#i want to pierce my talons into the face of the every asshole whos responsible to letting this deadly illness to continue to fester w/o car | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

border-spam · 5 years

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Twins Prompt 9: Socialite

Thanks to @lazulizard and @nikyri-art for egging me on with this one. I thrive off comments, if you have any for this fic, absolutely throw them in the replies!

“Oh wait till you see them, it’s hilaaaarious.”

Katagawa Jr drawled, rolling his eyes for emphasis as his crowd of admirers drank in the theatrics. Basking in the attention of the audience of suits gathered around him and hanging off the young tycoon’s every word, he twirled his now empty martini glass between his fingers with a smirk.

This gala was going well so far, if he said so himself.. and he did, it was his after all, every guest carefully selected from his roster of corporate aristocracy, business glitterati, sycophants… all eyes on him, exactly as he deserved. He was the star of the show.

Every guest that was, bar the targets of his current mockery, who were more of a required invite based on their current relationship than people he actually had any interest in socialising with.

“They call themselves the -haha-, the “Twin Gods”, can you imagine.“ He wheezed, raising a dramatic hand to his chest in mock pain as his audience laughed in response, muttering amused agreement under their breath.

Snatching a new cocktail from the waiter who’d finally noticed he was running dry (and who he’d make sure wouldn’t have a job by the end of the night), he smirked into the glass as he sipped, enjoying the atmosphere. The polite tittering chatter of the social elite that filled the beautifully dressed room was sweeter music to his ears than the ambient harp being played by the marble arched entrance to the event, and infinitely more interesting.

“Shameful, honestly. Pair of filth-encrused bandits with notions of grandeur. Barely capable of dressing themselves, wouldn’t know a fitted piece of clothing if it bit them. The first time I met them -sip- good lord…”

Refined chuckles from the group around him, eager to get on the Maliwan execs good side. Playing them like that harp, in complete control and relishing it.

He was the most powerful man here, he’d made sure of that when planning the guest list, and the knowledge he was the golden calf in the room? That all eyes were on him, that everyone wanted a piece? It was worth the 8 digit price tag for this event.

It was worth every cent.

“Troy, that’s the -haha-, the “man” of the pair, scrawny freak that he is, his pants were an inch from falling off the entire meeting, didn’t know how to properly fasten them. Scum has never heard of a shirt either. Everything on display. Ufff -sips - Nothing left to the imagination, but what do you expect from Pandoran filth?“

More laughing, another wave of satisfied pride through his chest, another 4 billion in acquisitions as he won his crowd over to Maliwan’s side, one by one.

“And the woman, Tyreen… -ugh- if you could call that thing a woman, rough. Vulgar, body like a twelve year old boy. -sips- You’ve seen the type. All mouth, you know? No skill with it.. ahahah.”

Less laughter this time, odd, because he had been sure that last line was going to land well..

“ -ahem- Honestly, at least they’ll put on a show once they arrive. Good entertainment is so hard to find, I’m sure you all can agree..”

He was losing them, and he felt a quick jolt of self doubt pang through his stomach. Eyes over his shoulders and not on him, mustachioed older men shuffling to the side in their overly tight suits to look past him. They were meant to be looking at him, this was his gala, who the hell dared to distract th-

“Katagawa…” That rolling, smooth voice he loathed, and it was coming from justbehind him.

Fantastic. They were here. Now it was time for the show to start at their expense, he smiled to himself, feeling a thrill of cruel excitement.

Letting out a long, exaggerated sigh, he grimaced. Pouted as he brushed his silken lapels with a huff, making it as clear as possible to his audience that what he was about to do was an unwanted chore, then, finally, turned to “greet” the Calypsos…

Only to choke into a wide eyed cough as his eyes landed on the stunning man standing behind him, vitriol he’d readied to spew at them catching in his throat.

That.. that was a custom Auscher suit, he’d not seen one since he was last on Dionysus for that board merger with his father. How much had this filthbag paid to get a fitted Auscher?

Black, flawless cut, hanging off Troy’s lithe frame in a way that somehow emphasised the curve of every muscle and breadth of his shoulders. Deep scarlet Athenian silk shirt ( goddamn he’d been bidding on one of those for 6 months now ), matching Auscher black tie, perfectly planned in its casual looseness to draw the eye up his formidable height, past the glinting golden points in that wide, confident grin, and up to the glowing siren markings that curved around his devilish blue eye, thick crest of inky hair swept back in a loose waxed upstyle.

Katagawa coughed into his fist again, spilling his martini with each jolt as he blushed furiously, this was not how this was meant to go, how the hell was the Calypso scum dressed better than he was.

Laughter from his audience, but at him now as he continued to choke, and more again when the bandit filth clapped a heavy black metal gauntlet down on his shoulder. Hard, knocking the wind out of his lungs and stifling the cough.

A wave of expertly selected cologne flowed off Troy as he subtly twisted the clawed hand, spiced wood, citrus notes, gun oil.

Katagawa’s cheeks were on fire, barely managing to contain how furious he was to be showed up like this. At his own gala, by Pandoran scum, smiling at him like he was the focus of the event… how dare he, who the hell does he think he is.

He awkwardly shifted with the claw as it moved him, scarlet light peeking between the mirror black joints as the glowing red talons pierced the cloth of his suit, turning him to face the crowd and resting still on his shoulder in a mock gesture of friendship as the pompous asshole towered behind him.

“…so kind of you to invite us, we’ve been looking forward to this all month.”

Razor sharp claws dragged into the shoulder of his tailored suit jacket, ruining it tear by tear as the crowd watched on and laughed at his expense, enthralled by the show he’d promised them would be enjoyable earlier. All eyes on the beautifully finished man looming behind him, and he seethed as Troy continued in that sensual, mocking voice.

“My sister and I are delighted to get closer to your, hmm… deliciously distinguished guests… she’s actually already making her introductions, so you’ll have to excuse her.” Troy purred with a sultry wink, the prosthetic fist’s pressure increasing on Katagawa’s shoulder as he leaned down on the smaller man, completely aware of the rage boiling under his skin.

“I on the other hand… couldn’t resist coming to greet my dear friend, Junior.”

-You FUCKER what did you just call me in front of these people-

Another wave of laughter and some raised glasses to Troy’s humor, his teeth were grinding so hard he was shaking. If this was anywhere else the scum’s brains would be splattered across the floor behind him by now, but he could do nothing, not in front of the socialites.

“…Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

-… Don’t react, you can do this, he’s trying to play you. He wants you to lose composure. Remember, you’re in control, not him.-

“This.. is.. -deep breath- Troy Calypso, head of COV med-”

“Title.”

Troy’s teeth were so close to his ear he could feel the minted breath on his cheek as he was so a skillfully interrupted, another wave of tittering from the crowd. Katagawa felt his stomach lurch. How the hell was this happening.

“… excuse me?” He hissed, layer of carefully curated social politeness starting to crack away.

This was.. his.. gala.. how was he being upstaged this easily, how was he losing control to this echonet celebrity.

“My title, Katagawa.”

He’d kill him. He’d kill him this smarmy asshole as soon as this event was over, he’d wipe him off the face of the shithole planet he crawled out of.

“Of course… this is God King Calypso, head of the COV media department, one of the…”

It caught in his dry mouth.

“…one of the “Twin Gods”.“

A hard slap to his shoulder jolted more of his cocktail over the lapels of his suit, and Troy’s raucous laugh filled the air as he stepped in front of him and moved to join the crowd eager to converse with the new star of the event.

“Thanks! Glad to be here, it really is an honor, but I best get to know these fine people more intimately, talk later, Junior!”

Katagawa’s hand shook so hard the glass fully emptied, too lost in fury to register the dampness down his chest. He glared murder into that beautifully fitted coat back as Troy was engulfed by the clamoring crowd, and retreated to the pillars near the buffet table to try and consider HOW this had just happened.

- Hours later -

Scum. SCUM. Floating around the gala, dropping naturally into conversations he shouldn’t have any understanding of and leaving each with new private echonumbers, new acquisitions, new sponsors. Where did he learn this? The ease of it, like he was a damn natural.

How dare he be here like this. He was invited as a joke, he was invited to be made fun of, an idiot bandit who got lucky, someone who’d not pick up on the subtle mockery of the elite who would surround him, someone to enjoy treating like filth for the evening.

Finally, he was coming this way at last, eyeing up the gourmet feast spread across the massive tables like the disgusting scavenger he was.

Katagawa’s knife edge focus stayed on him as he hurriedly fixed his hair, pulled at his suit front to neaten up in preparation for the encounter. He’d had enough. This asshole was going to listen to him, it was his gala. His money. HIS GUESTS that this filth had hogged most of the night, no one even glancing at Katagawa since he’d arrived. He’d pay for this.

He waited for Troy to get within reach, then grabbed his forearm with as much force as he could, hoping to bruise the solid muscle in his fist as he awkwardly pulled the much larger man out of sight of the crowd and into the shadows behind the pillar.

Troy’s calm demeanor only fueled the hatred he felt at this moment, still pushing a Hors d'oeuvre into his mouth as the Executive shook in rage in front of him, fingers digging into his flesh arm.

“Are you TRYING to show me up, you scum.” Katagawa hissed up into his face, while Troy chewed open mouthed.

“This isn’t funny, swanning around like you.. like you belong here. Do you have any idea how important half of these people are. Do you have any idea what they even do? Of the power they have, while you flounce around them like some little slut desperate for their attention?”

No response, stunning blue eyes still lazily gazing down at him as he swallowed, raising a bladed finger to idly scratch at his jawbone.

“Oh.. am I boring you?“

That enraging grin again, followed by an eager nod, the cleverly crafted warning in Katagawa’s question completely disarmed without any real effort.

He snapped, this was too much. It was all too much, he was an intensely power man, he was Katagawa Jr, Maliwan exec, this slob was nothing. Nothing. He pulled him down with all his strength, rage overflowing as Troy barely moved in response.

“You… y… y-you’re disgusting. You’re disgusting, you hideous freak!”

Spittle shot from between Katagawa’s teeth as he panted in rage, and Troy sighed, raising the taloned gauntlet to carefully pry the weakening fingers from around his arm.

“Awww, little buddy. Envy does not suit you.”

That shit eating grin, that smug, suave, beautiful face, looking down at him like he was some petulant child as he returned Katagawa’s fist to his side.

“Maybe you should have done a little foot work researching us instead of making assumptions about how tonight would go, huh?”

That fucking smile, too many teeth, the hairs raised on the back of Katagawa’s neck. He’d.. he’d misjudged this hadn’t he.

“I know who every person in this room is. I know their statistics, their roles. Their portfolios.”

“I know what they want, and I know how to give it to them. I know how to be better than you, at being you.”

Cold sweat broke out across his back, it was getting hard to breath under this looming, terrifying visage, bearing down on him, icy blue and glowing red in the shadows he’d dragged them both into.

“That, Katagawa.. is my job. And I am very, very good at my job..”

He laughed quietly, canines glinting gold in the dim light.

“You.. you know I’m a Siren, right?”

“You know what Sirens are good at? You know what we do so well?”

He reached up with those talons, dim scarlet glow lighting the underneath of his face as he carefully straightened Katagawa’s tie for him.

“We lure.”

“… We seduce, we tempt, it’s what we’re built for. We call out across the dark tides of space and we bring what we hunger for to us, and once we have what we want from you…”

A sudden biting pressure around his neck, and he was lifted as he choked. Troy’s nose nearly touching his, breath struggling in his ribs as his eyes frantically flickered in panic around the room. No one paying attention. No one seeing the monstrous thing in a stunning suit he’d been so eager to confront moments ago as it held him off the ground by the throat, talons pricking into his skin as he struggled against the clawed prosthetic holding him up so effortlessly.

Troy waited, savoring the moment. Enjoying his prey feebly clawing at the prosthetic so easily crushing its windpipe, eyes wild in terror, staring up into that wolfish, wide smile.

He lowered his head, lips brushing the terrified man’s cheekbone, and whispered:

“… we’ll dash your corpse on the fucking rocks.”

Katagawa gasped in a shaking breath as he was dropped, and stumbling backwards to the ground, holding his bloodied neck in pain as he wheezed in painful lungfuls of air and stared in terror at the man still standing so relaxed above him.

He flinched nervously as Troy suddenly clapped his hands together, shifting persona with practised ease.

“…honestly though, great party bro, su-perb shit. The food, WOW. I’ll make sure to give you a call out next stream, yeah?”

God King Calypso turned on his heel and sauntered back into the crowd, all too eager to part and welcome the real star of the show.

Job done.

And he was very, very good at his job.

#troy calypso #katagawa #borderlands #borderlands3 #bl3 #my writing #my hcs #calypso twins

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strayficks · 5 years

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EPHEMERAL 2 • JAEHYUN

Tysm for anons who had given me ideas!! and my asks is always open, feedback would be greatly appreciated ✊🥺💝

Part(s): 1 . 2 . 3

Genre: smut ✌

Pairings: bad boy!Jung Jaehyun × fem reader.

Jaehyun couldnt stop thinking about her. When Mark asked him what he was doing that night, he didnt say anything. He stayed vague and silent about it.

Maybe it’s the fact that he wants her to himself, or the fact that he always gets turned on everytime he thinks of her. Either way, Jaehyun found her interesting. When she left Jaehyun alone at the park, he watched her leave with nothing but confusion on his mind. Still, Jaehyun doesnt know her name yet.

He asked about her to Yukhei, he’s the last person Jaehyun trusted about telling things about her, but he’s the only person that knows about these things. To no avail, Yukhei doesnt recognize her. Jaehyun tried to describe her as best as possible. ‘Like.. this tall, she smokes, bold as fuck. Are you sure you dont know her?’ Jaehyun had asked Yukhei.

Yukhei stayed silent when he asked it, but when Yukhei asked him if she has her nose pierced, Jaehyun was esctatic. ‘Yeah, she’s my friend’s friend. Dont know her name. You definitely have a type, man.’ Does Jaehyun really? He had been on a couple relationships, but her? He had never met someone like her. So fascinating, so.. brave and alluring.

He cant stop thinking about her since she sucked him off at the park, sure, the sex was a bonus and all, but he’s hooked. Adamant on finding her again. But Jaehyun doesnt know what he’s going to do if he did meet her again. Probably have a nice little talk, or fuck her again until she came. The words rung in his head. ‘No’ she had said.

Jaehyun knew that was a lie the moment it came out her mouth. He rembered her legs being wobbly after he was out of her, the way her cunt tightened around his cock the same time he came. She’s a tease it seems. So when Yukhei told Jaehyun that there’s a party going on on friday, mentioning that his friend will come and the possibility that the pierced girl tag along, he was more than eager to meet her again.

“Fuck no!”

“Fuck yes! Look at yourselves.”

Jihyo rolled her eyes at your response. Your dress was the least conservative out of the group, even though it hugged every inch of your body as if it were a second skin, the girlsbdresses, however, consisted of much less fabric than yours. Ryunjin’s pink slip dress hugs her ass so well, and Jihyo’s little red number exposed so much cleavage you thought you were going to go blind if you stared too long.

Though they were barely covered, you had strange feeling that plenty of other girls at the party would be wearing much less.

The drive to the house was short, but the crowd to get into it went down the block and wrapped around the corner. There were a few cries as the the three of you entered the room. All eyes were on the three, well, mainly you and you know it. Some gazes are filled with lust and admiration, some filled with envy and jealousy. People dont affect you. In fact, their stares and whispers only made you more confident. You pulled your most charming smile, raised your chin and swayed your hips as you walked.

“I should’ve plucked your eyebrows if i knew this much people stare at you on a daily basis, Y/N.” Ryunjin snickered beside you as she nudged her shoulders with yours.

You fake a pained expression as you put a hand on your chest.

“How dare you! My eyebrows are better untouched!”

You felt Jihyo’s delicate hand squeeze your arm as she looked to a spot, a look on her face as she opened her mouth to speak.

“Fucking hell. It’s Hyunjin.”

That was when you saw him. Maybe you were hallucinating, but standing less than fifteen feet away with his arm around some random brunette and his eyes locked on you was the last person you wanted to see.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t Jung Jaehyun like you hoped. You stood frozen as you watched Hwang Hyunjin shove the girl away, not noticing the dirty look you gave him in response. Even if he had noticed, he probably wouldn’t have cared. It wasn’t like he had a heart. Hyunjin had been the main reason behind your sudden change of look, your ‘bad girl’ nature.

Your one year of involvement with him had resulted in you being arrested for various crimes, nearly being expelled from yet another school, losing your virginity in the backseat of his Jeep, and ultimately getting your heart shattered when you found him sleeping with your supposed best friend. To put it lightly, Hwang Hyunjin had kind of ruined your life, and now here he was.

Dont get it wrong. You changed because you wanted to. You realized that you need to change, and you did. You turned into a butterfly and you were free without him. If you hadn’t dated him, you wouldnt be the person you are now, and somehow you were thankful. Because without him, you wouldnt be able to grow up and snap out of the fantasy that you dreamed of.

“At least i look fucking hot tonight.” You said nonchalantly, “Gonna get a drink, be right back.”

Every muscle in Jaehyun’s body seemed to relax upon entering the core of the party, realizing that maybe this was just what he needed.

Yuta noticed the change in mood and clapped a hand on his friend’s back before leading him over to get some drinks. For a long while the duo chatted and drank as they observed the guests who had made an appearance. He took a moment to admire the girls all around them, smirking as his eyes drifted over their bare limbs and glistening skin, but Yuta seemed to be too preoccupied staring at two to even notice the other girls that Jaehyun pointed out.

“Damn,” Yuta murmured. “Those two get hotter every day.”

Jaehyun laughed. “Having fantasies about the those two again, Yuta?”

“How could I not? Doesn’t every guy fantasize about having a threesome?”

“Not really my thing.” Still, he gave Yuta a hard slap on the back.

“But if it’s yours…” Yuta’s grin was brilliant in the darkness

“Hell yes it is.” Soon he was shoving his half-full drink into Jaehyun’s hand and pushing away from the bar.

“If things go according to plan, don’t expect to see me for the rest of the night.” Considering the challenge, Jaehyun expected to see his friend back here in no time. Still, he wasn’t about to sit all night.

Decision made, Jeahyun stepped away from the safety of the bar and made his way into the crowd. It took a few moments to find a decent looking girl in a midriff-baring top, but soon he was pulling her close and joining the writhing mass of movement.

Sadly, it didn’t take long before he was bored again. He gently released the girl on his arm and threaded his way through the crowd again, searching for something a little more entertaining, but the passage of another twenty minutes and a handful of girls left him disappointed.

‘Where is she?’ He muttered to himself. As if on cue, Jaehyun was startled when Yukhei’s hand landed on his shoulder.

“That girl you were looking for? She’s here. Her friends told me just now.” He said, nodding to the two girls chatting with Yuta.

Jaehyun’s heart leaped when he saw her. How he hadn’t noticed the girl before was mystery, but now he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away. She was leaning against the far wall of the room, a drink in her hand and pure boredom plastered across her face. Her dress clung to her figure in all the right places. It wasn’t until she met his gaze that Jaehyun realized how long he had been staring, still attempting to place her.

Part of him was tempted to look away and pretend like he’d never seen her, but she glanced away before he could even try. He watched as she smirked and passed her empty drink off to nearby partygoer, and had to wonder if it was him she’d been looking at in the first place.

However, those doubts quickly faded when she began moving in his direction. Jaehyun took a hesitant step forward, but even that small shift had caused him to lose her in the crowd. It didn’t help that a new group of girls had surrounded him, each pressing themselves against him in half-assed hugs. He barely avoided being snagged by one of the girls’ black talons as he turned in the opposite direction, praying he’d be able to escape them unscathed.

Unfortunately, the move caused him to bump straight into a pissed-off Hwang Hyunjin

“Watch where you’re going, asshole,” Hyunjin snarled, that hideous lip-piercing glinting under the lights. In an instant Jaehyun’s mood went from vaguely content to sour, all because this sorry excuse for a human decided to open his mouth. So instead of letting him pass, Jaehyun squared his shoulders and stood his ground.

“I think you should leave,” he said, nodding towards the exit Hyunjin’s lips twitched into a sneer.

“Excuse me?”

“Just get the fuck out the party.”

“I’m not leaving,” Hyunjin replied, hitching his chin up in defiance.

“Not until my ex-girlfriend explains why she’s h-”

“I don’t give a damn about you, Hwang,” Jaehyun finally exploded, all traces of patience fleeing.

“Either you walk out that door right now and keep your dignity, or I call the boys and have them throw you out. Your choice.”

Hyunjin’s eyes flitted to something Jaehyun’s shoulder, but he didn’t take the bait to see what had captured Hyunjin’s attention. Instead he waited until the other boy scowled and turned sharply on his heel, stalking towards the exit.

A glance to his left revealed the girl he’d been staring at earlier dancing as if no one was watching with her arms high above her head as her hips swayed to the beat. It didn’t take much to convince himself to go over to her, hoping she could make his night better.

A few steps brought Jaehyun up behind her and he settled a hand on her waist, letting the other drift down to her hips. The girl glanced over her shoulder, offering Jaehyun a slow, unsurprised smile that made his stomach twist into knots.

“You showed him,” she teased, obviously referring to his run in with Hyunjin, her head falling back onto his shoulder He could smell the alcohol on her breath, but her softly drawled words brought a smile to his lips

“You came, you never told me you knew Yukhei.” he murmured, pulling her closer as the heavy bass line resounded in his chest.

Her response caused him to flirt with the notion that this could be Hyunjin’s ex-girlfriend, but the fact that her hips were now grinding against his own made any other concern that didn’t involve getting her into bed disappeared. Jaehyun lost track of time while they dancing.

The music was good, company, and the fact that they’d hardly exchanged any words was even better. The passage of what seemed like an eternity had brought and now jaehyun was finding it hard to move without stumbling or bumping into a neighboring person.

But seemed like the girl having the same problem. He was practically the only thing keeping her from going down in those heels, his arm wrapped possessively around her waist as her hips pressed hard against his.

“Come home with me,” Jaehyun whispered against her ear, hands sliding down her hips. The girl leaned back just enough to meet his eye.

“Why should I?”

“Because you want this as much as I do- and i want to make you cum.”

His hands were on her thighs now, fingers inching up under the material of her dress. It only took her a moment, but she grabbed his hand and smiled, taking a shaky step backward as she tugged on his hand.

“Then let’s go.” Hand in hand they stumbled out of the house and onto the sidewalk, her giggles echoing down the busy street.

When she realized she had no idea where she was going, Jaehyun took the lead and guided her another block or so down the street to the dormitory. Jaehyun felt her hand slip out of his once they were alone, before he even thought to question it, her mouth was on his and there was no more time for words. A shiver rolled down his spine as she pressed herself against him. The door slammed shut with enough force to shake the room as they staggered towards the bed, his fingers finally managing to snag the minuscule zipper of her dress and yank it down, though much to his chagrin it didn’t instantly pool at her feet.

Her throaty chuckle made it obvious that she was well aware of his annoyance, and the fact that she was doing nothing to help him out only made it worse.

Before he could even think to voice his displeasure, her lips were on his and they were suddenly falling onto the bed, soft pillows absorbing the shock of the fall.

Even though the actual impact hadn’t hurt, something sharp had scraped his cheek, and Jaehyun turned his head to break the kiss, swatting her hands away, he reached up to touch the small cut on his face, startled when he drew back to find blood on his fingers.

His eyes darted up to the girl straddling him, but her gaze was trained on the red-specked spiked ring on her finger. It took her a moment to put two and two together, but a sheepish grin spread over her face when she realized her jewelry had been the culprit.

“Sorry,” she murmured insincerely, slipping the ring off her finger and tossing it to the side as if it were a mere toy.

“Let me make it up to you.”

You met Jaehyun again. You were surprised but surely not disappointed. You chuckle to yourself, remembering Hyunjin’s face after he was kicked out by Jaehyun. You slid your bra off and exposed your breasts to him, you felt him slowly slide his hands up your waist, sending shivers through your body, until his hands cupped both your mounds. His eyes were completely trained on your peaks, watching them like they were more valuable than anything in the world.

“So you know Yukhei?” Without replying to your question, he leaned in and sucked one nipple into his mouth, causing you to gasp and arch your back. He flicked his tongue slowly against it, torturing you

“God,” you moaned, curling your toes when his teeth taunted your hard nipple, sharply biting into it, causing a zing of delicious pain to shoot through you.

“Ah, Jae..”

The flick of his tongue and the squeeze of his palm made moisture flow to your core and soak your already soaking panties. Beneath you, you could feel his erection growing, pressing against said core, almost as if it knew where it wanted to go all by itself. The suspense was killing you.

“Jaehyun,” you moaned again when he switched to your other breast, giving it the same amount of attention with his and teeth. Finally pulling away from you, kneeling above you as Jaehyun looked down at your underwear.

“Fuck, youre gorgeous,” He noted in a deep, aroused voice. His eyes lustfully trailed over your figure, your skin, down to the spot between your legs. You felt scorched.

“But I think I’m going to need to take it off you.”

“Only if you take off those, too,” you rebuffed and eyed his briefs where behind the cotton. You could see a very large bulge making a tent out of the fabric.

“Fair trade,” He said and then split his mouth into a panty dissolving smirk, before he begun tugging at his briefs.

You begun working on your panties as well, but had to stop when he stepped off the bed to discard his briefs, allowing your full view of his-ahem ‘Cock.’ Heart beating rapidly, you couldn’t help but stare. He was thick and gloriously erect, the head of him glistening with precum.

The heavy sac underneath was what thoroughly finished him off as being the biggest you had ever seen, you havent taken a good look when you first had sex with him at the park, but seeing him now, damn, He has such a beautiful cock.

You deftly stepped out of your panties and then walked up to Jaehyun again. You were now completely naked. His hands came around your legs and smoothed their way up to the rounds of your ass.

He cupped your butt like two delicious, juicy fruits and then squeezed them hard, causing a moan to rip from your throat. You grasped onto his shoulders for support and then let out a startled squeak when he ceased you and hurled you around on the bed. You landed flat on her back, and not one moment later, Jaehyun was on you.

“Jae, oh shit!” You gasped and then cried out a moan when he parted your legs and buried his face in your cunt.

A small scream rippled from your throat and you desperately clutched onto his shoulders as Jaehyun pushed his tongue into your core and made your stomach pool with heat. All your nerve endings seemed to meet when he moved up to your clit and flicked the sensitive bud before sucking it into his mouth, rolling it in between his teeth.

He lapped up all your juices while all you could do was writhe, scream, and pray that the sex-gods would show you mercy tonight, because this is going to be a wild one.

He suddenly flung your legs over his broad shoulders as you hazily opened your eyes from the ecstacy. The sound of the foil being ripped can be heard as he positioned himself in front of your entrance.

“You said you didnt cum? I wont hold back this time.” He stated. automatically cinching hips. His mouth found yours again, dominating you once more. She gripped onto his shoulders, dragging your fingers up through his hair.

And then in a wild thrust, he was inside you. You cried out, Jaehyun ramming into you hard and repeatedly. You hung onto him, your lips parting in hitched breaths. You clawed your nails down his chest, just like his teeth bit into your neck.

“Fuck, Jaehyun!” You hollered, throwing your head back, you couldn’t control your movements. He was hitting you so good, exploding stars started decorating your vision.

He felt so deep and so perfectly, long and thick inside you.His aggressiveness had you pining for him. Hard was the only way you wanted it. For now, anyway. Both your mouths found each other again and Jaehyun savored every part of you, the fast, furious strokes of his cock inside you quick. You could feel herself get close, you manage to corak out, letting him know what he’s doing to you.

“Jae… fuck, almost there, yes, oh fuck, yeeeees!” Jaehyun pounded into you grunting while you dipped your head deeper into his bed. Even then, high, pitchy sounds kept coming out of your mouth in short breaths as he fucked you into oblivion.

His fingers drilled into you breast, leaving more bruises as his hips and strokes finally pushed him over the edge well, joining you in your climax, his bldy going rigid as you felt the muted splurts of his cum inside you.

“Hey…maybe we can go get coffee sometime?” he offered, simply just trying to catch his breath. Sweat and bite marks covered both your bodies, scratches down Jaehyun’s back as well.

“I have to get back to my friends, they’re probably looking for me.” You said gruffly, an excuse just flung put of your mouth. Picking up your discarded clothing on the floor. Your voice was unattached, like you wanted it.

“Wait- at least tell me your name.” You pulled away from him, forcing him to let go of you. You then quickly put on your bra and dress, palming you panties in your hand while Jaehyun simply just stood there, trying to comprehend what just happened. You then ran a hand through your hair, straightening it, not regarding him with a look, for some reason. You looked like you were going to leave without saying anything at all. Jaehyun frowned.

“Wha- why…” The words froze on his tongue when your eyes met his. You quickly gave your panties to his open palm, covering it with yours as he grasped it tightly, a coy smirk on his plumb lips, the scratch on his cheek still apparent.

“It’s Y/N, I’ll see you around.” And then you stepped around him and slipped out of the room. Closing the door behind you.

#jung jaehyun smut #jung jaehyun #nct 127 smut #nct imagines #nct 127 #nct smut #nct jaehyun #jung yoonoh #jung yoonoh smut #jaehyun smut

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asreoninfusion · 6 years

Text

His Own Worst Enemy

Idek, I had this concept around for a while but only a few paragraph written originally. Thought it was a fun enough idea to finish. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Pairing: Sephiroth/clone!Cloud

Warnings: NSFW (but I’d rate this M rather than explicit, the sexing is glossed over and not as thoroughly detailed as my other stuff lol), puppet Cloud, there’s a clone of Cloud that plays a big role, voyeurism, canon typical violence, (minor?) character death, generally pretty messed up

Cloud’s knees buckled, white noise ringing in his ears until he couldn’t hear himself think.

Shit. He was so close – Sephiroth was just ahead, he knew it. Cloud had tracked him all the way into the Northern Crater. The black-cloaked clones had fallen aside. Now there was nothing left between him Sephiroth, if Cloud could just force himself to move.

He wished he could blame it on Sephiroth’s control again, but that wasn’t it. Not this time. It was the tightening in his throat, the nauseous pit in his gut. After what had happened at the Temple of the Ancients, how he’d just handed over the Black Materia… Cloud was more afraid of himself than Sephiroth. Sephiroth was intimidating, but he was an enemy Cloud could face squarely in battle. This thing inside his own head was something he had no idea how to face.

He forced himself back up to his feet anyway, staggering closer despite the howling static in his mind. Every step he took along the path into the centre of the crater felt like a death knell.

Sephiroth was there. Standing motionless at the end of the rocky precipice, waiting for him. A single black-cloaked figure still stood behind him, in his shadow; it lilted on its feet, looking close to tipping over edge like the rest had done, but it stabilised as it seemed to sense Cloud’s approach.

There was a cruel smile on Sephiroth’s face. “Oh? So you came after all. Perhaps you’re not quite a failure.”

Cloud grit his teeth. “I’m here to take you down!”

Sephiroth didn’t even take him seriously; that was the most infuriating thing. His smile grew derisive, and it made Cloud’s blood boil. That smug asshole.

“Prove you’re worth my time,” Sephiroth said. He nodded, and the clone took a step forward in response to the unspoken command.

Cloud’s grip tightened on his sword. It was patronising that Sephiroth would send such a pathetic excuse of an enemy up against him, as if the clones were any kind of worthy foe. At least maybe Cloud could put it out of its misery quickly, before it withered and collapsed like the others had done. That couldn’t be a pleasant death.

As if he could read Cloud’s expression, Sephiroth explained; “this is not an ordinary clone.”

The clone in question pulled back the black hood it wore. Sephiroth was right—it wasn’t like the other clones Cloud had seen, pale, fragments imitations of Sephiroth. It was…

Cloud stomach turned. It was him. The same face, the same hair; like looking in a mirror. It was only the eyes that were different. The eyes were like Sephiroth’s. Mako green, with cat-slit pupils and the same arrogant stare.

He took an involuntary step back. “What… ugh. What kind of trick are you trying to pull now, Sephiroth?!” Cloud demanded.

Sephiroth smirked. “I already told you, back in Nibelheim. You are nothing but a puppet. A clone. A failure, admittedly. But your replacement seems much more agreeable.”

“I’m not—I’m real, not some fucked up clone created in a lab!”

“And yet you see evidence otherwise right before you.”

“Shut up.” Cloud raised his sword aggressively, but Sephiroth only laughed.

“Let’s see. Which of you is the better Cloud?” He raised his hand, gesturing for the clone to advance. It did so, a feral grin on its face. Seeing that expression on features so closely mirrored to Cloud’s own was beyond unsettling.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this,” it said.

Hearing it speak was even more unsettling – it had Cloud’s voice, but laced with a festering bitterness that made the hairs on Cloud’s arms stand on end. The clone sounded coherent, entirely unlike the mindless babbling of the others. It was sane. And it was staring Cloud down with a look of absolute abhorrence.

Did it think it was the real Cloud, and that Cloud himself was the clone? The failure? No—that couldn’t be it. That wasn’t it. Because if it was… doubts began to sink ice-cold talons into Cloud, tightening around his chest. If this clone was so convinced it was Cloud, how would Cloud know if he wasn’t just another clone convinced of the same thing? What if Sephiroth was right?

The clone held its hand out expectantly to the side, never taking its eyes off Cloud. Sephiroth indulgently placed Masamune into the clone’s waiting grip.

He was trusting the clone with Masamune?!

Cloud’s grip around his sword hilt tightened until his knuckles were white. Fuck. This clone must have been something if Sephiroth would just hand over his prized weapon to it like that.

Cloud didn’t have time to think too deeply about it; he was almost grateful for that. The clone charged at him with a snarl twisting its lips, and Cloud had to throw the Buster Sword up into a defensive position to block the oncoming strike. There was enough force behind it that Cloud’s feet skidded backwards from the impact, arms jarring.

“The hell is your problem?!” Cloud yelled back at it. He didn’t like the clones, and he definitely didn’t like this one, but it wasn’t its fault it had been created. Cloud felt pity, mixed with suppressed revulsion maybe, but nothing like the unadulterated hatred the clone was levelling at him.

“You are,” it hissed. “The failure. The embodiment of everything weak and pathetic about us.”

However the clone had been created, it had just as much as enhancement as Cloud did. It wielded Masamune with not quite the same graceful ease as Sephiroth, but certainly with an equal power. It matched every attack Cloud threw at it, metal sparking and shrieking as their swords clashed. And it returned the offensive with three times the vitriol.

Cloud hadn’t been expecting that much from the clone; he’d underestimated it. Stupid. It was his surprise that allowed him to be rapidly forced back into defence, struggling to get an opening to launch any attack of his own underneath the sheer barrage the clone threw at him.

Cloud grit his teeth. “At least I’m not a fake copy of myself working with Sephiroth! I made it into SOLDIER and—”

The clone let out a bitter scoff of a laugh. “You were never a SOLDIER and you know it. You’re just too much of a coward to admit the truth to yourself.”

Cloud was being forced dangerously close to the edge of the rocky outcrop, heels sending loose rock skittering over into the abyss below. He blocked Masamune and rolled out to the side to give himself more room to manoeuvre, buying himself a few moments more time.

“Same as fucking always,” the clone continued, lips curled up and punctuating its words with vicious slashes of Sephiroth’s sword. “Spend so much time in your imaginary little world because you’re too weak to face reality.”

The more the clone talked, the more unsettled it left Cloud feeling. It was a nauseous, icy pit in his stomach. He shouldn’t listen; the clone was just like Sephiroth, just messing with him on purpose. Just trying to get to him. But it looked like Cloud and sounded like Cloud. Cloud felt like he was a teenager again, with that vicious, self-loathing voice in his head telling him how weak and worthless he was.

It had always been stronger than he wanted to admit.

And the worst of it was, he couldn’t shake the feeling they were right. Sephiroth and the clone both. He’d denied it so hard at first, but—there were so many gaps in his memory. So much he couldn’t piece together, memories he should have but didn’t. He’d been in SOLDIER, but he couldn’t remember anything about how he’d made it in.

Cloud narrowed his eyes. Their blades clashed, and Cloud brought his foot up and kicked the clone firmly in the stomach.

It didn’t fucking matter. He needed to defeat the clone, and Sephiroth after him. That was the only important thing now.

The clone sneered at him. “Yeah, that’s right, don’t think about it. Keep running from your problems, see where it gets you.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“I know everything. We’re the same; I have your memories, your thoughts… why do think I hate you so much? It would be better for everyone if you were dead.”

“Shut up!”

Cloud launched himself at the clone; it was a move born of anger, and sloppy for it. The clone knocked Cloud’s sword aside and swung Masamune into the opening left in Cloud’s defences. He immediately yanked the Buster back, but not quickly enough; Cloud blocked the worst of the blow, but Masamune’s blade still bit inches deep into his side. Cloud choked on a pained gasp.

It would heal. It was a clean slash of a cut, deep, but it hadn’t hit anything vital. He was a SOLDIER, he could handle far worse.

Only the pain was a distraction, slowing him enough for the clone to follow up with another attack, and Cloud was losing ground.

It was cruel, bitter irony when the clone pierced Cloud through with Masamune, a mirror of how Sephiroth had wounded Cloud in the Nibelheim reactor when the nightmare had all started.

Cloud screamed, stumbling to one knee. His breath came in ragged gasps, barely able to focus through the sting of sweat and tears in his eyes. The sword had stabbed all the way through him, through the right side of his chest. There was blood in Cloud’s mouth and on his lips as the choked and coughed; it had pierced a lung at the very least.

Sephiroth stepped forward, standing by the clone’s side as they both loomed over Cloud, coldly, cruelly triumphant.

“As I suspected,” Sephiroth said. He was the one who took Masamune’s hilt and retrieved the sword, blade dragging through Cloud’s flesh as Sephiroth drew the blade free. Cloud cried out.

He made a move to struggle back to his feet, but the clone kicked him in his injured side and Cloud toppled over again, breath hissing through his teeth. And the clone laughed.

Sephiroth smirked, amused. “Good work,” he purred. Cloud’s clone smiled at the praise, leaning closer to Sephiroth; Sephiroth lifted the clone’s jaw and indulgently rewarded it with a deep, thorough kiss. The sort that left no room for misunderstanding the sort of relationship between them.

Cloud’s stomach twisted, face heating. “Get off him, you sick bastard!”

Sephiroth let the kiss linger, but his eyes slid coolly to Cloud as he finally broke away. The clone was smirking. “Jealous?” it taunted.

“Get real! More like disgusted that you’d ever let a monster like Sephiroth—”

“What? Love me the way no one ever loved you?” The clone stepped closer, gaze lingering on Cloud’s face for a long moment. It drew a fist back and punched Cloud across the jaw, sending him reeling. Cloud didn’t even have time to process what had happened before the clone was on top of him, fingers wrapped violently around Cloud’s throat. “You never deserved to be loved.”

“Enough,” Sephiroth said softly. He reached out to touch the clone, trailing fingertips down its spine. The clone shivered and stood, leaving Cloud gasping on the ground. Sephiroth leaned in, murmuring into the clone’s ear; “shall we show him what he is missing out on?”

A growing smile spread across the clone’s face. They worked in unison, Sephiroth retrieving the Buster Sword and piercing it deep into the rock as an anchor, while the clone took one of Cloud’s own belts and bound his wrists in place around the sword.

It wouldn’t be enough to keep Cloud down, but with his current injuries he would only hurt himself more trying to escape. A few minutes more, ten, fifteen maybe, and Cloud would have healed enough to snap the belt easily and take them both on again, but it would be foolish to try it now. The blood he coughed up with every movement was testament to that.

In any case, they didn’t seem to have the intention of hurting him more. Not physically, anyway.

The clone was still watching Cloud, and it was utterly disturbing to see that corrupted mirror of him leaning willingly back into Sephiroth’s touch as Sephiroth embraced it from behind. It only looked away when Sephiroth drew it back into another kiss, heated and wanting, and the clone responded needily.

Cloud wished he could drag his eyes away, but it was sickeningly mesmerising. The clone looked so much like him. Like it was him and Sephiroth, and it made Cloud’s chest tighten to see it. Mostly from disgust; that was what Cloud told himself. He hated Sephiroth, and it was horrifying to see the bastard with his hands all over a clone of Cloud himself.

And maybe it ached a little more than it should, because in another world, another life, if things hadn’t gone to shit as thoroughly as they had…

“Stop it,” Cloud hissed. “I don’t want to see this!”

Sephiroth’s hand slid below the waistband of the clone’s pants and it moaned deeply, hips rolling into Sephiroth’s touch. Its arms reached up, wrapped around Sephiroth’s neck and fingers tangled into Sephiroth’s hair, only encouraging every touch.

The black cloak the clone wore was quickly the first to go, laid out on the ground so Sephiroth could lay the clone down on top of it.

Cloud could feel bile rising in his throat. Sephiroth laid Cloud’s clone out like they were lovers; rough with passion, but not lacking care. And that hurt. Why did that hurt so much? Why did Cloud care?

Gods, the picture they made; Sephiroth’s silver hair falling over his shoulder like a waterfall as he arched over the clone Cloud, the clone parting its knees and letting Sephiroth’s hips settle between them, holding Sephiroth close with arms wrapped around his shoulders. They looked so good together. Sephiroth and Cloud would have looked so good together.

Sephiroth didn’t bother undressing himself. The clone’s boots and trousers were the only things to come off completely; its top Sephiroth only pushed up enough to tease the clone’s nipples until it squirmed and moaned. Or maybe the moan was because of the slicked fingers Sephiroth was working inside of the clone while he tormented its chest with teeth and tongue.

Cloud shifted uncomfortably. This was so wrong. He couldn’t help but watch, and he couldn’t help but to imagine himself in the clone’s place; how could he not when the damn thing looked exactly like him? Sounded like him when it cried out in pleasure. And it was Cloud’s name that Sephiroth breathed as he penetrated the clone.

Cloud was turned on, and he hated it.

The clone arched and writhed beneath Sephiroth, face contorted in bliss as Sephiroth fucked it, enjoying every moment. It didn’t give a shit about Cloud anymore; why would it? As far as it was concerned, Cloud was the fake, the failure, the embarrassment that shouldn’t even exist. And it was the one who fought beside Sephiroth, who loved Sephiroth. It had everything Cloud’s teenage fantasies had dreamed of.

They kissed as they fucked, the clone’s ankles locked behind the small of Sephiroth’s back. In the moments they broke apart, the clone smiled up at Sephiroth with an expression that was equal parts confidence, enjoyment, and a sickening degree of absolute trust.

Cloud gave a low, quiet moan. He didn’t want to get off on this, he didn’t want to see how good they were together, but he didn’t have a damn choice. The taboo, the knowledge of how wrong and sickening it was only made it hotter.

He shifted, trying to relieve some of the tension, to get some friction where he needed it. It didn’t help.

His clone cried out Sephiroth’s name, trembling with pleasure as it came. And Sephiroth wasn’t far behind.

They rested their foreheads together, breaths mingling as they panted in the aftermath, slowly coming down from their highs. Sephiroth gradually pulled out of the clone and reorganised his uniform until he looked as presentable and unruffled as ever.

“Sephiroth,” the clone murmured happily, pulling the man down for another kiss.

Sephiroth indulged it, kissing the clone thorough. He took its head tenderly between his hand and snapped the clone’s neck.

Cloud jerked against his bonds, eyes going wide. “What the fuck?!” he yelled before even thinking about it. The clone – gods, but it looked so much like Cloud – was suddenly still and cold, all the life torn from it in a single cruel gesture.

Sephiroth rolled its prone, used body up in the cloak and kicked it from the edge of the precipice, to join all the other nameless clones that had fallen before it.

“You—” there were no words to encompass how utterly horrified Cloud was, how utterly fucked up the whole scenario had turned out. As if it hadn’t been fucked up to start with. “You heartless monster.”

“Did you not want the clone, the ‘fake you’, dead?”

Cloud hesitated. He had, but— “Not like that.”

“It was a quick and painless death.”

“He trusted you!” From the look on the clone’s face, it had truly loved Sephiroth too.

Sephiroth was right, Cloud had wanted the clone dead; the way the clone had acted towards Cloud only proved it was a violent, cruel parody of himself. An abomination. So why was he having to blink back tears?

Maybe he was just on edge from the sheer level of hatred searing through his veins. After all, he’d trusted Sephiroth once too.

Cloud couldn’t focus on anything; he felt sick with it, too much rushing through his head until everything blurred into white-hot static and left him wanting to scream. Just stop, stop everything, but most of all stop feeling.

He barely noticed as Sephiroth pulled the Buster Sword free, slicing through the belt keeping Cloud’s wrists bound and freeing him. He scrambled to his feet on instinct, but only stood there, swaying, as Sephiroth handed the Buster back to him. Eyes wide and flooded mako green, Cloud stared back at Sephiroth with utter loathing.

“Bring me the Black Materia,” Sephiroth commanded.

He hated himself just as much for knowing he would obey.

#my writings #sefikura #sephiroth #cloud strife #puppet cloud #on the one hand #yay i wrote a thing!#but why is it all messed up puppet sefikura stuff recently #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#at this one is a little different #the cloud clone brings in a new element that was fun to play with

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halfvampirehalflycan · 6 years

Text

We’re Simply Meant to Be l An Underworld Fic l Ch 3 out of ???

Title: We’re Simply Meant to Be Rating: T Word Count: 2347 Chapter: 3/??? Fandom: Undeworld Pairing: Selene/Michael Corvin Summary: Every person has a soulmate who they are destined to be with, and there are various ways of identifying who they are. Some are simple, like a red string tied to their fingers. Others are more complicated, like a person’s first words to the other. Each has the same end result, a person being together with their soulmate. l Series of one/two-shots Author’s Notes: Okay so it’s been a billion years since my last update and I’m so sorry about that but here it is! And on top of it, it’s @butscrewmefirst‘s birthday so happy birthday Manon! I don’t know how much you still love Underworld, but this is my birthday gift for you! I hope you at least like it! Read on FFN, AO3 or Under the cut

Soulmate AU 3 – From an early age, you feel the pain that your soulmate feels, no matter the type of injury. From scraped knee, to broken bones and bullet wounds, you feel the pain from every injury that your soulmate gets.

The first time Selene felt her soulmate’s pain was when she was nearing her sixth century as a vampire. She had just gotten out of the shower and was preparing for bed after a long mission that she considered herself very lucky that she had survived.

The pain wasn’t anything that really would have phased her as her pain tolerance was high after centuries of broken bones and being shot and stabbed. It was really just a sort of quick bit of pain on her left knee. She was glad she was alone so no one noticed her go rub her knee with her brows furrowed.

That’s odd… She thought to herself as she stood up straight again. The pain, momentarily, brought her back to a time when she was a child in the 1300s. When she and Cecilia would be playing out in the garden and her foot would catch on a stone. She was the kind of child who had plenty of skinned knees, so the pain was incredibly familiar.

It was then that Selene came to a dreadful realization, one that she hadn’t thought about since she was the same child with skinned knees.

She had a soulmate.

The first time Michael felt his soulmate’s pain was when he was in second grade, and it was probably the most agonizing thing he had ever felt.

He was in his class, working on his multiplication when pain exploded through his entire left arm, burning. His upper arm hurt like the time when he was in kindergarten and he fell off the monkey bars, breaking his leg. He let out a loud cry and held his shoulder like he had been hit.

His teacher came running, and checked on him to make sure he wasn’t seriously injured. When she saw that he wasn’t harmed, the kids in class started laughing at him. None of them had experienced pain like that from their soulmates. Many of them called him a liar, acting out for attention. Others called him weak because there was no way his pain could be that bad. His face turned red as he grew embarrassed from his outburst, but yet he insisted that the pain had been horrible. It was like someone broke his arm and lit it on fire. They still laughed, still tried to make fun of him for it.

Michael decided then, at age eight, that he didn’t care about his soulmate.

He didn’t want a soulmate at all.

The day Selene realized Michael Corvin was her soulmate wasn’t until she nearly lost him. Until then, she figured the pain she felt was just ghosts of former injuries. When he had been bitten, her shoulder burned, but she thought nothing of it. When he had been shot by Kraven, she didn’t even register the pain due to her own agony of nearly losing him the first time. It wasn’t until Marcus had impaled Michael on the metal pipe did she realize he was the one.

Her suspicion had started when Marcus and he were fighting on the bed of the truck before they first made love. Everything seemed too coincidental, but she still tried to deny that it was him. As much as she started to care for him she still refused to admit that her soulmate could be a lycan.

How could her soulmate be a hybrid?

However, when the talon pierced Michael’s shoulder and she felt the sharp pain as if it had been her own, she knew. Or rather, she allowed herself to realize what she always knew but never wanted to admit. She knew as she went to grab the gun from one of the Cleaners, desperate to save her now realized soulmate from the clutches of Marcus. Fate had other plans.

As she was running to the window, she felt a sharp pain in her chest, right where her heart was, and breathing became near to impossible. Her breaths came out in ragged gasps, and it took everything for her stride to not falter. She knew what this meant, even if her brain didn’t want to register the possibility.

When she landed and saw the body of Michael, his chest impaled with a metal pipe, she felt anger like nothing she had ever considered shoot through her veins and she swooped down. Her finger was on the trigger as she fired bullet after bullet into him.

Does it hurt asshole? I hope it does. I hope it burns like hell. She thought as she watched the spray of blood from the bullet wounds.

Of course, she knew none of the pain would come close to what her Michael felt when he was impaled, when he was killed before she could ever tell him her realization that they were soulmates.

It took Michael a lot longer to admit to himself that he had a soulmate, and that soulmate was Selene.

A month had passed since what happened with Marcus. He kept finding excuses for the pain that he felt whenever something happened to Selene. The pain in his shoulder when Lucian stabbed Selene had to be from Lucian’s bite mark. The pain in his head when Selene had been hit by Viktor and knocked aside was a residual headache from his transformation. The burning feeling in his hand and cheek was a result of being part vampire, where the sunlight wouldn’t kill him but would hurt like hell. Excuse after excuse explaining why the vampire beside him couldn’t be his soulmate.

Marcus stabbing Selene in the chest was really the first time Michael would really entertain the thought that she was his soulmate. The pain he felt from that was too sharp to really be anything else. He still tried to deny it, simply because he still didn’t want a soulmate. That was why he found love in Samantha.

They weren’t soulmates, she didn’t have one and he didn’t want his.

Now, he was struggling to admit to himself that he had found a soulmate. Her former profession explained why every pain he felt from his soulmate was agonizing, and why it always seemed to be at the odd hours that he would feel it. She was being shot or scratched from lycans, or being treated for injuries that resulted from being a death dealer. He still didn’t want a soulmate. He was happy just calling her his mate. The mark he had on his neck from her bite, and bite on her shoulder from him was enough for him, claiming her as his own. Of course, it grew harder to deny this fact. The more they ran and fought; the pain he felt from her continued, even if he tried to deny it.

The time he admitted it to himself and to her was one where he wasn’t even sure she would survive the night.

Vampires had been on their tail for days, finally catching up to them. Michael was going after one, tearing their head off with ease when there was a click from the safety turning off and before he had the chance to react, he heard the sound of a gun going off several times.

He felt the pain shoot through his chest, but unlike the previous times he had been shot, his vision didn’t blur and he didn’t feel warm blood drip down his body. He looked up to see Selene standing in front of him, bullet wounds in her chest and stomach. Her gun was raised, and the next thing Michael knew, he heard her gun go off and the vampire turn to ash before his eyes.

Then, Selene collapsed to the ground, breathing ragged.

Michael’s first response was to panic, because he could feel the pain she felt with every struggling breath, and he was watching the blood drain from her face and her eyes start to grow glassy. His medical training kicked in and he moved to put pressure on the wounds.

“Stay with me, Selene.” He said, his eyes darting around their temporary home that was now littered with vampire bodies. He needed to go get medical supplies, but he also didn’t want to leave Selene lying in a pool of her own blood. “I can’t lose my soulmate.”

He swore he saw her lips twitch into a small smile when he said that, and it occurred to him that he actually acknowledged that fact. He didn’t think he’d really ever do that, so it was a step forward for him.

If only the situation wasn’t so dire.

First things first, Michael needed to get the bullets out. He was gone and back in a heartbeat, holding bandages, tweezers and a bowl to put the bullets in. He saw that her eyes were distant, like she really wasn’t focused in on anything. “Come on Selene.” His hand touched her face, and her eyes looked over to him, growing clear for a moment. “This is going to hurt.”

Michael moved to press a kiss to her forehead before he used the tweezers to begin to dig the bullets out one by one. The first one had her gasping and letting out a soft cry in pain. The metal bullet was dropped into the porcelain bowl, her blood covering it. The smell that normally drew him to her and excited him, made his stomach turn.

By the last bullet, her cries had fallen silent. Her eyes were closed and if Michael’s hearing wasn’t as strong as it was, he wouldn’t know she was alive. He could hear the struggling beats of her heart and the ragged, shallow breaths. She wasn’t healing. How long had it been since they fed?

His fangs sunk into his wrist and he pressed a bleeding wrist to her lips. She wasn’t conscious, but her lips parted some so the blood could pass and start to drip into her mouth. He cradled her head in his hand, holding her close to his wrist. Once his bite wound healed, he made the decision to carry her to their shared bed.

One arm was underneath her neck, the other at the joint of her knees and he lifted her up bridal style to carry her to bed. He stepped over the bodies and walked up the stairs to their room and set her down. She let out a soft moan, the wounds being jostled. As much as the sound caused his heart to ache, at least it meant she was alive. Her wounds were starting to heal as well, which he didn’t even need to look at her to know. He could feel the pull in body as the skin on her body began to knit back together.

It was only about an hour until Selene’s eyes opened, and it was like a weight left Michael’s shoulders. She was alive, and conscious. She sat up a little bit, propping herself up with one arm to stare at Michael with expectant eyes.

“I was beginning to think you would never admit it.” Selene said, and in response, Michael hung his head. “Why would you not tell me that you felt my pain too?” Selene had told him after they escaped Castle Corvinus, but Michael remained evasive, not willing to admit it. There would be times that she thought he felt her pain, but he almost always covered it up.

“I resented you, as a kid.” He said, but before she could ask him what he meant, he clarified. “I resented my soulmate. The first time I felt your pain, I was in second grade in class and it was probably one of the worst things I had experienced, even now. The kids in my class made fun of me, saying that the pain couldn’t have been nearly as bad as I said it was. I resented my soulmate after that. I promised myself I wouldn’t ever love them.” He laughed, though it was sad. “I guess me refusing to admit that we were soulmates was just my way of trying to pretend that I could still keep that promise. That I love you despite us not being soulmates.”

Selene didn’t know how to respond to that. She had heard of various reasons people didn’t want their soulmate, but nothing like this one. Usually it was vampires who knew that their soulmate would die before they potentially would even meet them or would lose their soulmate after not even a full century. And of all people to hear resented their soulmate, Michael would have been the last person she could have figured. He was so loving, so kind. Yet, here they were with him resenting having her as a soulmate.

“Selene?” Michael gently prodded as she realized she had been quiet for far too long. “I’m sorry if I upset you. If it makes you feel better, I do love you. I do love that we’re soulmates. I’m sorry that it took me so long to admit it.”

Selene debated slapping him for being so stupid, but instead elected to grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him into a gentle kiss. There were so many things she wanted to say to him for how he made her think that he didn’t feel her pain or they weren’t soulmates. It wasn’t unheard of for only one of a pair has that bond, although few and far between. For now, though, her relief and happiness that Michael felt the same towards her won out. Besides, her body still ached from the healed injuries and if she started something with him, she would be in pain for a good amount of time afterwards.

After pulling back from the kiss, Michael settled into bed next to her. He wrapped his arms around her with her back pressed up against her. His warmth caused her body to relax and her eyelids to droop. Tomorrow they would have to move on and find somewhere new to stay.

But for tonight, she just wanted to be in the arms of her soulmate.

#Underworld #Selene #Michael Corvin #Jen Writes #LOOK I DID A THING

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dickie-gayson · 7 years

Text

CHAPTER 4: COUNTING BODIES LIKE SHEEP

Summary:

Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd

Genre: Horror

Length: 4k+

Other: Arkham Knight!Jason, Talon!Dick. this is The Worst Chapter - the Remix

Find It On: Ao3 Fanfiction

Counting Bodies Like Sheep

"I was hung from a tree made of tongues of the weak The branches, the bones of the liars, the thieves Rise up above it, high up above and see One night of the hunter, one day I will get revenge"

Jason's heart thumped an almost painfully quick pace in his chest as he lay on the dusty floor. He stared wide-eyed and unseeing at the ceiling as if it held the answers to his problems. Talon hovered over him, looking far too much like a leopard waiting to feast for Jason's liking. Still, he did not move. The weight of his predicament and new revelations seemed to keep him tied down and helpless. He certainly felt helpless. The assassin watched with a morbid sort of fascination as the resignation killed what little light had sparked in Jason's eyes.

With no warning, Talon rose on graceful feet and turned from the downed man. It was clear he viewed Jason as no threat just in the relaxed way he moved. There was no line of tension drawing up his shoulders. No hint of wariness in his posture. It was equal parts humiliating and irritating to be thought so little of. Jason watched the killer's soft steps closely, still on edge from the earlier assault. Every shift set his teeth on edge. Talon was unpredictable with his temper, making him a troubling foe.

He seemed to stop before a spot of blank, peeling wall just out of Jason's view and stare. It seemed to be a recurring theme with the new Dick Grayson. He stared far more than before and it was downright creepy. There was something he couldn't quite place in those gleaming eyes that made him want to crawl out of his skin. Jason saw pure evil, was face-to-face with it on a daily basis for a year, yet this was something completely different. It left the astringent taste of fear lingering like bile on his tongue. It kept his pulse pounding despite his best efforts to keep it calm. Yes, there was something completely different about this thing and all the demons Jason faced in his life.

Cautiously, he rose to his feet. His efforts to mask his movements were rendered useless as Talon heard him. The slight cocking of his head in Jason's direction was a dead giveaway of that. He had to resist the intense urge to try and brutalize the assassin who faced away from him. It wouldn't end well, he knew that much. The small amount of satisfaction he'd gain from landing a few hits wouldn't outweigh whatever the repercussions would be. Personally, Jason would prefer to be stabbed but Talon seemed to have a fondness for causing mental and emotional wounds. That was something he had no desire to endure at all.

Jason noticed that the only exit that wasn't boarded over was right beside Talon. Of course. He doubted that was a coincidence. Sure, he could try to make a break for it but he highly doubted he'd make it out before being dragged back in. To make matters worse, Jason was still missing his arsenal of weapons and tools that had been stripped of him while unconscious. He flexed his hands, sorely wishing for a gun or something to defend himself with, no matter how useless. This feeling of being totally exposed and helpless was something Jason absolutely loathed. No matter what he's gone through, the horrors he's triumphed and training he went through, he was still the victim. It was driving the man completely insane.

There was a fury in his steely gaze that he was positive Dick could feel. If looks could kill, his captor would most assuredly be nothing but ashes from the glare penetrating his back. It was with a certain degree of reluctance that Jason turned that angered glare from the black-clad man to sweep over the room in a more meticulous examination. Letting the crazed killer out of his sight wasn't something he was particularly keen on doing. However, he needed to find his gear and he couldn't exactly do that while trying to burn a hole through the back of the other man's skull.

Now that he wasn't panicking he was able to take note of a few more key details. All the windows but one had been boarded up, the lighting was purposefully dim to the point of near blackness, and there was an array of vicious looking blades of many forms lining the tops of boxes near Talon's little nest. What had appeared to be brown blankets were in reality white blankets completely covered in stains. It didn't take the world's greatest detective to guess where those brownish stains came from. The thought of just how many bodies it took to get that much residual blood was baffling. The analytical side of him was legitimately curious just how many DNA samples he could get from one swipe across the cloth.

He spotted his weapons and belt sitting out in the open on a weathered desk near Talon. Jason was mentally weighing whether or not he really needed those items or if he should take his chances. It was a short-lived thought, as he knew Talon had very purposefully placed them where he could see but not quite reach without getting near the assassin. All these false little windows of opportunity only added to Jason's growing resentment. That asshole was toying with him to see if he'd fall for those traps. Jason clenched his jaw in frustration as he swiped his now scratched helmet from the floor. Just as he was about to slide it back on, Talon's quiet voice cut through the air.

"Don't."

Jason paused, helm above his head, and stared at the assassin. Then, he took notice of the piercing yellow eyes in the dim reflection of a mirror so grimy it could almost pass as part of the wall. Had it not been for the tell-tale golden glow he wouldn't have even noticed that Talon was watching him. He'd been watching this whole time. Jason locked eyes through the dirtied reflection and gave a defiant sneer before forcefully putting the helmet on. All systems blinked on as the suit reconnected with its missing piece. There was a somewhat entertained look on the killer's otherwise blank features.

"Robins never were very good at following orders."

That made Jason's lips twist in an irritated scowl. He hated that Dick kept bringing it back to that. Robin. The argument 'I'm not Robin' sat heavy on his tongue, waiting to come out again. It was useless. To this bastard he'd always be Robin. Once a bird, always a bird. Jason could almost swear that the carved R on his chest was mocking him. He stomped heavily toward Talon, who still faced the wall but tracked him through the mirror. Jason wasn't quite sure whether he was drawing closer to punch the frustrating man, to grab his gear, or just try to jump out the window. Perhaps a daring combination of all three, though not quite in that order.

He came to a slow halt as his eyes landed on the section of wall Talon was covering. All thoughts of escape and his supplies left his head. Carved crudely into the wood was a long list of names; some were already scratched out. Jason read the list and recognized quite a few, if not only from word of mouth. He knew what this list was but the thought that Dick made a hit list, no matter how demonic he's become, was almost unfathomable. It just didn't quite connect. He found himself questioning it without thinking.

"What the hell is this?"

He mentally facepalmed for asking the stupidly obvious. Truthfully, he half expected to hear a witty 'my shopping list, obviously' or something equally dumb. Instead, that ravenous stare was back on him full-blast. There was no response at first, just an uncomfortable silence. Then, Dick spoke in that unsettling arctic whisper.

"The damned."

Had it been the old times, when Dick was still Nightwing and Jason was Robin, Jason would have snarked back about Bruce's melodramatics rubbing off on the older boy. But these weren't the old times and those soft words left his gut churning. It wasn't what he said but how he said it that got under Jason's skin. There was such unmistakable malignance in his tone that even Batman would be chilled to the core. Rather than linger on the discomfort, he kept reading the list. There was one break in the names, a section that looked like it'd been hacked at. There was no hope of reading what name had been there. The curiosity ate at Jason, but he continued on. It was a varied list, going from super villains to people Jason would have marked as average Joes. His eyebrows rose once he hit one name in particular.

"Slade Wilson. You're gonna try to kill Deathstroke?"

That unsettling stare turned sharp, nearly vicious, at the surprise in Jason's voice. He almost backtracked from that look alone.

"He wronged me. I will kill him."

Jason let out a low whistle at the sheer level of spite in his words. He knew all about the feud between his brother and the super-assassin. Who didn't? The fights between the two, particularly when Dick had been Robin, were something of legends among teen heroes. Now that Dick was turned into this, he almost pitied Slade. Almost. Whatever Hell he brought upon himself was completely deserved. As his eyes swept back to the list, he couldn't help but wonder just what the rest had done to deserve it as well. 'Catalina Flores, where have I heard that name before?'

"If this is everyone that wronged you, I gotta say I'm surprised the list ain't bigger."

Making enemies in their line of work, well, previous line of work was laughably easy. What hero didn't have their scars? It was meant as a joke, but the look he got in return made the light tone wither on his lips.

"It was."

Talon pushed a box that was sitting on a table. Jason's gaze fell onto the now exposed portion of the wall and that sickening feeling returned. Names lined the paneling, all scratched out. Many were from Gotham's elite that Jason never bothered to look into. He hardly pegged them as criminals. Then there were others; Elaine Marsh-Morton - otherwise known as Lady Vic or Lady Victim, and Tom and Tad Trigger - The Trigger Twins, Dudley Soames, Shrike, Guillermo Barrera, Randy Hanrahan, Giz, Mouse. All noted criminals and assassins. All crossed out. The list of scratched out names went on and on. It flooded to the next panel and ended at the next target: Harvey Dent. It wasn't too surprising, given how the madman had tortured Dick when he was Robin.

He was impressed by the body count Talon was able to rack up without drawing attention to himself. Hell, Jason was part of the underground scene and he never heard so much as a whisper of someone murdering others left and right. Sure, he heard word that some of the more notable people, like Lady Vic, were dead but nothing else on the topic. No one ever connected them together. To find out it was all Dick fucking Grayson that killed them? He's pretty sure his brain shorted out for a few moments trying to process it.

"I almost added you."

Jason had to force himself not to jump at the unexpected words. While he'd been focused on piecing everything together, Talon had slipped uncomfortably close. He was all but looming at this point. If Jason's armor didn't cover him so completely, he's pretty sure he'd be able to feel Talon's breath on his neck. Then, what Talon said caught up with him. He resisted the urge to step away from the eerie assassin. Dick seemed to notice this hesitation and spoke again.

"But I don't want you dead."

There was an unspoken 'yet' at the end of his sentence, Jason could feel it. He couldn't decide whether those words were meant to be comforting or a warning.

"Y'know, that's not as reassuring as a 'But I couldn't kill you'."

Again, it was meant as a joke, and again that look was all too serious. No matter how familiar the voice, he had to remember this wasn't the man he knew. It was a monster, as was evident by the cold stare he got in return. The silence that greeted his words was all he needed to know. This...this shadow of Dick Grayson could kill him and not feel an ounce of remorse. Jason promptly ignored all the reasons that hurt. He could still feel that heartless gaze on him as he returned to staring at the list. There were names Jason expected to see but didn't. In fact, it infuriated him just a bit that a certain name wasn't on his brother's list.

"I don't see Joker here."

There was no hiding the ire in his words. All these names and Joker - fucking Joker - wasn't deemed worthy of Talon's time. It pissed him off more than just a little bit. His fists clenched tight as he tried to reign in his temper; his hurt. There was another beat of silence before Talon spoke.

"Not mine to kill, not mine to add."

He then pointed at the section of wall that looked like it'd been hacked at. It was clear now that it had been Joker's name on the wall. Any response Jason had came to a halt as he was presented with a wicked looking knife. He got a pointed look from the assassin, making his intentions very clear. It was to be Jason's vengeance and so Jason should carve his name. He stared at the blade in surprise while Talon continued on.

"I was going to torture him. Drag out every last inch of his life then slaughter him like the swine he is. ...Then, I found out you still lived."

That rage fizzled out under the confusing assortment of bewilderment and, as much as he'd deny it, happiness. Despite the frigid, impersonal tone and former treatment, Jason couldn't help but be a little pleased someone was going to avenge him. He didn't doubt the assassin's words in the slightest. Given his possessiveness up until this point, it'd align just right for him to seek out the one who killed 'his Little Wing'. Jason took the blade and traced his free hand over a blank spot on the wall. He let out a slow breath then dug the dagger in. Each stroke of the blade was slow and deliberate. A bit of hate flowed into every line. As that hate and anger mounted, the gouges grew deeper. When the name was complete, it was cut further into the wood than any other. He had to yank out the blade at the end of the 'R'.

Teal eyes glared at the name and the dagger trembled in his grip. This must be why Dick chose to carve the names rather than write them down. It was much more intimate; made one really remember why they were on the list. In a spur of rage, Jason sliced yet another name into the wall beneath Joker. He could remember her high pitched laughter and nasally voice just as well as the Jokers. She was as guilty as him and she'd pay. 'HARLEY QUINN'. He grit his teeth as he glared at the names. His fury was evident in the growing choppiness of the lettering. It was less meticulous in style and fueled by his emotions. The memories dredged up brought with them the familiar heat of wrath and hate. It caused him to quake from the sudden onslaught. He all but snarled as he slammed the dagger back into the wood, carving even more names. Everyone that hurt him would feel his pain tenfold.

All the while, Talon watched silently. He was curious as to who would be sentenced to death by his little brother next. There were names he didn't recognize and names he did, like Sal Maroni. The list was not nearly as extensive as his own, but the sheer resentment that went into each stroke and letter could almost even the gap. As reluctant as Jason had been to cooperate in the beginning, Talon knew they could work well together on this. They would.

Jason took a step back from the wall and let out a low breath. The animosity still poisoned his veins, but he felt a little lighter marking those names down. It'd feel even better once those names had lines through them, he just knew it. It would calm some of his inner demons to rid the world of those scum. With Talon's help, he knew they'd all fall. So, why did it feel like he just made a pact with the Devil?

There was still one name he's yet to mark down. It would have been two, but he doubted Talon would appreciate his attempts to add Tim Drake to the list of the damned. That thought made his temper flare just a bit more. Having to spare his replacement just because Dick was obscenely possessive sent spikes of frustration through his nerves. He ground his teeth and gripped the handle of the dagger a little firmer. Then, he started to add that last name, the hardest one to write. The one that he would have given his life for and almost had. The one that failed him. Bruce Wayne. Jason didn't get further than 'BRUCE' before his forearm was caught in an unforgiving grip.

"No."

He looked at Talon with something akin to betrayal at being stopped. Tim he could understand. He didn't like it, but he understood. Bruce though?

"What the hell, Dick? After everything that's happened to us you're just going to let him go?! He deserves to be on this damn list! He needs to pay for his failures!"

The words were spat out with such venom, it was nearly enough to hide the pain that lingered under the surface. The slight crack in his tone near the end didn't help his situation. There was still no reaction to his torment or anger. Then, Dick calmly moved his hand to cover Jason's own hold on the hilt.

"Death isn't justice. It isn't vengeance. It's solace. Justice and vengeance? They come before death."

The way he spoke, so soft yet so unbelievably vicious, caused a chill to run down Jason's spine. Then, he moved the dagger under both their command and began to carve a new name.

"You want Bruce to suffer? He will suffer."

'B'

"He will beg and plead for the children he forsook."

'A'

"He will be reminded how he failed. Every. Single. Day."

'T'

"We will face him but we will not offer forgiveness."

'M'

"We will break him but we will not offer solace."

'A'

"Death would be kind, Jason."

'N'

"I am not kind."

Jason stood enraptured by his voice, envisioning what he spoke of. There was a dark, damning promise to his words that filled the younger man with a sick sort of glee. Originally, he wanted to just end Bruce's life for leaving him in the caverns of Arkham but this? This would be so much better. The utter iciness of Talon's hate contrasted so wildly against the searing heat of Jason's own animosity. Combined, the two could surely bring ruin to anyone and anything in their path. The plan he had started shifting to accommodate the ideas now planted in his head. Jason spoke low and slow, voicing the thoughts as they formed.

"We kill the bat and leave the man."

Bruce is his real mask, not the cowl. To be left with only 'Brucie' would certainly be a hell of his own making. And to know it's all because of the sons he forgot and replaced? That would definitely destroy him. 'If he even cares at all.' The invasive thought couldn't help but crop up. Jason was still utterly convinced Bruce felt nothing for them other than their shelf life and how useful they could be. Being forced to live every single day seeing the weapons he cultivated turned against him would be so delicious. Yes, Jason could see the merit of Talon's plan on leaving him alive.

The assassin watched the thoughts rolling through his brother's head with interest. He gave a slight nod at Jason's words. It was what he intended on doing. Destroy the legend of Batman, leave nothing but ashes in their wake. It would torment their 'father'. He could hardly live without the cowl and cape. They would strip him down, hollow him out and leave him cold, just like he left them to be.

"He'll know the pain of being left with a face that isn't truly his."

Talon's tone was acrid in its loathing. The two looked at each other, taking note of the disfigurations that marred the other, making them almost strangers. Dick's distortions were far more severe, but Jason was marked so cruelly by his tormenter that he could hardly stomach his own reflection on good days. What happened to the two was tragic. What they planned to do to Bruce will be anathema. A cruel smirk curled up Jason's lips. The day of reckoning was drawing near and he couldn't wait to watch them all burn.

He was drawn from his musings by Dick taking his dagger back. Why he needed all those knives on him, Jason still didn't know. He was a living weapon with fucking claws. Then again, he liked to pack an excessive amount of weapons himself. Maybe it was a comfort to feel that much more protected. Though if he were being truthful, Talon gave off a vibe that it was just to have more ways to kill people. Really, he had no room to judge.

The assassin then handed Jason his equipment back. It was a bit of a shock but he quietly took the peace offering. At least, that's how Jason thought Talon was offering them to him. A sort of olive branch. He woke up here despising Talon and would leave here feeling something close to camaraderie with the killer. Those cold, cruel words still echoed in the back of his mind, warning him not to become complacent near Dick. 'By my name you lived, Little Wing. By my name, you'll die.'

Jason holstered his guns and clipped on his belt, feeling safer in his full Arkham Knight regalia. When Talon placed a guiding hand on his shoulder, it felt like the cold hand of death gripping him. He motioned toward the window and gave an almost feral look.

"The sun is setting. We have hunting to do."

He didn't miss the fact that Talon didn't ask if he wanted to hunt with him, but rather issued it like a command. Jason gave a sigh as he checked his comms and messages. His men were a bit frantic that he went missing, especially after receiving such a grotesque 'gift'. He radioed over to Bax to let the man know their commander was fine. Then, he turned his attention to the waiting assassin. Talon was perched on the window sill staring at him, owl mask firmly in place. His pose was almost achingly similar to how Dick used to perch at the edge of ledges, just on the balls of his feet and teetering dangerously. It was yet another reminder that no matter how heinously different he was now, there were still some Grayson mannerisms left in the man.

"I've got to get back to base. My men are freaking out since some people can't talk to others without kidnapping them."

He took a cautious step toward the window, testing the waters. Jason wasn't sure how this crueler version of Dick would take his disobedience. If Talon let him out, then that'd be great. It'd mean he wasn't as freakishly controlling as Jason was led to believe. If he didn't let him out? Well, there wasn't too much he could do about that but follow his previous orders, was there? He was mentally rooting for the former but expecting the latter. Talon gave that strange little head tilt and made no effort to move from the sill. Jason was forced to come to a halt before the assassin. A frustrated noise rumbled in his throat at the lack of cooperation from Dick.

"Seriously, I need to go. We can 'hunt' some other time. I have shit I need to do."

What was meant to be forceful came out a little closer to a plea than he would have liked. There was a beat of silence and neither moved. Then, Talon grabbed him by his armor and yanked him forward with more force than Jason was expecting. He was only just able to choke back the startled noise from slipping out as he steadied himself. In reflex, he grabbed for his weapons but didn't fully unholster them. No need to rile up the crazy undead killing machine after they just got on friendly-ish terms. Dick pulled him so close, their masks nearly touched. The vicious, almost ravenous edge to his voice had Jason swallowing in fear.

"Go. Settle your business. Look at the flash drive. After that, we will hunt."

There was no room left for argument in those selfish, hellish words. He found himself nodding in agreement with the terms. Jason could deal with a compromise. It was honestly more than he was expecting from Dick at this point. Talon shoved him away with the same amount of force, nearly causing Jason to trip over his own feet. Then, he leapt from the window with the same enviable grace that left all who saw in awe of the last of the Flying Graysons.

A shaky breath came from Jason as he attempted to calm his spiking nerves. This had not gone like he planned at all. After one last look around the room with a pause to re-read the names, Jason made his own escape. It was going to be a long night, that was for sure. He had to figure out what the hell to do about Scarecrow now that Talon threw himself into the mix. That could wait until the more immediate problems were addressed, though. There were men to sort out, orders to give, and, most importantly, a flash drive to examine.

#Me and the Devil Verse #Talon!Dick #Arkham Knight!Jason #The Arkham Knight #Jason Todd #Dick Grayson #My Writing #fuck me this is Bad #o well i tried ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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