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rotworld · 3 years

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3: Salamander

The apprentices of Magister Hezethril seem to be dying of horrific accidents with suspicious frequency.

->contains gore, murder, non-consensual touching, yandere, threats, and extreme power imbalance (basically teacher/student).

There’s a commotion in the hallway. A crowd of apprentices, swarming together in a sea of black cloaks, have gathered in the open doorway of the alchemy laboratory. But there’s no excitement among them, no jovial anticipation. They’re whispering and weeping, clinging to one another anxiously. Your heart skips a beat. It can’t be. Not again. You push your way through the crowd, refusing to believe it until you see it with your own eyes, ignoring the voices all around you.

“...looks like Bianca…”

“...the third this week…”

“...couldn’t have done this to herself…”

“Excuse me,” you mutter, shouldering past a pair of gawking boys. You’re hardly a step into the room when the stench hits you, sharp and unnatural, rust and ozone. Something pale green and foul-smelling is spilled across the stone floor, dripping from an upended cauldron, but what’s worse is the blood. You can follow a trail of pain and slow suffering; a bloody handprint on the glass case in the back of the room. A smear across the table. A spattered drag across the floor, all the way to the lifeless body of an apprentice, her hands frozen in rigor mortis claws in front of her face. Her mouth is still open in a silent scream.

“What in the seven hells is going on in here?”

The words crack like a whip through the tense air, cold and razor sharp. The crowd parts silently, allowing Magister Hezethril into the laboratory. You make way for him, scrambling out of his path. The Magister is imposing in his long red robes, towering above the apprentices and pushing them aside with webbed hands. His bronze skin turns ink black halfway down his extremities, his nails lacquered with gold. He sweeps forward wordlessly, tendrils of long black hair waving in his wake. His frightening eyes, spots of gold in black sclera, fall upon the dead apprentice. He scowls in distaste. “Who was in the room when this happened?” he asks.

A trembling apprentice steps forward, a young man with blood on his hands. “I was,” he says hoarsely. “I came in to use the lab. Bianca was already here, working on something. She dropped something into the cauldron, I didn’t see what. But all of the sudden, she was gasping and convulsing. She started,” he swallows hard, his hands trembling, “scratching. At her own throat. I tried to stop her, but she fought me. She just kept scratching. There was this awful, wet noise, and then she…” One of the other apprentices puts an arm around him as he begins to sob.

“I see,” Magister Hezethril says. He turns on his heel and walks away. “Clean this up,” he orders, leaving shaken apprentices in his wake. Some scatter, eager to be far away from the gruesome mess, but you stay with a handful of others. The young man who saw Bianca die sits, unresponsive, against the wall. He’s going to need all the help he can get. Several apprentices cover Bianca with a white sheet and take the body away. You and a few of your peers begin scrubbing blood from the floor. You wince at the fleshy chunks of tissue among the mess.

Luca finds something in the bottom of the cauldron that makes him wrinkle his nose. “She was poisoned,” he mutters. “This brew was extremely toxic. No one in their right mind would have brewed it, but there’s some kind of residue in the bottom. I think she was sabotaged.” He pinches a fine, ashy dust between his fingers. You can’t recognize it anymore, singed as it is, but you believe him. The smell in the room leaves a distinct burning sensation in your throat.

Beside you, Sheila squeaks, “Sabotage?” She’s had to leave the room twice to vomit, and she looks like she might need to again.

“It’s not unheard of,” Phoebe says, shrugging. She wipes Bianca’s bloodied handprints from the cabinets. “Lots of mage apprentices die under suspicious circumstances. It’s new apprentices, usually. Young, impulsive, trying to compete. They just want to get ahead.”

“I don’t want to think about it,” Sheila insists. “What’s there to compete over, anyway? The Magister hates all of us.”

That gets a bitter chuckle from everyone in the room. Working together, you get the laboratory cleaned up in no time, every trace of blood and poison mopped up and disposed of. It leaves an empty feeling within you. It feels like you do this more and more often lately, erasing all traces of your fellow apprentices. Memorial services, if there are any, happen in the distant hamlets and villages where the apprentices came from. Life in the Magister’s tower goes on uninterrupted and you’re expected to behave as though the sudden holes opened up at certain desks and in certain dormitories simply do not exist.

The others are thinking about it now. You can feel that heaviness in the air even with the body gone and all traces of death washed away. Accidents happen anywhere you gather inexperienced mages, but not nearly this many, not so close together. There’s a field south of the tower full of fresh graves and wooden crosses. “Why isn’t the Magister doing anything?” Sheila whimpers. “Is this what he wants? Are we all supposed to kill each other until only one of us is left?”

“Of course not,” you insist. You give her the water pail you were going to use to rinse your hands, letting her take it first. She sniffles as she scrubs Bianca from beneath her nails. “The Magister must know something’s happening. Maybe he’s just being careful. He doesn’t want to say anything until he’s certain he knows who’s responsible.”

“Are you kidding? Magisters get off on things like this,” Phoebe says, rolling her eyes. “It’s a power trip for them. You saw how he looked at Bianca, right? Like she was an insect. He only cares about his favorites. Bet you get extra credit for offing somebody.”

“That’s awful,” you tell her.

She shrugs. “That’s life.”

“I assume you’re done in here if you have time to gossip.”

The Magister’s voice is like ice down your back. Sheila practically sprints from the room. Phoebe sheepishly greets him and keeps her head down as she leaves. Luca eyes the Magister suspiciously but passes without a word. “Magister,” you address him, bowing your head. He holds out his arm when you try to step past him.

“Just a moment, apprentice,” he says. You’ve heard him speak to your peers, reducing them to tears with nothing but his hard gaze alone. But when he looks at you, his strange gaze softens with affection. He says “apprentice” as though it’s a term of endearment. You shift uneasily, peering into the hallway behind him in search of your friends, but they’re long gone. A sinking feeling overtakes you when he bumps the laboratory door with his elbow, shutting it behind him. “I won’t keep you long,” he assures you. “Solstice preparations will begin soon. Could I persuade you to assist me?”

Could I persuade you, he says. A phrase unheard of, coming from the mouth of an elder mage. They don’t ask favors. They don’t plead or beg. They give orders, and apprentices jump to follow them. Magister Hezethril is no different, but for you, he will dress up the truth in pretty language, will say it sweetly so it scares you less. But you know better. You hear the threat unspoken. His hand hooks beneath your chin, demanding eye contact. The webbing between his fingers is soft and damp, slick against your skin. “Yes, Magister,” you say quietly. “I would be happy to assist you.”

The Magister’s smiles are uncomfortable, too wide and hungry, too inhuman. “Excellent,” he says. “See to it that your schedule is open, I’ll need you the next few evenings for preliminary research.”

“Of course,” you say. “But, ah, I will need tomorrow evening to myself.”

“Oh?” the Magister says, sounding so unconcerned and casual that you almost slip up, forget who you’re talking to. “And why is that?” You try, subtly, to slip out of his grasp. A mistake, you realize too late, Magister Hezethril’s pupils narrow into slits and he corners you against the back cabinets, slamming his hand against the wooden panels beside your head. You hear the cabinet door splinter, feel it shaking and collapsing inward. You hold your breath. The Magister bends slightly from his great height, his gaze piercing and heated. “Where are you going, apprentice?” he hisses. “Why the rush? Are you hiding something from me?”

“I’m not, I swear I’m not,” you insist, too weak and hesitant to convince him. You can never lie to him. He always drags the truth out, one way or another. “I just...I promised one of the others that I’d tutor them in incantation.”

The Magister makes a frightening, inhuman sound, somewhere between a hiss and a growl, flashing fangs and a black, forked tongue. “This again?” he mutters. “How many times must I tell you that you are above them? They do not deserve your attention. How could you possibly learn everything I have to teach you when you are too busy with these wastrels you call your peers?” He doesn’t give you time to answer, nor the space to breathe. His sharp nails trace your jaw, titling your face towards him when you try to turn away. He looms so close you can smell the fire in his lungs, magic that could reduce you to ash if he so desired.

“It would be such a shame, wouldn’t it, if another apprentice were to die,” he murmurs, looming inches from you, his breath warming your lips. “Such a terrible waste. So many accidents these last few months. So many dead.”

“Please,” you whisper, clutching his shoulders. His robes bunch up beneath your grip but it’s worthless. He’s so much older and stronger than you. “Please don’t hurt anyone else.”

Magister Hezethril tilts his head, drinking in your fear and submission. He traces your lips with the sharp tip of one nail. “Are you available tomorrow, apprentice?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say shakily. “Yes, I swear, I’m all yours.”

It’s just what he wants to hear. Smiling, he pulls you into his chest. Gently, he smooths down your hair where it ruffled against the cupboards, pushing the creases from your cloak. But he pauses as he does this, catching sight of the thick turtleneck fabric you’re wearing beneath. He toys with it, peeling it down to expose tender flesh. You shiver under the attention, the careful stroke of his fingers along your pulse. “You aren’t just yet,” he says. “But that’s alright. I can be very, very patient.”

You wince when he slices into you, just enough to break the skin. He rolls your turtleneck back up. The wound throbs hot underneath. “See you tomorrow, apprentice,” he purrs. You nod numbly. The laboratory opens and slams the shut, the sound echoing off the stone walls.

#rotpeach writes #teratotober #i know salamander seems like a weird one lol #but they were traditionally given mystical properties in various cultures #so this one is a mage lol

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sector-i-closed · 4 years

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Coming to Terms

Vampire!Seonghwa x vampire pet!reader

Warning: Smut, choking, impact play, blood drinking, reader being a little bit of a brat, edging, degradation, he's a little bit of a sadist oop, but still fluffy moments in here

Peacefulness had settled in the darkness of your room after Seonghwa had left you sitting in the floor while you were still being quite miffed at him.

Yearning filled the depths of your heart and you still felt conflicted because you really felt angry at him but you were starting to see where he was coming from with his feelings in spite of you resenting being a vampire.

Memories of how you had grown to love your master swirled in your mind, reminding you of the times that you wanted his love and perceived that you were only a pet to him that he owned.

Suddenly you recalled the time that he cared for you while you were ill and was vomiting over everything including Seonghwa, the times that he did his best to try to comfort you despite the tumultuous times of your own paranoia and his own misunderstanding of your feelings.

The way that he made you feel loved even though he was cold and stiff towards you at the beginning made you love him more as well as the natural attachment that you had gained to him.

You shifted your position from where you sat, remembering the time that he took your virginity, albeit you wanted him to and you thought you felt yourself grow warmer despite the absence of the circulation of your blood in flowing through your veins.

A soft mewl left your lips as you recalled the way he pounded into your lith body when you were human and the way that you felt about him, the feelings of love for him made you feel happy and complete, though now you wondered what happened to those feelings now.

'Maybe I've became a cold, heartless monster' You sighed softly, feeling hunger and need ebb within yourself.

Your body's needs led you to stand up, the functions of your system urging you that regardless of how angry you were at Seonghwa there was still a need to take care of your own needs before you went completely feral or possibly rogue.

Reluctantly you made your way down the hallway, searching for Seonghwa throughout the dark, dated and eerie mansion.

You thought that he would have been in his office but it was empty and as lonely as you felt. Suddenly you wondered how he had been feeling while you were isolating yourself, having been accompanied by your own painful thoughts but you had forgotten about his feelings.

Which made you feel guilty for forgetting about how he may have been feeling during this time. You turned and made your way to Seonghwa's room while wondering to yourself why your heightened senses weren't helping you at the present moment, forcing you to guess where the vampire was in the residence.

A lump formed in your throat when you reached his bedroom door, mostly because you didn't want to face him but you knew you needed to.

Hesitantly you knocked at his door and waited, feeling a sense of anxiety wash over you by habit and you resented the anxiousness.

After a few beats he opened the door, gazing at you expectantly and his face was surprisingly serious in contrast to earlier in the evening.

"Did you come here because you're needy now, pet?" Seonghwa asked in a monotone voice, not revealing any emotion to you and ramping up the residual anxiety that you most definitely knew you would be feeling if you were human.

The answer came with hesitation as you thought it over, leading you to come to a different conclusion when you saw Seonghwa's face.

You shook your head in response, "It's not the entire reason... I wanted to see you also." Without realizing what you were doing you collapsed into his arms, clinging to him tightly as tears trickled from your eyes from the pent up emotions.

Seonghwa's eyes widened in surprise of your answer as he embraced your shaking form, finding himself pleased that you seemed to be starting to come to terms with your present form.

"I'm s-sorry..." You sobbed into his chest, sensing his fingers threading through your locks tenderly as you gripped his shirt.

"You're with me now is what matters the most. My bride is right here in my arms and I couldn't ask for more." Seonghwa fingered the silver collar that was still locked around your neck.

The only way that it could be taken off of you was for it to be unlocked by Seonghwa and he still continued to find pride in you wearing it, even if you were no longer a human.

"I don't want to ever live a day without you in my life." The vampire declared softly, his cold hands stroking down your spine in movements that brought lustful yet loving feelings out of you somehow.

"The only reason that I hesitated to turn you was because I didn't want to lose my innocent pet. But I was willing to let that go because having you with me for the rest of eternity is more than I could ever ask for." Seonghwa whispered softly, sensing you shiver beneath his touch, prompting a demonic smile to play on his features as he pulled back to stare into your reddening eyes.

"I wanted to give you time to adapt to this. I have always been here if you ever chose to reach out to me and I am thoroughly pleased that you have decided to now." He continued in a softer tone then you were accustomed to, his fingers trailing your lower lip with delicate butterfly like touches.

"It doesn't mean that I like myself as I am." You frowned at him, eyes fixed directly on him.

"Being what you are is what I need." Seonghwa turned and took your hand, leading you to his bed to for you to sit down.

"You can talk about it with me if you are ready." He added softly, feeling that the attitude that he had had changed during the time that you were comatose.

You shook your head, the heat of the desire in your body was at the forefront of your mind and you boldly moved your body into a position to straddle him.

"I don't want to think of anything but you right now, master." You mumbled out of habit while grasping onto his shoulders.

"You're not technically a pet anymore, but you still enjoy the thought of being my pet." Seonghwa smirks confidently, almost maddening you.

"It's just a habit." You growled, wrapping both of your hands around his throat. "Oof!" You squealed out embarrassingly loud, finding yourself suddenly flipped onto your back.

"Choking me isn't a habit of yours." Seonghwa's eyes were as red as hot coals, burning through your own gaze and penetrating your mind and seemingly even deeper within you then that.

"I'm sorry. You get on my nerves sometimes and being a little stronger is liberating." You replied innocently, doe eyes peering up at him with an angelic energy that made the vampire groan out loud.

"Liberating? I can chain you down right now and change that, pet." His smirk dripped with wicked intentions as he eyed you with hunger.

You gulped down the fear that surged directly to your throat, a pitiful look radiating through your eyes.

"You're as cute as always." Seonghwa laughs softly, a mirthful tone that made you feel even lighter in your head.

"Seonghwa, can you kiss me? Please?" You ask in a small voice, reaching out with your small hands to touch his face with loving caresses.

"If it's what my beautiful bride wants, how can I deny her? Especially when she's asking so nicely." He replies lowly, bringing his lips to yours and capturing your mouth in a sweet, tantalizing kiss that melted the residual feelings of your humanity.

Instinctively your hands tangled in his soft hair, pulling needily and aiding in bringing another smirk to the vampire's face as he continued to meld his lips to yours in a manner that showed that he still owned you completely.

Your lips parted for him, a soft whine escaping them that indicated that you were becoming worked up for him and he loved to hear it.

"Whining for me like a needy whore?" Seonghwa asks in a faux stern tone against your lips before taking over your mouth completely with his tongue, taking your breath away at the depth that he explored your mouth and you couldn't resist nicking your tongue against one of his razor sharp fangs, releasing an irresistible burst of sweetness lingering on his tongue.

He growled and pulled away from you, eyeing you with a breathtaking predatory gaze that made you squirm with want.

"Tempting me, little one?" Seonghwa taunts, moving away from you to see your reaction. You cried out and grabbed for him desperately while shaking your head vigorously.

"N-no I wasn't tempting you!" You trembled, lying to him even though really you wanted to make him want you just as much as you wanted him.

"You're just as bad at lying as always, pet." The vampire laughed in amusement, his hand cupping your throat and enticing you to want him even more with the suggestive display of his power over you.

"Not lying!" You whined, earning a rough, loud spank against your outer thigh with his hand that wasn't around your throat.

"You did it again, pet." Seonghwa glared at you, sending a familiar rush through you that reminded you of the times before when you were human.

"I'm s-sorry... master..." You moaned softly as he soothed the spanked area of your thigh with his hand. "You're actually getting off on this like the times I would spank you for misbehaving."

"Please I want to... I- I want to feel you inside of me again." You whimpered desperately, feeling yourself become wet with slick while he prevented you from raising up because of the firm hold that he had on your neck, continuing to glare at you with a sadistic smirk curving across his lips.

"My pet doesn't deserve it. Not yet anyway." Seonghwa ran his hand along your curves, increasing the intense frustration that you felt as the smug expression grew even more intense as his eyes bore through yours.

"P-please I need you!" You whined shamelessly with glazed over eyes filled with lust. He loved seeing you like this and he decided to slip his hand into your underwear, pinching your clit harshly and bringing out sweet cries from your pretty lips that made pride well up inside of him at knowing you were only his.

"You need master in what way? I want you to use your words and tell me." Seonghwa withdrew his fingers from your wet clit and wiped your slick on your exposed stomach.

"I w-want you inside of me like the first time!" You shivered in spite of the absence of chilliness.

"P-please I want you to make me f-feel like that again-" Your words were lodged in your throat, cut short by the sudden shredding rip of your clothing, Seonghwa exposing you completely to him and that alone made you writhe beneath him with several pitiful cries.

"Let me see how beautiful you are, love. Mine." He growled as he touched you freely, drinking in the perfection of your skin as he caressed your curves.

Without thinking your legs spread wide for him, revealing your soaked heat which increased his intense sense of pride.

"All of this belongs to me." The vampire growled possessively, his nails lightly raking down your bare skin.

"I've been waiting f-for this so long... P-please I want your cock inside of me..." You mewled out a soft sound of humiliation as you lied down exposed to him. Your eyes were filled with hunger and moved something within Seonghwa to finally stand and disrobe.

Tension made you completely rigid as you locked eyes with him while his naked form hovered above you, his erect cock brushing against your inner thigh and you involuntarily clenched like a vise around air.

A pathetic moan of anticipation leaked from your lips and you felt entranced completely by the wild look of hunger that showed in his eyes as he closed in on your petite form.

"Who makes you this needy?" Seonghwa asks sternly, rubbing his tip at your greedy entrance.

"I-..." You moaned out loud and pressed your needy, dripping hole against his tip to try to get him inside of you.

"You're so eager... You can't even answer a question properly. I still need to punish you even now." Seonghwa hissed, removing himself from you and landing a sharp spank between your legs right on your wet, exposed clit.

"Ah~!" You cried out, feeling a strange sense of pleasure from the impact of his hand spanking your heat.

"M-master I'm sorry!" You yelped out, even though you wouldn't have minded to have felt him spank you between your legs but the need for him made you dizzy.

"Are you really sorry, pet? You haven't even attempted to address the question of who makes you this needy." Seonghwa taunted with a look of irritation shining in his reddened orbs.

He tugs at one of your lips slightly while keeping his eyes fixed on your face, pulling at your skin to expose your vulnerable clit and prompting you to feel another sense of pleasure at the way that he was handling your body.

"I'm sorry master! Only you make me feel this needy!" You cried out vulnerably.

"The only answer there is, pet." He growled, lining himself up with your entrance and pushing forward with a single thrust.

You squealed out in pleasure as you grappled for his back, your glass like nails grappling for him and digging into his back as he pulled himself back and almost pulled out of you entirely before thrusting back forward and filling your heat completely with his hard length.

"Perfect and tight for master." Seonghwa stared down at you with red filling his vision, loving the way your mouth already hung open with incoherent words leaving your throat and moans of enjoyment from the roughness that he handled you with.

"Ah~ oh! C-couldn't resist m-me could you~?" You stuttered and clenched around his length, crying out particularly loudly when he purposely jabbed your pleasure spot with the head of his cock.

"The only things you're allowed to say is how good master is making you feel." The vampire warned without the slightest trace of amusement.

"But you c-couldn't resist feeling how g-good and tight my pussy feels around your co-" Your antagonizing words were cut short by Seonghwa wrapping his fingers around your throat again, preventing you from saying more as his thrusts intensified in pace.

"Try saying that now you talkative brat!" A sadistic grin crossed his face, a choked moan leaving you as you felt even smaller beneath him as the beginnings of your euphoric high began to tingle deep inside of your core.

"A-ah~!" You squirmed beneath him as you almost orgasmed on his length.

"Not yet, little pet." Seonghwa slowed his pace, his sharp nails almost digging into your neck as you whined out and arched your back.

A sob shook your entire body, intense pleasurable sensations coarsed through you at a magnitude that you had never experienced before. His thrusts accelerated dramatically, your eyes rolling back in your head as you didn't want the feeling to stop.

Your mouth fell open at the approach of your climax, and you scrabbled violently at his back, forcing a low groan to rumble in his throat as his pace slowed again to purposely rip the ecstasy from you.

"A pretty pet taking everything that I'm doing to her so well." Seonghwa chuckled, continuing to prevent you from voicing any words as he fucked into you roughly.

You didn't have a need for breathing since you were now a vampire but still being choked by him was enough to make you high on lust.

"P-please... n-need to... ah~!" You gasped out, feeling Seonghwa remove his hand from your throat and in a svelte movement bring his head to your ear.

"Does my beautiful bride deserve to cum?" He asked lowly near your ear, the violent hammering of his hips against your body resulted in the bed to shake beneath you violently.

"Please master I n-need to cum..." A choked pitiful cry left you as tears streamed down your face from the building pleasure that had been denied twice before.

"Cum for me, pet." Seonghwa growled, sinking his fangs into your neck to help you go over the edge.

Your walls fluttered around his cock, spasms growing stronger as you screamed out his name. The pleasure that you experienced was easy for him to taste on his tongue as he drank from you, helping him to chase his own climax and paint your insides with his release.

"Ah~" You moaned out in pleasure of the mixed sensation of Seonghwa savoring the blood from your veins and filling your heat with his release. He smirked against your neck, sealing over the wound with his tongue and soothing your rapidly healing skin.

The reason for his amusement were the thoughts that danced in your head as bliss settled throughout your body.

"You did well, baby. Catching the intimate glimpses into your mind is always an experience that I'm grateful for. I'm thankful that you are still in my life and are coming to the realization that this is the best for both you and me." He kisses your lips softly before pulling away to stare into your eyes.

"You're more beautiful then anything else I've seen during the time that I have been existing." He manages a soft smile and pulls out of you, lifting your body into his arms and carrying you to the bathroom so that he could clean you up with care.

"I love you, Seonghwa." You mewled, nipping at his neck and drawing a small amount of his blood while doing so. He stiffened slightly at the sensation of your tongue licking at the wound tenderly.

"I love you more, Y/N."

#ateez smut #kpop smut #ateez seonghwa #kpop scenarios #ateez scenarios

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

Vulture Food

[UK Tour; Wing Au]

Wing Reference EB’s Reference

So @spooner7308 and I did a writing-art trade!! They requested EB looking out for Tour!Joan in the wing AU, which is a dynamic I can really get behind!

This fic is not meant to be taken in a shippy kind of way despite the ship they made with EB and Joan, because 1) this is Tour!Joan and 2) I write Tour!Joan as a teenager. EB and Tour!Joan kinda have a mentor-student relationship. Or maybe a grouchy gay aunt and niece relationship? It’s just not romantic.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, Rowan!! Sorry if I got EB wrong in some parts!

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

Everyone said Joan was scared of everything- being late, delayed shows, messing up during a performance, talking to people, ordering food, the dark, probably even her own shadow, and Joan wouldn’t deny some of those things (though, she was not afraid of her own shadow…), but she felt like she had every right to be afraid of the technician in the show.

EB, or Elizabeth Barron, was a griffon vulture Avem, and also quite possibly the scariest person Joan had ever seen before. Her wings were massive, a dull sand color that faded to gradients of dark brown at the tips of the primary feathers, and her tail feathers were short and choppy, quills picked out and frayed, leaving them looking like the remnants of an avian after Drop Feather Fever. She was covered in tattoos, some of skulls and dead things, others of symbols that reminded Joan of their past life, and a few that didn’t make any sense to Joan at all. Her body was gangly and lean, but she made up for it in killer glares, razor sharp talons that never stopped twitching, and a mouth that always seemed to be contorted into a Resting Bitch Snarl.

And she scared the absolute shit out of Joan.

Avems always made Joan wary; out of all the tribes, they always seemed to hate hybrids the most, but something about EB just made Joan want to play dead whenever she came near. She would always freeze and watch the woman fearfully, waiting for her to snap around and gouge her throat out with her talons. But she never did. Not that that diminished Joan’s anxiety.

The first time they formally met each other, Joan had froze in her place and slammed her eyes shut, willing the vulture to go away. And it wasn’t even that EB was a vulture, she didn’t care about what her wings were from, she was just nervous around everyone. It wasn’t a personal thing. She hoped EB didn’t think it was a personal thing. Would she rip her guts out if she did? Would anyone care if she did? Oh goddesses, what if she--

“Damn. You are shaking.”

The deep, but snarky gruff voice made Joan’s ears flick in surprise. She dared to open one eye, and saw that EB was peering at her curiously. Her large wings were folded back against her back, feathers slightly sticking up in disarray, and Joan wondered how she managed to hold them up so easily. The stench of cigarette smoke invaded Joan’s nose, and she struggled not to react to the smell to avoid looking rude and setting EB off.

“You’re Joan, yeah?” EB said.

“Umm--” Joan floundered for a moment. “Y-yeah. I-I mean-- Y-yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, do not do that.” EB said, snorting lightly. She looked closely at Joan as if she were a peculiar flower that just sprouted out of the tile. “Abiel’s tail feathers, you are weird-looking.”

Joan’s ears lowered and she looked away, suddenly feeling hot shame rocket through her. Now she just wanted to melt into a puddle and live the rest of her miserable life as a liquid. People would still walk all over her, but at least they couldn’t make fun of her when she was water.

“Oh, shit,” EB said, suddenly looking a little less scary and a little more concerned. She ran her sharp claws through her hair, and Joan could just barely see patchy crest feathers sticking out from her scruffy brown hair. “Fuck, kid, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I meant ‘weird’ as in ‘cool’. I think you look pretty rad. Much cooler than most avians around here.”

Joan shifted her wings, not used to being complimented. “Oh. Th-thank you, ma’am-- I mean-- Sorry.”

“You are very nervous.” EB observed. She tilted her head at Joan. “Why aren’t you running away from me? Are you not scared of me?”

“I am.” Joan blurted, then instantly wanted to bite off her tongue. But EB didn’t look offended. “I-I just, umm…” She couldn’t get her words to form coherently.

“Freaks gotta stick together, huh?” EB said.

“Oh, uhh-- Y-yeah.”

EB cracked the smallest smile, ruffled Joan’s hair, and then lumbered away. Joan blinked as she walked away, feeling slowly returning to her tense muscles. She touched the area that EB had pat, and wondered how she got out of that alive.

------

Joan saw EB frequently, but it wasn’t until a freezing cold rainy day that they really interacted again.

Joan had trudged through the rain, already late for work, and was now shivering from head-to-toe. Her ears felt like they were frozen solid, her wings were dripping wet and heavy with rainwater, and she was beginning to worry that her claws were about to fall off. Mist was streaming from her nostrils and her fangs chattered together loudly as she staggered to her dressing room to get busy, but was stopped when a certain griffon vulture stepped into her path.

“You about to blow up or something?” EB said, glancing at the white mist wreathing around Joan’s small fawn horns.

“Oh, uhh-- N-no,” Joan said. “Th-this just, umm, happens. Sometimes. Wh-when I get too cold.”

“Ah,” EB nodded. “You gonna dry off?”

“I don’t have time,” Joan said. She shook off her wings, and droplets sprayed everywhere. “I gotta s-s-start working.”

She attempted to duck around EB to get into her room, but EB opened one huge wing and stopped her. She stepped back, folding her ears back. EB suddenly looked a lot like an actual griffon with the glinting of her eyes and sharpness of her facial features.

“Look at you,” EB said. “You can barely speak coherently without stuttering. Do you really think you can work like this?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Joan said, pulling her dripping wings in close around her.

“What if you get sick?”

“I’ll still go to work. That isn’t gonna stop me…”

EB rubbed her forehead. “You are a stubborn little thing, aren’t you? I wouldn’t have expected that.” Then, she was sliding off her thick grey-green coat and dropping it over Joan. “There.”

The weight of the jacket actually made Joan stagger slightly. It was heavy and bulky, but was still warm from EB wearing it. She blinked over its mass at EB.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t wash this right now. There’s not a washing machine here. I can take it home with me, though?” Joan said.

EB looked at her like her ears just detached from her head and flew off into the ceiling. “No, I’m giving it to you. So you can wear it.”

Joan blinked even more. “What?”

“You’re shivering just a little, kid,” EB said, gesturing to Joan’s vibrating body with one wing. “Take it. You need it more than I do.” Without the jacket, EB’s tattoos and the scar around her neck was more visible than it usually was. It was inflamed bright red, like Anne’s and Howard’s, but rough like a third-degree rope burn that never truly healed. Joan struggled not to look at it, so she just focused her eyes on the tattoo of a noose wound around EB’s left wrist.

“B-but--” Joan stuttered. “I-I can’t. Y-you need it, too!”

“Trust me, it’s okay,” EB said. “Go on. Put it on and go do your work. Don’t worry about me.”

And then, she walked away, ending the conversation and not allowing Joan to give her her jacket back. Joan hesitantly put the coat on. The smell of cigarettes and incenses was oddly comforting.

------

“Oi, heads up!” Joan yelped out loud when a water bottle suddenly hit her in the head. She rubbed the area of impact and turned around to see EB standing in the doorway.

“Sorry.” EB said. “Stay hydrated, kid.”

And then, like last time, she whisked off before Joan could even say anything else.

------

When molting season rolled around, Joan’s wings became two masses of discolored itchiness. Her old feathers were now brittle and stiff, and the new feathers scratched her skin as they grew over the old ones. She had to start plucking soon, since she didn’t want to bother Aragon and Howard with helping her molt.

And then, there was a knock against her door frame.

“Damn,” EB said. “You got worse wing care than me, kid.”

She walked over to where Joan was hunched over her work table. Her own wings were surprisingly glossy and shiny, meaning she had molted recently. It was strange to see her feathers not sticking up everywhere like they were charged with static electricity. She extended her clawed hands to Joan’s wings.

“May I?”

“Umm… Sure.” Joan said hesitantly.

EB opened Joan’s wing with more gentleness than Joan had been expecting and whistled.

“Yikes.” EB commented helpfully. “Yeah, I’m afraid to tell you that your wings are now overgrown bushes.”

Joan grunted. “They’re usually like this…”

EB raised an eyebrow. “Really? Hybrids can’t molt?”

Joan shook her head sluggishly. “No. So I gotta pull them out or else they’ll overgrow and get yucky and then I’ll get sick.”

EB nodded. “Ah,” She said, then swiped some scissors from a cup of supplies. “Well, we don’t want that happening, do we?”

Joan glanced back at her. “Wh-what are you doing?” She asked.

“What does it look like?” EB answered, twirling the scissors haphazardly on one of her fingers. “I’m helping you. Now, face forward and sit still, or I can’t be blamed for you getting cut. For once.” She chuckled.

That’s right. Didn’t EB go to jail? Several times?

Joan swallowed thickly and sat as still as she could. Her hand was shaking slightly, splattering small droplets of black ink on her notepad. Her ears were pinned back flat against the top of her head. In her mind, she kept saying that nothing would happen, that everything was going to be okay, that it was--

“Ow!” Joan yelped, flinching and flaring her crest feathers.

“Sorry, sorry,” EB said. “Yikes, these are fragile. They’re just breaking right off.”

“Yeah, that--that happens,” Joan said.

Behind her, the scissors EB was using snipped away, cutting off old feathers and allowing room for the new ones to grow in properly. Her hands and movements were surprisingly gentle, wickedly sharp claws just barely brushing the skin of Joan’s wings. She was actually being quite careful to avoid cutting Joan on accident.

“So…” EB started. “Sorry, I’m a little awkward, too. I’m not used to this, either. Being around people so much. I kinda just avoid everyone. Though, it’s not like anyone goes around me anyway.” She opened one wing and waved it slightly.

Like crow and raven Avems being a sign of death and dove Avems being completely innocent, a stigma was formed around vultures. Mary I of England, aka Bloody Mary, had been a white-backed vulture. After she mass murdered hundreds of people by burning them alive, a mark was left on the views of vulture Avems, and not just the white-backed ones. They were stereotyped as malicious, sadistic, and filthy creatures that ate corpses and smelled like decay and had sex with dead bodies.

But EB didn’t look like she particularly enjoyed engaging in necrophilia (Joan wasn’t even sure where that stereotype even came from). She didn’t smell like decay, either, rather just cigarettes and the smallest hint of what she thought was oil. And she definitely didn’t seem like she ate dead stuff; Avems couldn’t even eat dead things without getting sick, anyway, only Vespers could!

No, EB just looked jaded. Grizzled from the gore of her brutal execution and rugged from the harshness of the modern London world, EB was cold, but not cruel. She was helping Joan, after all. She was just hiding a warmer heart behind walls of thorns because she had learned that to stay safe, she had to become stony and detached. So, she kept her eyes in a permanent sharp leer and her voice barbed and wrapped in shards of glass. She gave in to the stigma of her wings to keep them on her back.

“Oh,” Joan said after a moment. “I’m sorry.”

EB shook her head. “I’m not sure why you’re apologizing. You didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, but stil…” Joan said. “It’s awful… What some people say…”

“It wasn’t that bad before my death,” EB shrugged. “Mary hadn’t gone fucking insane. Though, some people did think it was weird that a vulture was also a nun.” She chuckled, and it was a rough, rumbly sound in her throat. “But I got used to it.”

Joan wished she could do that. She was never able to just ignore what people said about her, and simply not caring was even harder. Because she did care. A lot. And it hurt really badly to hear some of the things people said about her.

“Yeah,” Joan whispered softly, though she didn’t have the same outlook as EB at all. She could never be that strong or confident over herself.

A silence descended upon the two of them again as EB continued to cut away Joan’s old, dead feathers. Joan’s wings still itched, but not as badly; she truly appreciated what EB was doing for her.

“Thank you,” Joan said, breaking the silence. “This was really nice of you to do for me.”

“Don’t mention it,” EB said. “No need for you to get picked on even more for having dirty wings.” Then, thoughtfully, after a moment of thinking, “Your wings looked better than most of theirs, anyway. Much cooler.”

Joan felt a shy blush rise to her cheeks, folding her ears bashfully. “Th-thanks,” She whispered. “Really. I really do appreciate it.”

EB hummed. “No problem. I got your back, kid.”

------

There was a small storage area on the back of one of the tour buses that held spare tech equipment, and EB was insanely protective of it.

Nobody really knew why, but most of the other crew members called it her “nest.” She manned and took care of the equipment, she unloaded tech items when they were needed, and she made sure everything was in working order. And she /hated/ when people went back there without her permission.

But Joan didn’t get the memo.

Well, she did, but she wasn’t in the right headspace to consider the risk she was taking when she staggered to the back of the truck. She just needed to be alone, away from the workers that had called her rude slurs for accidentally hitting them with her wings, and she thought that the truck would be the perfect place to have her mental breakdown in peace. The door was cracked open slightly, anyway, so it should have been shut if nobody wanted her being inside. And she hadn’t even recognized the truck when she shimmied underneath the door and staggered into the darkness.

Instantly, a wire wrapped around Joan’s ankle and she yelped, jumping free. She ran into some stacked speakers, then smacked a few metal poles with her wings, and now she was starting to see why she had been yelled at. She was so stupid and clumsy and--

Joan sniffled. She stepped over several snarls of wires and weaved around spotlights before finding a nice spot between a few boxes where she could sit down. She wedged herself into the small space, hugged her knees in close, and then started to cry.

Every bad thing was bubbling forth again, but she was used to it by now. She tried so hard to suppress all her emotions, but the slightest bad thing caused them to come spewing out.

She just hated her wings. And she hated being a hybrid. And she hated even being alive again because she felt like there was no real point for her being there. She wasn’t anyone special at all. She was just forgettable and useless and dumb.

Joan’s chest began to ache with the force of her sobs. She pulled her ears with her claws dug in; sometimes she considered just ripping them right out. Maybe she could pass for a regular Avem if she removed them and then broke off her horns and then never opened her wings.

Maybe she could finally just be normal.

A sound interrupted Joan’s crying session- footsteps, ruffling wings, rattling metal.

The truck door flew open.

Joan flinched, accidentally letting a gasp escape her when the metal door hit the top of the truck. She only then realized where she was and froze, curling into a tight ball to try and hide herself behind the boxes.

“Who is in here?” The vulture’s voice snarled.

Joan squeezed her eyes shut and prayed to the goddesses that she would be spared from a brutal death. She was already imagining her throat being gouged out by EB’s claws or her stomach getting slashed open and her guts ripped out.

She imagined the jaw trap and barely suppressed a sob.

She could take a gut spill and even EB decapitating her to mimic her own death, but she couldn’t take the jaw trap. Not again. She was already starting to taste the metal plate and feel the iron jaws clamping around her mouth and hear the clinking and ticking of gears and springs as the rusty old jaw trap began to malfunction and spring open, ripping her bottom jaw off while she was still breathing…

EB stepped into the truck; Joan could hear her wings brushing against speakers and lights and boxes.

“Who is in here?” EB said again, this time a lot more fiercely. “Answer me, now!”

Joan wrapped her wings around herself and wept in fear. She couldn’t stop shaking. She didn’t want to be punished for something she did on accident. She didn’t want the jaw trap on her again.

She heard EB walking further into the truck, peeking behind metal beams and moving boxes to check in crevices. And then she came to Joan’s hiding spot and they locked eyes.

“Joan,” EB said, slightly surprised.

“I’m sorry!” Joan blurted instantly. “I’m so, so sorry! I-I didn’t mean it! I didn’t look where I was going, I’m sorry!”

“Woah, hey, calm down,” EB said.

“Please don’t hurt me,” Joan begged, trying to hide under her wings. “Please, please… I didn’t mean it, I promise!”

EB stared her down in silence for a moment. “Okay, you need to take a breath,” She said after a moment. “You’re freaking out, kid.”

Joan whimpered pathetically in response.

“I’m not going to hurt you, alright? I’m not mad.” EB said, raising her talons to seem less threatening. “Just calm down.”

Joan sniffled and wiped her eyes. EB looked at her closely.

“Why are you crying?”

“I-it’s nothing,” Joan said, then hiccuped. Of course. She always hiccuped when she was nervous or scared. Or upset. Or flustered. It was just awful.

“Did someone say something to you?” EB pressed anyway.

Joan shrugged, even though she knew the answer was ‘yes.’ “I-I just needed to be alone,” She croaked.

“Ah,” EB nodded. Then, she took a key off the key ring she was holding and tossed it to Joan. “Here. This is a spare for the truck. You can come in here whenever you need to get away from everything.”

Joan floundered for a moment in shock, blinking and opened and closing her mouth several times.

“Th-th-thank you,” She finally sputtered out.

“Yeah, yeah,” EB said. “Just don’t touch anything. And don’t break anything.”

Joan sniffled and nodded. “O-okay. Thank you.”

------

Joan was standing outside of the theater, watching the rain, getting some fresh air to ease her aching chest. She didn’t like the anxiety attacks that made her heart feel like it was exploding inside of her; she would rather not be able to breathe because this just made her think she was having a heart attack, which then made the anxiety attack even worse.

She closed her eyes and held her breath for five seconds, then released it. She did this several times, not really feeling a change in her heart pain, then heard the front doors to the theater open and close.

“You good, kid?”

Joan opened her eyes and saw EB standing there beside her. She thought the woman had an expression of worry on her face, but she couldn’t quite tell; EB’s emotions were always really difficult to discern.

“Y-yeah,” Joan whispered shakily.

“You don’t sound good,” EB observed. She leaned against the wall next to Joan. “I’ll keep you company until you are.”

“Thanks…”

Silence fell between them. Thunder rumbled deeply from the thick dark grey clouds overhead. The rain fell harder. A chill settled over the street. Joan shivered and pulled her wings around herself, but the smooth bat skin inside of them provided little warmth.

“How do you do it?” Joan asked quietly.

The tufts on EB’s ears pricked up and she looked at Joan curiously. “What?” “How do you not get bothered by all the mean people?” Joan clarified, internally wincing at how childish the question sounded.

“Oh,” EB said, then shrugged. “I just ignore it, I guess. Why should I care what other people think? They don’t know me, and they certainly don’t matter to me.”

Joan nodded, but didn’t find that very helpful for her. It was impossible for her not to care.

“Alright,” Joan said quietly.

“Don’t let stupid people bother you.” EB said.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Joan mumbled. “Sorry…”

“Hm.” EB hummed. She took a pack of cigarettes out of her back pocket and held one down to Joan. Joan blinked up at her. “You mind?”

“Oh.” Joan understood after a moment. She ground her teeth together, riling up the firestorm inside of her, then blew a breath of frost onto the cigarette.

She and EB stared at the now-frozen cigarette. Joan’s face turned bright red, while EB chuckled gruffly.

“S-sorry,” Joan whispered.

“Don’t sweat it, kid,” EB said. She put the frozen cigarette back into the box to thaw and grabbed a new one, using an actual lighter to light it. She offered the box to Joan. “You want one?”

Joan wrinkled her nose in distaste. “No thank you.”

EB chuckled again, this time a little more heartily. “Good girl.” She said. “This stuff will kill you.”

“Then why do you smoke?” Joan asked confusedly.

EB shrugged and blew out some smoke like a Hydra would. “Old habits die hard, I guess. Plus, who knows, maybe I like pretending to be Hydra.”

“Oh.”

Another silence fell over them as EB smoked. The smell was overwhelmingly rank, but Joan didn’t want to make EB mad or upset by saying something, so she kept her mouth shut.

“Does what people say bother you that much?” EB asked.

“Yeah,” Joan answered softly. “It’s all I can think about sometimes.”

“I see,” EB said. She finished her smoke and then put the cigarette out. She turned to Joan. “Let me know who bothers you, yeah? I’ll break their ribs.”

Something about those violent, but protective words touched Joan’s heart, and she was suddenly leaping forward and throwing her arms and wings around EB.

“Oof-- Okay,” EB stumbled back slightly. Her talons hovered over Joan. “Agh. Alright. Fine. Just this once.” She returned the embrace, sweeping her massive wings around Joan.

“Thank you,” Joan whispered, nuzzling into EB’s warmth and secure hold without even thinking it through. She couldn’t help herself- she so desperately craved touch and affection.

“Heh. Yeah. No problem, love.” EB said. “You adorable little freak.”

And, for once, Joan wasn’t hurt by those words.

#wing au #dont tag as ship or i will pour milk in your shoes #six the musical #six the musical au #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #uk tour six #elizabeth barton #tour joan on the keys #vulture food

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werewolfdays · 3 years

Note

Touch prompt #8 please!

8. to protect:

“Why use trail cams?” I asked as I tightened the straps of one on a tree, “I mean, it’s not like Ivan can’t afford some fancy security. He’s definitely invested a lot into the Lodge itself.”

Jayde always moaned and complained whenever she had to replace the trail cameras around the Lodge’s property, so I figured I would join her this time around. No one liked doing this particular job. I suppose it was pretty tedious. Jayde and I have spent the majority of the day replacing two dozen trail cameras scattered around certain points along the perimeter that were considered blind spots for patrols.

We used an off road jeep to make things go faster, but the process became a little mind numbing. Drive, park, set up cameras, go back to the jeep, drive, park, set up cameras… I didn’t even notice evening was approaching until it was getting more difficult for me to see.

“Well,” Jayde started to answer patiently, half distracted by activating another camera, “For more than a few reasons, actually. These cameras are built to be out in the elements and they last a long time without any maintenance. They’re camouflaged. It’s cheaper and less conspicuous to be buying them. They’re motion activated so we don’t have to comb through hours and hours of footage if we need to. And these ones in particular give us alerts when they’ve caught something.”

“Those are all pretty solid reasons.” I said and accepted the newly activated camera she handed me.

She shrugged, “Sometimes you don’t need fancy equipment. Just functional.”

The two of us trudged quite a distance away from the last one, making sure that the cameras were all evenly spaced out. Now that I was aware of the approaching darkness, it seemed to consume the dense forest a lot quicker, the clusters of branches soaking up the blackness of night. It was noticeably darker once we arrived at the next point. I fished into my pack for a handheld flashlight, glancing at Jayde enviously as she went to work on activating a camera without any difficulty seeing the mechanics.

“This isn’t the worst date night.” I remarked while I waited for her to finish with the camera and hand it to me.

Jayde snorted, “I suppose. Could definitely be a bit more romantic though.”

I leaned my shoulder against the trunk of a tree and sported a smirk, “What isn’t romantic about setting up trail cameras with your werewolf girlfriend in the middle of the woods?”

Her amused grin drifted up towards me for a moment, “There is a nice ambience.”

“And we’re doing an activity together.”

“Sure. Even if it’s not exactly the activity I’d prefer doing on a date night.” Jayde’s eyes flashed up again to shoot me a wink.

My cheeks grew hot at the hidden meaning she was hinting at. “I’m sure you can wait a little longer for that. We’re almost done.”

The forest grew pitch black by the time we headed to our last tree. The flashlight in my hand was the only thing that allowed me to see at all, and even then I would get slightly tripped up by the occasional root or rock. Jayde remained close and alert for me, her gaze shifting over our surroundings with meticulous focus. I really had no clue how she could sense anything in that seemingly endless darkness, but I was grateful for it. The woods can be kind of creepy at night sometimes. Especially this close to the property line where Jayde would patrol for threats.

I struggled a little more than necessary when attaching the last trail cam to the tree, trying to juggle the flashlight in my hand while connecting the straps. It took me a little too long to realize I had an extra pair of hands with Jayde here. I rolled my eyes at myself, holding the camera in place with one hand and holding the flashlight out towards Jayde with the other.

“Can you hold this for me?” I asked with a brief glance over my shoulder. My grip on the camera wasn’t as secure as I intended, it started to slip out of place and I brought my other hand back to catch it, but that just made everything jumbled up in my arms. “Crap. Jay, I could really use a hand here.”

“Nadya.” Jayde said.

My name came out of her mouth in an extremely tense whisper. A warning exhaled under her breath. I didn’t even need to see her for that to put me on high alert in just under a second flat. My head turned towards her and the first thing I saw were her glittering amber wolf eyes staring out into the darkness. She was looking outwards from the property line, her entire body still, every muscle coiled and ready.

“Come here.” Jayde commanded quietly, “Turn your light off.”

I obviously couldn’t sense whatever she was sensing, I couldn’t even hear anything out there in the night. Nevertheless I did what I was told, knowing without any doubt that if Jayde was certain something was out there, then something was out there. Turning off the flashlight would get rid of one of the only senses I had that would help me in this situation, but I felt confident with Jayde having my back. Once darkness engulfed us, I slowly lowered the trail camera down on the ground and took careful steps towards the shape in the dark I knew was Jayde.

As soon as I got to her, Jayde held out an arm in front of me like a shield. Her hand rested on my hip, the protective touch easing my nerves, and she slowly pushed me behind her while her gaze remained firmly locked on whatever she sensed lurking in the cover of trees and night. I held onto her arm, peering over her shoulder to try and find any glimpse of movement at all, but there was nothing my human senses could pick up on, which was frustrating.

“What’s out there?” I whispered, only loud enough for Jayde to hear.

She didn’t answer me, only stood as still as a sentinel and waited. Her muscles were so rigid that it felt like the hand gripping her upper arm was holding on to stone. I couldn’t see her face, so I focused once more on the curtain of black before us. The longer I stared, the more I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, swirls of shadow swaying back and forth while my eyes desperately searched for anything. I even thought I could see vague pinpricks of light.

Then I started to think that it wasn’t an illusion of night. Two pinpricks seemed to be getting closer, traveling low to the ground. A snap of a twig confirmed this was no figment of my imagination. With its cover now blown, the strange wolf released a low rumbling growl that raised all the hairs on the back of my neck as it continued to stalk closer.

The wolf got within twenty feet before Jayde finally let out her own menacing warning, “Not a step closer.”

They halted at her words, but didn’t stop their challenging grumble. My eyes had adjusted enough to make out the shape of the predator, to see that this wolf was not on the small side. Apart from the glowing yellow eyes and the flash of white teeth, I couldn’t make out the color of their coat, but it had to be dark to blend in so well with their surroundings.

“Leave. You want in, then I suggest you come back with a better attitude.” Jayde stated with slow and commanding words.

The wolf didn’t seem impressed by Jayde’s display of authority. In fact, their growls seemed to become deeper and more threatening and they started to pace back and forth like an animal trapped in a cage. They didn’t advance just yet, but this behavior made me think they were looking for an opening. My heart started to race.

“When I tell you to go to the jeep, you run.” Jayde ordered under her breath at me.

I gripped her tighter in an unwillingness to leave her side, but I wasn’t sure how I could match a massive werewolf, in their wolf form, in the middle of the night. There were even doubts bouncing around in my head at Jayde’s chances. She was a strong and capable fighter in both of her forms, but this beast had fangs and claws, whereas she was stuck without hers right now. We stupidly left the only gun we had in the jeep. The long day of work made us careless. Maybe this wolf had been stalking us all day, waiting for this exact opportunity.

There was no time to ponder a defensive plan because the wolf decided to strike. The black mass of snarling teeth and fur sprang forward so fast that their glowing yellow eyes became a blur.

“Go!” Jayde shouted at me, shoving me away from her and preparing to meet the hostile beast.

I scrambled away on instinct, but the image of Jayde getting torn apart by this rogue wolf popped into my mind and the terror of it made my limbs turn into lead. Then I realized I wouldn’t have gotten very far anyway, because when I turned around, I saw the large werewolf gunning straight for me.

It felt like my heart completely stopped. Jayde couldn’t get to the wolf before it got to me, I didn’t even have the time to cry out. The massive beast slammed into my body, taking me down and knocking all of the wind out of my lungs once my back impacted with earth. I was nearly crushed under their weight.

Was this it? I thought. At the very least, a bite was guaranteed. There was nothing to stop the wolf from tearing into me. All they would need is a second to do it and I would be totally helpless for exactly that long while Jayde rushed to get to me.

All I saw was a snarling mess of razor sharp teeth baring down towards my throat. I shut my eyes, bracing for the moment they clamped down. But I didn’t feel any pain. Only heard the loud clack of snapping jaws next to my ear with a short rush of wind. My eyes suddenly opened in confusion, thinking that they somehow missed their mark, but then I saw the satisfied expression on the werewolf. They weren’t trying to kill me or turn me. They were trying to scare me.

That’s when Jayde got to us. She used all of her strength to tackle the giant wolf off of me and engage in a vicious attack. While she might not be in her wolf form, she still delivered a bone breaking right hook straight into the wolf’s face. They yelped and flinched away from her, trying to shake off the blow. Her own furious snarls echoed into the woods as she went for another devastating attack. The element of surprise was her advantage, but only for a few moments. I could see that the enemy werewolf was about to gain the upper hand. They managed to strike with a swipe of their claws, ripping through Jayde’s jacket and knocking her off balance. The opportunity was used to pin her down.

“Jay!” I called out hoarsely, still struggling to regain even basic breath.

I couldn’t just lie here and do nothing. There had to be something around that could help me. Somehow the flashlight was still in my grasp, but that was too small to be a useful weapon. After oxygen finally returned to my lungs, I turned it on to desperately look around. Maybe a rock or a big enough stick would help. Then my beam shone over the backpack we left by the tree and I remembered the hunting knife we had. It wasn’t as ideal as a gun, but it was certainly better than nothing.

I shakily got to my feet and rushed toward it, hoping that Jayde would be able to hold out for a few more seconds. My hands scrambled inside the pack until my fingers finally wrapped around the handle of the blade. I pulled it out, discarding the sheath, and directed my flashlight over to the battling tangle a few yards away from me. It was impossible to tell if Jayde had been hurt, but the dark brown wolf was big enough that I wouldn’t have to worry about accidentally stabbing her.

I ran at them, wasting no time in raising my arm and bringing the knife down on the back of the werewolf that had my girlfriend pinned. The blade sunk more than halfway in and the wolf let out a high pitched whine, recoiling away from us. I pulled the knife free and firmly placed myself between Jayde and our assailant once they made their retreat.

“Stay back!” I yelled, glaring at them.

They glared right back at me in both contempt and surprise, clearly not expecting me to injure them at all.

Jayde sprang up behind me. I almost turned around to check on her condition, but I knew I should never take my eyes off of an enemy. She carefully took the knife out of my hand and stepped in front of me once more, breathing hard and full of rage.

“That all you got?” She challenged.

A human chuckle sounded from within the trees and a man stepped into view, holding his hands up casually, “Okay, okay, we’ve had our fun.”

It was hard to make out any details of his face, but he was a fairly tall man. Possibly not that much older than I was because his voice sounded mature, yet still somewhat young. He carried himself confidently, surprisingly laid back despite the tense scene. I frowned as his shoulders still shook with laughter, not understanding how any of this was funny. More puzzling was when he waved his hand and the wolf that just attacked us backed off.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Jayde’s voice shook with fury at the revelation that this assault seemed to be a big joke of some kind.

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that. After what you pulled at Miranda’s gathering, you honestly didn’t think nobody would come and test the might of a new alpha.” He mocked and took a nonchalant step forward, “You’re lucky I didn’t tell Bruce to bite your little human. I only wanted to mess with you a bit.”

Jayde held a protective hand out over me again, her palm resting flat against my abdomen to make sure I stayed where I was. I could tell she would not budge from her place in front of me this time.

“Let me make something extremely clear to you.” She used the same tone with this man as she had when warning the wolf, and I actually saw his smile start to fade, “No one threatens her. I don’t give a shit if it’s just a joke. Anyone that hurts her or scares her, whatever the fuck, will answer to me.”

The stranger’s laugh grew slightly nervous at her intensity. Bruce, the werewolf I stabbed, was lying down in the dirt and whimpering, trying to reach the wound on his back to nurse. I almost volunteered to look at it, but I couldn’t imagine Jayde would let me anywhere near these two. I wasn’t exactly eager to get close to the massive wolf that nearly tore my throat out either.

“Look, maybe it was a bit… much... to toy with your mate like that. No hard feelings, alright? Why don’t I buy you two a drink at the Lodge and we’ll have a good laugh about it?”

Jayde didn’t seem swayed by that lackluster apology, “You’re not going to the Lodge. I won’t allow it.”

The stranger scoffed and stood up straighter. I gathered this man was an alpha in his own right, though I didn’t recognize him at all. He had to be from a lesser known pack. “I have permission to enter from Ivan Cortez himself. You have no say.”

“I do have a say.” Jayde growled, “Ivan gave me the authority to remove individuals who display violence on these grounds unprovoked. Which means I get to tell you to promptly fuck off.”

He snarled quietly, pulling a phone out of his pocket and going to dial a number, “We’ll see about that.”

“Go ahead. Call Ivan and tell him I say you’re not allowed in.” The alpha hesitated at her words, sensing more to them just like I did, “I don’t care if he clears you. You take one step over that line, it won’t end well for you.”

After a long moment of pondering his chances, he lowered the phone and placed it back in his pocket.

“Apologize to her.” Jayde added in a curt command.

Even in the dark, I could see the stranger scowl, but I sensed his attention drift over to me, “I apologize for any offense or any injury I’ve caused. Please forgive me. It won’t happen again.”

I gave an accepting nod, “Maybe you’ll find a better sense of humor in the future.”

“Maybe. You two have a good night.” He said while backing away. The stranger motioned for his pack member to follow and the injured wolf hobbled along after his alpha. Jayde must have done more damage to him than I previously thought, there’s no way my stab wound alone was causing him to limp like that.

Once they disappeared back into the woods, Jayde fully turned to face me. Her expression became one of concern as her hands ran over my body to assess any potential injuries on me. I doubted I would have anything more than some bruising later, but Jayde still looked frantic.

“Are you okay?” Her golden eyes searched me as thoroughly as her hands did.

“I’m fine, Jay, I’m okay.” I quickly reassured her, trying to use my flashlight for my own inspection.

There was some blood splattered in her clothes where Bruce’s claws made contact, but not too much. Hopefully they were shallow cuts. Either way, I wanted to get her back home and to the clinic.

“He didn’t bite you? He didn’t draw any blood?” She gently cupped my face and scanned my features.

“No. I’m okay.” I repeated confidently.

Jayde pulled me into such a fierce embrace, burying her face into the crook of my neck. She took in a deep breath to inhale my scent, and released through a long sigh that allowed her tense body to soften. I held her too, feeling just how terrifying it must have been for her to see that wolf take me down, and I let relief wash over me in the safety of her arms.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded against me, “Just some scratches, it’s nothing.”

We pulled back enough to look at each other again. Jayde’s eyes no longer had the glow of her wolf and her hand came up to rest on the side of my neck, her warm palm against my pulse like she needed to feel the steady beat of my heart against her skin. Her thumb brushed my jawline and I was overcome with the comfort of her contact, tilting my head forward until our foreheads lightly bumped together.

“That stupid motherfucker...” She cursed under her breath while shaking her head, “I’m so sorry.”

“We were expecting something like this to happen. It definitely wasn’t okay, but it could have been worse.” I told her. She was still tense, so I leaned in.

The kiss I pressed to her lips was gentle, yet reassuring, wanting to make sure she was positive that I was fine. She melted into me even more when she kissed back, causing me to smile a little against her mouth. I kept it brief, giving her one more peck before pulling away from her.

“Let’s set that last camera up and get out of here. I wanna go home.”

“So do I.” She murmured.

But Jayde wasn’t fully satiated yet. Her other hand came up to mirror the one cupping the side of my neck and she leaned in to give me a deeper kiss than I had given her. This one was more intimate than the last, pulling me in and anchoring me to her, banishing any lingering fear from both of us. A warm emotion replaced it, pooling in my chest like a sunrise, and making me feel completely safe again, even in the darkness that surrounded us.

Her lips made one more soft stroke against mine and then Jayde slowly broke away from me, walking back to the tree where the trail camera was left and strapping it on the trunk.

#asks #anon #ocs #original characters #werewolves #my ocs #my writing #by golly y’all this election is Stressing me out #so I haven’t been able to focus on writing much #but here’s a prompt for ya!#I’ll try to get to the others here soon and also work on plot things #but in the meantime pray for my garbage country #Jayde #Nadya #Nadya pov

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platinumbutthole · 4 years

Text

Memories in Red

When a dream has gone on for too long, the thin membrane between reality and the clouded world of the mind may be broken, leaving the dreamer submerged in the dark void of their own subconscious. Another dream has come and went, even as it proves to be darker and more unpleasant than the last, I miss it dearly.

I awake to this padded room once again rattled, only to recollect that I am indeed crazy, spats of lucidity grace my presence as if pleading me to write out this memoir of sorts. This very well may be the only way I can gain a grip back into reality, or more likely, drive myself deeper into the thick fog that is consuming my mind. In this conscious state, I recollect only that of less importance unto myself; age, occupation, or even my damn name remains a mystery. But of what I know, I did have a life before my spiral into the abyss of insanity. A wife that dips into my memories only to taunt me with her mysterious beauty, a pocket watch that meant some special importance in my life, a dog, and a grotesque bastard child. You see, I was sent here of my own accord, I did not want to be locked up with the ingrates of the penal system, I felt better suited to be one with the shit eaters and comatose rotted vegetables that also live within the walls of this sanitarium. In here, bound up like mummified corpses, the fear isn’t of those around us, it is of what is inside yourself. I chose this route because of an urge that set upon me long ago, this urge is only one of the multiple memories that alludes me every time I find myself sitting on the edge of reality looking back into the grim horrors that clouds my true subconscious.

The bloody cuts across my hands and fingers are the only real source of entertainment here, it seems my writing has been going on for quite some time judging by the amount of scribble on the walls, red patches, and smears correlate into a jumbled mess of words directed only towards myself. These words scrolled out reveal portions of my life that I may have wanted to remember, or possibly forget. Judging by the writing on the walls, I must have been busy the past few days, so many words and phrases give way to more conclusive statements. “Children under god” and “remember” plastered in bright red imagery above the cell door, followed by multiple occurrences of the name “Virgil”.

In this place, time holds value higher than any currency, it is not easily retrieved, and the lack of a clock or workers doesn’t help the issue one bit. Thought my memories are few and far between, I don’t recall any staff member gracing me with their presence in a long time, I don’t know how long I have gone without human interaction, let alone food and water. Looking at my poor excuse for a body it seems like I haven’t indulged in sustenance in quite a long time, each rib visible as the last, a pale, bony chest leading to shoulders that have no fat left on them. My shadow being cast by the single white florescent bulb that hangs in the middle of my padded hovel looks like the creatures that haunt me late at night, I laugh, trying to convince myself that these nightly visits are all in my head, but the scars tell otherwise. I say this because being in a padded room meant for a mentally unhinged patient as myself, there is no tool for me to tear into my own flesh, no knife or piece of glass, gifting myself the sweet release of red ink that I so desperately crave. No, I get these wounds by another force, an unknown being in the shadows, the corners of my cell representing the shackles of my mind that won’t let me free. Sometimes it comes in the form of my wife, nameless and transparent she takes my arms, lifting them up and giving them the lightest kiss before slashing with her sharp claw-like nails, as I look up from the blood into her dark eyes, the calmness turns to fear as she opens her gaping mouth to reveal a black darkness that wants to swallow me whole. This vision of horror only to be set back by rapping on my padded door, no one is there, no one is ever there. I recall waking from a state of mental unsightliness to observe a black dog with bright yellow eyes peering at me from that damned corner of the room, growling and grimacing to show every razor-sharp fang only to leap onto me. I have heard the dreaded sound of tearing flesh too many times in my life, the beings that lurk in this room with me want me to write, they want to be heard. I am tired now, without the value of time at my disposal, the only thing telling me that night has come is when the power to the only light source in the room is shut off. It’s dark now and I must try to sleep.

As I am about to fall into a distant slumber, praying to not being visited by whatever horrible entity of my wretched mind has in store, I hear screaming. This is not an abnormal occurrence in this place, but these screams are different. It sounds as if a child had gotten loose and is running through the halls churning their sorrows into an inconceivable volume not meant for human consumption, and the sound is growing closer to my room. Most of the time the wailing of the mad are my lullaby, whisking me off to a gentle sleep, but not this, it’s been getting closer and closer by the minute, inch by inch the louder it gets. Screams forcing their way through my ear drums and into my very soul. I try to cup my ears with my bloody palms but it’s no use, my eyes feel like they are going to burst only for the screaming to pass my door and stop suddenly. I release my grasp on my head and slowly slide myself to the door, I can’t hear anything, but I feel breathing on the other side as if taunting me, anxiety then hits my chest and I can’t breathe, my heart throbs and the blood smeared writing on the walls beats at the same rate. I fall on my back, looking up at the dark red literature on the walls, only getting brighter with every beat of my waning heart. I can’t hear anything, but I feel something watching me, laughing at me so menacingly that it tears at my insides and would rip my intestines out if gotten the chance. As quickly as I was brought back into my lucid like state, I was taken back again. I find myself at the threshold of sound mind mostly at night, which makes me ironically yearn for more sleep because within this realm of what we know as real, I am brought back into the pit of despair that only those that have experienced true hell will understand.

It’s been a few days now, and I must give myself a hand for the mural now sitting upon the wall adjacent to the door. A painting depicting only what I can convey as a child, sitting on a tricycle peddling towards a grove which is overlooked by a structure deep in the distance. It is disturbing to say the least, not only for the gruesome open-mouthed scowl rippled across the child’s face along with hideously dead eyes, but for the mere fact that it was completely created by the glorious red ink, what a waste. I must have been out cold for a while due to blood loss from the magnitude of my work, but after a while of sitting and staring it seems to calm me, a haven to place my mind when it turns inward on itself once again. I have never been the artistic type, but seeing the absolute scale and detail baffles me, this would be an immense feat to accomplish with a brush let alone a bloody finger. I search my entire brittle body to find an entry point or wound that could have saturated this wall the way it appears, but I find no new scars, my body is the way I left it.

As I sit and marvel at my work of art, I start to hear a sound, the squeaking of wheels ever so gently moving down the corridor outside my cell. I know how ignorant I must be, but the sense of anxiety and dread fill my chest cavity and I can’t take another second. I cannot be taken back again so soon, I must sit and write and keep my sanity just this once, but the wheels keep turning, bringing themselves closer to my room, all I can do is pray to whatever being is still out there for them to pass. Every second feels as if I am staring at the blade of the guillotine waiting for the rope to be cut, but as it creeps closer, the sound suddenly vanishes. I am in silence now, my body aches but I am still, knowing that something is out there waiting, staring directly into the cell, its breath hitting the widow with such force I hear it across the room. I cannot bring myself to peer out of the small dusty window on the door, for hiding whatever alludes me is the only way I can still survive here.

My visitor has yet to show itself, just viewing my quarters through a tiny glass pane, mocking me for my cowardliness to not step up and peer into the eyes of the unknown. I have convinced myself time and time again that there is a good reason I am in here, for I have the tendencies of a mad man, and inside these walls is the only place I belong. But this entity standing at my door may be my last hope of salvation, an utterance of good in a place stricken with evil. I have convinced myself to stand up and show my face to the staring one, and as I stand, the lonely light in the room flashes and burns out. Darkness hits my skin and chills me to my core, I cannot be trapped in here again, alone, pleading for light, the salvation to my pain-stricken mind. This mustn’t stop me, I must see my viewing party firsthand or forever be confined within the madness of the unknown. Every step to the door of my padded cell takes longer than the last, heart beating faster and faster, red ink on the walls flashing to the beat once again, illuminating my short path. I step up to the door, feeling the buildup of anxiety piercing my internal organs, wincing at the pain I look up at the cold, dusty, window. I look through to see nothing, just the source of blackness that has poured into the confines of my cell. But still, the breathing continues at a more advanced pace, this time it is not hitting the door, the hairs on the back of my neck raise as the hot rush of air pours onto me.

I clench my jaw tight, close my eyes, and stand facing the door hoping for whatever is behind me to leave my presence, but it does not go away. Instead, I feel the grip of a bony hand onto my shoulder, long nails cutting into my skin, I glance down slowly to see the hand that is grasping me is a woman’s, I can see her wedding ring digging into the finger leaving barely any skin, only pure white bone. I have an instant of clarity, realizing I know that hand from so long ago, I turn back quickly to view my visitor only to be greeted by my mural, only it’s changed. Bright red ink glowing so bright in the pitch blackness, showing off the same detailed landscape, the grove with an overlooking structure, but the child is gone, what is left is the bloody trail of something dragged off the bottom of the painting. Before I could even look over the whole mural, the light in the middle of the room bursts on, presenting the painting in its entirety in which the pure sight of it all brought me to my knees, hands pressed tightly against the sides of my head I couldn’t scream, nothing was left in me. In the picture, the bloody marks where the child once sat and rode his tricycle, lead out of the painting onto the ground where I knelt, and at the end of the trail laid the red coated tricycle laying sideways, wheel still spinning, squeaking ever so softly. I start to shake erratically, as my eyes move past the toy, onto a small body lying face down near my feet, bloodied and battered, the ink to my mural.

I know now what I have done to be in this place, I deserve to be here, in this wretched cell, dipping meaninglessly into insanity only to be brought back to face the reality of my cruel ways. As I stare at the lifeless corpse laying at my feet, it begins to move, and twitch in horrible ways I cannot even try to describe, he lifts his head by a weak neck, dark dead eyes lead down to a hideous scowl wrapped around a twisted face. I squirm, the dreaded feeling tearing away at my guilt-stricken insides consumes my whole body, leaving me motionless, not a single breath left in my lungs. I know that face, as horrid and decrepit as it may seem, whatever lay before me was my son, but now just another entity meant to bring me exactly what I deserve. Now all I have left to do is stare into the precipice of my own despair, waiting for this entity to consume me in the most dreadful way possible. We can never truly block out the pain, it will always be there, waiting to torment us until our last breath

#horror #writing #first piece #red #memories #death #insanity #lucidity #asylum #spooky #child #broken #technique #critique

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nyxdelanuit · 4 years

Text

A Dream In Red Ch 11

A03

After the few longs nights this week, you awoke Friday morning well-rested. Nervous energy bubbled through you, tonight you would attend your first party with your new friends. Before that though, you had a few classes. You were glad you had the foresight to make sure you had fewer classes on Fridays, effectively giving you half-days.

You rushed through your morning routine, throwing your hair up quick before locking up. You felt too impatient to wait for the elevator and pranced down the stairs, two at a time. You skipped into the commons area, greeting a sleepy Tetsutetsu as you passed into the kitchen. You nearly froze in the doorway. Kirishima stood in front of you, hair down and tied back, with an apron barely covering his front. He graced you with a big smile as he tried to balance all the ingredients he pulled from the fridge.

“Want some help, Red?” you giggled as the eggs nearly fell out from the bottom of his pile. You quickly took them from him and grabbed a few things precariously perched on top.

“Thanks, Lil Mama.” He started laying out his ingredients haphazardly across the counters.

“Whatcha makin’?” You peered over his shoulder at his disarray.

“Omelets. I may not be as good of a cook as Bakugou, but I can cook up a few things.” You rolled up your sleeves and grabbed a cutting board. He cocked an eyebrow at you as you set up station next to him.

“I wanna help! I have way too much energy to just wait for you to be done.” You quickly grabbed some veggies from him and rinsed them off in the sink. “Don’t mind me, just do what you do.”

The two of you quickly set to work, you dicing up veggies while Kirishima readied all the meat and the eggs. You watched him out of the corner of your eyes as he whipped the eggs into a frothy mess. He was definitely passionate in whatever he did, whether he was good at it or not. You giggled as the egg splashed on his apron.

It was a rare quiet moment between you two, as you moved around each other lazily. All of Kirishima’s whisking paid off as you plated your breakfast, your omelet was large and fluffy on your plate. You watched Kirishima as he drenched his omelet in cheese and salsa.

“We spent so long making these taste good and you drown yours? You’re crazy Red.” You giggled as he stuck his tongue out at you, balancing three plates on his arms. You walked out with him to the common room, claiming a spot at a bigger table. Kirishima set a plate next to you and placed the other two across from you. The lingering aroma quickly brought Tetsutetsu over, sitting down with a grunt of thanks. Kaminari shuffled into the room and made a beeline for your table, sitting messily and nearly planting his face into his breakfast. The four of you ate in near silence, the boys across from you barely conscious. Kaminari was even eating with his face laid on the table, earning him a glare from Tetsutetsu. You and Kirishima ate slowly, every once in awhile discussing the classes you have today.

Mina bounced in as you were gathering the dishes, following you as you rinsed everything off. “Excited for tonight?” She asked in a sing-song manner. You nodded quickly. “Good, ‘cause when I’m done with my classes, we’re going to get ready together!” she grabbed your arm, nearly making you drop the dishes. You giggled at her exuberance, her excitement feeding your own.

After getting scolded by the awaiting boys, you and Mina scurried out of the dorm building and fell into step with the group walking to the campus. “Hey guys, where’s Sero?” You counted the group as you walked, holding your fingers up in front of you.

“Oh! He planned his schedule so he wouldn’t have classes on Fridays, lucky bastard.” Mina quipped, sighing. “But that means he has more time to get his place ready for tonight!” You and Mina cheered quietly at that. “Speaking of people that aren’t supposed to be here, you’re early Bakugou.” Mina leered at her explosive friend who scoffed.

“Whatever Pinky. Maybe I’m just concentrating on studying today.” He bit back, turning his face away from the group.

“Okay Blast Boy, whatever you say.” The group split soon after that, walking casually to their first classes. Tetsutetsu and Kirishima flanked you as your group approached the gym.

“Man, I really don’t feel like getting all banged up today.” You whined softly. “I’m gonna come out of here with another bruise, and I just got rid of the one I got yesterday.”

“Such is the life of a hero.” Tetsutetsu still yawned from next to you.

“At least bruises look manly! It’s a testament that you stood up to something.” Kirishima clutched his fist in front of him, and you wondered if he ever hurt his eyes with how often he seemed to be staring up into the bright morning sky. Damn morning people.

“Well, most of my bruises just mean I stood up to a chair or table. A door frame if I’m lucky.” You giggled. You should probably work on your spatial awareness. The three of you walked into Fatgum’s gym and split off into the locker rooms. You made quick work of your change and ran back out to the gym. At least you had the energy for this today. Kirishima and Tetsutetsu joined you as you were beginning your stretches.

“Alright. Today’s to nice of a day to be cooped up in the gym, so we’re taking it outside!” Fatgum announced cheerily to the class. He walked around a bit, a bento uncovered in his hands. “We’re gonna do some team battles! Once a week, we’ll split into teams and fight some of the other teams. This way we get to see some weaknesses we never would have gotten to with normal training. Today we’re starting with teams of two, your choice. Now let’s go!” He shoved some food from the bento into his mouth as he turned to leave the gym.

“Hey, Y/N, let’s team up!” Tetsutetsu had asked, but Kirishima had already grabbed your hand and helped you up off the floor. The two of you were already walking away.

“Sorry Tetsu, maybe next time?” You felt a little bad at leaving him behind, but you were happy Kirishima had picked you over Tetsutetsu or even some of his previous classmates.

“Alright Lil Mama, time to plan quick.” Kirishima looked over at you mischievously. “First of all, no talking out loud. Just get all up in my head.” He shot you a wink at that, and you felt yourself reddening, but you nodded. “I’ll be your shield, so you get to be my badass spear, got it? You get an opening and you take it, I’ll cover you.” His belief in you was invigorating. Before the two of you could elaborate further, Fatgum announced the battles. You and Kirishima would be up first.

You wandered out to the field, Kirishima placing himself further in front of you. On the other side, a sullen Tetsutetsu settled in front of a rather unique looking individual. His skin was a pallid green with blade-like protrusions on each side of his face.

Fatgum signaled the start of the match and you all fell into your stances. You quickly connected with Kirishima’s mind, and he flooded you with information about your combatants. You knew most of the information he had about Tetsutetsu, so you focused on the newcomer. Togaru Kamakiri, hero name Jack Mantis, quirk: Razor Blades. Highly offensive, sharp enough to cut through steel. With this information, you readied yourself.

Tetsutetsu set himself on Kirishima, both of their quirks enveloping their bodies. Steel met rock in a grating clash. You felt your lance materialize heavily in your hands and you rushed into the fray. Jack Mantis had his blades formed on his arms as well, meeting your attack with a quick parry. The fight would be drawn out and taxing if you kept this matchup. With a quick flash of information to Kiri, he separated himself from Tetsu long enough for you to roll over his shoulders. A loud clang let you know that he just barely blocked the hit that Jack Mantis aimed at you. Tetsutetsu stood in front of you, staring at you quizzically. You took this opening to probe into his mind. It was unexpected to him, and he had little defense for your unusual intrusion. As he was distracted, you rushed in to get a few good hits with your lance. You knew it wouldn’t do much to the steel-skinned man, but it drew his attention away from the intrusion in his mind. You quickly delved into his fears, trying to find the easiest to summon. Your eyes had grew hazy at this, you hadn’t had any practice in keeping up your summoned illusions, and a mental connection with not one, but two people.

This momentary lapse allowed Tetsu to move in close, landing a staggering blow to your stomach. You felt alarm through your connection with both boys, but you eased Kirishima’s worries quickly. For Tetsu, you quickly mocked a flash of pain, and you saw his face droop in concern. Then you unleashed your new information on him. Giant serpents burst from the ground at his feet, wrapping around his legs. You felt his shock and fear more than you saw it, and you materialized your war hammer behind him. With a resounding crash, the hammer broke through his steel. The snakes wrapping around him quickly took advantage of his soft skin, plunging curved fangs into his pliant flesh. Tetsutetsu fell, a frightened howl escaping from his mouth.

Your moment of victory was cut short as a quick flash of panic coursed through your head. You turned quickly, barely parrying the hit of a blade. Jack Mantis had managed to maneuver around Kirishima and was fully focused on you. He was quicker than you were. You would not last much longer without getting the upper hand. A deep, grounding breath stilled you as you delved into Jack Mantis’s mind. You felt yourself growing a bit hazy, there was so much going on in your head. You barely unleashed his fears in your head, it was cacophonous. So many thoughts, you couldn’t decipher whose belonged to who. You saw Jack Mantis hold onto his head. Kirishima was flinching as he made his way to the two of you. Kirishima’s fist hit Jack Mantis with a resounding crack, and Jack Mantis fell like a puppet cut from its strings.

But the cacophony remained. You couldn’t control it. You bounced fears and thoughts through your head, into Kirishima and Tetsu and Jack. It was deafening, and you couldn’t shut it down. Your panic amplified the sensations coursing through your head. You should have dropped Tetsu’s mind once he was down, you should have focused offensively. Regret washed through you, you were getting lost in your own mind.

Warm hands enveloped your face, they traveled down to your waist. Those strong hands gathered you into a strong but pliant body. A hand wrapped around yours, tightly gripping yours. Waves of calming energy filtered through your head slowly. A familiar sense of summer days overtook you. Your eyes cleared, crimson red filled your vision, and then darkness.

You awoke on what seemed to be the softest bed you had ever encountered. You opened your eyes and were greeted by the large grin of Fatgum. You were carefully perched on his plush torso.

“Good job out there. Want a candy?” He held out a hand, and a small sweet sat in the center. You accepted gratefully, popping it into your mouth. The sweetness helped wake you up a little bit more. You felt pretty good for having been unconscious moments before. Kirishima quickly made his way over, helping you off of his mentor and settled you down on the grass next to Fatgum.

“And that, students, is why we have classes like this. While Kirishima did an excellent job de-escalating the situation and talking down his partner, we are here to push the boundaries of our quirks. When doing that, it can have unintended consequences like what happened during this match. Now we can move forward in a more controlled environment and work on these issues in depth. Now that everyone is up and moving, let’s get onto the next match!” You felt a little embarrassed at Fatgum’s words.

Kirishima frowned a bit as he looked at you. Even without the two of you being connected, he could tell you were beating yourself up over the end of the match. He sat next to you, gently holding your hand.

A large hand settled on the top of your head, and you angled up to look at Fatgum. “You did good kid. It didn’t end how you wanted it to, but you two won! And earlier this week, you could barely connect to people’s thoughts. Kirishima here tells me you had three going at a time! That’s a lot of work in a little time, missy! Just give it a little more time and you’ll have all of the class eating out of your palm with just a glance.” He ruffled your hair with a smile and handed you a big bento. “That probably took a lot out of you two, why don’t you split this?” You nodded and took the food from him.

Kirishima thanked Fatgum, and he responded with a mischievous grin and a wink. You stared, confused, as the redhead blushed in front of you. For the remainder of the class, the two of you picked over the food and discussed the fights between your classmates.

One more slow class and you were finished for the day. The sun still sat high in the sky as you neared the dorms, keeping an eye out for Mina. A pink blur in your peripherals warned you and you quickly turned to intercept her lunge towards you.

“No fair! Come on, we gotta get ready!” She cheered as she untangled herself from you and grabbed your wrist, dragging you into the dorms.

#Kirishima Eijirou #kirishima x reader #bnha #mha #bakusquad #nyx writes #adir

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keeroo92 · 5 years

Text

Hunger Ch4

@dmcvvitale @tehrevving Here’s part four! Other than hints of necrophilia and a quick murder, this came out surprisingly vanilla. Enjoy!

Word count - 4,048

Part 1 --- Part 2 --- Part 3

___________________________

The city was quiet, subdued in the darkness of night. Only bars and nightclubs remained open, all other businesses unlit and hidden behind protective grates. Old newspapers skittered across the pavement in the breeze, accompanied by the thumping bass from the warehouse across the street. The streetlights offered periodic refuges from the shadows, a place for his prey to feel safe.

She was anything but.

The vampire crouched on the lip of a brick building, watching her every move as she pulled her phone from her bag. He’d been waiting for her to leave the club for hours, keeping himself occupied with memories of you, but at last his prey was in sight. Slim fingers tapped at the screen and the foolish woman forgot to pay attention to her surroundings. A mistake she would not repeat.

He licked his lips, running his tongue over his razor-sharp fangs. Her scent was a pale imitation of yours, her flesh several shades too dark, but the same silent need emanated from her like a siren’s call. It would have to be enough.

He slithered down to street level, keeping to the shadows until he was ready to make his move. His prey remained clueless.

Fool.

He crept closer, waiting for the familiar thrill of the hunt to flood his senses. This was his purpose, as a predator. To hunt and feed and kill those unfortunate enough to be his prey. What a perfect example tonight’s prey was, in her revealing mini dress and heels. A night of fun and revelry, only to end in blood and death. All that she could’ve become, could’ve done with her life was his to take. His to ruin.

Yet he felt no excitement, no anticipation or lust. He was empty.

Bored.

He shook himself, trying to recapture the joy of hunting. What a masterpiece she would be, eyes glazed in death with her own blood splashed across her frozen limbs. She was a canvas, and he the painter. A statement of broken dreams and stolen possibilities, begging to be realized.

V sighed.

He didn’t care.

She was nothing, a boring and plain human. Her lack of attention made hunting her too easy, child’s play. It left so much to be desired, and he was nothing if not a creature of desire. Perhaps she’d scream, beg for her life? He did so enjoy it when his prey begged…

“Please, Master…”

The vampire smirked. Your begging was sweeter than all others. Just remembering the whine of your voice sent surges of need coursing through his veins, a flood of endorphins only you had the power to summon.

He needed to decide. Were you worthy? Would you truly be his equal, or would you fall short? You had yet to disappoint him, in all the months of lustful and hungry experimentations, but the possibility still echoed in his mind. What if he turned you and everything changed? What if you lost your appeal?

A sharp pang of hunger twisted his stomach; he needed to feed, pondering your future could wait.

He flitted into the light and covered his prey’s mouth, other arm tugging her into the darkness. She tried to scream, her throat vibrating in terror as her eyes darted around, but barely a whimper slipped past his tight fingers. The cheap plastic of her heels clicked on the pavement as she struggled, desperate to free herself.

Her panic did nothing for him. If anything, it felt like he was taking the trash out. A chore, dull and tedious. What once brought him immense joy and satisfaction now barely required his attention.

Unacceptable.

He shoved her against the wall and leaned in, taking a deep sniff. The aroma of blood was enough to pique his interest, but only just. It was maddening; where was the thrill? Where was the excitement, the overwhelming rush? What was wrong with him?

Frustration pooled in his belly and he growled. His fangs sank into her flesh with no mercy. The moment he once drew out as long as he could was now only a task to complete. The crimson gush was flavorful and satisfying, but it tasted muted. Like a watered-down soda, lacking the body and decadence of the past. He had to force himself to keep drinking.

Venom dripped onto his tongue and he forced it into her wound; he didn’t care enough to keep her mouth covered any longer. She reacted quickly, pressing her body against his and humming as he slurped. What a pathetic creature. So utterly inferior, his cock twitched out of habit alone.

“Fuck me, Master…”

He snarled. Even thinking of your voice caused more of a reaction than the mewling chaff he was feeding on. Images of you flooded his mind, sprawled out and drenched in blood and ropes of his cum with that blissful afterglow. No matter how he tried to focus on his prey, you refused to leave his thoughts.

So lovely, such a good pet…

His meal moaned and tried to grind against him, lost in the grip of his venom. She tugged at his clothing, clumsy fingers scraping on his shoulders. It annoyed him and he sank his fangs even deeper. The river of scarlet flowing into his mouth quickened and the girl keened, arching her neck to give him wider access. As if he needed permission.

The thudding beat of her heart was fading. Even the knowledge that she was almost spent did nothing for him and he bit deeper still in irritation, tasting cartilage and gristle. Her arms fell away to the sides and her head drooped, her weakness growing every second. The torrent slowed to a pathetic drip and he reluctantly held her up as the last dregs passed his lips.

The girl went limp and he pulled away, watching as her features froze. What a disappointing meal, barely adequate to quench his hunger. She was so ordinary, truly a dinner to forget. He frowned and lowered her to the ground before turning away, wiping his face clean.

As he headed home, he pondered his dilemma again. You were the only one who held his attention now, the only meal he craved and yearned for. If nothing else, the girl in the minidress proved that much.

Yet you would die, and he would be left to return to old habits. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when. While turning you wouldn’t eliminate the possibility of your death, it would halt the aging process. You would gain considerable strength and power and no longer be at risk for several common ailments.

He already knew you’d embrace the dietary changes, and the idea of sharing a meal with you sent lightning racing up his spine. You always looked so delightful with blood smeared on your skin. To see you feed would be marvelous; how enticing it was to picture you making your first kill, looking back to him with blood dribbling from your reddened lips. The possibilities were endless.

You’d be more than his pet; you would be his equal.

The only potential downside was he would lose his dominance, but perhaps you were worth it. Never had a human held his attention this long, nor had he ever considered turning someone. Throughout the centuries, he’d met numerous remarkable people, yet you stood alone above them all. Unique. Irreplaceable.

Worthy.

It’s time.

Within minutes, he arrived at your door and knocked. Your car sat in the parking lot and a dim glow of illuminated bulbs made it clear you were home. He shifted his weight and peered through the glass, spotting your approaching form with ease. He stepped back to make room for the door to open.

“V? What are you doing here?”

He raised an eyebrow and stared at you until you remembered to invite him inside. Easily his least favorite side effect of his condition. You led him to your living room and sat beside him on the small couch, angling your body to see him better. The tasteful pajama set you wore brought a smirk to his lips.

“I have a proposal for you,” he began.

You leaned back, a startled look on your lovely features. “Uh, what?”

“You enjoy our time together, yes?”

He had to choose his words carefully. It shocked him to find how nervous he was, butterflies in his gut and palms clammy. He wanted this, more than he’d known. To have a companion, someone to soothe the loneliness of his existence, to share in his hunts and meals… and you were perfect for it, already acclimated to his needs and discovering your own. Though it was obvious to him how perfect a sanguisuge you’d be, convincing you would take some effort. He couldn’t afford to miscommunicate.

“Of course! Isn’t it obvious?” you replied with a light blush.

He smirked. “Indeed. But have you considered the long-term aspects?”

“What do you mean?”

He rested a palm on your knee, tattooed fingers rubbing circles in your flesh. The next few minutes would change everything, for better or worse.

“You are human, I am vampire. You will age and die, yet I will not.”

He stared deep into your eyes, letting his earnestness shine through. It wasn’t easy. He hated being vulnerable and to do so made his skin crawl. He was a predator; never should he feel so exposed.

He swallowed. “I can change that.”

The spike in your pulse was audible, going from a normal rhythm to a pace that would alarm anyone in the medical field. Your eyes went wide and you stiffened, frozen like a deer in headlights. He didn’t speak, letting you process his offer before explaining any minutiae.

“You mean… you can make me a… a vampire?”

He nodded. You stood and began pacing, arms crossed and brow furrowed in thought. It was a good sign that you didn’t dismiss him outright, yet as you turned around for the fifth time he grew annoyed. Surely you had questions? Why didn’t you speak? He licked his lips.

“I do not make this offer lightly.”

You hummed in acknowledgement but kept pacing. The vampire sighed and leaned back to wait, rubbing his temples to ease the first twinges of a headache. Another ten minutes passed before you broke your stride and came back to the couch with a sigh.

“I don’t know. Don’t get me wrong, I’m interested. But there’s so much you haven’t told me about what you are.”

He nearly growled. He was offering you the gift of eternity, and you didn’t know? Perhaps he’d overestimated you after all. “What do you want to know?”

You brought your legs up and turned to face him fully, cross-legged like a child. Glimmers of curiosity and excitement shimmered in your eyes as the questions poured out. “Can you die? I mean, are we talking total immortality or just invulnerability to certain things? How old are you? What’s the best thing about being a vampire?”

He smirked. Where to begin…

“I am three-hundred twenty-six years old. Quite young, for my kind. Barring an accident or a rare illness, I will live forever.”

He paused. What was the best thing about being this way? It wasn’t something he’d thought about before. There was the power, of course. The heightened senses. Longevity. Supremacy over all.

But the best part?

Freedom.

He met your eyes again with sparkling eyes. “The best thing about it is the freedom. Not a soul can command me, and I have all the time in the world to achieve whatever I wish. I never feel rushed, as I did before.”

He fell silent, waiting for the next round of questions. Perhaps he should’ve told you more before now but sharing his secrets did not come naturally to him. With an internal groan he scolded himself, struggling to remain patient instead of tackling you and turning you right then and there, just to get it done.

Three hours passed before you ran out of questions and fell silent, considering all he told you. Again he stifled the urge to take what he wanted and turn you, but he knew from personal experience how toxic an unwilling change could be. If he was going to have you for eternity, he couldn’t afford to start off by forcing you into it.

Don’t think of her as something to hunt, think of her as a comrade.

It was odd to realize how differently he saw you now. No longer were you just prey, or a pet to be used whenever he pleased. Weak as your body was, your mind was formidable. How else had you survived his attentions without breaking? Not to mention you kept coming back for more.

“I… I’ll do it,” you said, breaking his thoughts.

The vampire’s lips stretched into a feral grin. You were so perfect, why had he ever doubted you?

“Lie down, then.”

Your eyes widened. “Here? Now?”

“Why wait, pet? Are you going to change your mind?”

You glared at him and crossed your arms. Even petulance looked lovely on you and he smirked as you stammered a comeback, already scooting into a prone position.

“No way!”

He barked out a laugh and crouched, brushing your hair aside and dropping his fangs with a click. A glance at your eyes showed him how sure you were and he hummed in approval, lowering his mouth to your neck.

“Wait!”

He leaned back with a quizzical look. Your hands were at your belt, pulling away the denim with a bit lip and tinted cheeks.

“Can you do it while we’re… um…”

He smirked, a knowing twinkle in his gaze. “Yes, but why?”

Your flush deepened and you looked away, unable to hold his stare as you answered. “I… I want my last moments as a human to be… with you inside me.”

Truly, you were a delight. Such a perfect complement to his perversions, it sometimes seemed as though you read his mind.

He trailed his fingertips down your stomach, dipping under your top to caress the soft skin and leave goosebumps behind. Blood flooded his cock and he leaned down to kiss you, a rare treat for your honesty. Your lips opened to his without preamble and he flicked his tongue forward, teasing you.

He pulled away to tear off his clothes, impatient to feel you around him again. What would it feel like, when you changed? Would you massage him or go limp? If he timed it right, maybe you’d change mid-orgasm.

He smirked.

Your fingers stroked his naked thigh and he refocused his attention; you had undressed while he was distracted and already had yourself on display for him. Such a good girl.

He grabbed his belt and used it to tie your wrists over your head, draping them over the armrest. You whimpered at the sight of his hardened length and he arched his hips forward, allowing you to taste him. Your lips looked so lovely, wrapped around his cock.

He fisted your hair and forced your head into the right angle, rolling his hips faster and deeper as you started choking.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

You moaned, the vibrations echoing up to his balls as you opened your eyes and met his gaze. What a vision. He rolled forward again, tilting your head so he hit the back of your throat with a muttered curse. The things you were doing with your tongue had him panting, reeling at the glorious wet heat. The resistance of your gagging was bliss, knowing how easily he could force his cock further despite your body’s revolt.

“Good girl,” he sighed.

When he felt his peak approaching, he jerked your head with such force it felt like he was taking you from behind. Your neck was straining to take him, muscles spasming as tears leaked from your still open eyes. He knew you couldn’t take much more and pulled away, using his hands to stroke his saliva-covered length into ecstasy.

You were still gasping for air as he climaxed with a deep groan, hot ropes shooting into your open mouth and across your face. The gooey white mess complimented your skin perfectly and he shot the last few strands across your collarbone to drip onto your breasts as you swallowed.

But he was only getting started.

He climbed onto the couch and lowered his hips to meet yours, his still hard cock coming to rest against your folds. With a subtle motion he had his head teasing your clit and you whined, begging him to send you over the edge as your arms reached up to scrape at his patterned sides. His earlier recollections of your pleading were nothing compared to the music of your cries.

Just this once, he did as you asked, bringing you to a shuddering climax just as he sheathed himself. It always felt incredible to be inside you, but to have the very first thrust feature your quivering walls was sinfully decadent. You massaged him well, like you were made for him. Arcs of lightning danced across his nerves. Fire trailed after your nails as you clawed at him, red trails mixing with the black of his tattoos. He leaned down and rested his weight on one arm, using the other to rub at the bundle of nerves between your legs.

“Are you ready?” he asked, popping his fangs with a sharp click.

You nodded, determination coloring your eyes alongside the arousal.

He slammed into you as his teeth descended onto your sternum, right over your heart. The blood that flooded his mouth tasted like honey and strawberries, so much more delicious than his earlier meal. He suckled as his hand drew lazy circles around your sensitive core, his cock still plunging deep inside and making you curse between moans.

He gorged himself, slurping away until he knew you were almost dry. Years of practice made it easy to know the exact moment to strike. Your arms fell away to rest by your hips, even the flush on your cheeks muted from blood loss.

As the flow slowed, he increased his pace and dripped a dose of venom in your system. The last few beats of your dying heart were thunderous as you clenched around him and wailed, hands twitching feebly as if you wanted to touch him but lacked the strength.

Three seconds after your heart stopped, he bit deeply into his cheek and laved his own blood over your wound. His hips slowed as you went completely limp, internal muscles sagging around his length. For a few seconds, he couldn’t help but worry he’d done something wrong. What if it didn’t work, what if he killed you?

Come on, come on!

He gave you more of his blood, siphoning off every drop that leaked from his cheek. How long did this normally take? To lose too much of his own blood was unacceptable, but how much did he have to spare?

I should’ve called Michael before attempting this.

But then he felt it.

A single thud under his lips.

He stopped breathing and focused. Another thud.

Then another, and another. A steady rhythm; you were coming back.

---Reader---

The first thing you noticed was sound. A wet slap, panting breath and creaking furniture. A delicate hum in the background, electricity flowing through the walls. You heard the wind outside, the flies in the next room buzzing over the fruit bowl. Everything, all at once.

For a single heartbeat, it was too much. An overwhelming storm of noise, too much for your mind to comprehend.

Then V spoke.

“Keep your eyes closed for now,” he murmured. “You’ll get used to it.”

Every fiber of the couch beneath you was a copper wire, scraping at your sensitive skin. Flames of arousal licked at every inch of your skin, begging for his attention and release. His weight hovering over you was like the sun itself as he rolled his hips. Your nerves sang a heady opera at his touch, howling glorious ecstasy to the skies as you instantly shattered. The slick fluid leaking from your body tingled on your skin, the white lines on your face and chest radioactive in their intensity.

Holy fuck!

You keened his name, wrapping your trembling arms around his body and pulling him closer. All you wanted was more contact, more stimuli, more, more, more. Every ridge of his length inside you was so detailed you could’ve drawn it with your eyes closed. The hairs on your arms stood on end as waves of energy pulsed through you, a torrent of wanton delight. You arched your hips and met his pounding thrusts and felt your ass reverberate with each slam.

The sweat on his skin and yours, the taste of his breath and the scent of the air freshener in the next room left your nostrils twitching, hungry for more input. The dishes in the sink, musty rain on its way, plastic and cotton. You smelled everything.

I need to see, need to look at his face.

You opened your eyes slowly, a millimeter at a time. Dim outlines of V’s body and the couch seared into your mind, the light so bright you wondered if you’d go blind. You waited for what felt like years as your eyes adjusted, instantly staring at the vampire above you in awe.

His skin was breathtaking, alabaster streaked with onyx. The planes of his shoulders dipped and shifted as he brushed the damp strands out of his eyes, and his eyes…

Shades of emerald and jade mixed together in filaments, a line of hazel here and there. A ring of dark pine surrounded his pupils, a frame for the mesmerizing gaze half-hidden by dark eyelashes. It was like you’d never seen him before, so many facets and details never even hinted at with human senses.

You knew you were staring, but you didn’t care. Every inch of his flesh was brand new, smooth and sculpted and beautiful.

He looks like a Greek sculpture come to life…

Fangs popped out of your canines, piercing your lower lip in a flash of sweet agony. He grinned down at you and twitched to scrape at your walls, tapping at your cervix. It was too much and you crested again, gripping him with all your new strength as pleasure rolled through you. You cursed and went rigid, turning to ash and basking in the scorching light. His hips stuttered against yours, following you into paradise and making a deliciously lewd noise as he spewed his seed deep in your body.

His grunts were a beacon and you smirked as you reached out to pull his shoulder to your lips, sinking your new toys deep into his flesh and getting a taste of his blood. He threw his head back and hissed as the fluid filled your mouth, the flavor so much more intricate than ever before. It was a fine wine, notes of cinnamon and something you couldn’t identify that fit him perfectly blended together.

“Not too much, pet. Wouldn’t you rather go hunting?”

Hunting. Right. You struggled to focus through the euphoric haze clouding your mind, releasing his shoulder and lying back on the rough couch. Your nerves were jangling, exhausted and energized by everything they’d endured so far. A deep ache of hunger tugged at you, demanding satisfaction. You licked your lips, savoring the last taste of V’s blood.

“Yes, please…”

He pulled out with a wet shlorp, smirking at you as he stood. A smear of red decorated his shoulder where you marked him and your hunger howled for more. Only the knowledge that his blood would do nothing to ease the gnawing emptiness kept you from pouncing.

“Get dressed, then.”

You pouted and fought your way to vertical, legs trembling as fluid leaked from your core. When you looked down to find your clothes you smiled as you spotted the two black dots over your heart, a mark of your new existence. It was a thrill to know you had eternity to spend with your vampire. Forever to dwell in bliss and euphoria, time to explore all the possibilities.

Your hunger screamed for a meal.

First things first.

Time to hunt.

Part Five

#Hunger #vampirism #vampire #reader insert #v x reader #devil may cry #my writing #dmcv #dmc5 v #dmc #spicy

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selfindulgences · 5 years

Text

gargoyle bf: Ausilio (sfw)

gargoyle bf; a meet-cute.

The city is vast, although from the window of your tiny apartment it looks tiny; a little grey maze way like looking into the glass of an ant-farm. Which is exactly how you, with your zero sense of direction and rapidly draining cell phone battery, find yourself clutching the patisserie bag a little tighter in your fist. You’re annoyed with yourself, and with the tall buildings blocking out the light from setting sun and making it darker, faster. You bite your lip, annoyed, and peer down the dauntingly narrow alleys around you. There’s a loud thump that makes you jump, but no matter how much you squint down the alleys, or up to the roofs, you can't see anything. There’s a shout and then loud laughter in the distance that makes you pick up your pace, ankle twisting a bit on the cobblestone.

You take a couple of side streets, still trying to find the main one that will help you orient yourself, you keep your stride confident, although you feel yourself blushing a bit as you start to get upset that you’ve let this happen. As if traveling to a new city alone wasn’t already a stupid idea, you didn't even bring something to keep you phone, your only way to keep yourself safe, from dying. There's another noise, like something heavy dragging on stone, which brings your eyes up to the darkened sky again. Odd. And then, something catches your eye. In the warm light of one of the streetlights ahead, a paper is fluttering down to the ground. Brows furrowing, you step toward it, curious. You don't see any open windows, and it’s not very breezy, so you don’t know where this paper could’ve come from. You pick it up with curiosity, and the paper is soft against your fingers, in a way you’ve never really felt before. You turn it over, running your fingers over the texture; all the edges are worn and ragged, except for one smoothly cut side, as though it’s been cut with a razor out of a book. On the other side is a beautiful and rather meticulously drawn overview of what you can only assume is the city. There are no words written on it, but the buildings are immaculate, and in fact, you think you recognize the spires on one from a cathedral near your apartment. You'd think nothing of it, really, other than how peculiar it was to find this gem in an alley, except…. Except that on some of the alleys, drawn like a path, is fresh ink. It’s soft blue ink, and it starts with a small circle, traces it's way through the streets, and ends with an X; and X right near the cathedral that’s across from your apartment. You press a nervous finger to the X, and can’t help the exclamation that happens when it comes away wet with ink. You jerk away from the map as though the paper could possibly threaten you. You whip around in a circle, eyes darting around, but there's nothing and no one in sight. You clutch the paper close, eyes following the path again, teeth pressing into your lip hard. The city is ancient, and surely filled with ancient magic; you tell yourself; and truly you don't feel threatened… so you take the gift for what it is, and start following the path provided, hyper vigilant and breathing as carefully and quietly as you can muster. Sure enough, you end up outside your apartment building, standing on the stoop and staring intently at the spires of the cathedral. You look at the map again, then back across the streets. You eyes settle on the first thing that catches them; the profile of a rather bored looking Gargoyle on the church. His elbow is on his knee, and he looks out over the city as if babysitting a particularly boring child.

“Thank you.” You call quietly; someone had to be looking out for you, just like the church’s metaphorical watch dog.

You end up pinning the map to the wall in your bedroom, and whirl of your fingerprint saved in the ink reminds you of the wonder you felt as the paper drifted to the ground.

You spend a lot of time exploring, and a lot of time simply sitting in your window, eating amazing treats and wondering at the beauty of the city. You’re lonely, though the locals are extremely welcoming and friendly; and you end up talking to a lot of pigeons and statues under your breath as a result.But you’re happy, for the first time in a long time, and content.

About a week later, as you learn the streets and get more confident in the city, you go to your normal window seat and notice something wedged in the window sill. You wrench it up with some difficulty, the old wood sticking, to find a little folded square of paper. You feel your eyes widen, and you bring the paper into your room, unfolding it with nervous fingers. Inside is a sketch of you, in a rather cute outfit from a few days ago, as well as quite a few detailed closeups of your hands, your eyes, and you curled up in the window. There are also, around the edges, little sketches of food and drinks you’ve had recently.

It’s beautiful, though it does make you a little nervous, both to be the center of attention and to have it at your window; but there’s no balcony, which is both terrifying and reassuring. You trace your fingers along the curve of your own legs, and then around the rim of a rather delicious latte you’d had, you think, just yesterday. You get an idea, and head out quickly; hair a mess; to the deli you’ve become fond of. You have to job a bit when there aren’t people nearby, but you make it just before they close.

As you stumble in through the door, you crack open the window again, and set out a still warm loaf of bread and an iced cup of rose tea. You also balance, carefully, an immaculate slice of chocolate cake and some strawberries. You hold the edge of the plate carefully, and lean out the window.

“Thank you for the drawings, they’re amazing. I noticed you seemed to like the food I’d been having, so I got you some. Please, enjoy.” You call out, quietly, into the night. Then you turn away, leaving the window open and sit again in your window seat, waiting on baited breath. For what feels like hours, you wait, until, suddenly, the window shakes a bit, and there's that familiar scraping sound. You get goosebumps, and can’t bring yourself to turn your head yet. You swallow, hesitate, and then gather all of your courage.

“I-I hope it's still warm. I hope you like it.” You bite your lip and wait, feeling a bit stupid.

“It’s too much, but thank you. I had not wanted anything in return.” You can't help but gasp; the voice that carries into your window is nearly a whisper, but it’s a deep baritone, and so, so gravely. It rumbles through you like leaning on a speaker.

You shake your nerves, and turn to see a large, dark hand reach to slice off a piece of bread with two claws in a pinching motion. You watch, shocked, and follow that dark hands as it rains the bread chunk to a stone mouth; one that opens to show a large thick tongue and rows of sharp teeth, two fangs large and thick and pressing into a thin bottom lip. He looks bored, his brow sculpted into a neutral look, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips as he tastes the bread. It’s the Gargoyle, you realize, and with a careful shift, you can see past the curve of a large wing and see the empty space where he once sat. As if sensing your gaze for the first time, his head turns slowly toward you and he looks suddenly bashful. You take the moment to push forward, afraid he’ll flee.

“Your art is amazing, I’m flattered that you would draw me… and thank you, again, for the map.” You can hear the words shake a bit, but you’re proud of yourself for getting them out.

“Oh- it’s not- not really. But thank you; I just- I watch. That’s all i can do during the day, so at night, well, I can't really do anything at night either- so I-I draw what I've seen, and who’ve I seen. I- I noticed you when you moved in so I remembered you when you got lost that night.” His voice also seems nervous, which sounds odd in his deep voice. His tone also sounds bored, but it wavers with nerves as well, as he stumbles over his words. You’d bet if he could- he’d be blushing. You smile, and he continues, rambling.

“And I- I can’t really eat; I don’t need to so it doesn’t matter but- I can actually taste and- well, obviously, I can't just go buy it so I- well, I just really appreciate this. Would you like any?”

You shake your head, and the grin on your face nearly makes you cheeks sore. He shuffles on huge feet, and you feel grateful he’s in a little toga-like garment, as you stare at his firm muscles.

“No, thank you. I just realized I haven’t introduced myself, I’m sorry.” You reach out a hand, and watch as an emotion almost like surprise flits over his strong features. He takes your hand gently, as though he thinks he might crush your hand, cradling it like a babies. With a shock, you realize he probably could. His hand is cold, but the texture is much smoother than you expected.

“My name is Ausilio.” He grins at you, in return, and suddenly, the cloud of loneliness melts away, and your hand in his feels like home.

#monster bf #gargoyle #exophilia #terato #sfw #gargoyle bf

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thechainlink · 4 years

Text

Call of the Beast

The cabin was John’s entire world.

The familiar walls were weathered with age, the floor cushioned with a blood-red carpet, and the typewriter on the desk his only occupation during the long hours of solitude. The cabin was John’s home, his haven, his universe.

And his only protection from the things outside.

He was working at the typewriter, writing a story about a grave robber trapped in a network of catacombs, when he heard it:

A howl, shrill and piercing against the unrelenting silence.

He didn’t scream, gasp, or even start backwards. Instead he got up, made his way over to the window, propped open the shutter flaps between his thumb and forefinger and peered outside, making no sound save for his breathing and muffled footsteps against the carpet. Can’t let it hear, he thought. Can’t let it know. All the while his front teeth were clenched over his bottom lip in a desperate attempt to stop himself from crying out.

The thing was barely more than a shadow in the mist, a blurry outline at best, but it was there. He thought that its shape resembled that of a wolf’s, but he quickly banished the image from his mind. Wolves were vicious, wolves travelled in packs. And wolves would feed on anything – or anyone – that they could get their filthy paws on.

As John watched on, the wolf-thing threw back what he assumed was its head, let out another piercing howl, then faded into the white void. He released the breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, and let the shutters fall back into place. He felt something warm trickling down his face. He wiped at it, and his hand came away red; he had bitten down on his lip so hard that it was bleeding.

His eyes widened. His tongue, dry and motionless mere moments before, writhed into life and lapped at the wound, the hot, red liquid re-awakening his senses.

The red was food.

The red was life.

But soon the cut was sealed, and the red was gone.

His stomach still cried out, wanting – no, needing – more than just his own foul blood. His arms were covered with the ghosts of similar wounds – some fresh, some barely visible – from when the cries from his stomach had become too much to resist. The biggest of the scars, the one that started it all, was on his neck, and still refused to heal.

John threw open a drawer and rooted through its contents, tossing aside papers, empty food wrappers and notebooks until he found what he was looking for: a knife, its blade glimmering in the dim light. Suddenly the knife was in his hand, trembling in his grip. He made himself steady, then forced the blade closer, but still it stopped just inches short of his flesh.

Come on. He thought. You’ve read about this, you’ve researched this, hell, you’ve written about it, for Pete’s sake! So DO IT!

Inch by painful inch, John moved it closer, until the cold tip of the blade pressed into his forearm. He forced the blade in further and further, peeling skin and drawing blood until a flap of skin came free. He braced himself, shut his eyes, and shoved the scrap of flesh into his mouth. His face automatically twisted into a grimace at the alien taste and he gagged on his own flesh. Fighting the urge to vomit, he swallowed, and the scrap slithered down his throat. He retched again and again, but his stomach, roused by its first ‘real’ food in days, growled, like a monster feeding on him from inside.

Part of him, a voice in his head (one of many that had emerged in his time there), was begging him to stop here, to cut anything, anywhere, maybe even his wrists, for Pete’s sake. But the voice of reason was drowned out by another.

The one that knew that the red would no longer suffice.

The one that wanted more.

The one that wanted flesh, that dripping red meat, fresh from the bone, it wanted ribs, it wanted steak, legs and breast, and fat dripping chunks of hot, wet-

‘RED!’ John cried in a strangled croak, and plunged the blade into the flesh of his wrist, dragging it back and forth until it reached the bone, where it will go no further. Blind with hunger, he bit into the bone, and after three cracked teeth and several strikes with the butt of the knife his hand comes free, still twitching. He cried aloud with a mixture of triumph and pain, and sank his teeth into the flesh.

Notthebonenotthebone, bones’llmakeyouchoke, said the voice, somehow the only part of him still clinging on to reason. And he did so, tearing the meat from the bone as though he were eating a rib. Tears streamed down his face as he sucked the fingers – his fingers – clean one by one, spitting out the nails as though they were cherry stones. He cried out of pain, out of sheer hopelessness, and out of shame; shame that he had resorted to this, the kind of thing that would only be heard about in the news. Or maybe some sick pig would put it in a horror movie to make himself stand out and put a few more butts in his stupid seats.

John wept until his eyes were dry, and as red as the blood coursing through them.

But in spite of everything, the voice was not satisfied.

He tossed the remains of his hand aside and it hit the wall with a wet smack, leaving a bloody imprint on the wood. He didn’t notice; he was lapping at the gushing stump, probing the bone with his tongue, by now blind to the pain lashing from his arm. Slowly but surely, the darkness began to cloud his vision, threatening to swallow him whole, and he dived for it.

You might not come back up, said the voice.

Fine by me, he thought.

But then something slammed against the wall, and everything was thrown back into focus. There was a low growl from outside, followed by another slam. His mind jerked back to the wolf-thing, howling in the mist.

Wolves were vicious.

Wolves travelled in packs.

Wolves would feed.

On anything.

Or anyone.

That they could get their stinking paws on.

For five agonising seconds, there was silence.

Then a huge white shape crashed through the wall, and John screamed.

The creature did indeed resemble a wolf, with a strong young body covered in bleached-white fur and supported by four muscular legs. A long tail protruded from its back, ending in a mace-like stump covered in quills that swung lazily from side to side.

The abomination turned to face him, and his blood ran cold as its head split open, and six flaps of flesh lined with razor-sharp teeth were splayed out around a ghastly disfigured skull caked in blood. From the sockets, two pitch-black eyes gazed back at him in an unblinking stare. A slimy black organ that he could only assume was its tongue trailed across its lips at the sight of its prey.

Clutching the gushing stump and gritting his teeth against the pain, he drew back against the wall, all the while his eyes darting around, searching for something – for anything – to use against it, but finding nothing. Instead his eye turned to the hole in the wall. The distance was less than six feet, but even that was too great a risk.

The creature began to advance, moving towards him step by step, its club of a tail swinging from side to side. It could’ve pounced on him in a heartbeat, but then again, why waste the energy? It had him right where it wanted him.

John’s knees buckled for the briefest of moments, and for a split-second the darkness clouded the edges of his vision. His head swayed, and he started backwards at the sight of an alarmingly large pool of blood at his feet and spattered on his shoes. Part of him, a part he was unable or unwilling to listen to, had already realised from that momentary glance that there was at least a quarter of his own blood, three-out-of-twelve pints, congealing at his feet. But something, that oh-so-precious something inside of him, was holding out, keeping him sane, but most importantly it was keeping him conscious.

And then, that precious something gave him an idea.

He worked his right shoe free with his left and snatched it up, then held it to the gushing stump, soaking it in blood. When it was sufficiently coated, he threw it across the room. He never saw the wolf-thing grab it in mid-air like a dog’s chew-toy; in that same moment he had lunged for the hole in the wall, slipping through the crude opening to the outside. His ploy had brought him mere seconds, but those seconds were all he needed.

His legs worked like pistons, propelling him across the barren wasteland, spurred on by searing pain and the thought of the wolf-thing hot on his heels. He allowed himself no more than quick glances at his surroundings – ashy grey soil, jet-black trees – as he worked on his wrist, wrapping it in his shirt to staunch the flow, if only a little.

Suddenly something wrapped around his ankle and pulled, knocking John to the ground. He forced himself to look back, and saw the wolf-thing standing over him. All hopes of escape gone, he closed his eyes and accepted his fate.

And then he felt it.

Something he hadn’t felt since the creature had bitten him so long ago.

Something lurched within him, and suddenly his body was wracked with convulsions. His bones began grew and expanded beneath his skin, his skin expanding with them like a rubber suit. Thick, dark claws replaced his nails, and his shoes were torn open by the razor-sharp blades. His clothes burst open, and in their place thick, white hair began to sprout. Just above his rear, a stump of flesh forced itself to extend. His face was stretched into a snout and his teeth into fangs.

The transformation was excruciating, and by the end his breath came in short, shallow gasps. He shakily got to his feet, hunched over on all fours like the wolf-thing before him (which had long since disappeared), threw back his head and let out a shrill, piercing howl.

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hydrangeathief · 6 years

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long-limbed, not lovely

Title: Long-Limbed, Not Lovely

Pairings: platonic LAMP

Warnings: body horror/general horror elements, some generalized anxiety, not much else? as always let me know if there’s anything

Wordcount: 2,444

Author’s Note: i wanted to write about the dark sides looking horrifying. this is that fic.

The thing is, the sides aren’t human. They look human, sure, but that doesn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things. Their physical forms are constructs at best, held together on willpower alone. Patton has freckles. Logan is slight and angular. Roman is muscular and tanned. The dark sides are horrible, shambling creatures made of fear and darkness. Virgil… well. He’s doing his best.

At this exact moment in time, Virgil’s best is not quite good enough. Try as he might, he can’t quite shake off the anxiety that sends cloying shadows swirling around his fingertips. A quick glance in the mirror shows him pale skin, almost white, with dark shadows at his temples and under his eyes. The eyes are the worst part, he thinks idly, running his forked tongue over the razor edges of his teeth. They’re slit-pupiled and dark, a purple so lifeless that they’re nearly black, huge and sunken in his face.

Virgil sighs and blinks at his reflection. He hates this. He hates having to work so hard to look even vaguely human. Even now, when he is heart-stoppingly wrong, he is far from his baseline physical state. It could be much worse, he supposes, so he grits his teeth--ow, sharp--and concentrates.

With a feeling like an ice cold rain, Virgil’s skin shudders. Color comes back into his cheeks and his eyes brighten, brown blooming to cover the darkness. He lets out a shaking breath as his teeth shrink. He’s gripping the sink with claw-tipped fingers, but soon they’re nothing but shaking, human hands. He lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and rolls his shoulders. They pop as the bones settle into their rightful places.

Sometimes, he thinks he understands why Deceit spends all of his time flaunting some of his less human attributes. It’s exhausting to force himself into an ill-fitting frame like the one he pretends to own. Deceit, lazy or confident or perhaps just hellbent on being as terrifying as possible, embraces it. The scales, the eye, they’re jarring at first, but the others are used to them. Surely they could get used to Virgil?

He shoves that thought back down the instant it occurs to him. No. They wouldn’t. Patton would scream and Roman would hate him again and Logan would stare at him with cold, calculating eyes, and Virgil would shatter into a million pieces. He can’t do that. He won’t.

“Virgil?” Patton calls from right outside the bathroom door. Virgil startles hard and his spine shifts, elongating and stooping until he hits his head on the light fixture. He bites back a groan and clears his throat, trying to will away the double-tone that he knows will be there when he speaks.

“Yeah?” Okay, that was okay, not much distortion. He bends to look at himself in the mirror. His eyes are wrong again, but his skin isn’t translucent, and his teeth haven’t sharpened into fangs yet. This is salvageable. He can do this.

“Come on down to the kitchen when you’re ready,” Patton says. “I have a surprise!”

And just like that, Virgil’s pulse is quickening and there are shadows gathering at his joints and his hands are bent into crooked, razor-tipped claws. He hates surprises, even when he knows logically that Patton means him no ill will and would never surprise him with anything that could hurt him. But just because he knows and understands something doesn’t mean that he’s not going to react negatively, and now he’s going to have to start calming himself down all over again.

The complete picture of the monster that Virgil shoves under a human skin is horrifying enough to tear a scream from even the bravest of throats. He’s tall and bent, rail thin and deathly pale, dark veins visible at his temples and joints. He’s sharp in all the places a human should not be. His bones jut at sickening angles. His tongue is forked and he has far, far too many teeth. His fingers end in claws and his knees bend backwards and if any of the others saw him, he would be abandoned again like the monster he is.

Virgil meets the flat darkness of his eyes in the mirror and takes a deep breath, blinking back frustrated tears. He hates this.

There’s a knock at the door that makes Virgil jump. He hits his head on the ceiling and lets out an involuntary curse, hands flying up to touch at the forming bruise. His hand comes away wet with dark black blood and he takes a brief moment to go over every single invective he knows.

“Are you okay?” That’s Roman’s voice. The doorknob jiggles and Virgil is endlessly glad that he’d locked it on the way in. “It sounded like you fell. Did you fall?”

“No,” Virgil says and immediately winces at the distortion. Good. Great. Wonderful. Now Roman will be worried.

“Are you sure?” Roman demands.

“Yeah, I just--” Virgil clears his throat and grits his teeth, trying to will himself to some semblance of normalcy. “Hit my head.”

“If you say so,” Roman says breezily, and if Virgil didn’t know him he might assume that Roman wasn’t worried at all. As good of an actor as he is, Virgil can see right through him. He knows all about worry, after all. He is worry.

“I say so,” Virgil says firmly. It’ll take him probably another ten minutes to get back to normal, but he can do it. He just needs time, and no more surprises, and some space to breathe in. He wants-- he wants his room. He wants comfort. He wants to jam his headphones over his ears (and are his ears pointed now? they usually are, when he’s like this) and bury his head in a pillow and just sit still until he’s calm enough to focus on shifting his bones back into place. That’s what he wants. Can he get that? Maybe, if Roman leaves, he can hurry down the hall and slip into his room without anyone noticing.

“If you’re fine, I’m going downstairs,” Roman calls through the door. He sounds bored, now, and Virgil doesn’t think it’s an act. He listens intently for the sound of Roman’s boots clomping down the stairs and exhales, turning to the door. He cracks it and peers out into the deserted hallway. Quickly, and with all the quiet he can muster, he darts into his room.

The weight of the room’s aura is welcome. It’s heavy and sluggish and with the underlying current of urgency that he needs to kick-start his brain into working again. Normally, the sweeping darkness of the room is unsettling, but when he’s tall and long-limbed and horrifying, it feels like home. It feels like a place he belongs.

It only takes five minutes for Virgil to cram himself back into a human shape, and he cracks each and every one of his knuckles before shrugging on his hoodie and creeping downstairs. His hands are still shaking, but he’s fine. He’s breathing normally and he doesn’t hit his head trying to enter the kitchen, so he must be fine.

The others are there already, of course. Patton is leaning against the counter with a huge grin on his face, waving his hands excitedly as he rambles at Logan and Roman, who are seated at the kitchen table.

“Virgil!” Patton shouts brightly. Virgil gives him a two-finger salute and a small smile as he takes his place at the table. Roman gives him a brief worried look, but the scrape on Virgil’s head had closed up as soon as he’d calmed down enough to control his appearance. He’s genuinely fine now. Just tired.

“We are all assembled, Patton,” Logan says with a note of suppressed impatience in his voice. He waves a hand for Patton to get on with it.

“Oh! Yeah! My surprise! I finally learned how to make bread!” Patton shouts. He whirls around and opens a cabinet, reaching inside and grabbing at a plate. On the plate is a loaf of bread. It’s lopsided and lightly burned on one side, but it appears generally edible. Patton brandishes at at them, beaming.

“Padre! It’s magnificent!” Roman declares with a sweep of an arm.

“That is definitely a loaf of bread,” Logan says, ever observant.

“Cool,” Virgil says. He can’t believe the surprise was a loaf of bread. He got scared by the concept of a loaf of bread. He sure is easy to startle. With a rueful smile at his own jumpiness, he turns on his phone, content to waste a few minutes lost in the eternal downward spiral that is his tumblr dashboard.

“Well, are we going to try it, or are we gonna keep staring at it?” Patton asks, laughing. He sets the plate on the counter and turns to rifle through the drawer where they keep silverware. Halfway there, his elbow knocks into a stray glass, left abandoned on the counter, and it goes flying. That’s when all hell breaks loose.

The sound of glass shattering isn’t, in and of itself, terrifying. Neither is the sound of Patton gasping. But put them together and add in the fact that Virgil wasn’t looking to see what, exactly, went wrong, and it’s just enough to send panic through his chest and down his spine.

“Fuck,” Virgil grits out. His phone shatters in his hand. His heart is beating too fast.

“Whoops!” Patton laughs. He’s fine. He’s completely fine, bending to pick up the bigger pieces of glass while Logan hurries to grab the broom. No one is hurt and they’re all completely fine, but Virgil--jumpy, anxious, always on the edge of panic--startles right out of his skin. Literally.

“You okay there, my Dark Knightmare?” Roman asks. Virgil tries to get out an answer but his mouth is wrong, his mouth is full of sharp edges and his tongue is too long and oh no, oh no, ohnonononono--

“Oh my god,” Patton squeaks out. Virgil stands abruptly and hits his head on the ceiling. The last thing he sees before he sinks out in a panic is a look of blind terror on Patton’s face.

He doesn’t think he’ll be able to forget that, as long as he lives.

It takes him nearly an hour to relax enough to mold his shape, and when he does, there is no comfort in it. He spends a while flat on his back on his bed, just breathing and thinking.

This is the worst case scenario. The others know that the Dark Sides aren’t exactly… normal. Deceit is, perhaps, the most human of them all. The others are a mess of long limbs and glowing eyes and grinning, glistening fangs. Virgil is far from the most horrifying of them, but he knows he isn’t exactly something lovely to look at. He’s a nightmare given sentience. He’s fear itself, physically and emotionally. And now they’ve seen him.

He’s going to have to withdraw. He can’t just leave, he knows that now, but he’s going to have to start spending more time in his room. Maybe he’ll only leave at night. Maybe he’ll get lucky and the others will still be willing to be around him, sometimes, if he’s careful. Maybe if he promises to be normal--no, that’s wishful thinking. That’s impossible.

There’s a knock at his bedroom door and Virgil flinches. He holds his form--small miracle--but it’s a close thing.

“What?” he growls. Might as well shrug that dark persona back on. He has a feeling he’s going to need it.

“Can we come in, kiddo? Just for a second?” Patton calls. His voice is soft and even.

“I guess,” Virgil says with a shrug. Let’s get this over with.

Patton cracks open the door and gives Virgil a tiny smile. Over his shoulder, Roman is on tiptoes trying to peer in, and he shoves past Patton the instant the door is open. He marches right up to the edge of Virgil’s bed, points a finger at him, and says, “You’re a monster.”

Virgil flinches, biting down on his tongue. He draws his shoulders up around his head and fists his hands in the sheets, ready to be shouted at, accused, hated.

“That’s so flippin’ sweet, man!” Roman shouts, and Virgil’s heart stops.

“It--what?” he asks. His voice sounds like gravel on sandpaper, but at least it’s not distorted. He’s more firmly in this body, now that he’s had a while to collect himself.

“You’re so cool!” Roman gushes. He swings his arms wide. “You’re, like, a million feet tall! It’s far more imposing and terrifying than anything I could have dreamed up, and that’s saying something!”

Logan readjusts his glasses on his face, saying, “I’ll admit I had wondered about your physical form, given that you often seem more aligned with the Dark Sides than with the three of us.” Virgil’s face falls and Logan shakes his head, continuing, “No, that is not meant as an insult. It is merely a statement of fact. Things change, Virgil, and you are one of us now, appearances notwithstanding.”

“Yeah, kiddo, you’re family. We love you, no matter what you look like!” Patton finishes. He reaches out a hand and Virgil stares at it for a moment before gathering his courage and extending one of his own. There are no claws, only blunt fingernails, but he’s still terrified that Patton will flinch. That doesn’t happen, though, and Virgil finds himself being drawn into a very tight hug. He rests his head on Patton’s shoulder and breathes in the sense of security.

“How tall are you, by the way?” Roman asks. His eyes are lit up with excitement and he’s smiling.

“Uh, I don’t know? I don’t exactly measure,” Virgil says.

Something like curiosity takes up residence in Logan’s eyes, but before he can open his mouth to say anything, Patton cuts him off with a firm, “Virgil doesn’t have to do anything he’s not comfortable with.”

“No, I’m fine, I just.” Virgil can’t string words together past the weird mess of fear and relief mingling in his chest. He wants to thank them for being nice to him about his horrifying appearance, wants to make them promise to not run screaming from him, wants to wriggle his way back into Patton’s arms and cry a lot of grateful tears, but he doesn’t do any of those things. He looks each of them in the eyes and sees only earnest acceptance there.

Slowly, a grin stretches across his face, too wide and too sharp.

“I could show you,” he says, and he does.

#here it is. the thing. take it.#sanders sides #virgil sanders #sanders sides fic #platonic lamp #lamp/calm #my writing #a post from me #monster verse

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miraculouskpop · 5 years

Text

MKP Series | Ladybug and Wolf

Chapter VI: BY THE POWER OF RAAAAH

The two newly appointed heroes ended their pointless bickering a few minutes ago. It seemed like nothing had changed much, and the night sky appeared calm as ever. However, energy lurched inside their bones for something... more, something to stimulate their profound senses. Like, beating up villains! Well, there's suppose to be villains...

Wolf crinkled his nose, "Something smells funny." He said, growing rather tense.

"What do you mean?"

"Fools!" What was that?! The two looked up...

A wild Suga appears! ♦

Ladybug raised an eyebrow, "Well, that was quick." She stated.

A stranger hovered above the city with a sinister cackle. He seemed cloaked in blue bed sheets as he continued to screech in amusement, "My name is Suga Night! I will destroy everyone who stands in the way of my sleep! Because of your insolent rudeness, everyone will suffer...!" The shining moonlight gradually grew darker as the young man grew intensely brighter. Citizens from the active streets below noticed the stranger from above, and hysteria followed rapidly. Damn it! Already?! What are they suppose to do? It's not like they exactly know how to use their powers...

Amber! There's no time to waste. People are immediately in danger and it's up to both of you to stop it!

Gee, it would be convenient if I knew what to do! "Wolf!" Ladybug shouted to the stranger, "We have to-"

"Yeah, I got it already. Defeat the guy, and uh, save people. My furball already sprouted it. Let's go!" Gee, didn't have to sound like a know-it-all... Ladybug shook her head as she jumped off the roof following the teenager. She can hear the screams of innocent civilians running for theirs lives, and others, well, decided to Snapchat the entire scenario. This Suga Night, or whatever, didn't seem that intimidating, "What is this?" Ladybug scoffed at this so-called, "villain" or whatever. It looks like a freaking dude in bedsheets attacking people with pillows...

"This will certainly be a piece of cake." Wolf snickered.

"Fools! Do not underestimate my sleeping abilities. I will annihilate anyone who stand in my way!" Suddenly, the ground began to quiver and crumble, and a huge teddybear burst from the intersection! Screams of terror from many caused Suga Night to laugh, "Now sleep!" Hands thrusted out from his cloaked bedsheets, ghostly shadows shot out to capture the people, and thud! Dozens fell to the ground motionless. "Gather them, my teddy!" The ten foot teddybear appeared rather frightening with its broken button eyes and torn stitches opened its mouth and sucked up all the unconscious humans into its stomach.

...Uh...

"This is going to be a lot harder than we thought..." Ladybug sweatdropped.

"Well, practice makes perfection, right? Let's test this little boy out with our stuff!" Before Wolf prepared to take off, Ladybug snatched him by the arm. "Hang on pup, it's not so simple. We gotta find a weak spot." There must be something that could hinder Suga Night. If she remembers correctly, Tikki did mention akumas and objects... But what exactly?

"How are we going to find his weak spot if we don't immediately attack him?!" Wolf ripped his arm away from Ladybug and snarled, "Don't get in my way!" He bared his sharp fangs with his topaz eyes searing into her soul.

"Hey! We're suppose to work together!" Ladybug snapped.

"Not gonna happened with a slow poke like you!" And Wolf lunged at the bedsheet man. "Take this!" Wolf tried to strike at Suga Night, but the bedsheet man suddenly disappeared. "Huh?" Wolf blinked, and then found himself flown against a wall, crashing through the bricks with a high pitch yelp. Police cars were at every corner with men trembling with their guns at the bedsheet man. Ladybug chewed her lip as she tried to think of something to stop this brewing chaos. She needed to think of something, and fast, or else this would be one big mess they may not be able to handle...

Can I even handle this? Her first night, and people already getting eaten and her partner being a pissy lone wolf (no pun intended). Is she even cut out for the job?

It's okay. You can do this.

Ladybug released a sigh. She can do this.

Akuma plus object means something, right? "What would be special...?" It can't be the teddybear, and... Totally not the bedsheets. It has to relate to his sleep, right? Ladybug peered at Suge Night and noticed something.

Headphones.

It seemed to glow an eerie purple color with dark aura surrounding it. "That's it..." Ladybug grinned. That must be his weak spot! Ladybug glanced over her shoulder to find Wolf still residing in the broken bricks, and sighed. She leaped over to the building with ease before resting beside him, "Wolf, are you alright?" She can see Wolf with clarity now. Platinum blond bangs covering his dark grey mask as he eyes remained scrunched, moaning in what seems to be agony. The heroine propped Wolf in sitting position and pulled his hoodie back, allowing his silver tufts for wolf ears to twitch freely.

"Wow, are these actually real?" Ladybug couldn't help her curiosity, and snagged one of his ears.

"Ouch!" Wolf cried out. He proceeded to smack her hand away, "They're sensitive! Don't touch them." He glared.

"Geeze, sorry." Ladybug shrugged, "You alright?"

"Yeah. That crash took a lot out of me, though." He grumbled.

"Well, you deserved it for not listening..."

"Whatever."

Ladybug shook her head, "We don't have time for this! There are more innocent people getting swallowed up by a giant teddybear and Suga Night is terrorizing the entire town! I've found out he's wearing headphones that's been akumatized. I think that's what's possessing him to be evil. We gotta get those headphones away from him."

"But how? He's not the weakest if I must say..." Wolf groaned as he carefully stood. Ladybug frowned, "Honestly, I'm not sure. What all powers do you have?"

"...I uh, I dunno yet."

"Are you freaking kidding me?!" Ladybug laughed. Great! Just great! Now everyone will probably die and the entire world will be taken over by a freaking dude cloaked in bedsheets! "Hey! I don't see you knowing anything! Why don't you just ask your kwami whatever?" Ugh, dealing with an annoying, sassy wolf boy who thinks he's oh so powerful just because he got freaking non-human powers. Like, give her a break...

"Fine." Ladybug rolled her eyes in annoyance.

Tikki, what powers do I have?

Lucky Charm's a start. Use your yo-yo.

Ladybug blinked, "... Huh, okay then." She said.

"What did it say?" Wolf seemed awfully curious when Ladybug pulled out her yo-yo.

"Lucky Charm!" Ladybug tossed her yo-yo into the air with vigorous energy and a spark of colorful red flashed into... An ipod? The floating object plopped into her hand, and the duo simply stared at it. "What am I suppose to do with this?" Ladybug asked. An explosion rattled their ears and the heroes looked up. "Oh boy... This is definitely not good." Wolf muttered.

Suga Night's teddybear grew five feet taller than before with helicopters surrounding the villain. "You'll never take me alive you fools! You'll all go into deep sleep...!"

"Wolf, let's put aside our differences and not argue. This is serious, so follow my lead, okay?"

The wolf boy grumbled somewhat, but eventually he nodded with a pout. Ladybug hopped through the rubble and managed her way on top of a roof outskirt, "Hey Suga Night!" Ladybug began to wave in front of the cloaked young man, "I have something important for you!" The girl held out the ipod, and the young paused in his destructrion. "My... Ipod...?" Everything seemed to pause, as if time went eeriely still. Uh, was this a good idea?

And then, then male became absolutely enraged.

"SO YOU'RE THE ONE WHO TOOK IT!? HYYAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHH!!!!" The ground shooked, cracked, and sunken into a massive hole as Suga Night did a kamehameha to another level. "I'LL END YOUR LIFE!" Ladybug dodged Suga Night's abrupt attack with a squeak, nearly getting obliterated within the process. She continued to dodge the man's attacks with diligent effort as she tossed the ipod to Wolf, "Distract him!" She yelled. Suga Night flew towards Wolf with lightening speed, and even Wolf himself found it difficult to avoid the attacks.

"What?! I'll get killed!" Wolf backflipped a few times, surprising himself that he was able to do so easily. He didn't have much time to dwell on his surprising moves when getting blasted with razor sharp pillows, however. It was getting too close for comfort, and incredibly deadly for any confidence. Ladybug was distracting that huge creepy teddy with helicopters flopping around with their loud ass wings and people are still being stupid recording with their phones while knowingly threatening their safety...

"YOU CAN RUN BUT YOU CAN'T HIDE!" Suga Night is getting closer. If he gets captured, then that's it for him.

"Aerial whirlwind!" A huge blast of air blew the poor angry man back a good amount of feet. Wolf seemed stunned at what happened, realizing it was his power that did such thing.

Woah.

"Hey bug! Are you still playing cat dog?" As soon Suga Night hit the ground he came back faster than ever.

"I have an idea! Trust me!" Ladybug swung across the freakishly large teddybear's legs a few times, by the end tightening her yo-yo string around it. The teddybear made its move towards her, but with swift ease Ladybug swooped under its legs, "Wolf! Toss the ipod to me!" The wolf boy immediately did so, and Ladybug caught it with ease. Suga Night flew toward the ladybug in fury, "I'll destroy you for even considering stealing my stuff!" He hissed.

"Not if you're held down, you're not!" The heroine pushed the stumbling bear to its knees, watching the fall from its tangled net. "Wha-?" The humongous bear eventually fell on top of Suga Night's body, restricting him from any movement. "Curse you!" He tried to move, but it was useless. Ladybug's yo-yo unraveled itself, and the girl swooped up her weapon before returning to the culprit.

"I'll be taking that." Ladybug snatched the headphones from Suga Night's grasp, "No!" He exclaimed. So this must be the reason behind this evil drama...

"Yup." Ladybug ripped the headphones apart and observed the dark energy fading away. However, a dark purple butterfly ejected out of the headphones with strong evilness following it. It felt tangible and potent, and Ladybug somehow knew what to do... "It's time to de-evilize!" Words fell out of her mouth before Ladybug truly understood what happened, and her ladybug yo-yo opened its wings. With a few twirls, Ladybug swung her yo-yo towards the dark butterfly, watching it capture the insect and slowly purify. Ladybug held the yo-yo close and release the insect filled with purity and lightness, "Bye bye little butterfly." She smiled.

The evil Suga Night was no more, and merely returned to a simple young man with pajamas and a bed cover, "Ugh.... What happened...?" The male groaned.

"Let's just say... You were really upset with lack of sleeping music." Ladybug chuckled.

"Ladybug!" Wolf skid to a stop when finding Ladybug and Suga Night at a standstill. "How are you not dead yet?"

"It's called being smart. Think creative, you get a variety of results." They did it... They defeated their first villain! Well, to be honest, she did, but that's another story...

"Yeah, but... What are we going to do about all this?" Wolf pointed at the devastation that nearly wiped out the center of Seoul.

Ladybug's grin grew cocky, "Don't worry bro, I got this. Miraculous Ladybug!" She tossed her yo-yo into the air, and magic happened. All the chaos, the devastation that destroyed nearly half of the city disappeared, as if none of the disasters ever occurred. The humans that once resided in the belly of the stuffed animal returned to normal, almost in a daze.

"Hey! They saved us!"

"They did?!"

"How was it possible?"

Ladybug became flustered over the attention. Wolf on the other hand was swimming in selfies from attractive girls.

Guess saving the day wasn't too bad.

Or rather, saving the Suga night.

#ml #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous kpop #miraculers #kpop #idols #au #fanfiction #fiction #exo #bts #blackpink #twice #f(x)#chapter six

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killmongerdreams · 7 years

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lurk

summary: Some things that lurk in the dark are nicer than others. || bucky x reader || monster au || nsfw

warnings: smut, oral [fr]

note: this is my fic entry for my favorite hoe’s (@rotisserierogers) halloween challenge! i chose the prompts “monsters aren’t real” + “no need to be afraid.” I hope you like this, babe!

There was an unspoken rule established in your town: no one, under any circumstance, was to go into the woods at night.

There were things that lurked between the trees, hiding in the shadows to latch their teeth into the poor fool who waltzed into the devil’s domain at night.

You ran as fast as your feet could carry you, eyes trained on the hazy skyline before you. The sun was setting quickly, the myriad of bright, beautiful colors giving way to the beginnings of the dark, eerie night.

You weren’t going to make it. There was still a few miles ahead of you before you reached the edge, before you reached the exit out of hell and into the safe haven of your town. Cursing under your breath, you sent a silent prayer to whatever deity was listening, begging to make it out alive.

The sky was pitch black, the moon a dull beam from where it was shrouded behind the clouds. You were lost; you couldn’t see, couldn’t tell where to turn to get out of your impending doom. The forest was alarmingly still around you, not a sound to be heard other than your frantic heartbeat and your harsh, exhausted breaths.

You felt like you were going in circles, straying farther and farther away from safety the longer you ran. You slowed to a jog, trying to peer through the haze of the night, trying to keep a look out for danger.

Nothing had attacked you yet, maybe you were closer to home than you imagined.

Just as the thought struck across your mind, you collided into something solid, cold and firm. Your heart froze in your chest and you stumbled to the ground, feet slipping out from underneath you.

“Well, well, well,” a low, smooth voice mused, lilting in amusement. “What do we have here?”

Fearfully, you looked up. Standing before you was a man, hands in his pockets as he grinned, showing off sharp, deadly canines. His eyes were the most gorgeous shade of blue, seeming to glow like the moon above him. You were mesmerized, awed at how something so terrifying can be so beautiful.

The stranger tilted his head, wild hair falling in his face as he tutted quietly, seeming disappointed. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I’m t-trying to get home.” you stammered, voice shaking. “I let time get away from me.”

“And a monster could take you away.” the man retorted, face serious.

“Monsters aren’t real.”

Even as you said the words, you knew how wrong you were. The man smiled once more, and you shuddered as his teeth extended, curling over his bottom lip as he crouched down next to you. He smoothed a hand down the side of your face, and you flinched, feeling the points of his razor-like nails trail softly over your cheek.

“No need to be afraid.” he soothed quietly. He leaned forward, burying his nose into your hair, breathing in your scent, the fear wafting from every nerve in your body. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You wanted to believe him. The words sounded so convincing falling from his lips, a honeyed-coated lie for you to bite into.

His finger brushed over your bottom lip, pushing down on it gently. “I would never hurt a pretty little thing like you.”

Before you understood what was happening, his body covered yours, strong hips forcing your thighs apart as he pressed against you. His skin was like ice, chilling you to the bone as you gasped into the open air. “Can’t believe you’re out here all alone.” he muttered, dipping his head.

You bit back a whimper as he trailed his cool lips against your neck, not daring to move as he nipped gently at your pulse point. “All alone in this scary, terrifying forest,” he said. “Vulnerable. Tell me, love, what would have done if something other than myself stumbled across you? What if you encountered something that wanted to bring you harm?”

You couldn’t speak, drawing in a ragged breath as his hips ground into yours, pressing your body further against the damp, dirty ground. He stilled, staring down at you with enough intensity to make your cheeks grow hot. You brought your hands to his shoulders, not pushing away but not pulling him closer, either.

He growled lowly at the contact.

“Pretty little things like you tend to get eaten by the dark.” he told you, laughing darkly. “Girls like you are never seen again. You’re fortunate, though, little one. I’m nicer than most things residing in this purgatory. I merely taste.”

“Taste?” you repeated.

“Yes, darling. Taste.” he licked a smooth line from your collarbone to your ear, taking the lobe gingerly between his teeth. “You let me have a taste of you, and I’ll ensure your safe travel home in return. If you decline, I will not harm you; you will merely have to find your way on your own.”

He brought his hand between your legs, cupping you over your jeans to let you know exactly what he wanted a taste of.

“Just a taste. Nothing else.” you clarified. He nodded in agreement, humming quietly as he nuzzled his nose against the underside of your jaw, willing his fangs to retract back to their normal size. He let you mull the idea over, grinning victoriously when you bucked your hips into the pressure of his hand.

Deft fingers unbuttoned your pants quickly, sliding them down your legs along with your panties. Lifting your legs over his shoulders, he wasted no time in lowering his head, running his tongue through your folds in one heavy, smooth slide. Your quiet moan echoed his feral groan, seeming to echo too loudly between the trees.

His piercing, probing eyes stared up at you, glowing even more vibrantly as he licked at the underside of your clit, listening to your tiny mewls. He clutched your hips, being cautious of his nails as he did his best to keep you still. Unable to help yourself, you gripped desperately at his hair, pulling roughly as you tried to circle your hips faster. He growled in warning, eyes narrowing as he held you tighter.

There were going to be bruises on your skin in the morning.

He pulled away with a obscene smack, letting the bad of his thumb take over instead. He circled slowly, watching the way your nose scrunched up as the pleasure washed over you. “Let me kiss you,” he requested, so quiet you almost didn’t catch it. You nodded eagerly, fisting the fabric of his shirt as he leaned over you, your mouths brushing against one another’s in an unsure dance.

His tongue immediately parted your lips, kissing you deeply, making sure you get a taste of the wetness coating the inside of his mouth. Parting with a gentle bite to your bottom lip, he asked, “Are you going to come?”

Your answer was in the form of a whine, face twisting pleadingly. He shushed you, descending upon your cunt once more to appease your wishes. Gone was the slow build up, replaced by a furious urgency as he tongued at your taint. You sighed, relieved, grabbing his hair in a tight fist as he worked you toward your end.

It didn’t take long before you were careening off the cliff into mind-numbing pleasure, teeth taking your lip captive as you bit back a scream. The man cleaned you up slowly, avoiding where you were most sensitive as he made quiet, blissful noises in the back of his throat, taking everything you had to offer.

Once he was finished, he pulled away, wiping his mouth off with the back of a pale hand. Gently, he pulled your clothes back in place, not wanting to disturb your peaceful haze. He lay beside you, head propped up on his hand as he waited for your breathing to even out, not speaking until you sluggishly turned your head towards him.

“I believe it is time I escort you home, little one.”

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#rrhalloween #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan x reader

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rutabagaemp · 3 years

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The Company (WIP) Part 1 - 2020

Usually going to a bar on a Friday night didn’t go this badly for Jessica Walsh. The twenty-four year old college student always took precautions before going anywhere at night. She always told at least two friends where she would be, and texted them if she went somewhere else. A razor sharp bowie knife, a parting gift from her grandmother before her disappearance, was always present in her bag, as was a small canister of bear spray. When she was at bars, she always checked her drinks and never let her glass out of her sight.

Tonight started out the same as any other. After a few shots at the Hellion Club, Jessica mingled on the dance floor, trying and failing to find the groove of the shitty club music that was blaring over the speakers. Every time she had to duck out of the way of an exuberant dancer, she wished she had brought one of her friends who could actually dance. Every now and then she would catch the attention of some random guy, and once the attention of a random girl, but before she could make a move the throng of people shifted and they were lost in the crowd. At some point she disengaged from the mass of people and shrugged her way back towards the bar. As the bartender passed her another shot of whiskey, he said something that she didn’t quite catch.

“What?” She shouted to be heard over the blaring music. The bartender nodded towards a space behind her. She nodded back, waited a few seconds, then peered over her shoulder.

She only looked for a few seconds, but she spotted someone unusual watching her from near the doorway. He was quite tall, so much so that he seemed to tower above the other patrons. His skin was so pale that at first, she thought that he was wearing white face paint. He was wearing a long, black coat and black gloves, and even though his eyes were obscured by a pair of sunglasses, Jessica was pretty certain that he was staring right at her.

She was tempted to stare back, but instead, she decided to down her shot, smile at the bartender, and move back to the dance floor, in an attempt to lose him. As time passed, the alcohol began to kick in a bit more, and she found herself getting more and more into the music. For the next half hour she danced her heart out on the dance floor. She occasionally glanced over to where the man stood, but for the most part she ignored him. Eventually, the man moved away from the door and out of sight, and she forgot about him.

Jessica, who was nine shots in, stumbled her way to the club’s small bathrooms and pushed the door open while giggling to herself. Three stalls lined the walls. From the one on the right, Jessica could hear what sounded like a couple making out. The door to the one on the left was closed, but no sounds came from within. Still unbalanced, Jessica managed to find her way to the middle stall and close the door, giving out a drunken chortle as she did so. She sat down and pulled out her phone. 12:04 swam before her eyes. It was only now, that she was looking down, that she saw what looked like some kind of thick fluid moving sluggishly through the cracks in the linoleum. Jessica stared at it for several seconds, her drunken mind trying its hardest to process what she was seeing. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, then, in a strangled voice, managed to whimper the word “blood?”

She staggered to her feet and unlatched the lock as fast as she could. She made her way to the sink and had to lean on it for balance. The club music mixed with the pounding in her ears, and she had to take a few seconds to steady herself. Concern managed to break through the hazy fog of her mind. She swallowed, several times, and reached a shaky hand into her bag, grasping for the knife. As she did so, the door to the left hand stall swung open. Jessica gasped and staggered back as she laid her eyes upon the horrific scene within.

The man who had been watching her earlier was inside. His sunglasses were gone and his two red eyes seemed to pierce into Jessica’s soul. Behind him, draped over the toilet, in a growing pool of blood, was a girl Jessica didn’t recognize. Her eyes were unfocused and her skin was pale. Blood poured from two puncture wounds on her neck. As Jessica took in the scene, she saw the man wipe some blood away from the corner of his mouth and grin at her, exposing two bloodied fangs.

“So, you’ve come right to me.” His voice rose like a growl from his throat. He began to move slowly and deliberately towards Jessica. “I was going to make do with this one here, but now that you’re here…” He trailed off and ran his tongue along his fangs. “You’ll do just fine.”

As he began to reach towards her, adrenaline forced Jessica into action. She pulled the knife from her bag and thrust it forward, into the man’s chest. He cried out and jerked back, slamming into the stalls, taking the knife with him. The polished ivory handle of the knife reflected Jessica’s horrified expression back to her, her yellow eyes and deep brown skin twisted into near alien hues in the harsh fluorescent light. She reached into the bag for her bear spray, but the man sprang back with inhuman speed and slapped the bag from her hands. She yelled and tried to punch the knife to force him back again, but he was quicker, and grabbed her wrists before forcing her back into the wall near the sink. Though her vision was hazy, she could see him glare at her and bar his fangs. Some of the blood from his chest dripped down the handle and landed on the floor at Jessica’s feet.

“That wasn’t very nice of you.” He snarled, and licked his lips. “Don’t fight back, darling. I hate when they fight back.”

In the periphery of her vision, Jessica saw a stall door open, then heard what sounded like a gun being cocked. As the man moved his mouth closer to her neck, the mirror to her right exploded in a shower of glass. The man jerked his head around and was met with a punch to the face. He released Jessica’s wrists and staggered back. Jessica felt someone’s hand grab her shoulder and pull her back a bit, before a colossal figure blocked her view.

Jessica’s attacker growled at the figure and lunged at them, but somehow the figure was ready for it. They caught the man’s hand, which Jessica now saw was clawed, and threw the man back against the wall. He hit the tile with a solid thud and slid down, landing squarely on his ass. He began moving to get up, before a loud bang echoed through the room, followed by a cry of pain. Jessica flinched at the initial noise, and when she looked back she saw the man slumped against the wall, holding his knee in agony. Blood seeped from the wound and began pooling under him. Jessica was pretty sure that the knee had been pulverised.

The figure finally turned to Jessica. She could now see that he was a massive man, his muscles barely hidden by his suit and vest. His face was quite square, and he sported a buzz cut and a set of browline glasses. He looked to be in his forties. In his right hand he held a silver revolver that seemed to glow in the bathroom lighting, with such a long, thick barrel that Jessica wasn’t sure how the man was able to fire it.

“Are you alright?” His voice was deep, with hints of a Russian accent. Jessica could only nod. Her words seemed to be stuck in her throat, but she managed to point at the girl. The man looked at her and nodded. “Yes, help is coming. Do not be alarmed.” He looked down at the man he had shot in the knee. Jessica’s knife was still protruding from his chest, and he pulled it out with a rough tug, eliciting another cry of pain. The man looked at the knife, which seemed tiny in his hands, and tossed it on top of Jessica’s purse. A thin trickle of blood slid down the length of the knife blade and onto her bag.

“Sometimes I wish these assholes did not bleed. It makes the clean up so much worse.” He levelled the revolver at the attacker’s head. The man slumped against the wall looked up at him and began to laugh, quiet at first, then growing in volume.

“Ha! Compensating for something?”

The square-jawed man smirked a bit. He spun the revolver around his index finger once, then, without taking his eyes off of the fallen man, shoved the gun into the man’s mouth, forcing him to make eye contact.

“When I first built this gun, forged from a fucking T-34 tank, I made sure that the barrel was the same length as my cock.” He grinned and cocked the revolver. “Then I hit puberty.”

The man’s eyes widened before his head was reduced to a fine red mist. His lifeless body slumped to one side, spouting blood all over the wall and floor of the bathroom. The man with the revolver regarded the carnage for a moment, then looked over at the row of stalls as he absentmindedly wiped the barrel of his gun.

“You can come out now, Incarna, Barlow is dead. Get Mountebank in here, we have one victim.” He turned back to Jessica as a thin man with pink hair stepped out of the right hand stall. He glared at the square-jawed man.

“Wally, next time we do this, you’re pretending to be the girl in the stall.” Incarna took a radio from his belt and moved towards the entrance to the bathroom, speaking just quietly enough that Jessica couldn’t make out what he was saying. Wally moved towards her and offered her a hand, which she took, and he pulled her to her feet. There was a look of concern in his eyes as he looked her up and down.

“If you were injured in anyway, let Mountebank know when he gets here. Do you have anywhere else to be tonight…?”

Jessica had a hard time getting the words to come out, and an even harder time processing what she had just witnessed. She stared at Wally, blinking several times, before turning to the sink and vomiting into it. She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the sight of the headless man in the corner, surrounded by blood, but she spent a few minutes puking. After a second, Wally gently took her hair and held it out of her face. When she paused, Wally gestured to Incarna, who returned a few moments later with a glass of water and a short, elderly man wearing round glasses and carrying a thick briefcase. Incarna handed the water to Jessica, who graciously took it and rinsed her mouth out, before refilling it from the sink and downing it in one go. Behind her, she heard the newcomer, presumably Mountebank, conversing with Wally in Russian.

“You good?” Incarna’s voice sounded like he was born in Brooklyn but lived in England for a while.

Jessica, feeling a bit better, managed to say “I have so many questions.”

Incarna snorted. “Yeah, I would too if I were you. Here, I’ll break it down for you. I’m Incarnadine, but people just call me Incarna.” He held his hand out to Jessica, who shook it after a moment’s hesitation. “The beefcake over there is my…associate, Walmund. I call him Wally, but no one else does, so keep that in mind.” Even though he whispered the last part, Walmund still gave an annoyed glance in their direction before returning to his conversation with Mountebank. “To summarize our occupation: we hunt vampires.”

“Looked to me like he did most of the hunting.” Jessica half slurred her words, but got her point across. Incarna blushed and scoffed.

“That was, ahem, just part of the plan. We were keeping tabs on that guy,” Incarna said as he pointed at the headless body, “and we were trying to deal with him before he could take a victim. Unfortunately he got to that girl before we could step in.”

“Yeah. God, is she gonna be okay?” Jessica took a step towards Walmund and Mountebank before slipping on some blood and stumbling. Incarna caught her and leaned her against a sink.

“Yeah, she’ll be fine. Mountebank’s one of the finest doctors in the field of vampirology. He’ll have her right as rain in no time.” As he said that, Mountebank was shrugging and pulling an imposing saw out of his briefcase. Incarna saw Jessica’s shocked expression and began steering her towards the door.

“Why don’t you just…head home? You’ve been through a lot tonight, you should probably get some rest. Here’s your bag,” he said, as he looped her purse over her arm, “Need a lift? We can call a cab for you. Oh, and kindly don’t call the police about this. We have it under control.” The sound of Mountebank sawing something rang through the room and Incarna gave a sheepish grin and closed the door in Jessica’s face. Jessica tried to open the door and found that it was locked. She stood there, staring at the door and blinking a few times, before beginning to move her way through the club, towards the front door. After that, the memories became fuzzier, and the next thing she remembered was waking up on her couch the next morning, with a splitting headache and missing both of her shoes.

#creative writing #writing #fiction #fiction writing #vampire fiction #vampire #cryptid #cryptid writing #vampire hunting

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imaginebnhas · 7 years

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@onliafaze

This is Bakugou’s version! This one is so long omg~Admin K🎶

What was he going to do? These psychotic…things were destroying everything in the area. Three of them. These things looked like they were made of the odds and ends of all kinds of animals. With the body of a lion, a thick snake’s body coming from the spot where the lion’s tail would be, and from the waist up, they were human—they were the stuff of nightmares. They had terrifyingly large fangs dripping with poison, and it was obvious very quickly that the power of those snake tails had the power of being lethal with the right amount of force. Bat wings a kilometer in length sprouted from their lion backs.

People were running around like mad, desperately trying to escape them. People with all kinds of powerful quirks, but with no training to use them properly. Pro heroes had to be on their way, but who were these villians? Would the heroes even know how to stop them? First things first, he absolutely had to find ___ and get her to safety. His girlfriend was his number one priority at the moment; he could try to fend off those other guys later, but being quirkless in this situation? ___ was not safe here. He screamed her name, desperately calling to find her.

Where is she? Where is she?!

Bakugou:

“Move! Everyone, go now!” Bakugou shouted, pushing people out of the way. “Move! ___? ___! Out of my way! ___!” he screamed. ___ was nowhere to be seen. The freakish hybrids were wreaking even more havoc than they had at first. Where in the world was she? Bakugou told himself he had to save her, and fast. If Katsuki could be her hero…it would make up for everything. Every time where he treated others so poorly, or he did something that terrified himself…he could make up for that if he were there for her now.

Because every time he called Deku worthless, or got excessively violent with any of the students, it reminded him of his power. If he could not control his temper, his pride, his ever inflating ego—would he be able to make it? Not just as a hero, but at all? His pride… his stupid pride! Bakugou tortured Deku for years, he made himself out to be better than all of his peers, but was he really? No. Katsuki was terrified with himself. The power, the need for control… if his intense desire for saving others and doing the right thing wavered for even one second—if he questioned the reasons why someone with such a powerful quirk should obey the laws made by those he felt were beneath him, Katsuki would no longer be a hero. He would be a villain with professional hero training.

So even if he had not been so in love with ___, he had to save her and everyone who was there, or at least hold the situation down until the pros could arrive. Bakugou needed to redeem himself from the incident in junior high as well—he had not forgotten about that. He bolted over to them, not worried about the possible repercussions of his actions.

I need to find you. I have to. Find me. Help me find you. ___, I need you here right now.

When the monster hybrids opened their mouths, their fangs dripped with a sickly green venom, and even from 20 meters away, Bakugou could tell that the stench coming from their mouths must have been foul. Even with this in mind, and doing his best to swallow down his own fears, he continued to charge at them with both hands blazing. As he got closer he saw it. The flames around them were not caused by the collapse of anything electrical in the buildings nearby, the flames came from the mouths of the creatures themselves.

“Fantastic,” Bakugou thought sarcastically. “Flames and poison.” Katsuki’s courage never wavered. But when he saw ___ stuck in a corner of the alley, trying to get away, but stay hidden sufficiently so that she would not be noticed, he felt his mind go blank. Just seeing her there, with her mind so preoccupied and her face covered in dirt and grime, panic struck his heart like a lightning bolt. He felt himself slowing down. ___ was a thinker, unlike Bakugou’s usual brashness, and Katsuki felt that he could see the wheels in her head turning like a thousand gears.

Clearly, ___ had to be quick. She had to be stealthy enough not to be noticed, but she also needed the speed and agility not to get caught and taken hostage. She was behind them, flattening herself against the brick wall of the office building that housed the current situation. ___’s hair had come undone, Bakugou could see tears in her sleeve and her stockings, and she had a bleeding gash on the side of her head. They were supposed to meet up in that spot when the explosion first hit, and Katsuki gathered that his beloved girlfriend must have been at the front lines when it occurred. She was not even looking at Bakugou, though he desperately wanted her to.

Look this way, he begged in his thoughts. Look over here. See that I’ve not abandoned you. I’m here. I’m here.

Bakugou’s legs felt like cement, like he could not have moved them even with a crane. The flames in his hands were put out involuntarily, his mind so worried with other things that he could no longer focus on keeping them lit. It became apparent to him quite abruptly that if these things could spit fire, it meant that they were impervious to it. A fat load of good Bakugou would be in this situation. Did they have to breathe fire? When he saw ___ grip her head with what he assumed was pain, he made his decision. If he could not stop them, he could at least get the attention off of ___.

You always liked being the center of the room, ___ would have joked if she had been standing next to him. Now is as good a time as any. What makes now different than normal?

You, Bakugou would have responded. It’s different because of you. I’ve never needed anyone the way I need you. I’ve never loved like this. Any misstep, and I could lose you forever.

“What would ___ do in this situation?” Bakugou asked himself. Of course, ___ being quirkless meant she always used her natural intuition and street smarts. In a situation where explosions would do nothing except more damage to civilians, Bakugou himself was as good as quirkless, and yet…

___ seemed to notice Bakugou quite suddenly. Her eyes said fear, though her body looked prepared for a fight. He more than just loved her for her spirit despite being literally powerless, it was something he admired greatly. He grinned at her from afar, telling her with his eyes not to worry because he would do something to get her to safety. She shook her head fervently, desperate to get him to stay where he was, but Bakugou had made up his mind already; he was going to be a distraction.

Bakugou charged. “I’ll kill you, you creepy bastards!” he screamed to the creatures at the top of his lungs.

“Wait! Bakugou!” ___ shouted, running out into the open where the hybrids saw her too. Two of them focused on her, and one on him. They lunged at her, and she dove to the side, narrowly avoiding being struck by one of the creatures’ lion paws. In a desperate attempt to focus their attention on him, Bakugou launched a fireball into one of the creatures’ faces, careful of not hitting ___. They roared at him, starting to run his direction. Somewhere in the background of his impending fight, Bakugou heard someone cry out—in some far crevice of his mind, he instinctively knew that it was ___ calling out to him. Bakugou continued to run toward the beasts, who were racing to him as well. He braced himself mentally and physically for battle, and they got close enough to spit their poison at him, which was still several meters away. He noticed it too late, and just as the poison should have hit him, someone landed in front of him with a loud metallic clank!

It took a minute to process that in was in fact ___. The shock of seeing enormous bird wings folding out of his girlfriend’s back was overwhelming. No, not bird wings. They were made of metallic feathers in bronze, copper, and titanium colours, but layered and formed exactly like the wings of an eagle. From tip to tip, they easily measured 3 meters across. They had stopped the poison with ease, protecting the both of them from getting hit. In an instant, she picked up Bakugou by his arms and dropped him a few meters back, standing with him.

“What?!” Bakugou shouted in anger. “You said you were quirkless!”

“I lied!” she screamed back, as the creatures hissed and lunged again. ___ whipped around, and Bakugou could do nothing but stare as razor sharp metal feathers came loose from her wings, firing at the creatures and clipping the hybrids as if ___ had been throwing knives. They howled in pain, ripping the feathers out of their wings, which Bakugou could tell were too injured for them to use, and went to attack ___. Like an expert, ___ skillfully avoided both flames and poison while simultaneously going on the offensive—shooting feathers left and right, very seldomly missing her targets. She twisted, fired, turned and used her wings to shield herself and Bakugou and then started over, all in the time it took for people to blink.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this!” Bakugou shouted, sending fireballs at the faces of the creatures to help fend them off. One of the hybrids snapped at ___, and she jumped, pushing off of the thing’s head like a springboard and shooting into the air, where she continued to fire. Bakugou was pissed. How dare she look so attractive when he was so angry with her?

“I didn’t tell anyone!” She yelled back, barrel rolling into all three creatures and landing next to Bakugou.

“But I’m your boyfriend!” he protested. “You could have at least—duck!” they sprang in opposite directions, avoiding another poison blast before continuing their assault. “You could have at least mentioned it!”

“Can we maybe talk about this later?!” ___ yelled. Bakugou saw her getting tired, losing her balance in the air, and he prayed to every god he could think of that someone would show up quick. Just as ___ narrowly missed a fireball to the face, she lost her balance in the air, and started to fall. She landed in what probably would have broken someone else’s leg and rolled to a stop, coughing from the smoke surrounding them. The creatures, knowing ___ was the bigger threat, dashed to her, reading themselves for a final attack. Bakugou grit his teeth.

Brashness won’t do any good here, he thought quietly. I have to do something. Fire alone won’t help…

And then, like manna from heaven, Bakugou saw high above them a cable holding up a container that easily weighed 100 tons on the other side of the street. The construction that had been going on for two months to build the apartments across the street. Every old cartoon he had ever seen came to mind. The construction crew was going to hate him for this. He sprinted over there and blasted his way up on top of it. He singed the cable halfway, and with his flames as stabilizers, jumped down to the ground beneath it. Bakugou ran forward and shot a tornado of pure heat at the hybrids.

“Hey, you smelly bastards!” Bakugou taunted. “You look like rotten garbage! You guys kiss your mother with that mouth? I bet not even a mother could love something as ugly as you morons!” Apparently, this hit close to home for this guys, because they completely forgot about ___, and Usain Bolt’ed in Bakugou’s direction.

Sh*t.

Bakugou rushed back to the far side of the container and waited for them to get closer. They had to be under the container for it to work. Finally, they were close enough with their speed for Bakugou to shoot another flame up at the cable to finish melting it, and it sent the container down three hundred meters and right on top of all 3 freaks.

Before he could celebrate his obviously genius idea, he punched himself mentally. With the amount of force that the container fell, it exploded on impact. If it had been a normal explosion, Katsuki would have been fine—but this was not fire, it was a hailstorm of metal shrapnel that would have thrown him into the wall and cut him like hamburger meat. Would have, if his girlfriend had not already been flying over to get him already. ___ swooped, picked Bakugou up, and they flew off just before the container hit. She landed on a rooftop far from where the danger was.

“Did you see that?” Bakugou shouted excitedly. He punched and kicked the air in front of him a few times with a massive grin on his face. “We totally whooped some reptilian-mammal arse back there!” ___ smiled.

“Yeah, we did,” she said. Bakugou looked at her, still beaming, then frowned as he remembered how angry he was with her. ___’s shoulders slumped and she looked at him sheepishly. “You’re still mad,” she inferred.

“Of course I am! You’ve somehow been hiding…” Bakugou spread his arms out wide, mimicking her wings. “Those from me all this time! I thought we told each other everything. And they’re so kickass! Why would you pretend you’re quirkless?”

“Because having a quirk means people expect you to use it,” ___ said bitterly. “Look at your quirk. When people saw it they said it too didn’t they? ‘Katsuki, you’ll be a great hero someday!’ Well who says I want to be a hero?! Why-why is it so expected of someone with a great quirk that they have to be a hero? Why can’t I be a history teacher, or an actress or whatever I want? Just because of my stupid quirk?”

“But…you could have flown us to school all this time…” Bakugou said stupidly, immediately regretting the words. ___ glared at him. “I’d never thought about it that way before, but you’re right. Being forced into a job because of your quirk, or people expecting you to be something specific because of it—it’s profiling.”

___’s face softened. “Thanks for understanding.”

“Well now you have some questions to answer.”

“Okay, go ahead.” Bakugou touched one of ___’s wings tentatively. The feathers were so detailed, and all of them thin like paper.

“What kind of metal is this?” He asked.

“Think of steel and multiply it to the power of about a thousand.”

“So kind of like vibranium? The thing Captain America has for his shield in the comics?” ___ raised an eyebrow and chuckled.

“Yeah, if Godzilla’s a gecko,” she answered sarcastically.

“Damn,” Katsuki whispered to himself. “Now I know why I’ve never gotten past first base with you.”

“I can assure that the wings had nothing to do with that.”

“How did you hide them all this time?” He asked, still in awe. ___ turned her back to him and he saw the back of her shirt was ripped where the wings came out of her skin. He watched as she carefully folded them over her back—literally. The wings folded themselves and continued to do so until they were the size of Bakugou’s arm, and then they looked like they melted into her skin once again.

“It wasn’t hard to hide them,” ___ said quietly. Cautiously, Bakugou touched the exposed skin on her back where the wings had gone back and he shivered, noticing how red her skin was from the points the wings emerged from. If the feathers could make such powerful cuts then…

“Does it hurt?” Katsuki asked her. “When they come out?”

“Always,” ___ answered. Katsuki kissed the fingers of his hand and pressed them lightly against the red marks of her skin. It was not like it would heal her, but if he put his lips there now, ___ would get terribly uncomfortable.

___ smiled a bit, but she looked sad. Bakugou embraced her, because he now for the first time, he knew that above all else, she needed him just as much as he needed her.

~Admin K 🎶

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lady-divine-writes · 7 years

Text

Klaine fic - “Time for Love: Chapter 1/4 - Midnight Rendezvous” (Rated NC17)

A few nights a week, Blaine comes to Kurt's window and begs Kurt to let him in. After what Blaine did, after what he's become, Kurt wants him to simply disappear so he can go on with his life. But that's hard when Blaine is still his one true love, regardless of what form he's taken. (1391 words)

A/N: I am going to add notes for this as the chapters go up and the story unfolds. But for this first chapter, just know that there's a twist to what's going on here, and thus, a mention of blood. It's not gory, just, there it is. Proceed with caution. I will not take responsibility for someone being triggered because they felt unprepared. This is a re-write.

Read on AO3.

“Kurt …”

Kurt hears the eerie hiss of Blaine’s voice through the closed window of his bedroom. It’s harsh and raspy, like the blood-chilling sigh of a cobra as it spreads its hood and mesmerizes its prey. Kurt lies completely still, the way he would if he were being pursued by a snake, in the hopes that Blaine will think he’s asleep and go away.

It doesn’t work.

It never does.

“Ku-urt … open the window, Kurt …”

Kurt turns towards the window, seething in frustration. He can see only Blaine’s eyes peering at him in the dark, the rest of his face shrouded by the shadows the branches make on the tree he’s crouching inside of.

“Go away, Blaine,” Kurt groans.

“I can’t.” Blaine presses his hands and face against the glass of Kurt’s locked window. “I want it, Kurt. I need it.”

“Blaine” – Kurt’s heavy eyelids fight to stay open long enough to get rid of his obnoxious visitor - “there are hundreds of men in the state of Ohio who can give it to you.”

“But I want you,” Blaine insists. “You’re the best.”

“Be that as it may, you’re not getting any.” Kurt flips over dramatically, facing his back to Blaine in an attempt to hide his triumphant grin. His chest swells with a bizarre feeling of pride.

The best.

What a tacky thing to be proud of, but he’ll take what he can get.

“Oh, don’t be such a prude,” Blaine grumbles. “You know you love it, too.”

Kurt tosses defiantly back and sits upright to fully face the boy hovering outside his window.

“What a morbid thing to say! I certainly do not.”

“Don’t give me that. I know you, Kurt. In some ways, I know you better than you know yourself. I’ve tasted you …”

Blaine smirks as Kurt turns red, his whole face burning like a torch in less than a second. He retreats to the safety of his comforter, wrapping it tight around his shoulders, but an inch or two of fabric does little to help. He’s still trapped by Blaine’s hypnotic stare.

“I know it turns you on. I hear the way you whimper …” Blaine traces down the pane of glass with a single finger. “I see the way you bite your lip, trying so desperately not to moan …”

Kurt’s eyes track Blaine’s fingertip as it outlines the edge of the glass. It stops on the ledge where the lock to Kurt’s window is fastened shut, tapping right above it as if he is simply waiting out the inevitable.

And for the feeling of Blaine’s fingers on his flesh again, it’s almost worth Kurt breaking his solemn promise to himself and letting the bastard in.

Blaine isn’t wrong. Ever since the first time Blaine convinced Kurt to do it, Kurt realized he’s kind of a masochist as far as Blaine is concerned. Even now, as he tries so hard to resist, he can feel his heart pounding faster and faster in his chest, longing to give in, to give Blaine what he wants. Regardless of his heart’s begging to let Blaine have him, or his body that’s begun to react without his consent, Kurt isn’t just about to lay himself bare for Blaine

He doesn’t like to make it too easy.

“My answer is no, Blaine,” Kurt declares, snuggling down into his bed and closing his eyes.

“Fine.” Blaine growls, feral and threatening, all pretense of slow, sophisticated seduction gone. That growl used to strike fear in Kurt’s heart, make his blood run cold. Now it makes him hot. “Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, if you don’t open this window right now and let me in, I’m going to start singing Spice Girls songs at the top of my lungs all night long!”

Exhausted or not, that definitely gets Kurt’s attention. He pops up in bed and meets Blaine’s burning glare with an icy stare of his own.

“You … wouldn’t … dare,” Kurt challenges, determined to stand his ground, but the second Blaine opens his mouth to start singing, Kurt stumbles out of bed and runs to his window. He undoes the lock and pushes open the window before a single word of ‘Wannabe’ leaves Blaine’s lips.

“Won’t you please come in?” Kurt snaps, not even trying to hide his irritation. Blaine slinks through, grinning from ear to ear. He closes and locks the window behind him, following Kurt as he trudges back to bed. Kurt trundles beneath the comforter and rolls himself up, leaving an arm sticking out.

“Get on with it,” Kurt says. “I have a calc test in the morning and I want to at least get an hour of sleep.”

Blaine looks down at Kurt, wrapped in his blankets like a human burrito, and frowns.

“As adorable as this is” - Blaine moves to the other side of the bed and climbs beside the bundled body of Kurt Hummel - “I would really like to hold you.”

Kurt peeks out from a gap in his burrow and rolls his eyes.

“Fine.” He pulls apart his carefully wrapped cocoon to let Blaine crawl inside. Blaine winds his arms around Kurt, trying his best not to hold him too tight. He doesn’t want to accidentally hurt him. He takes Kurt’s arm and raises his wrist to his mouth. He kisses the soft skin, pressing his lips against it to feel the pulse thrumming there, calling to him.

“Do you miss it?” Kurt murmurs, enjoying the coolness of Blaine’s lips against his skin.

“What?” Blaine asks taking a deep breath of Kurt’s scent – vanilla and honey, sweet and floral.

Flesh and blood, delicate and mortal.

“Being alive?” Kurt looks at Blaine’s pale face and his hard, red eyes; eyes that were once such a beautiful shade of hazel, they were nearly gold.

Blaine smirks again. It’s the only expression of happiness he has. He can’t seem to smile anymore, nothing other than that sinister grin. He runs his lips along the inside of Kurt’s forearm, tracing the paths of his veins with a gentle lick of his tongue.

“Not as long as I have you to remind me,” Blaine whispers. Kurt closes his eyes as Blaine prepares, starting with open mouth kisses along his skin.

Kurt relaxes into Blaine’s side and allows sleep to coax him back into its embrace.

He doesn’t watch. He has long since stopped being fascinated by this part.

The bite is quick; a smooth slip of Blaine’s razor sharp fangs into Kurt’s skin, and suddenly his mouth is filled with Kurt’s unique taste, his mind reeling with images of warm summer walks they shared together; skinny dipping in the lake; late afternoon lunches of Kurt’s famous cucumber sandwiches; and making love at sunset, brazenly beneath the tall willows that grew just shy of the water. By biting Kurt, by feeding off him, Blaine can remember exactly how Kurt’s skin felt with mortal fingers, the warmth of his body pressed against him, the way they fit perfectly, like two pieces in a puzzle that was once the picture of a glorious future together.

One stupid fight and a vengeful, drunken tryst ended it all when the vampire who seduced Blaine turned him into the cold, dead thing sucking the blood from his one true love’s arm.

Blaine breaks away, tracks of bloody tears staining his cheeks, and with a swipe of his tongue, closes the wound. He looks down at Kurt, eyes shut, his face peaceful in sleep beneath the silver light from the moon outside. It’s been a little over a year, yet it feels like only yesterday, but Blaine knows that a time will come when days and nights and months and years will have no meaning for him at all. One moonlit evening, he’ll be here, and Kurt will be vibrant and alive, and in the blink of an eye, seventy years will pass, and Kurt will be gone.

Blaine only hopes that, when that day comes, he’ll be able to find the courage to walk out into the sunlight.

He pulls in closer to Kurt’s sleeping body, rests his head where he can hear the rhythmic beating of his heart, and as he has on so many other nights, he lies awake with Kurt in his arms, dreading the oncoming dawn.

#klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #klaine #frankie writes

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