skin burned against the friction.

You tried to push him away with your feet but he overpowered you by keeping you in place. "Don't fucking move, bitch. Or we are gonna do this the hard way, you want that?" You didn't fight back or resist by keeping quiet... not that you could do much anyway. "good."

He bent down his knees and dipped his head into your core, he licked a stripe over your entrance to your clit and lapped on your juices. He devoured you like a famished man and the squelching noises were deeply humiliating.

His beard unpleasantly tickled you and you knew he was gonna leave some beard burn later but that was your least concern right now. "Mmm, so fucking sweet, just like I imagined." He groaned at your taste, sending vibration to your core.

You moaned when two of his fingers intruded you and his thumb was circling your clit. Your body betrayed you by producing the wetness that you resisted. He curled his digits and brushed the spot that made you lose your mind. You sighed when he pumped in and out of you, scissoring your walls. “Look at you dripping all over my fingers. Can’t help it, can you? You need to be fucked hard by a real man so bad.”

The tears in your eyes had blurred your vision. His filthy words made you squirm. “Don’t worry, little slut. I’ll give you what your wimpy husband couldn’t.” He was amused by your reaction as he kept rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves. You mewled through your muffled mouth.

You felt your orgasm approaching, an unwanted eruption. But you were so close to the edge and when he moved in and out of your walls faster, you were pushed over the edge, making a mess all over your captor’s fingers. “That’s it. Go ahead, bitch. Show me what a dirty little slut you are.”

Your legs trembled and you were coming down from your high when Steve turned you around and now you were face to face with your captor. You wanted to curse this debauched man for ruining your life but all you could do was plead with your eyes to stop and let you go.

He stroked his cock and grazed it along your slit and milked it with your wetness before violating your body by pushing it to your entrance. “So fucking tight.” Steve began moving in and out of you, stretching you wide open with his cock. He began by pulling out until only the tip was in and impaled you deeply, jolting your entire body.

He repeated this motion and accelerated his pace. He kept his eyes on the way your breasts bouncing with every thrust. He untied the robe around your ankles and lifted them up onto his shoulders. You could feel him deeper than before and it hurt. “Take it bitch, take my cock like the fucking whore you are.”

Your visions were getting hazy by second. You were locked in your own body. All you could do was lay there and take it until he was done. He sped up, trying to chase his own release and the coil in your abdomen tightened. No, please no, not a second one. You spasmed and you exploded, this one was bigger than the last. Steve only chuckled at the sight while still ramming in and out of you vigorously.

“Fucking whore. Acting like you don’t like it but you’re so desperate to cum, huh? I’m gonna fucking wreck you.” Your walls clenched around him and Steve’s cock throbbed. He threw his head back and groaned and pulled out of you to dump his load all over your body, your breasts and your belly were covered in his thick, white cum.

You felt numb, you could only lay in an uncomfortable position with the robes digging into your skin with tears flowing from your eyes. You didn’t know if you could ever recover from this molestation if you were lucky enough for Steve to let you live… You’d be left with the pieces. At this point, you didn’t know if him ending your life would be a better or worse option. At least, you wouldn’t have to bury your husband or tell the police, your friends and family about what happened.

Just when you thought he was done, he turned you around so your head was hanging on the edge of your bed. “You didn’t think I’m done with you, yet, did you?” He stood tall above you, his face was like a demon creeping up in the dark, ready to pounce on you. “Please, just stop, please. I can’t- I can’t take it anymore.” You stammered through your ragged breaths. “Open your mouth.”

“Please, I’ll give you whatever you want, just, please, let me go.”

“Open your fucking mouth, bitch. Or I’ll do it for you.” He threatened.

You cried as you parted your lips slowly, but Steve was impatient. He propelled the tip into your mouth and he hit the back of your throat. You whined at the pain but the reverberation only aroused him even more. He gripped your breasts and used them as handles and fucked your face. “Gonna use you like the cockslut you are.”

He shut his eyes and grunted, profanities falling from his mouth. Tears were falling from the corner of your eyes and your gag reflexed. You could taste yourself around him. He pinched your nipples and you shrieked. “Suck my cock, slut.” He taunted. You swallowed around his shaft. It didn’t take long for him to drive his hips faster and he was ready to burst at any second.

He convulsed and drained his fluids down your throat. He stayed there for a few more seconds until he had no more drop to give and withdrew. You felt void, used and paralyzed. Your body wasn’t yours anymore and no matter how many showers you were going to take, there was no ridding his traces all over your skin.

“Let’s not waste any more time, yeah? We’re going to your new house. I’m gonna keep you as my personal sex slave. You’re gonna have a new life as my fucktoy and you’re gonna learn how to serve me. Get on your feet.”

#steve rogers au #steve rogers smut #steve rogers angst #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #dark!steve rogers au #dark!steve rogers smut #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x you #dark!steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers fanfic #dub con #non con

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cannibal-witchh · 3 years

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"I'm No Hero, Lady"

Reader(fem) x Carlos Oliveira

Written by cannibal_witchh

Contains: Violence, gore, vulgar language, some fluff

Notes: I previously wrote a fluff fanfic about Carlos snuggling the reader in bed during a storm. The reader had a nightmare about the past which was the incident in Racoon City. This is the scenario that occurred when the reader is saved by Carlos before the end up together.

The previous story:

The city was cast in flames, the fire resembled an angry ocean of embers, quickly devouring collapsing buildings and destroyed vehicles. The decaying humans once recognizable, slowly met the fate of existing as the undead, as putrefing skin consumed them. There were several minutes of sickening screams, gnashing of teeth, buildings crumbling, and the blazing of an angry sea of heat. And the following after that was stilled silence, painful, vacant, lifeless, and numbing. The air almost seemed heavy, ears desperate and clawing for a sound to be stirred.

Several hours had past since a violent rage of a deadly pandemic disturbed Racoon City. You had been locked away in your supervisor's office at the museum, alone and terrified. You possessed no expierence in defense, you were simply a staff member of the local museum. It wasn't until an unfamiliar face offered you help, it was an incredibly risky gamble to take, but it was either be supposedly 'saved' or stay under a desk in a poorly protected office for however long.

"Y/N, I'm gonna need you to stay close to me, there's too many of those freaks roaming around, and from the little knowledge disclosed they are very contagious. A bite, maybe a scratch, will cause a nasty infection.", Carlos informed as you nervously followed closely behind. He was leading you through the south wing of the museum where the dinosaur fossils were displayed. It was eerie, the entire large room completely in darkness, and Carlos' gun light being the only illumination you both had. " Relax, I took all these fuckers out already. You're safe, lady. " he looked over his shoulder at you and gave a warm grin. It was hard to find complete emotional relief but he certainly was charming. His shaggy dark hair brushing on his forehead and above his brown eyes, his olive muscular figure, and his scruffy beard. He definitely was handsome and unusually young to be working in this field. " How many of them were there?", you whispered, darting your eyes all around the room, examining for any movement or noise.

" Maybe twenty, there wasn't too many."

" What about how many survivors you and your team found?"

" Sadly, just fifteen. Either civilians refused help and barricaded themselves in. Or they were found too late and turned into one of those monsters."

" That's awful.", you felt the sting of reality flood through your body. Just fifteen. You continued pacing attentively behind him as he held his rifle close against his chest. "Walk carefully over here, this is where I had to clear a group of them out.", he muttered as you both managed to enter the corridor leaving the fossil room. There were adleast ten dead bodies scattered along the ground. Gore staining the white tiles, the stench of expiration filling the narrow hall, and decoral tarnished and destroyed everywhere. Discomposure deluged your body, you froze, standing idle, and quivering. It was an electric feeling of absolute fear that paralyzed you. You would have to maneuver around carcuses that could still possibly be alive, and you were not in proper attire to protect yourself at all from their attacks. You dressed in a tight grey houndstooth pencil skirt, and a silk mint collared blouse. Definitely not fit for an apocalypse. Carlos turned facing you, realizing you had stopped following him. His expression was serious for a few seconds, and a few times he would glance behind him confirming nothing was there. " C'mon, Y/N, we don't have much time." He beckoned

" I can't, I'm afraid."

"I cleared all this hallway, I promise. I won't let them hurt you.'

"I'm sorry Carlos. I'm too afraid...", you admitted with humiliation.

" Lady, ugh...don't hit me ok?", he playfully smiled and swung his rifle around his back. He plodded over to you and quietly scooped you up against his chest. He let out a awkward giggle and started to regain his balance with your weight. For someone who just witnessed this horrible pandemic, killed the undead, and did this independently he sure was calm. It was comforting, though. "Sorry, but I'm not leaving you behind nor am I wasting time.", he glanced over at you, making brief eye contact. His eyes were soft, it didn't display the slightest fear, and his hair swayed side to side above his gentle eyes. For someone roaming around in rubble, blood, and sweat, his aroma smelled wonderful. He smelled of spices and his own sweat. It was strange but he didn't smell too bad. Carlos coggled back ahead, carefully stepping over corpses, and just as he promised, they really were all dead. Occasionally, he would bounce you up to gain more security when holding you. You draped your arms tightly around his neck to stay supported. His breathing was slow and quiet against your face as he carried you closer and closer to the exit. " Do me a favor, please. Please watch my back.", he requested finally making it to the exit. The exit sign flickered red, static occasionally sparking from the sign, and shimmering down onto the ground. You looked over Carlos' shoulder and with your relief, nothing was there. No rustles and no movements. Carlos was struggling to open the door, he continued to press against the bar of the wide door a few times until he finally gave up. " Fuck!", he quietly shouted as he stepped back from the door. He took a few more steps back until he had a little space between the door and him. He lifted his foot up and kicked out the door. The door rattled loudly and swung wide open. " Thank God,", he sighed in relief as he transported you outside the museum.

"OK, ok, you can let me go. Sorry, for the trouble. ", you bashfully removed your arms from over his neck, and he slowly lowered you to your feet. "Didn't like being held, huh? I'm just kidding, let's keep going.", he teased as he began walking down the alongated museum alleyway. The two of you had finally made it out of the museum, and the alleyways seemed relatively tame. There wasn't too many corpses lurking down it. And the ones that did approach the two of you, Carlos would resolve with a knife to their skull and quickly they would collapse. He tried not to resolve issues with his gun unless it was when it was absolutely out of control. A few minutes of carefully walking down the backstreet, there was an abrupt crash of shattering glass behind you. It startled you and you immediately drew your eyes to the direction of the loud sound. " C-Carlos...", you stuttered backing away in terror. The virus effected animals too. A large dog had launched itself out of the window, snarling and foaming blood from between its teeth. He stood in an agressively pose, not removing its eyes on Carlos or you. " Try staying quiet, Y/N. We don't need to attract more attention."

"P-p....please shoot it..", your eyes watered on the verge of a break down.

The dog darted forward directly at you, something yanked at your wrist pulling you backwards. Carlos had grabbed you leading you both into a full on sprint. " I don't want to fire off in such a small space. I'm not sure if other freaks are around and they'll go towards the sound. We have to be careful." He quickly clarified, dragging you by the wrist to the very end of the alley. The dog continued racing towards the two of you, snarling and barking loudly. "Carlos!!!", the dog jumped forward at you, nearly biting your arm but a bullet dove forward directly into its skull. The dog flew backwards in a pained whimper. " Shit!", Carlos cursed in frustration, he moved his head around examining all directions. " Fuck, fuck, fuck...we gotta go!", he gripped your wrist and began to guide the both of you back towards the middle of the alley. The dead had be drawn to all the barking and the gun shot. Unfortunately, a group was forming on both ends of the alleyway, and blocking any escape. " Y/N, look! ", a broken fire escape ladder hung in the middle of the alley, it was the absolute only opportunity to escape. Carlos squated down, holding his hands together to give you a boost up to it. " Go, go, go, ", he chanted trying to sound as hopeful as he could. You hoped up and grabbed the ladder, with as much strength as you could gather, you began to pull yourself up. The swarm of creatures got closer and closer and you feared for Carlos' safety. Come on climb already! He jumped as high as he could, latching on to the ladder, and pulling himself quickly up. He let out multiple gasps of air in exhaustion and then gestured with his head to continue climbing all the way up. "Let's get all the way up, away from these fuck faces!", you both felt rattling from the fire escape with each step and climb you both took. You felt unsecure having your weight, Carlos', and his equipment. Within a few minutes of climbing up very high, you both managed to get to the roof of the building. Carlos immediately dropped his gun to the ground and laid on his back. For minutes, he laid there breathing heavily as if he ran a marathon. You walked a few feet away from him, dropping to the ground, and covering your face in your palms. So many emotions churned inside your mind, you were exhausted, terrified, confused, and livid. What was going on? Tears began collecting in your eyes, you failed to suppress the tense emotions clenching your chest, your body quivering in shock, and you began to fall apart in your own hands.

"What's wrong, Y/N? Are you hurt?", a large hand squeezed your shoulder.

" No..., I just, I dont know if I can take all this.", you sniffed continuing to conceal your face away from Carlos'. You felt his large arms wrap around you, pulling you close against him, and he rested his head against your's. " I get it. I'm scared shitless too. But you know what, we aren't doing so bad. We've survived this long."

" I only survived because you decided to be a hero and save me! I would've died on my own. I'm useless!", you cried, feeling tears escape between your finger tips. "Woah, no, you aren't useless. Its not like every other day a random pandemic hits and you get used to this stuff. I've never dealt with this shit before in my life. This is new. Everyone is just trying to survive, you made it on your own for hours with no help. Don't be so hard on yourself." Carlos brushed his large hands against your arms trying his best to calm you. He wasn't exactly great with words but you could tell he tried to make effort. You lowered your hands, revealing your tired red eyes, your face sticky and hot from crying. You felt embarrassed but it was just so difficult to keep it together. " We are almost out of here, chin up.", he grinned, squeezing you against him warmly. " T-Thank you, I'm so sorry you're putting up with my shit.", you glanced from the corner of your eyes at him, too embarrassed to completely turn over to show your reddened face. " Stop. Look at me.", you obeyed his request, although it was hard, you turned to face him. " This is what I'm here for. I want to help and I am happy to help you. Its a plus that you're a cute lady running around in a pencil skirt too. " He teased patting the top of your head, ruffling your hair and giving a light hearted giggle.

Unexpectedly, Carlos' walkie talkie beeped and static flooded through for a brief moment. " Carlos, where are you? Are you alive?"

"Tyrell, I'm alive, surprisingly. I'm up on a roof across Racoon City's museum with one survivor."

"Good! I hadn't heard from you for hours wanted to make sure you weren't having too much fun. So you only found one survivor?"

"Just one. I looked in several areas in the B territory but either the survivors were barricading themselves and uncooperative or turning."

" Shit, well, the boss man says we have to make this our last run. Things are getting bad and we are borderline at max capacity. Hurry up! I will stall."

There was a beep following static and it then it ended. " Looks, like we have to go. I have to take you to the exit we made. There will be a bus and they will take you far from this city to safety."

"What about you? You make it sound like you're not coming?"

"My commands remain. I have to stay."

You felt your cheeks buzz with heat, he was directed to remain?

****

Carlos and you had waited on the roof top for adleast half an hour. He had given Tyrell an update before the two of you finally climbed down the ladder. Luckily, all the zombies had migrated else where. The two of you quietly hurried, it took nearly another fourty minutes before you finally saw a buses gathered by an exit. It was filled with a civilians, and surrounded by military workers. You felt relief hit you, as you saw other evidence of survivors and humanity. You looked over at Carlos, he turned to face you completely, and he placed a hand on your shoulder. "It was a pleasure helping you.", he smiled, squeezing your shoulder as he walked you to the bus. A doctor on his team examined you for any signs of infections before you boarded, thankfully, you were ok. Thanks to Carlos. You entered the bus and turned around to properly depart from Racoon City, and to depart from your hero. " Thank you, Carlos. You really are a hero.", you smiled displaying truely appreciation. Carlos chuckled for a second and shook his head. " I'm no hero, lady. Hopefully, I see you around. Hopefully, still running around in a cute pencil skirt! ", he winked playfully, as blush scattered across his face and your's. Was he flirting with you? "Just try finding me at museum then. Well, thank you, Carlos. Really. Thank you.", you leaned forward and pecked his cheek.

"Until then."

The bus door closed, and you moved to your seat. You watched as the bus began to leave, your eyes fixed on Carlos, as your view grew smaller and smaller of the city and him. You hoped maybe one day you would see him again. You hoped your hero would survive this. You believed he would.

#resident evil #re3 #re3 remake #resident evil 3 #resident evil 3 remake #carlos x reader #carlos oliveira x reader #carlos oliveira imagine #carlos oliveira fanfic #carlos oliveira #fanfic #resident evil fanfic

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one-boring-person · 4 years

Text

Just A Babysitter.(Part Seven.)

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: major character death, blood imagery, alcohol use

Context: (Y/n) is left alone at the cave whilst the boys go to avenge Marko's death, but she has a horrible surprise coming her way.

A/N: I changed my mind about this being the last part as it is just too long to be left as it is, so there is another part which will most likely come out later today.

Part One , Part Two , Part Three , Part Four , Part Five , Part Six , Part Eight

Masterlist.

My joints have finally gone numb by the time the sun has set, the ache of sitting on the cold hard floor for hours on end eventually fading away as I continue to ignore it, my mind still preoccupied with more serious matters, like the dead vampire lying with his lifeless head in my lap. Dried blood crusts my clothes and skin, the sensation uncomfortable but also unnoticed as I smooth my fingers over the mess of blonde curls atop Marko's limp head, my eyes never leaving his glassy, blank ones, my tears having dried some time ago, one hand holding onto the patched jacket he's always worn, the fabric stained and grimy now from the crimson liquid gathering around the hole in his chest. At some point, I'd taken the stake out of his chest, the crude piece of wood sliding out of the cold flesh with ease, another rush of blood accompanying it as I threw the makeshift weapon across the room, barely registering as it clatters to the ground a little way away. Since then, I've barely moved, my back muscles cramping from the crooked position I've settled into, the pain seeping away as time goes on, the chill of the cave stiffening my joints considerably.

It takes a hand placed on my shoulder to finally shake me from my trance, the appendage belonging to a concerned and grief stricken Dwayne, the tall vampire giving me a reassuring look as he crouches to my level, moving to pull my body into his, wrapping his arms around my rigid form briefly before he joins David and Paul, flying from the dark cave with incredible speed, all three of them riled up and ready to do anything to avenge their fallen friend. If I could, I'd join them.

After they've left, I stay where I am, my energy dwindling as I fight to stay awake, having done so all day, my body finally forcing itself to rest. Grudgingly, I decide to give in to the urge, knowing there's nothing I can do but wait for them to return, laying myself down beside the body of my friend, ignoring the icy chill that seeps into me from the hard ground beneath me, the rock not making a particularly comfortable surface to sleep on. Resting my head on my hands, I tuck my knees into my chest and curl up into myself as best as I can, closing my eyes with the intention of falling asleep.

Nightmares plague my fitful sleep, visions of the rest of the boys, as well as Marko, all bloodied and wounded harassing my subconscious as it tries to rest, my eyes unable to open and tear themselves away from the horrifying scenes in my head as I writhe about. In each dream, I try to help them, to save them from the same fate that Marko has received, but each time I am unsuccessful, my mind conjuring up vivid images of David, Dwayne and Paul as they gasp for life, blood spilling from their lips, eyes flashing as they slowly fade into a deathly blankness, skin paling from the lack of life coursing underneath it. Fear soaks into my conscience, rooting itself into my very being as it tries to grasp the idea of living without the family who has cared for me for so long, protecting me when my biological family could (would) not, providing me with the best life I could ever have hoped for. Somehow, tears manage to force themselves out of my eyes, wetting my cheeks once more, though I don't realise this until I come to again a long while later.

My eyes crack open, eyelashes sticking together from the salty tears that have dampened my skin, a deep chill settling into my muscles from the air around me, reawakening the pain in my joints from before. I move to get up, stretching out my limbs and back as I go, wincing as I hear several audible cracks as my bones realign themselves, my movements stiff and slightly uncoordinated from the lack of change in my position, a pounding headache starting to set in from how dehydrated I've become. In my head, I know I should get up and get something to drink, or to eat, or I'll really suffer later, my body already protesting against my abstinence. Groaning, I force myself to my feet, giving Marko one last look as I go, still trying to come to terms with the fact that he's gone and won't wake up in a minute to take me for a ride on his motorcycle, or have a race to the Chinese takeaway shop, where we'd undoubtedly steal the food we've been given.

Another wave of grief washes over me, but I choke it down before I fall back to my knees, instead going to the entrance of the room, aiming to get to my room where I know there is food and drink, something I've made sure to keep in the cave just in case. It takes me longer than normal to emerge back into the darkened expanse of the sunken hotel, no light coming in from the outside, proving to me that it is still night, even if it is early in the morning, the icy air surrounding me feeling unwelcoming for the first time in four years, making me shiver uncomfortably as I duck into my own room, my clothes too thin to be a suitable covering. As I enter, I make the decision to change my clothes completely, needing to part with the bloodied shirt and jeans I was wearing the night before.

Changing into another band shirt and dark grey jeans, I pull on my leather jacket before grabbing the bottle of water and tin of cookies from under my bed, taking the remaining whiskey from five nights ago as well after a second, craving the strong burning alcohol to reawaken my numbed mind. Sitting on the bed, I open the water and take a deep drink from it, relishing the sensation of the liquid flowing down my dry, raw throat, my body relieved to finally receive hydration. I follow this with a good few cookies, not really enjoying them too much but needing the food desperately, as well as a swig of whiskey to wash it down, wincing as the fiery drink burns the insides of my throat, feeling warmer a minute or so after it's settled into my stomach. I repeat these motions a few times before I become aware of something: voices floating in from the front of the cave, and not friendly ones, either.

A low growl leaves my lips as I make out Michael's voice amongst them, anger and fury igniting inside me alongside the confusion; what the hell is he doing back here, alive? Putting aside the alcohol, water and cookies, I edge closer to the doorway, staying out of sight as much as possible, straining to hear what is being said, yet more confusion rising in me as I hear sounds that I'd associate with dragging heavy objects across the floor.

"...should we leave them here? In the middle? Or should we move them back into one of the inside rooms?" Michael asks his companion, or companions, voice breaking off every few seconds from the strain of carrying a heavy weight.

"Let's just leave them here. They won't mind." A gruff voice I recognise from the day before answers, an agreement rising from another who sounds very similar. The two kids with stakes.

"What about (Y/n)? What should we do about her?" This time it's Star's voice, the sound cutting deeper than the others, a stronger sense of betrayal flaring up in me as I try to keep myself quiet, not quite believing what I'm hearing.

"I hadn't thought about that. Should we find her?" Michael muses, the sound of something dropping echoing around the room, three others joining the first.

The others are silent, the two kids obviously having no idea who I am, Star seemingly considering what to say.

"No, I don't think that'll be entirely safe. She has a tendency to react rashly to things like this. I'm surprised she didn't do anything earlier." The girl responds, voice decisive, "I really do feel bad for her, though."

"You do? Why?" One of the kids asks sounding disgusted by the idea.

"Because they were her only family, and she was close with all of them. She'll really suffer."

What does she mean, they were my only family? They are my only family. A small voice in my head starts to tell me something, but I refuse to listen to it, unwilling to even consider what she is implying.

"I know, I feel bad, too. Maybe we can come again tomorrow night and speak to her? She could come live with us." Michael suggests, drawing a silent scoff from me at his stupidity. What makes him think I'd live with someone like him?

"I really don't think she'd accept the offer, but we can only try." Star responds, sounding unsure of herself, her voice getting quieter as they seem to leave the room, eventually cutting out completely when they get far away enough. I wait another five minutes before venturing out again, finding the braziers lit, the flickering flames throwing shadows and light everywhere. What I see in the centre of the room, beside the fountain, makes me stop, my heart nearly seizing as I catch sight of them. I can barely move, my eyes remaining fixed on the object of my horror, disbelief initially filling me until grief replaces it, my mind drowning in it once more as I finally find the ability to move, my legs taking me over to them. Lying on the floor are four bodies.

One is horribly familiar, two barely recognisable, the fourth unfamiliar to me.

A strangled sob leaves my lips as I collapse to the floor beside David's corpse, the blonde vampire's features pale and drawn in their deathly state, his muscles limp and lifeless under my hands as I grasp at his chest, unwilling to believe that what I'm seeing is real.

"No, no, no! This can't be happening, please tell me this isn't real! No, please, wake up, David, please, wake up! You can't be dead! You can't all be dead! No, no, no!" I all but scream out, tears exploding out onto my cheeks as I frantically look for signs of life, taking in the two other bodies to his right. One is nothing but a skeleton, and the other is a mangled mess of blood and torn flesh, but they are still known to me: the skeleton is still wearing the bracelet I gave him the night before, and the leather jacket under all the gore is unmistakable. Paul and Dwayne, both dead.

"Please wake up, David! Tell me this is fake, that this isn't happening! I can't be alone, not again! Please, don't leave me alone!" I cry out to them, eyesight blurry from the tears pouring out of them, my body heaving as sobs rip themselves from me, my head falling to David's chest, ignoring the dried blood coating his shirt, as well as the rigidity that his death has brought to him. Grief and despair once again assault my mind, tearing me from the numbed state I was in before, my throat quickly becoming raw as I continue to plead with no one in particular, wishing the vampires would just sit up as they were before and reassure me. As it is, I'm left with the dead members of my family with no one to comfort me, my body nearly wrung dry from all the tears I've cried in the past twelve hours, my only companions the corpses lying around me.

I remain there for what feels like hours, but what is in fact only one, until I notice something: the first rays of sunlight coming in from the entrance. Slowly but surely, they edge closer to the corpese on the floor, the unfamiliar one remaining in shadow as it is protected by the water fountain. As the first ray reaches the skeletal remains of Paul, the discouloured bones immediately catch fire, orange flames engulfing the body of my friend in seconds, my eyes fixed on them with horror, until I jump into action, wrapping my arms around David's torso as I start to drag him towards the shadows, my body weak from the lack of movement it has done, guilt and anguish racing through me as I watch the rays catch Dwayne's mangled remains, too, greedy flames instantly bursting into life as they do so, the sunlight only continuing on in its destructive path, creeping ever closer to David's feet. My muscles scream at me as I fight to pull the heavy body out of harms way, my strength nearly failing me multiple times, my feet slipping on the floor slightly.

Thankfully, I manage to drag David into the darkness of my room in time, the corpse remaining untouched by the sun even as the other two are consumed by the fires it has produced. I can only watch as they burn, tears streaming down my face at the sight, the overwhelming grief pushing me to my knees as I finally give up, a strangled, agonized scream ripping from my throat as I curl up into a ball, consumed by sorrow and despair, the loneliness I haven't felt in years crashing over me once again, reminding me of the night they found me, my body beaten and broken by the side of the road, my parents having finally kicked me out, a thirteen year old with no where to go. They'd taken me in, caring for me as much as they can, giving me a better life than I could ever have hoped for, replacing the hole in my heart where a family should've been. Old wounds have been reopened, bleeding grief back into my system as they once had when they were new, the pain just as crippling as before, if not, more so.

Eventually, I feel black spots start to appear at the edges of my vision, slowly advancing until I can't see any more, my body relaxing into unconsciousness, the emotions finally becoming too much for my mind to handle. Almost in relief, I allow myself to give in to the urge, falling deeply into a state of unconsciousness as I collapse beside the corpse of David, the truly dead leader of a murdered coven of vampires.

#joel schumacher #the lost boys #vampire #david(thelostboys)#paul(the lost boys)#dwayne(the lost boys)#kiefer sutherland #marko(the lost boys)#santa carla #star(the lost boys)#laddie(the lost boys)#blood #death #the lost boys imagine #the lost boys imagines

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rebelheartsmustbefree · 3 years

Text

(Standing in the Flames)

Ewan:

Did death bring with it smells? I’d never been dead before, but I suppose it could. My sense of smell being assaulted by numerous scents. Vile one's. My limbs moved.

“Motherfucker!” The tone in my voice somewhere between a dog whistle and glass smashing pitch.

No, I wasn't dead, surely there wasn't this much pain in death. There couldn't be, that all-loving God wouldn't allow it....Wings. The thoughts of my untimely death halted. Wings was safe as long as I was here, there’d be no more looking for me, for that face. An inner calm came over me; it didn't stop the pain from assaulting me, hitting in nauseating waves, but it was something. I moved my head; my teeth clamped together. Tightly. My limbs felt like lead; they couldn't move, I couldn't make them move, and this time it wasn't because they were tethered to a table. Finally, my head lifted. My limbs laid at odd angles on the makeshift bed. My head fell back, not the comfiest of landings but better than hitting the table. Pain wracked my spine. Fucking hell. If I could shift....the air around me shimmered....nothing.

Nothing for hours, between bursts of pain, I tried. I failed. Between bouts of unconsciousness, I tried. I failed. Faces came and went, Gretchen, came and went. I was a freak show for them to stare at, prod at when it pleased her. Hear my screams of pain as they moved my broken limbs for their enjoyment. One guard had the audacity to piss on my leg. I would enjoy killing him. My mind became lost in the maze of my head with each needle. These people had been doing experiments on shifters for year's. Murdering us, trying to learn our secrets, trying to understand our DNA and why it was so different from theirs. Fucking werewolves. Why the fuck weren't they happy with just being able to change into wolves? Arseholes.

Isaac:

*I could hear Jason screaming my name, his hand shoved up against my throat. My mind was slowly coming back online, the darkness fading from unconsciousness and the darkness of reality I realized was much, much worse. I shoved Jason off of me and scrambled over to Marie, my hands gathering her up and pulling her lifeless body into mine. NO. This cannot be happening. I won’t let it. I close my eyes and give everything into trying to heal her. Come on sweetheart, come back. Deep down I knew. She was already dead before I came out of that bar looking for her. Before I was attacked and hit the ground. But the side of me that knew that lost the battle of wills, still trying to save her anyway.

My throat was already in the process of healing, all my grace seeming to be focused on patching me back up, Marie be damned. The more I tried to fix her the slower the process of my own healing was, blood still trying to gush out from the wound. FUCK. Jason was down here with me, his arms closing around us both. I could hear his words, in an effort to comfort me but no words would work.*

Isaac, she’s gone..you can’t bring her back. You have to let yourself heal.

*My head shot over and I glared at him, tears streaming from my bright blue eyes. I couldn’t help her. Healing is one thing but bringing people back from the dead isn’t something we try to do as Angels. We can but we don’t make a habit of it. And with this cut across my throat taking all my grace and sucking it up for itself, I didn’t have enough in me to save us both. I didn’t have a choice. My body made the choice and the celestial being side of me chose selfishly.*

Ewan:

The sweat dripped down my forehead, my body covered in it like a blanket. My broken, shattered limbs shook. I wretched, the contents of my empty stomach fighting it's way up my gullet, my throat and finally into my mouth. Bile. Fuck, I wasn't dead. I blinked, how long had I been here? Why hadn't I died yet? I’d begged. Pleaded for death, which hadn't come yet. I lifted my head; the room spun, more bile. My legs still at odd angles, green and yellow oozing from open wounds. Flies buzzing around my arm, the muscle curling, turning black.

I dropped my head, the stench in the room I could only imagine; I’d been put back in here at the end of every ‘session.’ No bath, no shower, no toilet. I’d rather have been gutted, my head severed. Each time, when I believed I couldn't feel any more pain, they’d find ways to inflict it. Some new test or experiment to try on me.

Tears fell from my eyes, the material below my head, soaking them up silently, keeping them as though holding on to a secret.

The door opened that scent I wretched again. Gretchen.

“Hello, Ewan...” Her voice is perky, too perky. “Today we are going to open that chest of yours.”

Her head appeared above mine, her finger on my chest as she outlined a heart with her nail.

“Let me die.”

“Oh, no...the fun is just beginning.” A sadistic, twisted tone in her voice.

Isaac:

*I had to go. I couldn't be here when the police showed up. They would take one look at me and immediately have too many questions. I was covered in blood. My own blood but there was now no wound at all. Not even a trace, a scratch, nothing. So they would assume I did this to Marie. Jason shoves as me and tells me to get out of here, the sirens are nearing, closing in bit by bit.

But when it came down to it, I couldn't leave her. Everyone in the bar knows I was here tonight and asking everyone to lie would not be okay. And clearing their minds is the last thing I would want to do to people I care so much about. This shit was going to come down and fast.*

Jason. Tell them I went after the attacker. I'll be right back. Just tell them that!

*I yell at him as I start running from the bar. I had to get away from all the blood at the scene for this to work. I was going to track that bastard down. There was no way with a throat wound, that my blood hadn't gotten on him. I am going to find this fucker and it is over for him.*

Ewan:

My legs didn't work, that was obvious from the fact my shoulders were dislocating under the strain of my body weight. Hung from a wall by arms, blood dripping from the muscles and ligament around my wrist where there was no skin left. Gaping skin on my abdomen where their fingers, hands and instruments had been. I had to wonder if I had any insides left in there. The drugs they'd given me had at least numbed me this time; it was a shame they couldn't have numbed my brain and taken my eyesight.

My eyelids lay closed; my body jerked now and again, my back hitting the wall, no feeling I just knew it was there. I continued to try to change, shifter into anything; at this stage, I would take a worm, a gnat, a fly. For the love of fucking God anything. I’d fought through this for the only thing in my life that made sense anymore. The only thing that had given me peace. Wings. In my mind, I’d been back to that cottage a million times. More tugging on my body. Words are spoken between these people; I can only hear certain ones. Obscure words in random order. There was no point trying to put them together, trying to form a sentence. I didn't care.

Isaac:

*He wasn't hard to find. My blood was the strongest beacon in the free fucking world. Even the most minuscule trace of my blood could be tracked by me. Only me. My grace was unique and no other Angel had this combination of human and celestial DNA. He was a couple blocks down from the bar, just behind that little shop Ewan and I went to before our get together. I had to immediately shove that warm thought out of my head. Sentimental shit had no business being in the forefront of my mind right now. I had one thing on my agenda and it wasn't reminiscing.

Thing about me is I can be the most loving, caring being you'll ever meet.. until I've hit that line and crossed it. The line where you've fucked with my family, you've hurt me and killed one of my own. The most random act of violence. Senseless.

The closer I got to our attacker, the more I could smell him, smell my blood on him. He had no idea what was about to hit him. I was up on him and shoving him onto the ground before he had a chance to turn around and see me. The Isaac that everyone knew was pushed aside and the vengeful Angel was full on and ready for blood.*

Bet you didn't expect me to get up from that.. did you? *My words were practically seething from between gritted teeth, my hand had the back of his neck and his face shoved into the pavement. I had no idea what was happening to me. Shirt was gone, a blood stained chest now exposed and my wings fully expanded behind me. The flare from my blue eyes blinding as I reached that boiling point. He was dead to rights.. my hand coming down to the back of his head to obliterate him entirely until he calls me, 'Jason?!'.*

What? *I spat out and shoved at his body until he turned around. Maybe this wasn't random after all.* Who fucking sent you.. and you better talk sense quick.

Ewan:

The hours passed, I knew that because of the pools of blood at my feet when I did open my eyes. I tried to continue to take myself away, now and again though I’d be jolted back against the wall, I was shackled to right now. There was a comfort to be taken from being at the cabin: a commotion, words being shouted dragged me back again. My head lulled on my chest, I trying to lift it, fighting my eyes this time to open. Perhaps someone had found me, Wings? He’d found me, come to get me out of here. I felt the hope begin to spring in my chest; I could do this. I lifted my head painfully, slowly, my vision blurry.

“Wings.” A mere whisper fell from my lips. Figures rushed around, colours folded into each other, no outlines.

“Wings.” One of those blurred blobs headed my way; I blinked furiously trying to get my vision to clear. “Wings.” My voice a little louder this time, the hope had travelled through my body like my blood, springing up everywhere. He was here. He was here.

As the blurred vision got nearer the crumbled bones of my legs tried to stand a loud crack, my body slumped against the chains holding me. “Wings...here.” The blurred vision stood in front of me.

“Wings....Thank you.” I swallowed, it felt like nails fighting to get down my throat. It didn't matter; he was here. He had come. I felt my mouth attempting to smile. I wasn't sure what was taking him so long, his smile, he was smiling at me. He knew it was me. Those dimples. I blinked again.

“Wings? Is that Jason, dear Ewan. He won't be rescuing you anytime soon.”

The image in front of me cleared, Gretchen.

“Jasons dead.”

Isaac:

*He begrudgingly gave up a few details, none of which told me anything that made this whole shit show make sense.*

What the hell does Jason have to do with any of this? *My hand tightened around the guys throat and lift him off the ground by it, I kept my face in his, still seething. It was then that I realized that my wings were on full display by the saucer sized eyes the guy in my grasp had.*

He called you Jason.. But also Wings.. Now I know why. *He scoffed and actually had the audacity to reach up and try and touch them but my reflexes were much quicker. I caught his wrist and snapped it back, laughing darkly at how the bone crunched within my hold. His apparent amusement faded real quick after that. And then I knew what this was all about. This must be about Ewan and this fucker must be one of the guys that Ewan has been running from.*

He was wearing my face wasn’t he? Ewan. Is this why you came after me? Cut my throat and ran like a fucking coward? *My heart began to race. The plan was to grab this guy, fuck him up and smite him without hesitation. But he had information. This was about Ewan and the bullshit ran deeper than what it appears to be on the surface. With nothing more than a blink, I will us back to my apartment and sit his ass down in a kitchen chair. Before he could even realize or put up a fight, I had him tied up and gagged. He wouldn’t move. He couldn’t. And for good measure, I placed an old enochian ward on the rope, making it impossible to wriggle out no matter how strong the guy was.*

I’ll be back. I’m not done with you. *With that, I find a shirt and let the cloak settle back in place, wings tucked back away and headed down to deal with the cops that just arrived.*

Ewan:

Could time stand still? Could words float in the air? I blinked. No. No. It was Wings, I’d seen him. I’d seen Isaac; it was a trick. I blinked again. My eyes frantically searched every inch of the face in front of me. No. No.

“Wings....Wings...” I croaked.

He was here. He was. I pulled on the manacles restraining my wrists; a scream rushed from my throat as pain wracked my body. Why didn't he hurry? They'd find us; he’d be caught then too. Wings quickly. Hurry.

“Ewan.” The sound of the voice floated to my ears; it was him. He was trying to tell me he was here, but I knew, I knew I’d seen him.

“Ewan.” Again.

I'm here; it's me. Isaac, it's me. The other hand pulled at its binding, another scream. My broken legs slipped in the pooled blood, getting no traction even to attempt to stand. WINGS!! My brain screamed.

“Fucking listen to me, Ewan.....your friend, Wings is dead. Peter cut his throat open and let like the trash he is on the floor.”

NO. No. No. It wasn't true. The words had been said, but they weren't making sense. I’d seen him. He was here. He’d come for me.....

Isaac:

*The cops came, asked about a million questions I didn’t have time for or wanted to answer. But I knew I had to comply and play human. To pay no mind to the man bound up and tied to a chair in my dining room. He had answers and I would do everything I had to, to figure out what the hell is going on. Lynn stood beside the gurney, the body of Marie zipped up in the body bag. Marie had no biological family unless you counted her ex husband which we definitely did not. We were her family. Lynn like her sister. It would be us that would handle all the arrangements. Starting with Lynn heading off to the morgue. I motion to Jason to go with her. She didn’t need to be alone right now. No. I needed to be left here to take care of things. The cop grabs my arm, repeating his question.*

I came out and found her like this and all I could think of was to have Jason call you guys and I ran out there trying to find the attacker.

*The officer jots down the information I just relayed to him and closes his little notebook. He gave his condolences once again and they were on their way. With the bar now closed and everyone else taking off, I was here alone to do what I needed to. Climbing the stairs two at a time, I get back to my apartment and shut the door behind me. The man in the chair had wide eyes once again. I tore the gag out of his mouth roughly and before I had a chance to say anything, he’s stammering.*

Look, I am just carrying out orders here. Doing as I’m told. Your friend was a casualty of the job.

*The balls on this guy to just refer to Marie as some fucking casualty. The back of my hand struck him across the mouth, busting his lip open immediately.*

Don’t you fucking talk about her. She wasn’t just something in your way. She was my family. All of these people are my family and you fucked with the wrong guy. *I gripped his hair in my fist and yanked his head back, making him meet my icy blue eyes.*

Now...who are you and where is Ewan?

Ewan:

I shook my head, it wasn't true he was here. I felt my eyes fill up, no he was here.

“He’s dead. The trash had to be taken out Ewan, and now....no one knows you're here. I wanted to make sure of that. I intend to keep you for a very long time.” The voice gleeful.

He was here. He was here. I blinked furiously clearing my vision. My broken limbs slipping again and again as I tried to make my legs work. Bones rebreaking, as I pulled against the shackles. The muscles making noises as the shackles rubbed against them, blood fell from them. An anguished scream ripped from me as I continued to fight. The vision in front of me, twisting and turning.

And....there he was, smiling saying my name, how sweet it sounded from his lips.

“Ewan...” His arms wrapped around me, those dimples perfect.

“Wings....My Wings had come for me.” There, right there was the cabin. I felt my lips smile. It was over.

“He's unconscious, take him back to his room. We will continue tomorrow.” Gretchen instructed one of the lab workers.

Isaac:

*So far I had gotten out that this evenings attacker was named Peter, that he was just another cog in a bigger machine and that him going missing wouldn’t bother the whole big picture of their operation. I stepped back and watched him, stalking around his rope bound form that now had many wounds that he bled from. He wouldn’t give me more information if he died on me. I lay my palm on his shoulder, letting the grace slowly flow from my fingers and into his body. He would heal, just giving him enough to not die on me.*

There’s one question you keep skirting around and it’s a very important question, Pete. Where is Ewan?

*I really didn’t know what he had to laugh about, but he did. Choking on his own blood as he did so. I was through with fucking around with this guy. Just as I was about to haul off and slap this asshole again, he opens his mouth and more hateful words come out.*

Why do you care about that fucking thing? The only reason she keeps him alive is so we can run tests on his DNA because he is a freak. *Another laugh, spitting out blood onto my floor.* He is some bottom feeding entity, not like us. You.. though that has to be the best face I’ve seen him use, you are something different. I saw those wings. Those glowing eyes. I heard the dialect you used to bind these ropes. You’re an Angel and I cannot figure out why you would waste your time with a lab rat, our lab rat.

*And then that was about the time I couldn’t take anymore. I pulled back my hand and landed it across his face so hard that I could hear his cheekbone crunching beneath the contact. Ewan seems to be a trigger, my wings were back out and on display again, those bright blue eyes burning a hole in that mother fucker. How dare he talk about him like that?*

You’re going to show me where they are holding him or I will pull you innards out through your mouth, Peter. I don’t care anymore. I just want him back and I’ll let you go, healed even though you killed an innocent and tried to kill me. Do we have a deal?

Ewan:

The world was perfect again; somehow, Wings had found me. Now here we are, the cabin, the snow, our friends coming tonight. The smile on my face had been continuous since we got here, how many days had that been? I couldn't remember. I looked down at my arms, my legs....flashes of pain rushed into my head, my hands went to my temples as I bit my lip to stop me from groaning out....Our friends were here; I opened the door, a sight to see. Jason, Marie and Lynn. Marie’s outline shimmered, like a shifter, maybe she didn't know what she was? I could explain it to her.... My hands shot to my temples, the pain....flashes of silver appeared in front of my eyes. I turned around looking for Wings......

“Is he awake yet?” Gretchen asked the guard; all he did was shake his in answer.

“There's no point in torturing him if he can't see it.” She opened the latch door, looking at my broken body. She slammed the looking hole closed.

Isaac:

*Good ol Pete agreed and I refrained from turning him inside out. We took the way by foot, my hand at the back of his neck with a death grip that let him know I wasn't in the mood for any sort of negotiation. Traveling through all the back alleys and shortcuts I could find, not wanting anyone to stop us with questions. Which since it was about three in the morning, chances of that were slim. All I could think about was Ewan. My stomach was in knots ever since Peter told me what they were doing to him, why they hunt Ewan.

I swallow down the lump in my throat. The thought of him being shackled up brought back my own painful memories of what the Garrison wants to do to me, and have tried doing before. I would lay down my life to keep Ewan from going through that hell. Peter croaks out instructions, telling me where to turn. We were on the outskirts of town and I could see the old building up ahead. It had been abandoned for as long as I could remember so at first I questioned whether Pete was telling me the truth or not. But the closer we got, the more I could sense Ewan.

We had spent enough time around each other that I would never forget the way he smells.*

Okay.. I brought you to him, now let me go. You said you would.

*Ahh.. the smell of fear. It was rolling off Pete and filling my senses. It was delightful. Especially after what he did to Marie, to me and what fucked up shit he was part of that would hurt Ewan. The grip on the back of his neck tightened, I lifted Peter up off the ground so his feet would kick and protest the height. The fire tore through his body quickly, his screams muted by it consuming his throat first since that's what I was holding him by. When he was fully engulfed in flames, I dropped his charred body to the ground, smirking down at it.*

I lied, mother fucker.

Ewan:

My arms wrapped around my head; the pain had taken me to my knees. “Wings.....Wings....” Jason, Marie and Lynn stood watching, not coming near me. Flashes of silver blinded me. “Wings...Wings” Why wasn't he here? He was here, he came for me. He was here. I shook my head, the floor distorted, it became brown. No, no, no. I opened my eyes.... There was no cabin; I was back in the room. I was here. Pain ripped through every limb, every part of the skin that covered my body. I remembered, I remembered, the second round of pain tore from my insides, it was my heart tearing to shreds. No, no, Wings was dead. The bellow echoed around the empty room, my whole body shook......my vision blurred.

Marie’s shimmering figure laughed. Jason smiled. Lynn was dancing. A blurred figure stood in the doorway, I smiled. “Wings?”

“Get that bastard out of there and wake him up. I need to....experiment on his voice box.” Gretchen's order was simple enough.

Isaac:

*The little hairs pricked at the back of my neck. All celestial senses now in overdrive. Ewan was here and he needed me. He needed help. I carefully opened the door and stepped inside, closing my eyes and sussing out the counts of heartbeats.

One.. two.. three.. four.. five..

And one more.. slow and ragged, injured. I smelled blood. It was him. Five people and six counting Ewan. These fucks had no idea what was about to go down. I listened carefully, followed voices. My wings allowed me to move about with barely a foot on the ground. I hovered around corners, nearing those voices, the first heartbeat was in front of me.

Out from the shadows I came up behind the man, never expecting me, or death. But he got both. I didn't have time to mess around with fighting, making myself known. With a quick snap, he hit the floor in a crumpled pile of bones.

Four more to go.

I round another corner and it opens into what looks like a laboratory. The smell of blood hits me like a ton of bricks. This was all Ewan. I was seething. More than I ever had before. I would be damned if I would lose someone else tonight. He was mine and I would fight for him. I hear a woman and it stops me in my tracks. It must be the one Peter spoke of.. talking about Ew's voice box.

And then faintly.. the sound that could have broken my heart where I stand. A faint 'Wings' from a room beyond this one. I was close.

Bullets greet me as I charge into this laboratory, slicing them away with each swipe of my wings. I could feel the hot lead tearing through my flesh, missing me mostly and then ripping through my feathers. I didn't care. I kept coming. And that's not what they expected at all. Suddenly guns are being thrown down and the two men, the ones who look like they were twins, come charging right at me.

Their last and fatal choice. I caught both of them by their throats and let the holy fire within my fingertips devour their flesh. Throwing them down at my feet, the woman standing there with a look that was half fear and half curiosity, looked over to the other man before shifting into a wolf right in front of me. Both taking off before I could chase after them.

Ewan. I rushed into the small containment room, finding him lying there. What wasn't bloody was broken. What wasn't broken was infected. But his face.. I fell to my knees and gathered his face in my hands, the glow already trying to seep into his flesh. It knew what to do.*

Ewan.. Ewan can you hear me?

Ewan:

The blurred figure in the doorway wouldn't come into focus, no matter how hard I blinked. And I blinked a thousand times or more. My hands flying to my head. Pain. The people in the room shimmered. Pain. I screamed. My eyes blinked, a voice was saying my name. The blurred vision cleared a little; the room had changed again.

“Ewan, Ewan.” Those dimples, those lips. No, no, they'd tricked me before. My shattered heart knew, No.

My broken, shattered hand reached out, not doing or going where I wanted it to.

“Kill me, Gretchen, please,” My ragged voice begged. “I want to be with him.” My eyes closed; he was still blurred in the doorway. Why wouldn't he come to me? Why?

“Wings.”

Isaac:

*He was definitely not okay. Not even in the fucking least. I turned my hand over and placed the back of my hand against his forehead. He was burning up and by the looks of his hand eye-coordination, he wasn’t seeing clearly either. When he reaches out in my general direction, I am mid reach back to him when his weak voice comes through and his words break my fucking heart.*

I’m right here, Ewan. *I rested my forehead to his, my wings though a little damaged from the gunfire I went through, they closed around us as I gathered him in my arms. We had to get the fuck out of here. Everytime I tried to move him was making him cry out in agony. He kept asking this Gretchen bitch for death. He was completely lost in his pain right now. There was no reasoning with him. I had no choice. I lower my mouth to his, kissing him softly. I hoped he knew how much he meant to me. My hand drops to his chest and the other hand rests on the back of his neck. Just like Jason and his hangover, it was time for some sleep, to put his tortured mind and body at ease for now.

His whole body went lax, making it easy to hoist him up in my arms and carry him out of this hell hole. Once we were outside, I carefully laid him down on the ground and walked back over to the building. There was too much blood in this place, Ewan’s blood. The bodies with my name on them were already burnt to a crisp so there was only one thing left to do. I placed my hands on the side of the building and closed my eyes, letting out a roar that was loud enough to wake the dead. The building didn’t take long to turn into an inferno. My eyes were still a fiery blue as I turned back to reclaim the man I came for, the man I killed for and scorched earth and flesh to save. I plucked him up back into my arms and knew exactly where we were going. I need to take care of him and nothing would stop me. With Ewan secure in my arms, my wings did the work and got us out of here. I don't give a second thought if anyone would see us or not. We disappeared into the night with the glow of the building afire long behind us in seconds.

At the edge of the woods, silently watching the scene play out here in the wee hours of the night, two wolves watch as the Angel takes flight with their prey in his arms.*

#TBC

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brien-odylan · 5 years

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Late-night | Lee Donghae

A/N: eh... this is not what I expected for the night, but when I’m hit with a 15-minute video of Donghae saying goodnight because he can’t sleep, you cannot expect my mind to miss this opportunity. First of all... This is my first fanfic ever with this absolute adorable man and I’m nervous af! Second, no, this is not our ordinary Dylan stuff. get over it. Third... This is not what I said I was writing. This is, however, a start. A new start for me. You will be seeing more of Donghae’s handsome face around and for that, I’m not sorry. Enjoy it.

Pairing: Lee Donghae x reader

Word counting: 1.5k

Warnings: fluff, fluff, and some more fluff.

At first, it seemed like a dream. The ruffling sound of the sheets, the dim light coming from her side, the soft, whispered voice speaking beside her in the quietest tone. It was like she was imagining it all, a faraway dream that lulled her in and out of her slumber, dancing around her cloudy mind, keeping her from truly waking up, the sleep overpowering all other senses she could think of mustering.

There was a peaceful atmosphere in the room, the dark sky and blinking lights showing on the horizon of the curtainless window in front of her giving her the clear sign that she wasn’t asleep anymore, the shifting weight over the mattress causing her to shuffle against her own accord. Slowly, but very surely so, Y/N turned on her spot, her back falling softly against the silky touch of the sheets, a soft sigh coming from her lips as she adjusted to the new position, her arms falling beside her in a somewhat lifeless way, their weight being too much for her to sustain.

In rare occasions, Y/N slept through the whole night. It could be seen as a burden to most of the people she knew, but she enjoyed it. She enjoyed the serenity of the night, the stars making their appearance over the deep blue velvety night sky, the moon, when present, illuminating the room with its yellowy glow. And while it seemed poetic and meaningful, it hid a completely different significance to the girl, whose eyes would be glued to the flat screen of the phone she held in her small hands, waiting for the message she was about to send to be answered in a heartbeat.

That night, however, there was no need for a phone. She had fallen asleep secluded by the arms of the person she spent most of her time talking with over the night. She had fallen asleep beside the man that occupied her mind the entire day. She had fallen asleep feeling his heart beating against her, the warm touch of his bare skin against hers. But when Y/N’s brain fully comprehended she was indeed awake, she felt the loss of those securing arms wrapped around her middle, the absence of his sunny breath hitting against the back of her neck in a soothing way and the sounds around her became more clear, the low mumbles from the other side of the bed making her squint her eyes trying to see past the poorly lit conditions.

And there he was, the phone almost pressed to his face, the low glow from the screen giving her the chances to analyze his features better, the pale skin prominent with dark circles under his eyes, hair sticking up to every direction. Y/N could see he was having a hard time to adapt to the time zone. It was the middle of the night and there he was, sitting up against the headboard of the bed, sheets scrunched up and resting around his waist, one hand holding the phone in front of him, the other running through his hair countless times.

She could hear his voice coming out in the dark of the night, the sexy, raspy and yet very tired tone causing a certain discomfort to spread within her. Y/N had always had a rough time with only hearing his voice. It was that deep, rich sound that could make her travel far and beyond her imagination, the sound that could make her fall even more in love with him, the sound she wished to wake up and fall asleep to. And there was the fact that, if she was not mistaken, he was speaking English.

The tingling sensation started on the tip of her toes, spreading rapidly through her body, running through her veins until it reached her heart, the organ protesting and beating wildly fast against her ribcage, hammering on her chest in a way that she was sure that could be heard by anyone capable of hearing. His accent ringing in her ears, Y/N could only take a deep breath, her hands closing tightly around the fabric covering her body, eyes shut close in a failed attempt of controlling herself.

She should be used to it at this point in her life, but in the dead of the night, when all she could hear was the deep breaths coming from him and the sweet sound of his tongue rolling on his mouth speaking foreign words into the air, she could not contain the feeling spreading through her veins, warming her entire being and intoxicating her mind as if she had drunk the country’s soju supply. A numbness ran over her mouth, throat running dry as she closed her eyes and enjoyed the sound coming from him, scooting closer to his body as slowly as she could without startling him, without making a sound.

Donghae’s eyes never left the screen, though, his somewhat incoherent mumbles echoing through the room for minutes, his illuminated dark brown eyes dancing over the landscape of the window, unaware of anything surrounding him.

Y/N wouldn’t know how long she stood there on her side, eyes closed shut without falling asleep just listening to Donghae’s words, the warmth emanating from him washing over her skin as a sunny day. But before she knew it, the room went back in its complete darkness, the sound of something being put on the bedside table hitting her ears.

Tentatively, Y/N opened one eye, watching as the dark-haired man stretched his arms over his head and yawned, the simple action making her realize things she usually neglected; the stretch of his muscles; the popped veins running from his hands to his forearm; his Adam’s apple prominently going up and down his neck. And maybe she was so entranced by it all, so lost in thought, that she didn’t notice when Donghae turned his eyes to her side, expecting to see her sleeping form curled around the sheets on the far end of the bed, where he had left her.

The light chuckle that escaped his throat was enough to wake her up from the daydream, eyes meeting for the first time that night despite the lack of light in the room. Even so, she could tell he was smiling down at her, amusement written all over his face, studying her features, taking in every little detail as she had seen him do many times before. And like every other time, she felt her cheeks heating up with the sudden rush of blood the area, eyes casting downwards instantly, a shy smile gracing her lips.

“Did I wake you?” His voice was nothing but a whisper, almost unheard, but the moment his hands made contact with her hair, running through it in a gentle caress, all her senses heightened.

“‘Course not,” she whispered back, the sound muffled by the pillow. “You’re not the only one living in a different timezone for the past couple of days.”

Donghae sighed and shook his head. He would never agree to her protests of staying awake until late just to talk to him whenever he was out of the country. It was illogical and reckless, but if was were to be completely honest with himself, he would do the same. So, with a huff, he shifted around the bed again, his head falling on the soft pillow on her side, face to face with the woman that owned his heart.

“You should go back to sleep,” he said, his right arm falling atop of her, hand resting on her back and pulling her closer to him.

“And you should go to sleep, Hae…” she mumbled, getting a tired smile out of him, eyes closing basking in on the sensation of having her so close to him. Two days had been too much. “I thought you said you weren’t going to speak English anymore.”

His laugh wasn’t loud, the trembles of his chest reverberating through her bringing a smile to her face as she looked up at him, eyes squinted, tongue running over his lips.

“I’m not going to speak English with you,” he clarified. “You’re becoming too lazy with your Korean.”

Y/N huffed, eyes rolling slightly as she ran her hand over his shoulder, fingers caressing the nape of his neck, nails scratching the skin slightly careful enough to not leave any marks on him.

“That’s fair,” she mumbled. “But you were supposed to relax, not start a live video.”

“Y/N, I can’t be more relaxed than I am right now,” he said, head resting against her chest. With his eyes closed and listening to the calming beats of her heart, the idol mumbled something under his breath, earning a slight protest from the girl.

“Sleep now,” she said, lips turning into a smile as she adjusted herself on the bed, back pressed against the mattress, chest sustaining a growing tired by the minute Donghae, hands running up and down his exposed skin in a tender embrace, legs tangled up under the sheets.

With a content sigh, the man relaxed, his eyelids drooping closed, hands clutching to the girl underneath him, the soft pumps of her heart against his ear lulling him into a deep slumber before he even realized.

Everything was fine. He was home now.

Taglist: @mf-despair-queen

#lee donghae #donghae #lee donghae fluff #donghae fluff #lee donghae x reader #donghae x reader #donghae imagine #donghae fanfiction #donghae fic #donghae fanfic

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memeofthecentury · 4 years

Text

At the End of Rowling Street (sample)

Life on Rowling street wasn’t the best if I was being honest with myself...with half its inhabitants unemployed and some even homeless, it only perks seemed to be how disconnected from society it was.

I lived in a brown two-bedroom house with my sister and her husband. I don’t know why they lived here or why I lived with them, it’s just how it happened after my mom gave it all up.

This other kid from the neighborhood, Franco, spent a lot of time at our place and I guess me and him became friends somehow.

Franco was tall and always pale no matter how much time we spent outside in the sun. He had one brown eye and the other was powder blue. His blue eye was always void of feeling and filled with a laser-like gaze, and his brown eye always indicated his emotions.

I always looked at his brown eye when he was speaking to me. I felt as if there was an invisible path to his soul through that eye.

His pupils were different too; his right one always looked half the size of the other. It made him look like a deranged psychopath and sometimes it even scared me. But I knew Franco well enough to know that he wouldn’t hurt me.

In fact, he was quite harmless.

One night he picked me up in his blue Pontiac and drove me to a house I’d never been before. There were a lot of people there, and a lot of noise. I'd been to several parties before but Franco didn’t often take me with him.

He disappeared into the action and I made my own fun by drawing sketches in the book I brought with me. Whenever someone would peek over my shoulder at my art, they’d look at me questioningly, even a little concerned. I was different, sure; drawing glass eyes, cracked flower pots with bones buried in the dirt, skeleton keys, but it didn’t bother me.

By the time I saw Franco again, he looked absolutely numb and miserable. His nose was bleeding as it seemed to on the most random occasion. His eyes were rimmed with red and I knew without question that he had been drinking.

He didn’t speak to me. His hand smoothed over his mess of earthy dark hair, and he met my eyes with a look of regret and some foreign kind of sorrow. He was ready to leave. In the bright red blinking light, his blue eye looked white.

The ride home seemed to last forever. I asked Franco what he’d taken at the party and he responded saying he was clean.

I told him he’d been drinking, and he nodded as a conformation.

“I’m clean.” He said again.

When we got to my sister’s house, Franco asked to talk up in my room for a while. My sister allowed it on the condition that the door was left wide open.

That was no problem, I had no feelings of that nature towards Franco, not to mention he was dedicatedly sworn off of relationships.

He opened my bedroom window and climbed out onto the fire escape. I followed after him.

He told me that what he was about to say would change the way I perceived him. He told me I’d think he was crazy.

His mouth had just opened and he was about to speak.

Time seemed to stop at that moment.

The sky’s hue of supple dark blue bled into crimson, a loud and thunderous crack filled my ears for a second, and then I heard my sister scream.

Franco looked as if his fate had just been sealed by the devil as we leaped to our feet and ran downstairs to find my sister’s husband laying in a heap on the floor, blood running from his eyes, nose, mouth and even his ears.

I tried to rationalize what I was seeing but nothing reasonable came. Soon my sister began convulsing and then she fell to the floor, cracking her head on the corner of the coffee table. Her lips were limp and blood seemed to spew from them, staining the already dirty carpet.

Franco looked like he could weep at any second. I wanted to give him comfort of any kind but I didn’t understand what was happening.

He suddenly took my wrist and pulled me back up to my bedroom. Through the open window, I could see that the sky was now black and star-covered, more so then I’d ever seen it. The horrific shade of red had disappeared without a trace.

I asked what had just happened. My voice trembled, in fact, my entire body trembled. Outside my window I could hear dozens of voices crying out, wondering if this was the end of the world. I silently cried out along with them.

“V, this is the end.” Franco held my hand and his palm was sweaty against mine. Our fingers were interlocked and he seemed to be looking through everything and seeing something I couldn’t. He looked so distant and so afraid that I thought my soul would burst into flames on his behalf.

I argued with him. This was not the end. He didn’t hear me. His hand grasped mine even more tightly. We sat down on my bed and stayed there. He didn’t look at me, he kept his focus outside the window. He wasn’t even looking at the sky or the buildings out there; he seemed to be looking through all of it. A fall of tears had begun on both of his pristine cheeks and several landed on my hand and made me quiver. When that happened, he pulled me close to him and rested his chin on my forehead. His arm was around my shoulders and he seemed to engulf me entirely.

My eyes opened as a bright blazing sun rose over the roof of the building across the alley from my bedroom. Franco's arms were still around me, and my head was resting against his chest. His slow breath told me he was asleep. His grass-stained denim jacket smelled like cigarettes and had a steely whisp of cologne mixed in. I rubbed my eyes, sitting up.

Franco stirred before his eyes opened. He asked me what time he'd fallen asleep, and I didn't know. His voice broke with lingering exhaustion, and the dreadful heaviness of yesterday still showed on his face. The alarm clock on my bedside table blinked 12:00 am. The power must have gone out some time while we were both asleep.

Franco stood up and stretched his arms high over his head. He was muttering to himself and I could hear something about the blood-red sky the night before. My eyebrows knit together. I still wanted to ask him about this all, but my mind was too haunted by a mess of questions and answers that made no sense.

The only thing I could think to do now was to leave the house and look for help. Find someone who might have answers to fill the black hole of seemingly irrevocable questions.

I grazed Franco's arm with my fingertips, getting his attention. I suggested we search for some help and he nodded absently. I wanted to search his face for the answer to the question that floated over my entire conscience, but I couldn't stand to see the tear stains on his cheeks and the exhaustion painted over his features. He was such a beautiful example of pain at that moment, and my stomach knotted.

The entire world seemed to be completely silent. The street was empty. No birds were singing. The only noise seemed to be the scuffle of Franco and I's footsteps on the broken sidewalk. We approached the neighbor's house. After rapping at the door, which seemed to echo through the invisible air of silence over the entirety of Rowling street, no answer came. The sound of my own fist against the wood of the door caused my hair to stand on end.

I tried the door. The knob twisted easily, and the door swung towards me before I even pulled it open. A heavy, limp form landed dully on the doorframe. It was a head, attached to a neck, which was connected to a lifeless body. Blood crusted over the features of the face, and lay in a puddle soaking the carpet.

He’d clearly met the same fate as my own sister, and the sudden memory of seeing her go stiff before falling dead in her own blood made my eyes burn. Franco took my hand firmly and lead me around the corpse and into the house.

There were two more inside, one on the sofa and one laying on the kitchen floor. No survivors. Only the ivory smell of blood and dust floating in the golden air.

All the houses surrounding mine had nothing but corpses. I felt sick the entire time, seeing their flesh drained of life and their faces contorted strangely.

Eventually I couldn’t go on. I told Franco I had to go home and he could look without me. He refused to leave me alone, so we both returned to my house. The environment was not at all soothing to my nausea. My sister and her husband still lay next to each other on the floor.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I ran into the bathroom and retched into the toilet. Soon my abdomen cramped up from the gagging reflexes I was trying to overcome.

Franco told me to go rest in my bedroom and he would take care of the bodies on the living room floor. I began to cry before I even reached the stairs. I ran to my deceased older sister. I removed her wristwatch and kissed her palm. The lifeless flesh felt like wax against my lips and caused bile to rise in my throat.

Taking the wristwatch with me, I hurried up the stairs before I became overwhelmed with the weight I felt in my chest. My tears subsided before long and I put the wristwatch on my dresser where I could always see it. I couldn’t bear to wear it after removing it from her helplessly dead body.

Collapsing onto my bed, I wiped the proof of my grief from my face and breathed heavily. With enough convincing, I buried the pain beneath a thousand layers of my conscience.

I closed my eyes, my mind a blur of nothing. The dusk floated golden over my eyelids, and I envisioned the tiny particles of dust hanging in the rays of light. The weight in my chest pressed all around where I felt my heart ought to have been.

I don’t know how much time had passed, but eventually I felt Franco’s weight sink into the bed next to me. Familiarity washed over me as I inhaled his smoky scent and simply felt his closeness.

He sighed heavily, with more weight then I could have imagined feeling even at that moment.

#writing #art #beauty #beautiful #horror #apocalypse #terror #words #poetry #story #shortstory #writer #constructive criticism #writing advice

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whumpster-in-a-dumpster · 5 years

Text

Whumptober 8 - Stab Wound

Characters: Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, OC: Carrie Taylor, Illyria

Fandom: Buffyverse/Angel

AU Warning! This work takes place in a canon-divergent timeline

Soooo this one is long. But I saw the prompt, and the only thing I could think of was That Scene from the end of Angel Season 5. You know which one if you’ve watched it and you’ve seen which character I tagged. I’ve wanted to write a fix-it for a long time, and this was the perfect opportunity. It got kinda long, but gd it was cathartic. I’m putting the whole thing under the cut for spoilery reasons.

SPOILER WARNING for Angel Season 5!!

Carrie skidded into the doorway, her shoulder colliding roughly with the frame. Her hand left a red-brown smear of blood across the wood. She caught her breath as she looked into the room, where the red-skinned demon lay in a crumpled heap against the wall, its neck twisted at an unlikely angle. She took a step, and looked right, and saw Wesley lying on the floor in a spreading pool of blood, with Fred – no, not Fred, Illyria in Fred’s form – kneeling over him. The goddess looked up, her expression as cold and blank as granite.

For a moment Carrie couldn’t speak, her mouth gone dry. Then she stumbled forwards, muttering quietly, “Get away from him.”

Illyria looked at her steadily, unmoving. “His injuries are beyond your skill.”

“You get away from him!” Carrie snarled, dropping to her knees beside Wesley, stripping off her jacket as she fell to press it against the bloody mess in Wesley’s side. Wesley didn’t move. Illyria regarded her a moment longer, then slid away, lowering Wesley’s head to the floor with a gentleness that Carrie completely ignored.

“Wes?” Carrie called, trying to keep her voice steady as she searched for a radial pulse, then a carotid pulse, coming up empty both times. “Wes, I need you to open your eyes for me. Open your eyes if you can hear me.”

Wesley didn’t respond. His face was pale, his eyes closed. She tilted his head back and leant in to listen for his breath, the air against her cheek still and lifeless. The blood beneath Carrie’s knees was cooling on the hardwood floor.

“Alright. Alright, buddy, stay with me.” She folded her hands and pressed them over his sternum, arms straight, elbows locked. Illyria watched her with her head slightly tilted as Carrie pumped down into his chest, struggling to contain her panic and hold her strength in check.

“Your efforts are meaningless.” Illyria said flatly. Carrie shot her a look containing as much venom as she could muster, her rhythm barely faltering. “His body is already lifeless, and too damaged to sustain the soul.”

Carrie growled and shook her head.

“I don’t want to hear it. You want to be helpful, you put pressure on the knife wound.”

She stopped compressions as her mental count reached thirty, and leant in to Wesley’s face, tilting his head back as she pressed her mouth over his and tried to ignore the sharp, bitter taste of sweat and copper.

“This delay is pointless.” Illyria replied without emotion as Carrie breathed hard into Wesley’s lungs. “Wesley is dead. And while you attempt to revive him, Angel and your friends may be fighting for their lives.”

“They can take care of themselves. And they already have each other. Wesley hasn’t got anyone. I’m not going to abandon him to die alone in this godforsaken place!”

She pushed too hard as desperation crept into her voice – a rib snapped under her hands and she faltered, then pressed on.

“He was not alone.”

“You don’t count!” Carrie spat with sudden fury, her head snapping up from her hands crossed over Wesley’s chest. Illyria’s head tilted, and her eyes narrowed very slightly. Carrie stared her down, her compressions slowing as both women sized up the other. The moment shattered as a sudden hammering noise echoed from along the corridor – Illyria turned to look, and Carrie shook herself and forced her shoulders back into motion.

“There are more men and demons still trying to serve their dead master.” Illyria told her. “Will you stay here to fight them and die, Slayer?”

Carrie ignored her, pushing herself up from Wesley’s mouth and returning to his chest.

“Will you abandon your duty?”

“Fuck my duty.” Carrie hissed. “I was never the only Slayer. The only thing I care about is protecting the people I love. But you aren’t human enough to even grasp the concept, so if you won’t help me then just sod off and leave us be.”

Illyria stood over them, watching her a moment longer as the hammering down the corridor grew louder, interspersed with the sounds of splintering wood.

“Very well.” She said, and walked away.

Carrie didn’t look up to watch her go, but once Illyria’s footsteps faded into nothing, she glanced behind her with fear, trying to gauge how much time she had.

“Come on Wesley. Come on, keep fighting, don’t do this to me.”

She heard the lock splinter down the hall, and a high-pitched scrape of something heavy being forced away. Unconsciously, she pushed a little harder, sweat beading at the base of her neck and rolling down her back.

“Wes, please, we’re running out of time here.” She felt another rib break under her hands, winced, kept on pushing, muttered an apology. She breathed into him again, once, twice, kept on pushing. There were voices in the hall now, searching for them.

She pushed down again and Wesley jerked, a harsh, laboured breath staggering out of him. Carrie let out a noise between a yelp and a sob, useless tears welling up unbidden.

“Oh, well done.” She whispered, only half-aware of what she was saying. “Well done, that’s it, that’s it.”

Wesley’s eyelids fluttered as he struggled to drag in shallow gasps of air. Carrie glanced up at the far doorway and the shadows on the wall, and realised they didn’t have time for him to catch his breath.

She hefted him up as gently but as quickly as she could, all but carrying him with his weight across her shoulders. His left arm twitched feebly against his side, numb fingers pressing semi-consciously against the wound which was still sending thick ribbons of blood down his leg.

“Let’s go.” She coaxed him. “We can do it, just keep your legs moving. That’s it...just a little bit further...”

The streets were chaos. For a while after they’d escaped from the house, blood-soaked and hop-scotching from cover to cover, Carrie had thought of screaming for help or calling for an ambulance. She abandoned that idea as soon as they hit the main road, and watched as a demon leapt from the roof of an abandoned car and devoured a woman in plain sight. The sky was black, starless, and the night was alive with sirens and screams.

“Jesus God.” Carrie whispered. Wesley sagged in her arms, and she pulled them back into the alley they’d emerged from. She held them both hidden, crouched behind some industrial bins as the demon, laughing with gleeful abandon, sprinted off down the street to a further chorus of screams.

“Am...hll...”

She turned quickly as Wesley stirred, his clammy face turning to her as she knelt beside him. His eyes were wide, and his pupils so constricted that his eyes seemed almost entirely china blue.

“Is this hell?” He whispered.

“No, love.” She replied gently. “You’re not dead. We’re still in Los Angeles.”

He took a moment to process the information, panting slightly.

“...I’m not dead?”

“No. But you’re still losing a lot of blood, so I need you to stay sitting down for the moment.” “That does explain the pain...” He grimaced, and stopped trying to shift position. “Feels as if I’ve...cracked a rib...”

Carrie winced again. “That was me. Sorry.”

“Oh…why?”

Carrie hesitated, then decided that colouring the truth wouldn’t do either of them any good.

“You stopped breathing.” She said softly. “I had to get your heart started again.”

He stared at her with those wide eyes, and didn’t say anything for a moment.

“And…Illyria?” He asked finally. Carrie shook her head.

“She took off. Maybe to find Angel and the others.”

Wesley nodded, grimacing.

“We should probably join them–”

To Carrie’s shock he actually started trying to lever himself up, though it made what little colour he had drain dramatically from his face.

“Don’t even think it!”

She put a hand on his shoulder to force him back down, and as she did so a not-so-distant explosion rocked the street, the far wall of the alley briefly reflecting red. Both of them froze, and Carrie tensed, ready for an attack. However, none came, and she unbent from the protective crouch she’d fallen into over Wesley.

“Things are…bad, out here.” She explained to Wesley’s look of confused horror. “I don’t know what’s happened, but there are demons out on the street. The power’s out, maybe across the whole city. We can’t get to Angel. You’re hurt, badly, and we don’t know what’s waiting between us and them. Our best bet right now is to hole up and gather information.”

She was laying it out to herself even as she explained it to him. She knew it was the smart move – possibly the first one they’d made in months.

Wesley was still panting, and his cool, sweaty face still hadn’t regained any colour. His hand was pressed over his side again, new blood glistening over the dried stains between his fingers.

“A-alright.” He stuttered weakly. “But I don’t think we can go too far.”

Carrie nodded.

“Don’t worry.” She said, more confidently than she felt. “We’re both making it out of this.”

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str-spangled-banner · 7 years

Text

Wicked - Bucky x Reader

!!!REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

Summary: You were injured during a mission two weeks ago and put to much preassure on your healing wounds, doing more damage than you thought possible. Bucky fears he will loose you.

Warnings: Mild profanity (very mild), death, blood (?)

Words: 2,400+

A/N: I changed from my last post and I now write as “she/her” instead of “me/I” as I like the sound of it better! Please tell me what you think!

Out of every, possible event, she hated Tony’s “celebration parties” the most. They could have gone one a stealth mission and gone unnoticed to the world, yet he would throw a party for their victory and people would show up clueless, desperate to mingle with the mighty Avengers. It was pathetic, if she had a say in it, both from Tony’s part and the guests, but there was little she could do about it apart from not attending the party itself. She usually ended up working in some form instead, either training or doing paperwork. This particular time, training sounded more needed.

They had came back from their mission a two weeks prior and she had spent those weeks resting. God knows she needed that time off but her body couldn’t rest for long before it began to crawl with anticipation for any kind of action. Whatever action she could get from training would have to suffice. She entered the gym, which was eerily empty of course as everyone was having a grand ole’ time a couple of floors above. She didn’t have to worry about any machines she wanted to use being occupied however or having to hold back grunts and brutal expressions, which was a nice change.

She got on the treadmill, wanting to warm up a little with a two mile jog or something along those lines. She increased the steepness and put the speed on medium and created a steady rhythm in her movement. It was calming, feeling her body in synch with what seemed like the world. Her mind drifted from reality and to not, back and forth. She went over a few work-related things in her head that she had to remember, thought about that trip to the Caribbean she had wanted to go on for years. Before she knew it, the timer went off, indicating that her two miles were up. She climbed down the treadmill, her mussel warm and ready to continue working out. The only problem, she could feel the stitches hurting.

After their mission which was to hunt down a group of people who had gathered way too much chitauri technology for both their good as well as everyone else’s, she had gotten a little roughed up. Some guy might have stabbed her with a blade made out of chitauri metal. She was sick for five days with alien-fever, or whtever, whilst Bruce’s serum worked its wonders slowly, and the damn guy who stabbed her managed to pierce the bottom of her left lung of course. It had been painful to breathe the first week but after that it had became easier, and if she rested any longer, she would loose her mind.

She got onto the bench press, grabbing the weight that was still resting on it which was decent enough. She clutched her hands around the iron bar and took a few, steady breaths before raising it above her head. Her mussels tensed as she began to heave the bar up and down, sweat beginning to form at her hairline. She could feel the burn beginning to build up in her arms and she smiled, feeling like she was returning to her normal self again. Training was a big part of her life. Seeing as she had no powers or intense background story, training was all she had to remain qualified for the team.

Snap.

She could practically hear it.

The weight fell behind her head and tumbled onto the floor as she rolled to the side, falling to the ground with a loud and abnormally painful thud. Her hand clutched over her ribs where blood had already started drenching her white shirt. Her breaths became more shallow and extremely more difficult to take. No doubt, blood was beginning to fill up her left lung. She tried to sit up at least, but a wave of pain shot through her body, making her head involuntarily fall back against the floor. She attempted to put pressure on the wound that had split open as she felt more blood run down the side of her chest. That hurt more than anything however and a strained cry left her lips. Her throat felt dry but gradually the test of iron became more prominent. She tried to swallow it down and winced at how painful that was too, feeling numb from the pain that she kept going through.

“F-Friday?” She called out, hoping Tony hadn’t muted her for the evening, if that was even something he could do.

“How can I assist, Ms. Y/L/N?”

Oh thank god. “I need h-help… I’m bleeding I- I can’t… I can’t breathe.” Her chest was practically jumping up and down from the short and ragged breaths her body allowed her to take.

“Contacting all team members.” She informed much to her relief. A few seconds passed of silence however which I she didn’t necessarily like. “I am unable to reach most of the team but I was able to contact Mr. Barnes.”

That would have to be good enough.

She remained as much pressure to the wound as she could but panicked as she felt blood reach her elbow. She glanced down, feeling faint at the size of the puddle which had formed around her. She was loosing blood, fast, and Tony’s damn party was ruining everything.

The door to the gym bursted open within barely thirty seconds and Bucky emerged in the doorframe, his chest heaving up and down rapidly and fear taking over him as he saw her laying on the floor. He was frozen in place for a few seconds, eyes blown wide.

“Oh god…” He rushed to her side, kneeling in the blood and removing her hand over the wound, whimpering at the sight before covering it with his own. She cried out in pain again as he put more pressure on it than she had herself, her heart rapidly beating at the increased pain which was unbearable. “I- I don’t know what to do!”

She met Bucky’s ice cold eyes, unable to focus properly as the faintness became stronger. “I don’t know e-either…” She admitted with a forced smile, revealing her blood stained teeth to Bucky who whimpered again.

Bucky looked down to her face as She lazily glanced up to the ceiling. He could see how dazed she was, how hard it was for her to breathe. Every fiber in his body wanted to do something but none of the options that came to his mind sounded any good, but he didn’t have much choice. “Listen, Y/N. I’m going to pick you up now, okay? I need you to keep pressure on that wound for me. Can you do that? Y/N?”

He tried to contact her which became more difficult by the second. She managed to nod however and placed her bloody hand over his before he pulled away. He put his metal arm under her back and his flesh one under her thighs, as steadily as possible raising her off the ground and feeling his heart rip at the weak sounds that left her lips from the torture she was under. He carried her out of the gym and his hearing listened to nothing but her breathing which he could swear became shorter and shorter.

“You with me?” He questioned as they reached the elevator, the doors opening up as they approached. She hummed quietly which was as good of an answer as he was going to get. He told Friday to take them to the others. He really couldn’t care that there would be a hundred guests on that floor. Y/N was far too hurt for him to care about some random people seeing her half dead in his arms, her blood covering both herself and him. As the elevator slowed down and they reached the party deck, it felt as of time slowed down too. Bucky felt adrenaline rush through his system as the doors open and the crowded room came before him.

“Steve!” Bucky screamed as loud as he physically could, the entire floor becoming dead silent by his thundering shout before erupting with yelps and gasps of shock. Tony was the closest and dropped the drink in his hand, the glass shattering and its pieces blending with the champagne. Bucky fell to his knees and placed Y/N on the floor, his jaw clenching as he saw how pale her skin was.

“I didn’t know what to do.” Bucky stated as Tony knelt on the other side of her limp body, beginning to look over her injuries. Steve was pushing through the crowd towards them and soon reached them, his mouth dropping upon seeing Y/N and all the blood on both her and Bucky. Tony raised her t-shirt to her chest, seeing the wound which had opened right up.

“Her stitches have been ripped. We need to get her to surgery, now! Where’s Banner?” “I’m right here.” He just came to the scene and Natasha and Thor were not far behind. Clint, Sam and Rhodes glanced back to her with worry from time to time but had all mutually understood that the guests couldn’t be left alone. The three of them created a small barrier and kept reassuring the guests that everything was alright, although it was far from.

“Bu-” She tried to say Bucky’s name but her voice betrayed her. “I-” Her breathing became alarmingly shallow and rapid, fear filling her eyes as she could tell herself that she was slipping.

“No…” Bucky said, a year rolling down his cheek as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down. Everyone around him were in panic, hurrying for the things she needed, trying to save her. He just watched her as her face stilled and her chest fell flat against the floor, the life running out of her eyes until they were still as stone, staring right into his. “No…”

He pulled her into his arms, not listening to Tony or Bruce or even Steve. He pressed his lips against her forehead, rocking back and forth in panic as she laid there, dead.

He sat by the hospital bed where they had put her, eyes stinging red and his fingers fidgeting with the fabric of the hospital bed. He rocked back and forth subtly, anxious beyond compare. God, he had feelings for that women and he never even got the chance to tell her.

“It should be wearing off.” He said impatiently, watching Y/N’s pale face which appeared so lifeless he almost couldn’t look at her. Her pale lips were still stained red from her blood and it looked as if she would never wake up.

“It is.” Bruce tried his best to sound reassuring, and he did a good job, but Bucky didn’t care. He listened to the beeping of the heart monitor and studied her body like a hawk would its prey. Every movement he detected, every rise and fall of her chest. He noticed how her closed eyes tightened and how she sighed more deeply.

“Y/N?” His hand clutched hers, avoiding the clasp around her finger with a long wire from it. He watched as her eyes groggily opened and a smile spread across his face, tears welling in his eyes that he couldn’t care less about if she noticed.

Everyone could feel the electricity between the two of them, even Vision who had little to no grasp of the concept of love. Everyone could see it but the two of them it seemed. They were honest to themselves, at least. Bucky knew how he felt for her and she knew how she felt for him, but they were blind when it came to seeing one another. When she had been stabilized, everyone had left her be as they knew Bucky would want to be alone with her until the second she woke up. It didn’t matter if it would have taken a week. Bucky would have stayed awake every minute incase she ever needed him. It was a mystery how Y/N couldn’t see that and it was a miracle that Bucky hadn’t been able to see the pure admiration in Y/N’s eyes every time they spoke to one another. The two of them took the saying of “love is blind” to a new level.

“Hey…” He continued to smile as her eyes met his, his flesh thumb moving back and forth softly over her hand. “You left us there for a moment.”

She sighed again, trying to gather herself as the sedatives and painkillers were still dozing her off. “You did?” Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion, looking for affirmation in Bruce who stood behind Bucky.

“We did.” Bruce confirmed.

“You want to know something cool though? Or something I know you’ll find cool, at least?” Bucky wanted to lighten the mood as he knew that’s what she wanted. He watched the curiosity begin to eat at her as he dragged out the moment.

“Just tell me!” She said impatiently, her normal character detectable.

“Thor had to use his hammer to jumpstart your heart.” He grinned and she gasped, lips parting and eyebrows raising.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

“I’m not kidding. We didn’t have time to get a proper defibrillator, so Thor improvised.”

“Ha… Wicked.” She let out an airy laugh, smiling. “One of you better have that on film. I swear, that’s going on my resume… Y/N, trained in hand to hand combat with the Avengers, electrocuted by freaking Mjölnir and still alive.”

Both Bruce and Bucky laughed when the door to the hospital-like room opened up.

“There she is!” Natasha emitted as she and Steve entered the room. She carried a bouquet of white tulips in her hand, knowing they were Y/N’s favorite. “How’s our idiotic friend, who though training after being stabbed in the lung was a good idea?”

Y/N flipped Natasha off, laughing before pain took over her features, her hand instinctively moving to her chest. “God that hurts.”

“I’m putting you on a three week rest this time. No lifting weights, you hear me? No training.” Bruce warned her and she saluted, confirming that she had indeed heard. Bucky watched as she slowly began to recover and act as herself again and it brought warmth to the old man’s heart. He had watched her die, watched her heart stop, yet only moments after waking up, she was back to normal.

Maybe it was the fighting spirit in her, or the pure joy she always carried around, but there was something about that girl that set her apart from everyone else in the best of ways.

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