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justagirlsearchingforamuse · 3 years

Note

If you are still taking nsfw requests, could you please write Heisenburg having some 'alone time' with himself?

"Hmm ... yeah this will have to work ... running out of options because of that stupid man Ethan Winters. The man is nothing but trouble. ... I was a fool to consider trying to work with the clown." Karl growled in a ragged breath, his hands were pressed into his messy cluttered desk and he stood slightly hunched over his desk with his eyes staring at the revised plan he had. He stared over the plan once more, he'd have to either get rid of Ethan or let him do all his dirty work and then finish him off once more. As he slumps into his chair, a heavy sigh leaves his lips at once and he takes his old tethered hat off, he's quite surprised he hasn't lost the beloved accessory. Sitting it down on his disorganized desk with papers, photos, and crumbled pieces of paper he lets a heavy breath leave his lips and tries to let peace rest in his old factory and within his soul. The sound of machinery working actively, metals bumping into other metals and the scent of dust and metal lays heavy in the air. He liked his factory. Just the way it was. Messy. Dirty. Dusty. He loved it, it was his own little home and his place to truly be himself and truly allowed to be vulnerable without the worry of being seen as weak. As inadequate, he runs his thick fingers through his straight dark grey hair, pushing some hair out of his face as he listens to the machines, the huffing, and the metals clanking together and it reminds me of something he's tried so damn hard to forget. You.

He enjoyed and relished being alone, he was in his element, he was allowed to be vulnerable but there was that soft aching in his soul that missed your soft humming or missed hearing you enter his factory. He missed the smell of you, it was warm and so heavenly to his nostrils, when you would bother trying to clean up his cluttered mess and he would try and excuse it. Try and get you to stop. Damn, did he miss you. He sits up straight in his chair, his finger rests upon his bottom lip as he forces and pushes thoughts of you out of his head, he can't bear to think about you, he can't bear to be weak again after what you did to him. "fuck" he mutters in a swift breath as his hands cover his face, he buries his face in his hands as he finds getting rid of you is like getting rid of gnats, nearly fucking impossible. He lets out an agitated sigh, nearly growling to himself before his eyes lay heavy on his desk, still cluttered and messy once again he decides to at least get rid of some of his failed plans. As he begins to grab at a few crumpled up paper balls, he suddenly stops and another sigh leaves his lips, he stops as rushed words leave his lips. "what the fuck am I doing?" he mutters as he began to try and put things back where they were, his hands moved too quickly and suddenly a photo falls onto the floor. It's a polaroid, he twists in his chair and picks up the photo and his eyes harden at the sight of what he tries and tried so desperately to forget. To leave behind. His eyes meet the sight of your face, you took what Americans call a "selfie", a short yet soft chuckle leaves his lips at your weird slang and your way with words was so unique. You smile warmly at the camera, a natural smile suits you perfectly and the light in your eyes, the natural warmth that flushed your skin, everything about you reminded him of what he lost. The family he lost. He missed what he used to once be, human. Humans have freedom, are free to be whoever and do whatever they want but a cruel bitch with selfish intentions and a knack for kidnapping took that away from him.

His face softens at your picture, he remembers your laughter echoing through the room so beautiful and unique to his ears, how you would sit on his lap and tease him with your smile, he remembers so much about you. He remembers you. He remembers the day you left, bitterness on your tongue, sharp anger in your veins and you left with horror, with tears and with nothing but pain striking your face. He hurt you. In return you left him, you left him all alone with nothing but his so-called "family". He wants to rip up your picture, burn it and spit on the image he once treasured so dearly but all he can do is look at what memory he has of you. "Damn, you don't know how much ... how much I miss you ..." Karl whispers, a deep frown curls onto his lips and he can memorize and almost catch your voice in his ears. His throat begins to get tight and his lips try to tremble and quiver before, he buries his teeth in his tongue and inhales a sharp breath to stop himself from being too ... open. He exhales slowly and sets your picture down on the desk once more, he slumps back in his chair, and memories of you circle and float around in his head. "Come on ... forget her, she fucking left you." He mutters and murmurs to himself in a whisper, sighing once again as his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, he keeps repeating "forget her, fuck her" almost like a mantra. But it doesn't fucking work. Especially when he finds himself pitching a tent, his pants become tighter and not as loose as he prefers them to be, he lets out a little more than agitated growl from his lips at the sight. Clicking his tongue, he decides that maybe he can turn this into just another jerk-off session that is nothing more than that, he sets your picture up on a coffee cup he has and lets it sit there right in view. His tongue swirls around his lips as he unzips his pants, he slips his hand in his boxers and lets his eyes rest as he wraps his hand around his firm thick semi-hard cock. He lightly squeezes at the organ, causing him to let out a swift breath at the sensation before leaning back just slightly more, grinding his teeth into his bottom lip he begins to gradually move his hand up and down his cock. "Damn ... kinda sensitive, huh?" Karl says in a slow ragged breath, his voice rumbles, and echoes through the factory.

He wants to rush into it, he wants to imagine you with your tongue down his throat, hands exploring his body and he could imagine your chuckles after he rips off your clothes. "Fuck ..." Karl whispers, his eyebrows furrow at images of you that flash in his mind, the things he's done to you, the sheer pleasure that he's given you has him squeezing his fully erect cock. His fingers travel to the head of his cock, he squeezes at the sensitive area causing a ragged deep growl to leave his parted lips, pleasure pulsates through him and leaves him almost like putty in his hand. He swallows thickly and inhales once again, his hand begins to slowly travel up and down his thick meaty cock that pulsates, eagerly. Heavy ragged breaths leave his lips, his eyes are closed, almost like he's relaxed and at ease with his hand shoved down his pants and his mind focused on the aching problem in between his thighs. When his hand travels to the head of his cock, his thumb moves in circles around the head, slow agonizing circles that leave him almost gasping for air at the throbbing sensations that travel through him. "Damn ..." Karl groans deeply, a ragged breath soon follows as he spreads his legs wider, his hand travels up and down his throbbing hard cock, heavy ragged breaths are all that leave his lips. "Shit ... shit ..." He breaths out heavily, he whines and it fills his throat and the factory he resides in, echoing heavily through the room before a deep breath leaves his lips. "Get the fuck outta the way," Karl whispers to himself, he pushes his pants down to his ankles and his cock isn't restrained by his pants, his hand moves to his cock once again and continues to gently stroke his throbbing cock that now leaks with precum. "Gah ..." Karl gasps, burying his teeth into his bottom lip as heat begins to flood into his being, his heart throbs and pulsates in his chest, and arousal pulses through him, leaving him aching for sweet release. Hot damn ...

"Yeah, remember how you used to just worship me ... do you remember how much of a masochist you were? That look on your face though ... whenever I had you tied up and at my mercy or ... whenever you needed to be punished ... oh damn ..." Karl rambles to himself, his words are slurred and his thoughts of full of nothing but you, he remembers how you used to tease him away from his work and how good you were at making him hard in mere moments. His cock pulsates in his hand at the thought of you and he decides to kick it up a notch, his hand begins to move at a slightly quicker pace as it travels up and down his throbbing meaty cock. His cock leaks with precum that travels down the head of his cock, his thumb quickly moves against the sensitive head, rubbing and massaging that sensitive area causing sharp waves of ecstasy to rush through him. He licks his lips and a wide toothy grin curls onto his lips, a light chuckle follows soon after as short and breathless moans leave his parted lips, the heat that was once warm gets hotter and it travels throughout his body. "Yeah, you remember that. You can't forget how good my cock felt down that tight throat of yours, how you savored my seed obediently ... haah ... damn." Karl rambles once more, imagining as though you were listening to him, what follows after his words are heavy breathless moans that are pried from his lips. He uses his other hand to clutch the chair's arms as his hand eagerly strokes and massages his cock aching in between his legs. "Ah ..." Karl moans deeply, a growl at the end of that moan as he can ecstasy pulsate through him, his body throbs with arousal and aching as he selfishly takes care of himself. He was getting close.

The heat that was hot as hell was now boiling inside of him, running his hands through his hair he wraps both of his hands around his cock, eager to taste his release quicker as his face twists at the waves and waves of ecstasy that travels through him. He clenches his teeth and his eyes are closed tightly, heavy ragged raspy breaths leave his lips followed by low growls of your name that he repeated like a mantra. "Oh, fuck ...! Oh, baby ... don't you miss me? Don't you miss how I used to fuck you ... nice and hard, all night fucking long and I still have your marks on my back." He rambles in a series of heavy breaths that clouded his throat, he begins to fist his cock swift and severely as sharp powerful waves of bliss washed over him in heavy waves of heat. "Oh, fuck! Shit! Oh, shit ...!, Baby, I want you so bad ... I want you here with me ... your lips wrapped around my cock or maybe you would want to ... want to be on your back like a dog. Eager for my cock, eager to get pounded into the mattress." Karl rambles once again, a smile is curled onto his lips as he is so eager to chase after a high, eager to chase after whatever he was deluding himself into that had him believing you were there. "Oh, shit! Goddamn ...!" Karl pants out, his breaths become raspy and sound like a growl at the end of each moan that falls from his lips. His throat is tight and struggling to keep oxygen in it, heat boils within him and he's just so enamored with the thought of you and you're not even there. Clenching his teeth, he begins to drive his hips into his tight fist, his hand swiftly stroking his throbbing hard cock as he throws his head back. Waves after waves of ecstasy travel and burst through him, the ecstasy is strong, merciless, and unforgiving and he fucking loves it so much. Oh, what you do to him ...

"Shit, baby ... I'm gonna ... I'm gonna come ... gonna come so fuckin' hard. I love you ... I love you ..." Karl rambles out in heavy ragged breaths as he continues to vigorously fist his throbbing meaty cock, his breaths are caught in the middle of his throat and when it hits him his entire body disobeys him. His body jerks, almost jumps at the tides of bliss that flood through him and he reaches his boiling point, his stomach coils and he bites at his tongue enough to make himself bleed as thick ropes of semen land onto his shirt. "Fuck, (Y/N) ...! Oh ..." He whines deeply, his hand continues to vigorously stroke his cock, shorter ropes of cum spurt onto his shirt as he desperately tries to feel more. To see you again. He'll never admit that. Never let his mind admit because he's a stubborn bastard but there's that thought in his head, he was wondering if you would've said "I love you". He wondered if you would've just smiled at him and left him again, when he catches his breath a bitter taste hits his tongue, and memories of your time together hits him like a pile of bricks. Fuck, all he wanted was to forget you. Forget that you brought him up just to leave him when he needed you most. His eyes open and he inhales a shaky breath through his nostrils, pain weighed heavy on him and that's all he can think of. The pain. Your last words. The tears. He remembers you.

#resident evil smut #resident evil 8 #karl heisenburg #karl heisenberg x reader #re: village #smut

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littlefreya · 3 years

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Prince Of Darkness

Summary: There'll be no escape tonight, the devil always gets what he desires.

Pairing: Devil!August Walker x Unnamed OFC (3rd person pov)

Word count: 6k

Warnings: 18+, DARK! NonCon, kidnapping, stalking, breeding, exhibitionism, loss of virginity, supernatural stuff, sex in a cathedral, mention of heaven and hell. Please proceed with caution.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own

A/N: I have put a lot of effort into this story, and I’m really anxious af. We all like to see August as a demon, but I decided to go all the way... And I’m nervous at your response and going to die after hitting submit. So bye.

Many thanks to the love of my life @agniavateira, for support, brainstorm and beta. And to @crimsonrae and @wondersofdreaming who held my hand.

Please give feedback and reblog if you enjoyed my work. 🖤

Title: Prince of Darkness

Blood painted the streets, courtesy of the blinding scarlet lights that danced upon gravel and tar before dwindling into darkness. The soft, beaming glow pulsed with the muffled beats of a monotonous song that played inside the luxurious nightclub. Like thundering war drums, it rumbled in the ears of the elegant man who stood along the shadows.

Leaning against the cement, he took a sip from a glass of spiced Bordeaux and brushed an index finger over his thick moustache to wipe away misguided droplets of wine.

‘How could anyone enjoy this abomination?’ He wondered with a guttural groan, never quite grasping this electronic noise thing; but then again August was older than this music, and his tastes far exceeded cheap and trivial antics. He was a man driven by the appetite for destruction and forbidden delights, and tonight, he was finally about to obtain both. After decades of anticipation, the succulent fruit was ready to be plucked.

Oh, what an intoxicating and delicious mist his unsuspecting beloved emanated, setting his heart aflame with her sheer ripeness.

‘It’s been so long, so painfully long.’

Time had lost its meaning as he waited, curving and swerving into a stream of an infinite river flowing with decay and death.

But as the old saying went: all haste comes from the devil.

So the man lingered against the wall, a sparkle enkindled and crackled in his eyes, morphing into black wells whilst the waves of her honey-liqueured ambrosia grew pungent, seeping through his airways and sinking in his throat. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, revelling in the sound of harsh tapping heels that echoed louder with every step until she came summoned into the naked wilderness of the city street.

‘Beautiful and innocent as the garden of Eden. Of course, of course...’

The stranger scrutinised the young woman with another sip from his wine and a bite of great intrigue - but stoicism and silence, for now, were his most valuable allies.

Clad in a lithe black dress and a stylish leather jacket to keep herself warm from the chill autumn breeze, she fished for the mobile device in her purse while distress washed her wrinkling brow. Illuminated by the bright screen, her face sulked as for the seventh time in the last 30 minutes, her attempt to find an Uber bore no success whatsoever.

Was there something about tonight that all drivers were kept occupied, or had her luck simply run dry?

Showing her face to the moonlit sky, she sighed in great frustration. This must have been fate’s retribution to a mindless bad decision; she should have left with her friends, but staying alone to fruitlessly catch the eye of the uncaring bartender seemed more significant as the buzz of alcohol dimmed any ray of logic. Now deep into the night, walking home alone didn’t appear to be the most sympathetic solution, yet it occurred to her that there wasn’t much of choice.

“You seem distressed.”

Equal to a dark chant sputtering words of witchcraft, the low yet incredibly soft baritone of his voice slithered from the corner and crept down her spine with icy scales. A lurching hollow flared within her gut, her neck seized by the tight grip of a serpentine phantom.

His vibrato sounded like a voice that called her through a dream she never had before; despite the unsettling arctic spasm gyrating through her shaky limbs, it lured her to return a stare and meet the cryptic face behind the seducing chant.

Two sharp glaciers glimmered at her as the stranger sauntered into the penumbra, momentarily lit by another flash of neon red that broke onto his face and highlighted his ethereal features. Her lips drew open, her nipples hardening against the fabric of her dress as a shiver ran through her. To say that the stranger was handsome would be an understatement, as it almost seemed as if he was ‘designed’ by a sculptor - carved cheeks led a path to slightly pouted lips, and a stark, dimpled chin was shadowed by dark stubble. His chocolate-brown hair was elegantly combed to the side, with a couple of large lustrous locks gently nestling over his brow.

Though it wasn’t his good looks that left her riddled with prickly goosebumps, but the unprecedented magnetic haul that made her feel as if she was physically drawn toward this mysterious man.

Frightened by the unbidden reaction of her own body, she quickly retreated to gawk at the phone and provided no answer to his inquiry. A strange yearning to submit grew between her clenching thighs, a primal response to his striking looks and charms.

But she killed the seed before it set roots in her flesh.

‘They said Ted Bundy was charming as well…’ she mused. Frivolous as she wanted to be, getting murdered was undoubtedly not among her plans tonight.

Revelling in her silent reply with an arched brow, he tilted his head when a blinding flicker abruptly caught his keen eye. Kissed by the pale moonlight’s beam, a small silver cross rested upon her collarbone. His sharp fangs begged to peek with sardonic amusement, but he kept his lips clamped, not wishing to scare her too soon.

There was to be plenty of that later...

“May I offer you my help, sweetling?”

Threading his long fingers between the smooth stem and clasping them around the bowl, he lowered the glass to the side of his hip, dragging the girl’s unwilling eye to the healthy bulge in his groin.

Her lips drew open as a surge of staggering heat flushed at her apex.

It seemed enormous...

“Name’s August, like the emperor, but you can call me whatever your heart desires...”

Embers burnt at her cheeks; in her belly, the odd mystical calling continued weaving at her core in an urge to accept whatever it was he had to offer. Her eyes warred to tear her gaze away from his nether region as her lashes fluttered to meet the abysmal glance that bestowed both frost and fire through her tendons.

There was something archaically familiar about this man as if she knew him before the days had names. Yet she swore, it was the first time she ever saw his striking face.

“I can take you wherever you need to go.”

Breath laced with wine titillated her nostrils as the words spilt from his lips, whilst another crimson ray broke upon the marble of his face. Never had he urged, but instead suggested with a tongue soaked with honey. Still, a blazing aura of danger encircled him. And even though the very natural fear of walking home alone grappled her, it still seemed like a much better plan than entrusting her life to a stranger who was twice her size.

Deciding to keep her tongue knotted, she turned and began striding away. ‘Best not to engage him,’ she thought, but once she moved past his bulky figure, her heart suddenly picked up its pace and her legs refused to function as if they no longer belonged to her.

Seconds stretched into eternity. The thought that this civilised savage will assail her and drag her into the night scratched at the back of her head. But the worst of it was the simmering throb. Unforgiving, like gathering storm clouds, it thundered the closer she walked by him and then gradually died out as she finally managed to move away and free herself from this invisible bond.

Savouring the final drop of wine, August watched amused as the frightened little lamb quickly oscillated on her feet, scampering into the horrors offered by the dark. It was funny how fear made animals act so heedlessly and rush straight into the burning heart of peril.

A toothy grin peaked his chiselled cheeks. Always the gentleman, he shifted from the concrete, discarding the glass carelessly to shatter on the sidewalk. His sinew stretched in a relaxed ripple of an apex predator before he straightened both vest and jacket and stroked his thick moustache.

Though her heavenly fragrance still soaked the air, the girl was already gone from normal eyesight. It was a pity to see her leave, yet there was no need for him to rush.

There was never really a choice for her.

Strangely, the night kept growing unnaturally darker. A great ocean of blackness and crystalised stars spread from above, casting looming shadows across the tall buildings that resembled a maw filled with rotten teeth. The tepid wind that blew between the vast concrete monoliths was nothing but the breath of a mythical beast intoning her name through the shadows.

Clawing at her forearms, she meandered through the inert street with a wary eye. Desolate neon signs flickered hauntingly, bequeathing a vibrant beacon of dread over the shimmering, onyx road. Not a living soul was in sight as if the world descended into stillness, dominated by an eerie, dead silence save for the harsh echo of her hasty heels. And yet, the long path felt anything but lifeless. With every step landed on the ground, she could sense the movement beneath the surface: swarming vile things, slippery and scaled. Unseen by the human eye, they hissed dirty little secrets and slithered with sinister hunger, drizzling down their fangs.

‘You can already feel me inside you, can’t you sweetling…’ Remaining hidden, he had to admit that watching the little lamb leap shivering into the slaughter has been somewhat of foreplay.

A veil of fumes emitted from her parted lips. The air became colder, summoning a terrifying truth that made her lungs clench around the black void that abruptly filled them with the notion that maybe... maybe… that chill, liquid-like thing that threatened to touch her ankle wasn’t just in her crazy imagination.

There was something out there, something undeniably familiar. This unusual gust of wind brushing at her nape has accompanied her since she could remember herself, an unsettling breeze bidding that evil lurked between the creases, holding its sinewy fingers clasped together while waiting for her to answer his hushed calling.

‘And once you finally answer, there is no turning back…’

Fear gnawed its frosty fangs at her bones, puncturing tiny painful cavities that were needles in her flesh. Tonight, of all nights, the same hazy feeling became stronger than ever before. Deep inside, she knew she would meet her end. Pressing the oily pads of her fingers at the sharp corners of her pendant, she inhaled and chanted a prayer, refusing to succumb to the noxious malice when a frozen pin pierced her heart.

Like the lark calling on the dawn, an unbidden chant carried her name.

Drenched with frigid sweat, she exhumed a shuddering breath, praying to God that it was only her imagination playing tricks on her ears.

‘The greatest trick he ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.’

Indeed in the darkness, leered the beast. All teeth and malicious glee, August moved from one shadow to another, feasting on the aphrodisiac that was the mixture of her harrowing terror and unveiled desire. If only she knew the trail her scent left for him to follow - he could smell her from miles away.

The little flower between her legs began blooming the moment their entities finally encountered one another, and it was his ancient name her dew had dripped for.

‘My sweet little thing, tonight I will finally grant you a purpose...’

Like a hound awakened from a deep slumber, he flexed his bulging muscles and tailed her in utter silence. The same spell that burnt in her core seethed the blood gathering in his ardent loins. Since the dawn of humankind, he had more women than any other man on this earth, yet none has evoked such hunger in him.

He would have eaten her alive and torn her to shreds if only he didn't have bigger plans for her.

Still hidden by the unnatural night, August stalked from behind, the blaze of his enkindling burn licking her path as he crept further to ensnare his prey. He wished she could see herself through his own flaring glance, how beautiful she was with tears of despair rolling down the tender slope of her cheeks.

His beloved girl; his, by ancient law. Spirited as a rageful tempest, she insisted on escaping her prophesied fate. Muscles and bones strove against the panic that turned her boiling blood frigid. But no power, physical nor divine could revoke this otherworldly attraction that bound her to him. His bidding could never be undone and as much as his blood relished from the thrill of the chase, it was time to put an end to this dance and seal their union.

Appearing from a stygian haze of a spectral nightmare, the beast drew his claw to grasp the fleeting girl’s shoulder.

The world froze along with the scream that died in her throat. Cold, slippery wet, the phantom serpents slinked around her ankles and held on to the ground as the thing behind her bit his nails into her collarbone. His touch was no ghost, but as real as the quiet moon that voyeured her fate from above and did nothing. A wretched gasp of anguish shuddered through her airways as his fingers stalked forth to cinch at her neck.

His grip was tighter than the icy finger of death, yet its caress was the sensual lick of a gossamer tongue.

It was almost as if he worshipped her.

Shadows befell her as the assailant leaned close, wafting a mist of intoxicating fumes scented of poisonous elixirs and an ancient forest that laid deep between the veils of the underworld, hiding forbidden mysteries that none dared speak of. Seeping through her orifices, it stung her eyes and raked remorseful tears.

“Please…” she broke into sobs, shaking her head at the dawning of her fate.

The man inhaled deeply. Though she could not see him, the joyful malice that danced on his pleased breath roared in her ears.

“Do not fear me.” The sonorous rumble caressing her ear was hardly a surprise in its familiarity. It was him, the handsome bewhiskered gentleman from earlier. But of course, it was always him: the whisper in the dark, the slithering things moving beneath the tepid ground, and the smell of burning pyres.

But who the hell was he?!

As if he read her mind, his hand twisted around her nape and with a careful sway, turned her to face him. The voice inside her head warned her over and over again not to look at him; yet the temptation was too great, peeling her eyes open to stare at the thing that made her heart drop to her gut.

Vast, raven wings spread from each side of an Adonis figure, their intimidating length denying her widened eyes to look at anything but the dark god that soared tall in front her. No, not a god, a devil. A pair of small golden horns peeked from the mane of long curls, and the heavenly icy gaze she remembered from earlier had melted into an abysmal lake of fire.

He was beautiful.

He was monstrous.

And just like that, she descended from the earth, swept into a thick swamp of darkness that swallowed her whole. Never letting so much as her feet kiss the ground, August scooped her into his strong arms. Peering down upon her, he broke into a delightful grin, already enamoured with his delicate new bride. The pang of lust tingled in his groin, though despite the raging need to claim her now, it was her screams he desired more than all as he would consummate their eternal marriage.

Wicked tongues of fire licked up the shallow air, casting a faint amber glow into the abominable sombre of a vanishing nightmare. Shy as feral nymphs, the bursting sparks ascended melancholily, whispering tales of perishing days that fell to harmony with a strange mumbling chant. Still locked in a void of unconsciousness, the fallen girl shifted with disquiet, her hands restlessly clutching at a virginal silk gown that covered her body.

Vaguely remembering a horrifying dream of a demonic entity, she woke with a sudden electric jitter. A peal of breathless pants pushed through her heaving chest before she slumped into the intense relief one experiences from a brush with either death or a ghastly fantasy.

“Thank God…” she whispered with a fist pressed to her breast.

Yet, something was amiss. The low vocal melody continued despite her state of clarity, tangled with the eerie presence of a hundred cutting glares that stabbed her crawling spine. Slowly and carefully, she lifted her head and scanned her surroundings.

The blood drained from her face.

Swaying like shadowy wraiths stood men cloaked in black velvet hoods. Tears of milky boiling wax trickled from the candles held by their stringy fingers, yet they didn’t seem to flinch as the burning rivulets seared their flesh. Their hollow eyes were fixated upon her while words of a dark sacrament sputtered from their lips and reverberated through the endless archways and ribbed vaults that towered above them.

Her trembling muscles were briskly stifled under the unsettling realisation of her whereabouts - a cathedral, a thousand years old if not more. Burning torches lit crumbling pillars and statues of monstrous winged creatures that encircled them from every niche, their malicious shadows dancing upon dusty obsidian bricks. Unglazed windows were barred by black iron, the beautiful floral shapes preventing any means of escape.

Only the fractured ceiling held a cheap shred of hope, as a vast rupture of broken stone exposed her to the scarred carmine wolf-moon.

If only she had wings…

Bones rattling beneath her crawling flesh, she sat upon the hard surface with wells of despair. Her hands clutched around the edge of the bed, only to be kissed by the sharp corners that pierced the delicate flesh. Hissing with pain, she lifted her arms and stared below at what appeared to be a midnight-black marble creased with golden veins and saplings-like patterns.

It was beautiful, just like the creamy gown that covered her body.

“Do you like it, bride?”

Rising from the crowd like a flame among charred coals, appeared her handsome abductor. Suitable to a true evil prince, a long red cloak enrobed his broad, sturdy form, the velvet hem trailing behind him like a thick river of blood while he marched forward with no haste in his dauntless mien. Human once again, August offered the most endearing grin; two profound dimples embellished his scruffy cheeks, and his eyes shone brighter than a frozen sea.

Yet in her sullen gaze, he was nothing but a monster.

Abruptly enraged and driven by pure instinct, she jumped off the marble and paced backwards. Tears of anger and fright rimmed her swollen lids and her bare feet nearly collided as she shook her head at August who was neither impressed nor concerned by this foolish protest.

“You stay the fuck away from me!!!” She warned with a scream and hastily turned away.

Lost in some trance, the praying mob never stirred, granting the girl a fair chance to escape the bewhiskered man who was still several strides away. Her feeble legs made three to four steps when her muscles swiftly turned to stone, and her stomach lurched.

‘No! It couldn’t be! How?!’

Curls shining like precious coils of onyx, August emerged in front of her, continuing his relaxed gait as if this was a natural occurrence. His bright icicles melted into malicious dark pools of twisted desire, and his tongue briefly laved his plump lips at the sight of pure disbelief that cascaded over her face. He could feel right under her skin, hear the thrumming heart that both chilled and fumed for him. Further beyond her thoughts, his betrothed yearned to be defiled and torn open by him.

It was her destiny, whether she liked it or not.

Still she fought, so ferocious and defiant, flinching away from his attempts to seize her. It was almost comical to watch her deny him, knowing that her fate would be no different; she will spread her legs and submit to his conquest. And yet, her battle was immensely appealing; what better bride to the dark lord than a woman who breathed fire.

“Who are you?!” She cried, her trembling voice rising with panic and her cheeks soaking with tears, “What do you want from me?!”

August's face was devoid of mercy, her whimpering hisses did nothing to deter him and only further increased the appetite of the deprived wolf that circled in his gut. With a wring of his wrist, his fingers snapped at her elbow, hauling her against his rock-hard chest with such might her heels hovered above the ground.

Writhing in his grip she flung her hands at his face, clawing streams of crimson to trickle down his cheeks. The notion of hurting this vicious man brought somewhat of a sick joy; but her onslaught died at once, and her mouth fell agape as his skin healed with not even a trace of injury.

“Oh God, what are you?!” She shuddered.

Still holding her elbow hostage, his free hand travelled to the hem of the white gown, the long, perverted fingers twisting around the fabric before yanking it off at once. A resounding rip echoed through the tall arches, causing the chanting choir to halt their susurrations at once.

All eyes were afloat as the cold air kissed her skin. In vain, she attempted to cover herself only to be felled by the restraints of August’s grasp.

“God?...” The man finally spoke, his melodic voice ending with a sonorous hum that sprouted through her arteries like a deadly toxin. Not less poisonous, his gaze trailed down her form, worshipping the very sights of his delightful prize.

“Not God, but once I was an angel,” he suggested and leaned down to inhale her skin with a gratified growl before he flicked his wide tongue at her chest.

A groan of approval emitted from his lips, the sheer coat of sweat that layered her bosom was soaked of freshly brewed fear, his most favourite savour. His wet, velvety snake swept the sweet-briny wetness and licked further down her breasts, twirling around the erect nipple.

Unintended, she moaned. A river of delights rushed between her grinding thighs.

“No!”

Wrongful, unwanted bliss awoke in her. She felt desecrated and allured at once. Her fickle body deceived, mistaking this vile conquest as consensual. And the more August took, the more she desired; her dutiful womb demanded to consummate this bond, almost as if the beast had bewitched her a long while ago, embedding his essence in the marrow of her bones.

August grinned against her skin, the scent of her arousal fresh in his nose while his lips travelled to kiss down her sternum and the slope of her torso. His thick whiskers left a trail of fluttering butterflies.

“Have sympathy, my love. I had built my own realm and waited in the forlorn abyss. Empires fell and worlds disintegrated into ashes while I waited for thou,” he explained and clutched the cheek of her behind in his claw, squeezing it possessively. “I have longed for your touch since the day your ancestor promised you to me, little lamb. A hundred years’ worth of waiting for the bargain to reach its end, and for you to finally be ripe.”

The beast pressed one last languid kiss below her navel, a guttural hum exuded in between his lips, huffing hot against her belly. Slowly he rose to his full height, towering above his helpless victim who hugged her arms to cover her naked body and watched her nightmare unfold once more. Cold wind chilled her damp cheeks as August flung the blood-red cloak and exposed his naked figure before her.

He was massive, a masculine build fit for a warrior angel, covered with thick bulging muscles and dark hair. Lips parted, she forgot herself, gawking in awe and allowing her gaze to trail down to his unapologetically monstrous cock. Firm and throbbing, it dripped with hunger, urging to find release inside her clenching cavern.

She didn’t even know a man could be this vast, but alas, he was no man at all.

It was at that moment when blackest wings spread before her that realisation finally struck through like a blunt hammer to the back of her head. Covering her mouth she cowered away, her exposed back hitting the raised altar behind her.

August was no man nor god, but Lucifer himself.

Seeing the hope die in her eyes, the devil sneered.

“No, no, no! This can’t be real! This isn’t real!!!” She yelled, pathetic little hiccups sputtering from her lips.

August tilted his head, giving a scornful pout and scoffed with amusement. “Am I not?” He asked as he lifted an arm to flick his fingers, summoning two of the hooded servants to approach the dais. Their eyes were soulless gems embedded to a grey face that was cracked like a broken eggshell.

“I am real, beloved, as real as the child you will conceive me tonight.”

Shrills of terror flew through the great hole in the ceiling. Kicking and screaming, she fought as the men seized her arms and dragged her to the altar, forcing her flat down and holding her arms to prevent her from escaping. They never blinked at the ferocious war she waged against them, though an impish smile slowly possessed their faces as their master strode forward.

“Sweet little lamb,” August chanted, enamoured with his fiery bride while he sauntered by the edge of the altar. His Adonis body golden in the candlelight, his fingers squeezed and pumped the ravenous demon that hung heavy between his legs. The twinge in her womb rose in response, a low roar thrumming as it yearned to succumb to its unbridled purpose. Sheen, the arousal trickled between her kicking legs and onto the smooth stone, making her cheek flame.

Much to August’s pleasure.

“Our son will burn this world to cinders,” he promised and snaked his fingers at her ankles. Calmly deflecting her attempts to kick against him, he dragged her toward him until her knees folded over the edge and spread between his thighs. The platform was in the perfect height, positioning her delicious Eden at the height of his blessed demon.

“You will make an excellent mother.”

Her entire body shook, her cunt clenching along her sobs in both defence and beguiling need as August leaned in and grazed the silky pink crown between her wet petals. She begged he wouldn’t be able to invade her, but her prayers fell to deaf ears.

“Please don’t do this to me! I will do anything… please!” She wailed a bargain, still trying to escape the servants’ grip and looking at him pleadingly, “I… I...haven’t been with a man!”

“Oh I know…” August beamed and stroked himself back and forth between her engorged lips. Vamping flames tingled at her flesh, her core foolishly squeezing around nothing in demand for this wretched monster to defile her.

“You’ve kept yourself for me, didn't you? I have waited for you too, for centuries even, but now our waiting has ended, and I can finally love you.”

With one brutal thrust, he breached through the gates of her sacred haven, corrupting her purity and ripping her open with the elegance of a savage.

Exasperated bats fluttered their wings over the red moon at the sound of her pained howl. Eyes flared to the bleak sky above; the girl watched them in a daze, disbelieving the blazing demon that scorched her from inside as he nestled himself between her resisting gates with no intention to cease.

In his villainy, August pushed further. Stunned thunders of ecstasy erupted from his lips, all to humiliate her along with the dark minions who circled the altar to pervertedly witness this sacrilegious ritual in which their master ravaged the unwilling maiden. Ignoring her body’s vehement protest, he forced himself unfathomably deep, only stopping until the head of his cock kissed the gateway of her cervix.

Crystalised tears rolled down her temples and stained the cold marble beneath her body. Slit impossibly sore, she twitched and sobbed at the overwhelming feeling of being invaded by another entity. Her once protected realm was now under the domain of a ruthless prince, and he took no prisoners and granted no mercy nor care at her vain endeavours to push him out.

He would never stop. He would have her again and again until her sacred little womb would be plentiful with his seed.

“Tight,” he blurted out in a blissful huff and reached his talons to bite into her quaking thighs. Spreading her wider, he hooked his hands below her knees, moulding her into a vessel to be fulfilled. Arctic orbs glazed down her naked figure, his plump lips cooing at her aching whimpers. The taut and hairy muscles of his gut flexed as he carefully withdrew his vicious cock, coated in the crimson sorrow of her maidenhood.

Hollow pain throbbed in her empty cunt as he suddenly abandoned her. Distressed and overwhelmed, she hoped he would stay out, yet her traitorous body coveted his return in a false faith that it would ease the fervid twinge that soared to her belly and even burnt in her breasts.

It was far from true.

No less vigorous than before, August plunged back inside her, stretching her again, shaping her as his own as she yipped and struggled to escape. His head threw back with a roar of divine pleasure, feasting at the thrill of her dauntless veils wrapping around him like a succulent flower. For a moment there, he wondered who preyed on who. Her concupiscent little cove sucked him so wantonly it threatened to swallow his raging cock.

‘But of course, every virgin is destined to become my whore.’

Hot and heavy, his shaft seized the void that had always been inside her, their heaving organs collided in euphoric bliss like two broken shards that were lost for decades and finally pieced back together. And even though she seared with every jerk or shift he made, the impassioned flames licked at the seams of her twitching cunt in waves of ache and foreign desperation.

“No…” she whispered, shame singeing her throat as the little pesky sparks enkindled where the devil had violated her. Vision blurry, she gazed at him utterly mystified. Part of her warred to stoke the fire that screamed heresy, while the other begged to yield to her demise.

As August pulled away again and thrust harder, a breathless moan tore from her lips.

A cutting grin radiated onto his face. “It feels so good inside you,” he sang and slid one hand to stroke all the way down from her sweat-ridden thighs to her belly, feeling the movement of his cock with every push and shove.

He was taunting her, yet she couldn’t care less. Over the cinders of pain and virtue, a garden began to bloom. With every abysmal stroke of his swelling shaft, she could feel green saplings and coy vines growing within her uterus—soft, beautiful tendrils stalked through her arteries, sprouted through her cove, and engulfed his swelling demon as well.

She was no longer burning but becoming alive. Pained cries suddenly evolved into asphyxiation of bliss. Beyond her realisation, she undulated her hips in the desire to endure each of his wet claiming thrusts. Her spine coiled against the surface, further allowing him easier passage to nourish the wilderness that continued spreading through her blood.

Noticing the change in her, approving groans rumbled in his throat; his little bride was growing tighter around his demon, her quivering lips and fluttering lashes the image of true Elysium. It was not long before he would plant his seed in her fertile lush. Her cunt milked and suckled around him, demanding to be bred by the devil.

“Yes, my love! Give in to me! Give in to your primal sin!” August urged, enhancing the rhythm until he was thrusting into her like a battering ram, the sinful elixir of their union smearing on his groin and dripping down her rump. “Descend with me!”

In her delirium she witnessed magical nightshades and sinewy stalks growing amidst the gritty bricks, encompassing the ominous cathedral with bright colours.

It was paradise on earth, given to her by the unearthly rapturous joy of having this demon violate her, slamming harder with growing frustration until his thick girth ripped through the last threads of her self-preservation and that which she tried so hard to deny erupted through her clenching core.

Euphoria.

For a lingering moment, she had wings of her own, pale as precious pearls and lustrous stars. Tingling waves of ethereal white heat burst at her seams, purifying her as she flew above the cathedral, and watched their ungodly union from above. But her wings suddenly caught aflame and before she knew it, she crashed onto the earth with a secondary, more violent climax.

The beast’s roars erupted into a brutal thunder, causing the sturdy pillars of the cathedral to quake and crack like thin glass. With all his might, he clutched her thighs and hauled her against him, slamming his swollen cock deep into her belly and releasing his smouldering, milky essence until it seeped from her sleek. August’s wings flew open as he found his own rapture, blazes following through and consuming the ancient hall.

This was no longer a hallucination.

This was Inferno.

Still radiating with orgasmic glow, she screamed horrified as everything around them vehemently burnt to coals. Even the soulless servants crumbled into dust, accepting their fate without so much of a yip. The fire raged and died within seconds, leaving nothing but broken pillars and ashen smoke.

Shortly, the tepid air of night caressed her naked skin as they remained alone in the ruins of what was once an ominous cathedral. Still buried in her viscera, August broke into a low, stretching groan of relief which made her immediately return her eyes to him. Shame rose bitter in her throat and new fresh rivulets trickled on her cheeks.

After all that he had done to her, she could see nothing in him but a beautiful monster.

“My beloved queen,” August keened to comfort her and moved his hand to tenderly stroke her lower belly.

A toothy smile broke upon his face, his eyes gleaming with surprise as he felt the life that had already begun growing in her angelic fortress. A son, strong and glorious as his father. For the first time in his long existence, the devil was truly elated and he vowed in that moment that he would give her much, and much more. But first, she needed to be cared for.

Her assaulted hole convulsed with pain as he pulled himself out, leaving a trail of creamy fluids to dribble at his departure. Sniffling and shaking, she watched him bemused, as he climbed onto the altar and moved to lie beside her. Though she no longer flinched as he touched her, what was the point of it anyway? He had already destroyed her and stolen her innocent soul.

“You make me so happy, my beloved queen,” August had murmured as he gripped her jaw and pressed his lips to hers. His kiss claimed her breath, pillaging whatever left of her chastity and wit until she absentmindedly kissed back, forgetting herself as his tongue bested her will.

When he broke away, the taste of spiced ruby wine and blood lingered in her mouth.

“An eternity awaits us,” the devil explained as he pecked her nose and her forehead lovingly, to which she shivered - out of fright or out of want, she couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

“You had made me the happiest, now give me the chance to grant the same favour, ask for anything you want in the world and it shall be yours,” he begged and wrapped her in the shelter of his strong arms to lie down with him on the smooth stone surface.

Absentmindedly, she welcomed the protection offered from his embrace and stared silently as flakes of cement broke from the remnants of the wall floated in the air around her before she opened her mouth.

“I wish for…”

Her whisper faded into the dark.

*Disclaimer: I do not own Mission Impossible or August Walker

Beautiful dividers by @firefly-graphics

#henry cavill #august walker #henry cavill fanfiction #august walker x ofc

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formeforthemforyou · 3 years

Note

Could I get some nsfw leech twins x reader? AFAB reader if possible, thank you!

tweels my beloveds,,,,, idk if you wanted branch poly or them seperate so I did both! mainly bc im tweel thirsty tho lol also kink warnings under the cut bc i dont want minors going what does that word mean? and looking them up 💀

Warnings: 18+ Content under the cut Minors DNI or you will be blocked, female pronouns used, further warning underneath

Warnings: biting, bdsm, overstimulation, orgasm denial, period sex, double dutch in ur guts double penetration, dacryphilia, consensual voyeurism, branch poly w twins and i think thats it : ) wait no also voice kink mention

JADE LEECH 🐬

okay first things first man is the type to get jealous but tuck it all away until the next time you two are intimate when it all comes out as punishment for "teasing" him and if you try and deny it unless you safeword him jade will drag out the orgasm denial until you apologise to your master

is obsessed with the sight of you wrapped up in ropes, silks, scarves whatever you name it chances are he has secret fantasies about draping them over you all artistically in the most pleasurable of ways

BIG on marking you all over the place but especially in spots that while they aren't obvious at first glance are still extremely hard for you to cover without his help or without making it obvious that you are in fact hiding something

fond of whispering what he'd like to do to you later into your ear in a low voice and watching as squirm embarrassed that any nearby merfolk or beastfolk probably can smell how aroused jade is making you with just his words and a gentle touch to your waist

his favourite place to mark you up is definitely on your boobs jade just likes to admire the way your nipples perk up as plays and bites at the flesh around them just barely grazing the nipple before all of a sudden his tongue is flat against your clit and jerking you straight into your third orgasm of the night

FLOYD LEECH 🦈

loves loves LOVES to squeeze you tight against him in anyway he can manage while dragging his teeth all over you floyd is determined to mark you up so bad you can't hide it with anything and if you try and put a scarf on to cover any floyd will just take it off of you if it isn't cold outside 💙

when he first found out about your period and how orgasm can relieve pain floyd dragged you back to his dorm room and spent all day long eating you out overstimulating you and praising you at how great his shrimpy tastes!

doesn't see the appeal in toys or ropes floyd would much rather hold you down himself and make you feel what you could be having if you would just beha~ve but floyd also doesn't use orgasm denial much against you unless he's feeing jealous or insecure otherwise he just wants to make you cum until you're crying and begging him to take a break

likes to make you masturbate in front of him and watch the way you squirm, with your boobs bouncing slighting while you tear up in embarrassment just makes floyd want to pounce on you and gobble you up! you never do manage to cum before hes got you pinned underneath him and your fingers in his mouth licking off your fluids with a big toothy grin

floyd is usually babbling praises about how great his shrimpy is and how nice it feels to have you be wrapped and squeezing so tightly around him one hand around your waist pressing you right up against him while the other is ruthlessly abusing your clit and staring adoringly at the way your face scrunches up in pleasure and pain as you cry and sob his name

BRANCH POLY 🐬 & 🦈

honestly? they treat it as a competition on who can make you cum, cry, beg, plead just generally make the most noise more so uh good luck lol

one minute you could have jade murmuring the most obscene things in yours ears while his hands fondle your breasts and the next all you can focus on is the way floyd is eating you out as if he was a man starved and you were a feast layed out on a buffet table all for him

they like to see how much of the both of them inside you at once you can take before you start sobbing from the pleasure of having your lovers so deep inside of you while one is playing with your boobs and the other teasing your clit with a sharp nail

the harder you end up scratching their backs or wherever you get a hold of them the harder jade and floyd pound into you loving and obsessed with the way you sound wailing gibberish that sounds vaguely like their names and praises of love

good luck getting away from these two with any skin free of marks lol some might be deep enough that the tweels have to smooth cream over them and place bandages atop the bites after your sessions but they never let you leave the bedroom without feeling absolutely pampered and spoiled whenever playtime gets a little too rough on your skin

and they would stop immediately without hesitation if you ever needed to use the safeword making sure to comfort and ease your wounds while one of them fetches you food, water and the first aid kit not to mention god forbid anyone imply they don't acknowledge the safeword haha not only will they have floyd going feral over being accused of mistreating his shrimpy jade will lay into them with words until they're a sobbing mess on the floor right before he unleashes floyd and whisks you away somewhere to wait for until floyds done taking out the trash : )

#jade leech #floyd leech #hcs #citrus #not for minors #queue for yuu #aaaaa the tweels make me awooga #twst x reader #twst imagines

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 years

Text

A Black Stork

A bonus imagine that pairs with this one (featuring Yuu taking care of the baby Octatrio).

In this piece, enjoy Crowley being a deadbeat dad. I am so, so happy that I found a legitimate excuse to actually write this into existence.

Happy Father’s Day.

Imagine this...

The last thing Yuu was expecting at their door was Crowley--and not just him, but the three bundles of joy in his arms. His pale skin was covered in bite marks and black smudges, and his crow mask was set askew. He smelled like salt and the sea.

The three infants in his arms were bawling and flailing their chubby little limbs. One of the babies’ fists connected with Crowley’s chin, another chomped down hard on a finger (Crowley yelped), and the third was spitting up dark tears.

The man let out an exaggerated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose with his taloned hand.

“Um...good morning?” Yuu said awkwardly, unsure of what else would be appropriate at such a time. “Can I help you, headmaster...?”

“Yuu-san! They’re your responsibility now!” Crowley announced, thrusting the infants at the poor, unsuspecting prefect.

The babies jerked at the sudden movement and began screeching even louder. Instinctively, Yuu rocked the little ones gently to calm them down--but inside, they were absolutely seething.

“You show up on my doorstep at 5 am to throw a bunch of your babies at me?!”

“That is precisely it! Oh, how very, very perceptive you are, Yuu-san!” Crowley gushed, not allowing any protests to ring in his ears. “You are so talented, and so wise, and did I mention kind?”

“...You don’t seriously think that will work on me, do you?”

“In fact, I do!” Crowley replied brazenly. “After all, the oh-so-very kind Yuu-san would not miss out on an opportunity to help their beloved friends from Octavinelle, yes?”

“What? Octavinelle...?” Yuu glanced down at the three babies in their arms--and indeed, upon closer inspection, they did resemble the merman trio.

Two of them bore a teal hue to their skin and fins instead of ears, as well as sharp teeth and slimy tails instead of legs. Both Floyd and Jade snapped at the air, looking for something to latch on to. The last child, Azul, bore more baby fat and sported lilac skin, his tentacles poking out from the blanket he was swathed in. Tears trickled down his cheeks, dyed jet black with ink.

“...What did you do this time?” Yuu asked, the disappointment in their voice evident.

“I did nothing of the sort!” Crowley insisted. He coughed into a hand, then added quietly, “...This time, at least. Ashengrotto-kun and the Leech twins simply got caught up in a bit of an Alchemy accident!”

“Okay, so why isn’t Professor Crewel looking after them?”

“He is brewing an antidote as we speak! However, it is a tedious and time-consuming process. The potion will not be ready for another day or two. As headmaster of Night Raven College, I graciously took it upon myself to take care of these three until that antidote is ready.”

“Then why are you giving them to me?!”

“Is it not obvious, Yuu-san?! I am busy with my other tasks as headmaster! I cannot possibly hope to add childcare to my already lengthy list of duties. That is why it now falls to you!”

“I did not sign up for this!!”

“You will if you wish to demonstrate to Ashengrotto-kun and the Leeches how much you value their safety and wellbeings!” Crowley quipped, shaking his head. “Why, you’ve seen the extent of my childcare abilities! Imagine what kind of terrible fate could befall them if you allow them to remain in my nest!”

Yuu’s stomach sank as realization set in.

As much as they hated to admit it, he was right. The babies had been crying when Crowley brought them to Ramshackle. He was so incompetent, so lackadaisical--if Azul, Floyd, and Jade stayed with him, they would be absolutely miserable.

Perhaps Crowley would forget to feed or clean them. He would leave them unattended to shovel small objects into their mouths. And if the twins ganged up on Azul...

Yuu frantically shook their head, shooing away such morbid thoughts.

“...You’re right. Fine. I’ll watch them.”

Crowley broke out into a massive, toothy grin. “I expected nothing less from such a responsible prefect~”

Yuu maintained his gaze and glared.

The headmaster chuckled nervously and turned around with a wave. “Well then, since you seem to be all set here, I’m off to sample new dishes in the cafeteria! Farewe--!!” Crowley’s sentence was cut off by Yuu tugging on his cape as he was beginning to descend the stairs.

“HOLD IT!” Yuu cried, holding on with a tight grip. “Where’s the child support?”

“Excuse me? Child support?” Crowley’s brows knitted together in confusion. The phrase tasted foreign on his tongue. “What is that?”

“Um, money,” Yuu explained. They did their best to simplify the definition, since it appeared the concept was brand new to Crowley. “You know, like...extra funds to help pay for things babies might need.”

The headmaster cocked an eyebrow. “What sorts of additional things would be needed?”

“Food, diapers, baby powder, rash cream, toys, gentle bath products, blankets. They need lots of things.”

“I...I see.”

An awkward silence permeated the crisp morning air.

By this point, the crying and the thrashing of the Octavinelle trio had died down. Worn out from sobbing, they now drifted off to sleep in Yuu’s warm embrace. Soft breathing was the only sound that greeted the dawn of a new day.

Crowley cleared his throat.

“...Everything appears to be in order. I now take my leave.”

“What about the child support?” Yuu demanded--but their voice was a harsh whisper, for they did not dare to disturb the resting twins and Azul.

“I really must be going now, Yuu-san!” Crowley declared loudly. “Those fairy cakes won’t eat themselves, you know!”

His volume caused the prefect to release their grip on his cape, step back, and flinch. In Yuu’s arms, the three babies shifted slightly, their faces contorting in mild discomfort before settling back into a spell of slumber.

What a bastard! He’s doing that on purpose!

“The child support,” Yuu tried one final time.

“Good luck! I will swing by with the antidote when it is ready!” came the headmaster’s casual reply. Already, he was quarter of the way down the steps of Ramshackle--and he didn’t even bother passing a glance back over his shoulder.

“CROWLEY!!”

#Yuu #MC #Dire Crowley #Azul Ashengrotto #Floyd Leech #Jade Leech #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #imagine this #bonus content

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daydream-believin · 3 years

Text

A Nice Rock For You, My Love (Please Accept)

Summary: Douxie would like to give the reader a special present.

Warnings: Swearing, stabbing, blood, swords and a knife.

Word Count: 3092 -ten pages 12 point times new roman, baby!

A/N: even i couldn’t predict where the hell this was headed. have fun with this. i sure did ;)

Douxie placed his newest rock onto the window ceil in his bedroom. He’d display it for a while, but add it to the collection jar with the others once it was replaced. Every morning he’s wake up, see the shiny stone on his window ceil, and think of his wonderful significant other.

Y/n was an odd duck, but an endearing one at that. They spent most of their time out in the local forest. Douxie wasn’t sure what they did out there for so long each day, but that didn’t matter as long as they’d come back to see him in the evenings. They’d return to civilization every night scruffy, smelly, and with twigs stuck in their hair, but he thought they looked lovely. Enchanting even. A little dirt never did hurt anyone.

He was going to have to get a new jar soon. Every week or so, Y/n would present him with a new one. A token of their affection for the wizard. He kept every single one. He kept one in the pocket of his favourite jacket. Y/n had found that particular one in the flat of a creek bed. They were drawn in by the bright blue color, reminding them of their beloved wizard’s most recent dye job. After fishing it out, it turned out to be a piece of beach glass, but it was very smooth and rounded. Douxie was using it as a worry stone.

Of course, rocks weren’t the only thing Y/n had brought him. Any small thing not tied down the forest could offer was up for grabs to the local cryptid. Sometimes they’d leave him feathers from a bird they swore they got permission from to take. Sometimes they’d give him sticks they carved intricate designs into. Sometimes bones. A lot of times bones. Not enough bones for visitors in his home to question though. They just assumed he was really goth. One time, Y/n even straight up gifted him a jar of mud. Well, it supposed to be soil from the picnicking spot they often spent their dates, some water from the nearby stream, with a few hand-plucked flower heads added to the top. Romantic, right? Unfortunately, it was accidentally shaken up between the time Y/N made it and the time they presented it to Doux. Still, it was proudly displayed on his shelf.

As tokens of affection began to collect, Doux decided he should return the favor. He’d find the perfect gift for his dear Y/n. One to show them just how much he cared, just how far his affection for them reached. Something to make that toothy smile light up their pretty face. Something to seal a promise to them, that he’d be by their side until the end of time.

So here he was, in this jewelry store, trying to find that perfect shiny rock for his significant other. It wasn’t going too well, to be honest. Everything was too fancy, and quite frankly, too expensive. It was like the whole store was polished and perfect. All those rings were beautiful, yes, but they looked like they belonged on the finger of a middle-class suburban spouse, not his wonderfully scruffy partner. His darling sasquatch. Too impersonal for his taste.

He’d decided that the only way to match Y/n’s energy was to find the stone himself. Luckily, he did live in Arcadia. Right below his feet were a system of caves that spanned at least a hundred miles. Surely the local trolls wouldn’t mind. Okay, so they did, but that wasn’t going to stop him.

After some exploring some of the tunnels for a while and getting a wee bit lost in the maze, he eventually came across a patch of purpley clusters growing from the cave wall. Amethysts, he guessed? Maybe fluorite. Either way, it was marvelous. The color was even close to that of Y/n’s magic. They put off a nice good energy too. This would be perfect. He just needed to find a small enough piece, or chip off a bit, and his quest would be complete. He magicked himself up a knife and set to work. It took him several tries, but eventually he wound up with a nice rock. It wasn’t perfect, even kind of lopsided for a ring, but it was a really good purple rock. Raw too. Uncut and unpolished, like them.

He brought it over to his work buddy Annie’s place. She had been really into jewelry making this year. Douxie had seen some of her work. It was top notch. She’d make him a nice personalized ring and set the stone into it. And he’d have the peace of mind knowing that this gift would be an excellent piece of craftsmanship. Hopefully Y/n wouldn’t lose it in the river. Thankfully, he had measured their ring size during their nap yesterday. So it would be nice and snug. Not drop-in-the-riverable at all… He’d enchant it.

Now all there was to do was wait. He had to give it to them at just the right moment for maximum romantic impact here. He’d watched a thousand proposal videos on youtube to get some semblance of an idea of what he was supposed to be doing. To be honest, a lot of them seemed kind of over the top and forced. While Doux was a showman, he didn’t want to go that route. This moment was going to be special. Intimate. Full of love.

He’d set up a lovely date for the occasion. A moonlight picnic in their favourite spot. Romantic, with candles. And roses. And champagne. He’d bring his acoustic too, to play for them. A classic serenade for his love. He also dressed up the trees around with some twinkly magical lights. He was thinking of making them a little show with magic lights too, to narrate their love story. After it was all over, they’d head over to the clearing to go star gazing. And they’d fall asleep under the stars in each other’s arms as a betrothed couple. Okay, so maybe he was going over the top after all. Just a tad. He couldn’t help it.

Once he got it all set up, he asked Archie to watch over it while he went to go get his darling. He even acquired a blindfold so he could get that maximum surprise effect. But he didn’t take into account the fact that nature isn’t exactly flat, and he had to help them carefully navigate the forest floor. At a certain point, he just decided to just pick Y/n up bridal style and carry them, eliciting a giggle from them. It was faster and easier for both parties. Also more romantic. A win-win. Y/n noticed his heart was beating pretty fast as they leaned against his chest. He was getting antsy as the spot came into view.

He was pleased and relieved to see that nothing had gone amiss so far. Everything was intact. Archie was just lazily snoozing on the blanket. Douxie cleared his throat to catch Arch’s attention and silently shooed him away with a head jerk. The dragon-cat nodded and took off towards town. Douxie placed Y/n down onto the blanket, oh so gently, taking their blindfold off to reveal everything. Y/n was, to Douxie’s dismay, immediately aware that something was up. This was quite the set up before them. They reacted nervously, which disheartened him slightly, but he couldn’t back out now. He wouldn’t back out now. He won’t.

He handed Y/n the bouquet of roses, and they flushed. That wonderful pink color of their cheeks somehow gave him enough courage to help him make it through his entire prepared speech without stuttering. What a feat. Despite their earlier wariness, Y/n was captivated. They hung off his every word. Douxie came to the conclusion that he must be using every drop of luck he had right now. Now for the best part, or the part that could embarrass him the most, depending on whether or not his luck continued. Time to woo his beloved with a special song he wrote just for them. Time to bear his soul. His fingers danced over the strings with practiced skill. The most beautiful melody Y/n had ever heard. They had stars in their eyes. He was halfway through his serenade when the heavens opened up.

Douxie almost instantly cast a magic shield over them. It was beautiful, in a way. The raindrops bucketing down, hitting the transparent glowing shield. It made a private percussion symphony just for them. Rain. Douxie saving the day. It was so cliché, they laughed together. Those freckles on his face danced adorably as he shook with laughter. So, in the spirit of clichés, Y/n decided to repay him for all his chivalry with a kiss. It caught him off guard at first, eyes wide, but he quickly melted into it.

As the kiss deepened, he pulled his fingers through their hair. They let out a moan into his mouth. He couldn’t help the lovesick grin that spread across his face. He turned his attention towards their neck. They tipped their head to give him better access, letting their hands travel down his back. He smelled smokey, he must have had some spell backfire on him today. How endearing. As Doux kissed right under their jaw, they opened their eyes just a half-lid. And then promptly snapped them open all the way. They briskly pulled back, eliciting a whine from Douxie.

“Uhhh, Doux,” He turned around to see what had frightened them.

“Oh fuzzbuckets,” he blinked at the sight, “is that a wolf?” Douxie exclaimed in disbelief.

“No, no, not a wolf. It can’t be a wolf. There’s exactly one singular wolf pack in Cali and its definitely not in fucking Arcadia Oaks.”

The wolf stepped forward. It was smaller than a normal wolf. A wolf-dog maybe. It snarled at them, spit dripping from its sharp teeth. They dared not move, and risk provoking it. Still as statues, Y/n and Douxie watched as it howled a warning to them. Or at least they thought it was a warning.

Suddenly, a very tall figure appeared through the trees. Black cloak billowing in the dark storm, it was if cooked up from some horror novel. Well, a children’s horror novel. It probably could have been much, much scarier. Especially to a couple of wizards that also frequently wore black and walked through the dark with their own less-than-domestic pets. But nevertheless, the sight raised the hackles on the backs of their necks. The wolf-dog ran to its master’s side. The figure patted his familiar’s scruffy head, then strode towards the picnic.

Douxie and Y/n swiftly sprang to their feet. Doux stepped in front of Y/n, to their annoyance. They could hold their own and Douxie knew it, but he couldn’t help those protective instincts. As the figure came closer, he dramatically tossed back his hood. Lightning struck at the very moment his bearded face was revealed to them. Completely by coincidence, honest.

“Eoin?” Douxie exclaimed in surprise. That expression of surprise then twisted into one of disgust. “Oh bleeding balroths, it’s fucking Eoin.” He half-shouted, half-grumbled.

“Aye, Hisirdoux! My old pal! How’ve you been, bruv?” Eoin flourished his cloak and smirked at the two. He eyed up Y/n. “And what a lovely partner you’ve got here, might I add.” Y/n shifted to be a bit more behind Doux.

“What do you want, my friend?” Douxie frustratedly asked. Y/n was getting the impression that, despite the terms of endearment here, these two were not friends.

“Why, don’t you already know, little Douxie? I’m here to settle something I should have long ago.” He said in a now less-than-friendly tone of voice.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Douxie was exasperated. Eoin just started coming closer. “Alright, mate,” Douxie raised his hands, flicking through his cuff, getting ready for what he knew was about to transpire without any more delay. His adversary shot up his hands to stop him.

“Oh! No, no, no! Friend, we’ll settle this like men. The old-fashioned way.”

Eoin summoned two rapiers out of thin air. Both some sort of gleaming black metal and glowing jewels. He kept the one with the red gems in his right hand, and tossed Douxie the one with the blue gems with his left. Color coordination, one supposes. Douxie tested the blade with a few swings and parries. His eyes looked down at the rapier and then to Eoin. They sort of bowed to each other.

They fenced back and forth deftly. It was like a dance. A tango. Y/n was impressed at how light footed Douxie actually was. Maybe he planned this? Was this a part of the show or something? It would be an excellent way to prove how capable he was of defending them from evil or whatever. But they got the feeling that this was undeniably real and not planned by, if not for the rancid aura hanging in the air, the absolutely murderous looks in the two men’s eyes.

The wolf-dog came towards Y/n. They readied a spell for defense, but the dog just, sort of sat next to them? It looked like it was also watching the fight intently. It would woof at the two whenever its master got the upper hand, almost as if cheering him on. Strange. A good boy, Y/n supposed. They’d reach down to pet it but they didn’t fancy losing their hand.

Eventually, Douxie came out on top. The duel had been nasty, but it now looked as if it was all but through. Douxie had Eoin knocked onto his back in the mud at the base of one of the massive old oak trees Arcadia was known for. He held his blade to Eoin’s throat, and they locked eyes. Douxie was huffing for air. But to Eoin’s surprise, He started apologizing. An entire speech. Confusion flashed on Eoin’s face. Hisirdoux had always felt guilty about his transgressions as a lad, about the people he trampled in order to survive before Merlin gave him a home. So he’d spare his old enemy. He was terribly sorry he’d begun this feud in the first place.

“And what say you, old buddy,” Douxie grinned hopefully with a glimmer in his hazel eyes. Douxie held out his hand in an offer of actual friendship. He stared into Eoin’s eyes. Eoin stared into his. Eoin’s shaky hand began to reach up to take Douxie’s. They clasped their hands together. Brothers. And for a moment, Douxie had really thought they had made up this time, looking into Eoin’s feeble smile. That is, until Eoin yanked Douxie down towards himself on the ground. Right into his ready, hungry blade.

To the soundtrack of Y/n’s screams, Eoin stood up, casually tossing Douxie’s limp body off his sword. The wind whipped his cloak as he stormed off, into the storm. The wolf-dog followed his master, howling in victory. Y/n was crossing the woods to cling to Doux in an instant.

He coughed up some blood, and intensely stared into Y/n’s eyes. He weakly took their hand, and caressed their cheek. Then remembered to reach into his pocket and pull out that special ring. He slipped it onto their slick, wet finger. Oh, it appeared that their hands were covered in blood. His blood. Neat.

“I- I wanted to a-” he coughed up some more blood, “to ask you if-”

“Yes! Yes, of course,” they sounded panicked, “please, save your breath, my love.” They pleaded. He feebly leaned in to kiss them, but then his world went black. His body fell like a ragdoll into Y/n’s arms.

Try as they might, they weren’t a healer. Purple light shone like a beacon in the black stormy night. They performed as many healing, even vaguely healing-ish fixit spells as they knew. Unfortunately, this was a stab wound from a magic blade. They couldn’t take him to the hospital, even if they had any trust in modern medicine. Hot tears streamed down their face. But the word hopeless is not devoid of hope. Hope sparked in their heart as they remembered something, somewhere, important.

They had to get him out of here, and fast. He was bleeding out. There was so, so much blood. It had positively soaked through Y/n’s already wet clothes before they were even half way to their destination. The smell of the rain mixing with all the blood was sickening. It was hard to find their way in this darkness. They slipped on the mud and tripped over rocks. Y/n was starting to slip into a panic attack. They couldn’t even go very fast, he was so heavy in their arms. And Y/n was frightened of hurting him even more by accident. Y/n was very, very frightened in general.

Time moved like molasses. In what could have been years for Y/n, the cave they were carrying Douxie to finally came within sight. Their heart was threatening to pound right out of their chest. They mustered up the last of their strength and broke out into a sprint. Bolting through the curtain doors of the cave and knocking around the strings of bones that hung with them, Y/n dropped to their knees.

“Please! Save him! I beg of thee.” They pleaded to the three old women sitting around the hearth.

***

Douxie was awoke to the sound of shuffling and unintelligible whispers. He could smell a strong mix of herbs in the air. He felt the soft back of a cold hand rest on his forehead, so he slowly opened his eyes. He was met with the red tear-streaked face of his beloved. Y/n gasped. they excitedly called to whoever else was in the room with them that he was now awake. He did not recognize these women. He did not recognize where he was. He supposed that didn’t matter.

Y/n pulled him into a gentle hug, as if he were made of glass. A handsome glass sculpture that would shatter if they let go of him. They just lied there, holding onto each other for dear life, for what must have been an hour. Breathing in each other’s scents, they had still refused to let go, but Douxie started to cough again. They reluctantly pulled apart, and y/n started their interrogation about any pain he might be experiencing. He was alright, a little sore, but fine. Nothing time won’t fix. And time he was glad to still have with them.

***

bonus A/N: i swear this was supposed to be normal, just a sappy proposal fic. but once i set everything up i was overcome with the urge to stab him. so i created a character specifically to stab him. idk im not sorry. at first i had eoin like, cheat the duel with magic, but i figured doux would be his own downfall with that bleeding heart of his we all love so much. happy november y’all.

#douxie x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #hisirdoux x reader #douxie imagine #tales of arcadia x reader #hisirdoux casperan imagine #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #toa douxie #my writing

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vex-bittys · 4 years

Text

Imagine the Possum-bilities: An Underfell Story (part 3)

The Possum Posse

The world of Underfell has gone to the possums!

Warning: child death mention

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Gloomfanger’s brood of tiny opossums easily integrated themselves into the daily lives of the skeleton brothers. Their instinctual desire to climb and cling to other living creatures proved endearing to everyone in the household, and there was no shortage of willing baby possum perches. The baby possums began their supreme reign over the home by electing the local regent, Doomfanger, as their second mother.

From the moment that they’d first emerged from Gloomfanger’s pouch, eyes barely opened and legs still wobbly, Doomfanger fascinated them with her silky white fur, rumbling purr, and insistent grooming. Eight small passengers could barely cram themselves comfortably atop Gloomfanger’s coarsely-furred back, but split equally between the cat and the possum, the baby Gloomies (as Red called them) enjoyed a roomy and luxurious mode of transportation.

It wasn’t until the baby possums were quite a bit bigger and significantly less fragile that they were allowed to clamber onto the other members of the household, but as soon as the first miniature pink possum hands wrapped around the skeleton brothers’ pant legs, the little possums secured their positions in Red and Edge’s hearts. The gruff brothers, unused to expressing positive emotions, both denied the tears of joy in their sockets, blaming allergies and invisible onions as the baby Gloomies played on their new skeleton jungle gyms.

“hey, Boss, check it out,” said Red one day, opening his jacket like a flasher to show seven little possums hanging upside down by their tails from various ribs. Gloomfanger herself peered over the waistband of Red’s shorts, where she was nestled in the bowl of his pelvis. Edge sighed.

“THAT’S VULGAR,” he scolded, arms folded across his chest. A very small baby possum head popped up from the folds of his tattered scarf and chattered a scolding of her own. The only female in the brood happened to prefer Edge’s scarf over any other perch, and Edge allowed her unprecedented access to it, and to his well-guarded affections.

The rambunctious baby Gloomies grew quickly. In order to tell them apart more easily, Edge made each small possum a differently colored bandana. The female of the group received a bandana in the same color as Doomfanger’s jeweled collar- a delicate rose pink just a few shades lighter than Edge’s magic. The other possums, a rowdy bunch of boys who loved greasy Grillby’s food as much as Red and Gloomfanger did, wore vibrant shades of yellow, orange, green, violet, midnight blue, pale blue, and dark red.

Admiring his handiwork, Edge scowled when Red announced that he had also chosen names for the entire brood. The tall skeleton had a feeling that Red’s choices would not meet his very high standards, and Red proved him right, holding up a possum in a green bandana and declaring with authority: “Dumpster.”

One by one, Red lifted the baby possums, Lion King style, and proclaimed their terrible names to an appalled audience of one.

The possum wearing the yellow bandana: “Rubbish.”

The possum in the violet bandana: “Trashy.”

The possum sporting the orange bandana: “Debris.”

The possums who had midnight blue and pale blue bandanas: “Filth” and “Scraps.”

Finally, Red lifted the baby possum wearing his namesake, the red bandana. “this little guy’s called Slop, or Junior for short.”

Edge swatted Red’s hand away from his beloved scarf-dwelling baby possum. “YOU CAN’T NAME THEM ALL AFTER GARBAGE,” he shouted, not wanting to hear the horrible name that his brother had chosen for his favorite possum of the litter.

“of course not, Boss,” said Red with a mischievous grin. “the little girl is called-”

Edge clenched his sharp teeth and braced himself for the mental onslaught of whatever Red would say next. “IF YOU CALL HER SCUMBELINA, I WILL END YOU.”

“- Anastasia.”

Edge blinked, and Red howled with laughter.

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Edge volunteered to take the young possums with him to the Capitol to give his brother and Gloomfanger a day to themselves to relax and stuff their faces with greasy junk food. The Captain of Snowdin’s Royal Guard would be meeting Undyne and the King for their annual status report. Edge tucked the eight little furballs into his armor, thinking that they would spend the entire time dozing off to his boring reports about inventory, training, and guard rotations. Of course nothing ever went that smoothly when Gloomfanger’s little ones were involved.

Anastasia, ever the dignified young lady, climbed up and nestled herself in Edge’s scarf underneath his chin and stayed quiet and out-of-sight during the visit. Her brothers, however, decided that they wanted to see what was happening around them, not snooze through the experience in Edge’s stuffy armor.

The first sign of trouble came when Edge felt stiff little whiskers tickling his ribs. He managed to turn a very unbecoming giggle into a much less embarrassing clearing of his nonexistent throat. Undyne was familiar enough with her skeleton counterpart to know something was amiss, but she chose to observe the situation instead of interrupting the report. Her instinct for hilarious chaos turned out to be right.

It didn’t take long for a triangular little face to appear through the armhole of Edge’s armor. Hairless ears brushed the underside of Edge’s humerus, making him yelp, a sound that could not be disguised as anything else. Undyne barely held back a laugh. The King regarded the skeleton with a frown. Edge’s mind raced, desperately reaching for any plausible explanation.

“I JUST REMEMBERED THAT I LEFT A LASAGNA IN THE OVEN,” he offered lamely. The King’s eyes narrowed skeptically, and Undyne sputtered.

“He really cares about his lasagna,” Undyne added unhelpfully.

More possum faces pushed their way to the potential exits at the neck and arms of Edge’s armor, and their movements made him twitch and spasm in a strange parody of dancing. Undyne doubled over, filling the halls with her raucous laughter. In response to the unfamiliar noise, the baby possums wrapped their tails around Edge’s arms, hissing in fear.

“What is the meaning of this behavior?” bellowed King Asgore, a monster to be feared and respected.

Edge spread his arms, and seven baby possums dropped into upside down hanging positions. Edge looked like he wore a fringed cape made of scruffy two-toned fur. Undyne rolled on the palace floor. Asgore leaned close to the possums to inspect them. Anastasia climbed out of Edge’s scarf to stand boldly in front of the massive ruler of the Underground. She chattered aggressively at Asgore, and there could be no mistaking her protective stance or ferocious noises. The feisty female possum would not allow Edge to come to harm under her watchful button eyes.

A slow smile spread across Asgore’s severe features. He chuckled and stepped back. Satisfied at having driven off the threat, Anastasia returned to her hiding place in Edge’s scarf folds. He gave her tiny head a gentle scritch with one sharp phalange.

“I see Snowdin’s Junior Guard is coming along nicely,” the King commented. “Of course, as Royal Guard members, these creatures are under my protection, and I trust you, Captain, to make sure all of the monsters of Snowdin know it.”

“YES, SIR,” replied Edge, silently thinking that this was the exact opposite of the way a royal guard actually worked but refusing to argue with his monarch, especially after such a gracious declaration.

“Do make sure you bring them along when you make your next report, Captain. You are dismissed.”

“YES, SIR.”

As Asgore turned and walked away, Edge spotted a very brave young possum, Scraps if he remembered correctly (and he always did), clinging to one of King Asgore’s impressive horns. Though the fearsome ruler pretended not to notice his illicit passenger, he proceeded to walk with exceptional care so as not to jostle the tiny creature. He also murmured to Scraps once he believed himself to be out of earshot of the two Captains.

Undyne laid on the floor, gasping for air. When she finally composed herself, she grinned an unsettling toothy grin at Edge. “The big softy,” she commented, and she would know since Asgore had adopted her when she was still very young. “He hasn’t looked at another creature like that since I graduated from stripes!”

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From the moment Red stepped across the threshold into Grillby’s restaurant, he could feel the purple fire elemental’s seething ire. His hunger overpowered what dismal common sense he possessed, so he sauntered up to the bar anyway and plopped his bony behind on an empty stool.

Grillby glowered at Red so hard that Red might’ve expected him to burst into flames… if he wasn’t already consumed by them on a daily basis. “Unless you’re here to pay your tab, Red,” growled Grillby, leaving the threat open ended.

Red blinked at the fire elemental with exaggerated innocence. “my bro’s going to pay it when he gets back from guard duty,” he explained.

The glower and purple flames intensified. “That’s what you said last time,” growled Grillby.

“yeah, but i was lying that time.”

“And are you lying this time?”

“probably. anyway, can i get a burger and an extra large order of fries?”

The pure audacity of the skeleton in front of him struck Grillby speechless. Before he could recover enough coherent communication skills to tell Red exactly where he could go and what he could do with himself once he got there in extreme graphic detail, eight small possums emerged from Red’s jacket and scurried across the counter to an abandoned plate of fries. The little ones picked up the now-cold fries in their little pink possum hands and nibbled them delicately, eyes half-closed as they savored the flavor.

Any monster who wasn’t as familiar with the expressions of Grillby’s not-quite-face as Red wouldn’t have noticed the agitation giving way and the sharp-edged flames softening. Grillby whirled and entered the kitchen, returning a moment later with a plate of stir-fried vegetables and a small order of fries. He cleared the plate of leftovers from the counter and set the freshly-made dish in front of the hungry baby possums. The possums descended on the food with gusto, making adorable small noises of pleasure as they tasted the gourmet cuisine.

Gloomfanger’s head popped up from the collar of Red’s sweater, and a smile rippled to life in the purple fire of Grillby’s mouth. “This must be the mother. A moment please, m’lady.” Grillby disappeared into the kitchen again and again he returned with a plate of hot fries and a burger with extra vegetables and no bun. He placed this offering in front of Gloomfanger who gave it an investigative sniff before picking it up and eating it like a hairy miniature Red.

Red reached for one of the fries on Gloomfanger’s plate, and Grillby slapped his hand away. “That food is for the mother of this adorable brood, not a degenerate lazybones who doesn’t pay his tab,” snapped Grillby.

“but what about my order?” pouted Red, watching the possum family chirp happily as they enjoyed their meals.

“Your order? Red, you’re lucky I don’t toss your free-loading ass out into the nearest snow poff.” Grillby folded his arms across his chest, but once again hunger outweighed sense when it came to a certain skeleton.

“i brought the possums to visit you though,” Red wheedled. Grillby’s eyes narrowed behind his ever-present (even indoors) sunglasses, or at least, Red assumed that what passed for Grillby’s eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses based on the low and dangerous tone of his voice. Red couldn’t actually see through the reflective material at all, but he knew Grillby fairly well after so many years of unpaid and antagonistic patronage.

“I suppose.” Grillby drew out the word suppose, letting Red know that he agreed but with extreme reluctance and utmost disdain.

“I might even be willing to forgive your tab provided that you bring these tiny guests to try out a few new recipes that I have in mind for them.” As Grillby spoke, little Trashy, the possum with the violet bandana, waddled up to him and gave his forearm a nuzzle. The tips of Grillby’s flames flushed blue, and he made a quick escape to the kitchen to hide the fire elemental equivalent of a blush.

Thinking that Grillby couldn’t see him from the other room, Red snuck a fry off of Gloomfanger’s plate only to see flames belch from the double doors leading to the cooking area and hear Grillby’s warning growl:

“RED!”

Busted.

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Usually, Red left Gloomfanger and her brood at home during his sentry duties, duties that his brother had signed him up for under the pretense of forcing him to “contribute to monster society” though Edge actually feared that without a task or a purpose, Red might fall down as so many other monsters did. Red was actually grateful for his brother’s strong-armed recruitment; it was during one of his sentry patrols that he’d found a massive ornate door hidden away in Snowdin Forest.

Red had knocked upon the door, not expecting an answer. He’d gotten one, though- a reedy female voice calling out the response “Who’s there?” Unable to resist, Red tried out one of his favorite knock-knock jokes.

“wooden shoe.”

A pause.

Then “Wooden shoe who?” spoken by the same female voice.

“wooden shoe like to know.”

Red knew the monster on the other side of the door couldn’t see him, but he grinned in eager anticipation, waiting for them to get the joke. The voice laughed a moment later, musical laughter that left Red wondering if he should perhaps try another joke.

He knocked again.

Sometimes he told jokes to the voice behind the door to the Ruins. Sometimes he just talked, passing the time by sharing his life experiences. The voice rarely spoke about itself, though it occasionally described happenings in the Ruins that he might find amusing. Red had a sneaking suspicion that the voice might belong to a certain missing Queen, but he didn’t bring it up, not wanting to upset her and lose his audience for the terrible jokes he thought up in his ample free time. His brother sure didn’t appreciate them!

Red even told the voice behind the door about Gloomfanger and her babies. The voice became demure, asking to meet the little ones and sighing wistfully. Red waited until the baby possums were old enough to make the journey through the frigid forest before bringing them to meet his partner in crimes against comedy. Anastasia had opted to do her civic duty alongside Edge, but the male possums wiggled with excitement at the sight of new surroundings. For the first time since he’d discovered it, the door to the Ruins opened, just a crack, just enough for Red to see a yellow eye peering out, watching the little possums wrestle in the snow.

Rubbish, bright yellow bandana flying like a flag behind him, broke away from his brothers and darted through the open doorway. The Ruins door slammed shut behind him, and Red leapt to his feet in a panic. He pounded on the door, causing echoes to boom through the caverns of the Ruins like subterranean thunder. A sickly sweet singsong voice called out a familiar response.

“Who’s there?” The words left a sinister silence after they were spoken.

“gimme my possum back, lady!” Red was in no mood for knock-knock jokes.

The chiming laughter from behind the door was tinged with madness now. “Give me my possum back who?”

“you,” snarled Red. “you gimme my possum back.”

Nobody answered. Red stood dumbfounded in the snow, Gloomfanger and her six unstolen little ones standing in a half-circle behind him. Unsure what to do next, Red pulled out his phone and called his brother for help.

Beyond the door, Toriel, the missing Queen, scooped Rubbish up and cradled him in her arms. The drowsy baby possum snuggled against her chest, letting her heartbeat lull him to sleep after the exertion or romping with his siblings in the snow. His prehensile tail, bright pink and hairless, curled around her wrist like a living bracelet.

“Let’s go to my house, my child,” the unhinged monster crooned. “I’ll bake you a pie, and you’ll be so happy that you’ll never leave me.”

Neither Gloomfanger nor her children had ever been known to turn down a free meal, so when Toriel deposited the little possum onto her kitchen table and began assembling ingredients, Rubbish tucked his feet underneath him and took a quick nap in the loaf position that he had learned from Doomfanger. Toriel hummed as she baked, and the kitchen became pleasantly warm, though the fragrance of baked goods was nowhere to be found.

When the timer on the oven chimed, Rubbish opened his shiny black eyes, watching Toriel don oven mitts and retrieve the pie. She placed it on the table in front of him. The crust appeared to be made of mud like substance, most likely mud by the smell of it. Snails, stunned by the heat of the oven, recovered themselves and attempted to crawl away from their pie pan prison.

Fortunately, possums regard snails as a delicacy, and Rubbish unfolded himself from his loaf position and trotted across the table to hunt the sluggish creatures. Toriel beamed at him like any proud mother would at a precocious child crunching up all of his snails at dinnertime. After Rubbish had finished his snail snack and groomed his long whiskers, Toriel picked him up and carried him into the den. Sitting in front of the fireplace, she opened a photo album, showing the pictures to Rubbish and describing them one by one.

“This is my first child, Asriel, and my adopted child, a human called Chara. They’re dead now, of course.” Toriel spoke in a cheerful voice despite her macabre words. “This child came along later. I found her in the Ruins, but she’s dead now too. My husband killed her, you know. I decided to move to the Ruins to make sure no other young ones would meet the same fate, but they all do, my child. They all do. All my children leave me no matter what I do to stop them.” Toriel stroked the pages of the photo album wistfully, lost in memory. Rubbish put his small pink paw over her hand as if consoling her.

“I even tried training my children so that they would be strong enough to defeat my husband and escape,” Toriel whispered conspiratorially. “Alas, that child also died.” Toriel remembered the scorch marks, all that remained of that particular child, and how long it had taken to scrub them from the cobblestones of the Ruins. No need to worry her newly adopted possum with that detail. Rubbish would not ever leave. She would see to that. Doors weren’t only for keeping unwanted visitors out…

Outside, in Snowdin Forest, the skeleton brothers sent flurries of futile bone attacks smashing into the door to the Ruins. They even summoned their Gast Blasters with equally nonexistent results. These doors were meant to stay closed, and stay closed they did. Gloomfanger was equal parts unimpressed by Red and Edge’s magic and dauntless when it came to recovering her lost little one.

Assembling her seven tiny troops, Gloomfanger walked right up to the heavy doors, gave them a precursory sniff, and began to dig. The possum excavated the frozen ground like a piece of heavy construction equipment being expertly operated by a seasoned professional, and her babies pushed the freshly turned soil out of the way to make room for more. In a matter of minutes, Gloomfanger and her brood had disappeared into the tunnel under the door on their rescue mission, leaving the skeleton brothers standing slack-jawed with amazement in the forest behind them.

When she emerged in the Ruins, Gloomfanger shook the loose dirt from her coarse salt-and-pepper fur. She helped each of her seven babies out of the tunnel, giving them a quick grooming as well. Once all eight possums were suitably presentable, they stormed the proverbial castle, seeking out the Queen who had possum-napped Rubbish.

Toriel faced down the mother possum who had entered her home, seven small soldiers trailing behind her; the former Queen was not a monster to be trifled with. Gloomfanger’s tail shot straight up in the air, she opened her jaws- a pink cavern lined with needle teeth like white stalactites- and emitted an unearthly screech. Rubbish waddled over to her, and she calmed down, chattering at him and checking him for injuries or poor grooming. Toriel’s face softened. She recognized a distraught mother when she saw one.

Toriel backed away, resigning herself to losing this latest adopted child as well. Gloomfanger darted in front of her, meeting dejected yellow eyes with her own glittering black gaze. She clicked her teeth at Toriel, then led her entire brood of baby possums over to climb on the goat monster’s robes. Toriel shuffled to her armchair, and the parade of possums followed.

When Toriel brought out her photo album, every single possum found a perch on her lap or shoulders (with Rubbish in the seat of honor atop her head) and basked in the dancing light and comforting warmth of the fire. Toriel poured her heartache out to the animals, and they listened with quiet compassion. Finally, the Queen closed her book and sighed.

“So you see, my children, you must stay with me,” she explained gently. Gloomfanger lifted her head and chuffed. As Gloomfanger rose from her seat, her brood of baby possums followed. Gloomfanger led them single file to the tunnel under the door, the tunnel that led out of the Ruins, out of Toriel’s life, and into the forest which had claimed so many of her charges.

“No,” begged Toriel. “If you leave me, I’ll be alone.”

Gloomfanger tilted her head in the universal animal sign of confusion, then vanished into the tunnel, followed by her little ones.

Toriel returned to her empty house, numb. She had not stopped Gloomfanger because Rubbish and his siblings were her rightful children, yet their loss left Toriel cold and empty, just like her house. Toriel extinguished the fire, preferring to sit in the encompassing darkness, the shadows wrapping her like a shroud while she wept. Everyone always left her in the end, and boss monsters did not fall down. She would exist in this misery and loneliness until time forgot her as the rest of monsterkind had.

The next day, despite Red’s disapproval, Gloomfanger and the Gloomy brigade tagged along with him to his sentry station. Red sat on the bench with a meaningful look at the possum, but she kept waddling along, babies in tow, towards the door to the Ruins. Red hurried after them just in time to see them entering the tunnel. Red shouted after them, but the last tiny pink tail tip had already disappeared from sight.

Toriel snapped out of her cataonic depression when she felt tiny paws patting at her legs. Nine angular faces stared up at her. She leapt from her chair and headed to the kitchen to prepare her children one of her famous pies. She referred to it as Butterscotch Pie, but Gloomfanger and her babies knew snails when they smelled them… not that they minded. After wolfing down as many snails as nine eternally hungry possums could eat, the visitors followed Toriel into her den to enjoy the fire and listen to the tragic stories that accompanied the appearance of the photo album.

Once more, Gloomfanger and her babies returned home to the skeleton brothers’ house in Snowdin, and once more, Toriel despaired. The pattern continued for weeks. Toriel’s nerves frayed. Each time the possum and her brood left the Ruins, the missing Queen believed that they would never return, yet they did. As time passed, Toriel began to expect the visits. At first her mind anticipated the visits with the bleak notion that surely they would stop at some point. Eventually, she was able to look forward to seeing her small, furry children without the nagging doubts.

One day, during the photos-and-bereavement session, Gloomfanger pointedly knocked the photo album to the floor. She waited, with her babies behind her until Toriel stooped to pick it up then waddled very slowly toward the tunnel that the possums used to travel between the Ruins and the forest. Curious, Toriel followed them, and this time, the baby possums trailed behind her instead of their mother.

When Gloomfanger reached the tunnel, she stopped. Toriel stopped too and stared at the possum. Gloomfanger turned to the giant door with its elaborate embellishments, puffed out her fur and hissed at it. Toriel and the young possums stood in contemplative silence for a moment. “What are you trying to tell me, my child?” Toriel finally asked, though she already suspected what the possum’s intentions might be.

Gloomfanger headbutted the door.

“You believe that I should leave the Ruins and return to a life amongst other monsters,” Toriel stated uneasily. It wasn’t a question, but Gloomfanger answered with an encouraging chirp anyway.

Toriel turned her attention to the photo album clutched in her hands. She had fled to the Ruins to escape from grief and loss, but heartache pursued her, even here. Isolation had done her no favors.

“I can’t face them,” she explained, voicing her fears aloud for perhaps the first time ever. “I can’t bear their pity or their heartless violence.” After spending so long convincing herself that constant abandonment and endless longing were her punishments for her failures as a mother, she did not know how to think differently. Gloomfanger, ever the wise and perceptive possum, trotted over and nuzzled Toriel’s leg.

Toriel’s troubled mind spun. She could choose. She could choose to hold on to her losses, to martyr herself by suffering alone until that torment consumed everything she ever was or dreamed to be, or she could choose to let go. She could choose to move forward. She could reintegrate herself into monster society. She could risk heartbreak, but she could also regain companionship to balance it.

Gloomfanger waited. Slowly, hesitantly, Toriel laid her photo album down on the smooth, familiar stones, giving the faded cover one last caress, then the goat monster faced the door, pushed it open with conviction, and stepped out into the cold Snowdin Forest sunlight.

Hope can be found in the unlikeliest places and in the most unusual forms. Some hold hope deep inside of them where it can never be lost or broken, and some look for it all of their lives without realizing that it's right there in front of them. The monsters of the Underfell Underground lacked all hope, inward and outward, until it arrived in the form of an unkempt, garbage-eating possum named Gloomfanger.

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#vexy writes #underfell #fellbros #underfell sans #underfell doomfanger #underfell papyrus #underfell undyne #underfell asgore #underfell grillby #underfell toriel #uf!sans #doomfanger #gloomfanger #uf!papyrus #uf!undyne #uf!asgore #uf!grillby #fellby #uf!toriel

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Errare Humanum Est - Prologue

You Said You’d Catch Me (…If I Fall)

Type: series, soulmate AU series (part 1, part 2) x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 3930

Summary for series: In which Steve is forced to solve an unsolvable dilemma and inevitably fails, Natasha is nosy in her attempts to be a good friend and it backfires and Sam Wilson is too old for that $#*!.

Also, Castiel is picking up strays from Heaven, leaving them to Sam and Dean to deal with.

Needless to say, it’s a mess, but when it looks like the God himself might be meddling, Team Free Will doesn’t have a choice. It’s not like they would just let the poor woman with amnesia wander off anyway.

(It is more angsty than it sounds, especially in the beginning.)

Warnings: swearing, very brief smut, violence, some blood, major character death (YEP), mourning, angst

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Don’t you ever bother, my child, trying to win the race against time. Truth is, my beloved, it is such a sore loser that it will never let you win.

Steve Rogers woke up with his head pounding so hard he was sure he must have drunk a barrel of Thor’s Asgardian liquor. Not that he remembered doing it.

With his brain in a haze, his hand went to sluggishly rise to his temple as if it could sooth the pain.

He had never sobered up as fast as when he found out he couldn’t do it, something holding his wrist by his side. His eyes snapped open only to be assaulted with a painfully sharp light. A half second later, he revealed he was strapped to a table.

Steve had no freaking idea what had happened, how had he got here or where ‘here’ was, but his instinct yelled at him to break the leather straps. He did so, easily, thanking god for the serum.

What the hell was happening? What the hell had happened?

He gritted his teeth with the effort to get his head on straight. Think, Rogers, think.

To his relief, the pounding headache was fading away, but it offered him no clarity. He couldn’t… he couldn’t recall why he was here and how he had got here in the first place. He wasn’t injured, he thought. If he had been, the serum pulsing in his veins, carved into every cell of his body, had done its job already. Except for his brain cells, apparently.

The last thing he remembered was you. Your laughter echoed in his ears, much brighter than the street and traffic lights illuminating your way as he was walking you home – his haven of the past few days as Tony’s frustration caused by a glitch in his system that he couldn’t figure out was penetrating the Tower’s walls, making the air harder to breathe in when anywhere in the building.

The memory of the twinkle in your eyes, when your gaze met his, automatically brought the briefest smile on his lips if even for a second as he had allowed himself to get lost in the past.

But then the brutal punch had come. Something had stung the back of his neck, an instant dizziness causing him to stumble.

Your horrified cry of his name and the darkness that had followed was like a slap, bringing him back to present.

He jumped to his feet, his eyes quickly examining the room. There was no one in sight. His stomach was squeezed by a cold fist of fear and not for himself.

Your name fell from his lips, silent and wavering.

Someone had drugged him. And you had been there when it had happened. Which, not to point a finger at anyone, but the fact he hadn’t seen anyone coming was totally on you, because when he was with you, he let his guard down, he allowed himself to relax, to forget. To forget who he was to the majority of the world, not to his friends and you.

With you, he was a plain old Steve Rogers, but people were always threatening Captain America’s life.

Fuck.

He prayed to God you were okay. He seemed more or less alright and he couldn’t decide whether that was a good sign. It could mean they had taken out their issues on you instead. His jaw clenched at the idea, the icy shiver that ran his spine in stark contrast to the burst of hot anger in his chest.

If anyone as much as laid their finger on you, he was going to rip their arm off.

Steve tried to shake off the dark thoughts and went to examine the room, this time with his heart hammering, feeling the pulse in his throat. There were two doors on opposite sides of the 40 x 40 ft. room, one to his right, the other to his left. Right in front of him him, there was an enormous screen, stretching along the whole wall. In the corner, there was a little camera. The red dot blinked at him, announcing it was on.

A fraction of second later, the lights in the room dimmed just a bit and the screen lighted up to life, showing a face of an unfamiliar man. He looked like he could use eating a sandwich or two, almost fragile body, deep-set tired grey eyes with wrinkles around them, greyish stubble covering his bony cheeks, contrast to the bald of his head.

“Captain! Good morning!” he greeted him cheerily. Steve squinted, trying to find a clue of what was happening. He could only see the man; not where he was or what was this about. “Good to see you awake. Some of us were getting worried you wouldn’t wake up. Isn’t that right?”

The camera shifted then and Steve’s heart positively stopped.

He lunged forward with his fists clenched on instinct only to realize it would help nothing.

It was you. You with a cloth tied over your mouth, strapped to a chair, a trickle of blood coming from your temple, a strap of messy hair sticking to it. Your cheeks were damp from tears, eyes bloodshot and full of horror. A bruise was forming around your right eye, your line of sight not meeting the lens of the camera aimed at you. Your dress and sweater were dirty and torn as if someone grabbed it too harshly and dragged you away; your nylons ripped, your knees bare and scraped bloody.

Steve didn’t even realize that the raging roar wasn’t only in his mind and actually escaped his mouth, his chest burning with hatred. You sobbed as if you could hear him and Steve understood he wasn’t the only one watching their soulmate.

“You’re a dead man,” Steve growled, causing your eyes falling shut.

While the image stayed focused on you, the man spoke up again.

“And yet I’m still walking…” the man hummed and to emphasize his words, he took several steps towards you – Steve’s feet twitched helplessly, wanting to stop him. But he couldn’t; he had no clue where he himself was, let alone you and that bastard.

He needed to think dammit. And he needed to think very fucking fast. His brain finally kicked in, immediately racing despite the trembles in his body – he couldn’t tell whether it was rage or fear. When the man circled your chair and aimed the camera lower, Steve was suddenly certain it was pure horror.

There were explosives. There were explosives stuck to your chair and a timer set to two minutes; luckily, frozen. Steve was sure as hell it wouldn’t stay that way as a suffocating lump grew in his throat. He couldn’t breathe in.

The camera moved again, showing the man as he glanced at what Steve assumed was a screen like the one he was seeing, the one you kept watching. Steve didn’t bother wasting his brain capacity on trying to control his expression. The man smiled a toothy grin and Steve wanted to puke, his mind frantically fighting with the heavy stone in his stomach, screaming at him that this was you, his soulmate, basically sitting at a bomb.

“If you’re pissed off now, just wait for what’s to come.”

Pissed off? Oh, Steve was so beyond pissed off. When he was about to get his hands on this man, he wasn’t just about to rip his arm off. He was going to do so with all of his limbs and finish with the carotid, using his bare teeth.

The camera must have been set on a stand, still showing you, as Steve could hear the man shuffle around. The next thing he knew, the screen in front of him split in two separate images; one of you and the other showing nine frames of traffic cameras, all of them aimed at trashcans. Steve didn’t understand.

Yet.

Until the frame of you split into two, the other image showing another timer, simply lying somewhere in an empty room. It read two minutes. Frozen. Just like the one on your back.

Something ugly crept Steve’s spine, a hunch he refused to acknowledge.

“You see, you have two options now, Captain,” the man explained and Steve’s teeth grinded with effort to deny what was set in front of him. It wasn’t what he was thinking, it couldn’t be. “There’s a door to your left – close to your heart, of course…”

Steve’s hands trembled as the man walked to you and almost gingerly loosened the cloth over your mouth, only to tear a strap of your dress after that, revealing your soulmark. It was illegible from the distance, but it still sent a fresh way of nausea up Steve’s throat. A whimper escaped you.

“Pick the left door and save your soulmate. Or take the road to your right and be the righteous man everyone claims you are. There are nine bombs planted over the streets of New York. Busy morning, as you noticed, I’m sure. God, Mondays suck…”

Steve’s head was spinning.

The man was lying. He must have been lying.

“Oh and just so you know, your country is watching. Hacking is too easy these days. Ready to start the race?”

“Wait!” Steve blurted out instantly, catching the man’s attention. It was unfair how much Steve’s voice was shaking, but it was the least of his problems. “What… what do you want?”

The man frowned. “For you to choose. I’m sure you noticed the earbud I gave you-“ No, Steve hadn’t. Having a comm in his ear was a second nature now. “Don’t you worry. You’ll hear us the whole time.”

“No! Wait! There’s… there’s gotta be something-“

The man clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “The timer’s about to start, Captain. You better choose or you’ll lose both, her and tens thousands of lives I imagine. Life is full of hard choices, isn’t it?” he mocked him and this time it was definitely rage that overtook Steve’s mind and body.

Until someone new spoke up, scratchy, weak and weary voice that shattered his heart turned his stomach around.

“Steve? It’s… it’s okay. Go,” you creaked, your eyes shining with fresh unshed tears. It wasn’t the haunted look in your gaze that unsettled something deep inside of him. No. It was the dark resignation that laced the breath-taking colour of your eyes. “Go save lives. I… I knew I’d have to share you with the world. Frankly, I didn’t imagine it would be like this, but— you go and be hero. My life is nothing compared to thousands and we both know that.”

The world swayed off its place, Steve’s knees buckling, actually forcing him to stumble backwards and lean onto the table he was strapped to.

The fuck did you just say? With unshakable conviction no less?

“The clock is ticking now, Captain,” the man informed him swiftly, smile in his voice. It was like a punch to Steve’s solar plexus.

With his own shield.

“No,” Steve choked out, his glare darting from one door to another.

How could he even make such choice?! What kind of a twisted monster did this? Who was this man?

“Your soulmate is telling the truth, Captain, isn’t she? You are the hero. You always make choices to save people no matter how much it hurts you… if it hurts at all, of course. Maybe, maybe you don’t care-“

“Hey, I know you do!” you rushed to interrupt, a spark of life lightening up your face, but Steve’s hands only darted to his hair, fingers interlacing in desperation. Your voice softened then. “It’s alright, Steve. I… I love you. And I’m so sorry it will hurt when I’m gone… but I believe in you. You can make it…”

“Yes, I can,” he growled, jolting to his right to disarm the bomb.

He could make it. He could handle the global threat and then rush to your rescue even if it meant he would burn to ashes shielding you from the flames.

His conviction only grew when he heard a familiar voice in his ear.

“Cap? Cap, can you hear me?”

It shook him more than the collision with the door. “Natasha?!”

“And company,” Stark supplied helpfully and Steve could cry in relief.

He wasn’t alone. He could do this.

“Can you disarm the bombs?” he panted, nearly faltering in his steps in relief.

Could Steve leave the nine explosives with one trigger alone and save you?

“Ah, look at him, Americans. The original Avenger, rushing to everyone’s rescue. Looks like he has some assistance, but that isn’t going to help. The choice was made. What is one life compared to thousands? Maybe she doesn’t even matter to him, does she?” the man interjected again and Steve gritted his teeth, pushing to his very limit to speed up.

The hall was narrow. No other possibilities – just running straight ahead. He felt like his mind was anything but straight, buzzing frantic images and dark scenarios. Your voice, ironically enough, was not helping.

“Steve, don’t listen to him. It’s okay. It’s okay…”

“Tony? Can you get rid of the bombs?” Steve repeated, gulping when the billionaire didn’t answer right away.

“No.”

Steve’s world crashed that moment and he wanted to scream.

Alone it was then. He had been alone before. He could do this.

“Romanoff can help you disarm it, we have… ugh, great visual of the corridors and of you thanks to the guy. I’m on my way, but it will be a really fucking close call.”

Steve mentally nodded, swallowing his fear. No time for fear now. Later. He could fold like a house of cards later. He wasn’t alone after all. He had freaking Black Widow and Iron Man at his disposal.

And finally, he reached another door. He burst into the room, his shoulder crying in protest when he broke down the door and stumbled in.

The room was plain, identical to the one he woke up – except there was the timer on a table.

01:02

01:01

“Natasha?” he howled as he sprinted to it. “Talk to me.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard.” She sounded confident. That was good.

That’s good, Steve’s mind echoed as he bent over the timer, swallowing thickly. Jesus Christ.

“Alright. I need you to rip off the blue wire at the same time you pressing the button on the left side of the timer. Got it?”

Steve only nodded, not taking a second to breathe in and think it through.

He just did it.

The red numbers of the timer flickered on 0:54 and died. Blood ran cold in Steve’s veins. He couldn’t hear any explosions, but that didn’t mean anything; God only knew how far from New York they were.

“Romanoff?” he hissed, already spinning on his heels and springing towards the corridor that had led him here.

“We’re clear. Run, Steve. Get that son of a bitch,” the redhead shot back, her voice sharp, but with a quiver of worry. Steve didn’t like that in the slightest; Natasha was rarely worried.

It was when the man who had assaulted you informed him he was still watching.

“Oh, silly, silly man,” he lamented, a patronizing note to his words. “Do you think you can make it in time? Don’t be stupid. You made your choice. Deal with the consequences.”

“Fuck. You,” Steve strained through his teeth, his feet barely touching the ground as he dashed through the hall, flashing the enormous monitor in his wake-up room a brief look as he headed to the second door.

It barely gave in as he ran into it, sickening crack echoing the empty space and vibrating his bones. Sharp pain jolted through his shoulder and arm; he was certain he just broke something.

It hurt. It would heal. He couldn’t fucking care less.

“You’re running out of time, Captain… you’re always out of time…” the man nearly sing-sang in mockery, making Steve push harder.

“Steve…” Tony’s heavy voice sounded emotionless through the comms and it felt like a slap to his face. “I won’t make it in time.”

Steve snarled, his lungs burning, his heartbeat pulsing his whole being, but he refused to throw himself off balance by even shaking his head in desperation. He ignored the icy fist that squeezed his insides.

He had to run.

Tony’s voice urged him then.

“Steve, there’s no way you can save her either. The lab’s gonna blow up in seconds. Get out of there.“

“Shut up!” the captain growled and as if it wasn’t enough, your captor let himself known too, counting down.

“Five.”

Shit!

Steve really would have to shield you from the explosion. That was gonna hurt a lot.

Well, though luck. He would burn before giving up on you.

He could see the door at the end of the hall now, his muscles crying with effort, his eyes burning with unshed tears or desperation.

He had to make in time to get you of the chair and cover you!

“Cap! Get the fuck out!” Natasha cried out in his ear, but Steve blatantly tuned it out.

He would have ripped the thing out of his ear, but that seemed like too much effort for now. He had more important goals.

“Four.”

He clenched his fists, bracing his body for the impact as he would throw himself against the door.

“Three.”

Pain erupted in Steve’s other shoulder as he collided with the metal, the door flying in the room with him.

“Two,” sounded on his right as he barely kept himself upright, quickly scanning the room. You were there, still on the chair, twenty feet from the door. The man stood by your side, hand on your shoulder, his head tilted to side with curious smile. “Hi there, Captain. One.”

Steve’s glimpsed the horror in your eyes, perfectly mirroring his own.

“Steve!” three voices yelled at the same time as he lunged after the man.

A fraction of second later, his body was thrown backwards with a shockwave, feeling as if on fire.

And then there was nothing.

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He nuzzled his nose to your hair, perfectly blissed out.

He learned to love Sunday mornings. Before he had met you, the day of the week had made no difference to him; he would wake up at 5:45 and get ready for his morning run and the only indication of something being different had been the amount of people he had been meeting on his route. Saturdays had used to be rather crowded, but not Sundays. On Sundays, people had idled. And you had convinced him to do the same.

It hadn’t required much effort from your side; especially after the first time Steve had got to make love to you. Since then, most Sunday mornings were reserved for lazy rolling in the sheets, exchanging sloppy and sensual kisses, wandering hands and lips and finding paradise in your bodies entangled.

He reached his peak shortly after you – because you always came first, an unintended pun, one Steve had made when he had been being absolutely sincere about your pleasure being the priority and you had laughed at it until your belly hurt – and now he wished for nothing but for cradling you in his arms for little longer.

His palm was sprawled on your stomach and he used it to bring you even closer, half-heartedly trying to convince a certain part of his body to stop reacting to your intimate position.

Too late, judging by your chuckle.

“Steve,” you whispered, rubbing your bottom against the hardness, apparently deciding to torture him sweetly. God, he would take every second of that torture and begged for more if it meant hearing you moan his name like that. Christ, this got him going.

You shifted in your position, catching his mouth with yours, fingers of your hand interlacing with his on your hip as you rocked into him once more.

Steve could die a happy man right there as he felt your heat, your tongue shamelessly twisting against his. It seemed he wasn’t the only one who was insatiable today. He moaned to your mouth when your hands sneaked between your bodies to guide him in and a shot of ecstasy made him arch his back at the contact.

Your smile was lost to the moan that left your lips.

“I love you,” you whimpered and Steve didn’t waste a second before returning the words, even though they paled under the actual force of what he was feeling with you. Love had never felt this intense before.

That was when the alarm blared, annoying and intrusive sound that had you both crying out in frustration.

Steve had forgotten about the brunch you had arranged with Ryan and his boyfriend.

“Turn it off,” he whined, locking his arm around you to keep you close.

“You know I can’t, Stevie,” you replied, not less annoyed than him. “Looks like we need to go back to reality.”

The intrusive beeping continued as Steve slowly blinked his eyes open. His eyelids felt unnaturally heavy. So did the rest of his body, which seemed to be hurting in too many places at once.

It took him few moments to assess the space he was in – lying in a bed, a beeping machine by his head, wires leading to his body, an i.v. in his arm. He knitted his brows together, reaching for the needle – it must have been why his body was so heavy and his mind so fuzzy.

Sharp pain erupted in his arm and torso, low hiss escaping his lips.

“Careful, Cap,” Tony’s voice brought Steve’s attention to the door where his friend was standing, slowly making his way to the bed. “You got yourself a lot of burns. If it wasn’t for the serum… you’d be a toast.”

“Burns?” Steve creaked, his throat scratchy.

When had he got-

Burns. The kidnapping. The choice he had been forced to make. The explosion.

Everything came rushing back to him in a horrifying fastforward.

“Did-“

“You saved lots of lives, yesterday,” the billionaire informed him, serious and excessively soothing.

It didn’t calm Steve’s suddenly rapidly beating heart. This wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear. This wasn’t what he was asking; he knew that much. His thoughts were on you.

Did you survive?

“Did… did she-?“

Tony’s grim expression and solemn shake of his head told him everything he needed but didn’t want to know. Everything he refused to acknowledge, because it simply couldn’t be.

“No,” Steve rasped, his throat burning as much as his eyes and the rest of his body when he tried to sit up, his stomach twisting.

No. This couldn’t be.

It couldn’t, but somehow he already knew it was the truth. You would have been here by his bedside, watching over him. Or you would have been the first thing Tony mentioned, updating Steve on your condition.

Steve remembered with painful clarity the terror in your eyes before everything had gone black. The explosion. You had been in the centre of the room, the bomb basically strapped to your back.

“I’m sorry-”

“No,” Steve repeated stubbornly, setting his jaw tight so it wouldn’t tremble. “She’s… she has to-“

“I’m sorry, Steve. I… I really am.”

The crushing weight on Steve’s chest made it hard to breathe in, his throat closing up in effort not to scream. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears threatening to spill.

No, no, no… someone please wake him up from this nightmare. Please. You had to be alive. You had to, because otherwise… otherwise-

Otherwise he had failed you. Otherwise he was alone in this world again. Otherwise his heart was shattered and he would rather if it stopped. Otherwise his life was thrown back to the shadows he knew after coming out of the ice and further, kicked down to a pit of complete darkness. Otherwise he lost his soulmate.

“Please, leave,” Steve strained through his teeth, not bothering to open his eyes.

You were gone. You were gone, your body burned to ashes in the explosion Steve hadn’t stopped in time. He felt like the bomb exploded right inside of his chest, ripping his heart to shreds, pulsing pain pumped though his veins.

He heard no protest, only a sigh from the other man and a click of a door.

Only then, the first sob shook his whole body and he let himself to break down.

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Part 1

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Well… that’s a really long prologue, I know. The chapters should be shorter from here.

Title – inspired by Halsey’s Without Me

Thank you for reading!

Please don’t hate me... it’s a Spn crossover, put two and two together ;)

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Tags: @cxptain @smilexcaptainx , @murdermornings @irepostthingsiwanttoseelater , @polarcrystall @eliza5616 @rayofdawnworld @victor-criss-bish @skychild29 @elysianecho @simmisblog @scentedsongrebel @orions-nebula, @sergeantrosabellaswan @songofcosplay, @ilovesupersoldiers @wxstedhexrt @silver-winter-wolf @nova3312 @guardian-tn @janieavalos, @vxidnik

Hello there! Like I said I would, I kept the taglist. If anyone wants in or out, DM me or send an ask :-*

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awholelotofladybug · 4 years

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Enter the Bogeyman: A Stammering Adrien AU Story

Based on this AU.

This is a nonprofit story. The only characters or locations I own are the ones I make up. All other fictional characters and locations about Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir are the property of Thomas Astruc and Zag. Please support the official release.

Adrien slowly opened his eyes. As he did, he took a look at the ghastly sight around him. It looked like some twisted haunted house, and as he continued to look around, to his horror, there was Marinette, his beloved princess, dangling in chains next to him, as well as Chloé. After Adrien took all of this in, he looked to his beloved, then to his childhood friend.

“Chloé! Marinette! Wake up!” Adrien said as he tried to force his hands out of his shackles.

Marinette groaned as she woke up. “Ugh! My head! What happened?”

“Ugh! I feel like I got hit by a truck,” said Chloé as she woke up. “Where are we?”

That’s when they were joined by their hideous captor. A repulsive, ten-foot giant garbed in a long, black, tattered, hooded robe, as well as a pair of broken handcuffs around his wrists. His limbs were long and lanky, as were his fingers. The creature's skin was gray and ghoulish, as if he had clawed his way out of the grave with his long, sharp, black fingernails. His teeth were sharp and jagged, resulting in a twisted, toothy grin. Black strands of stringy hair peered out from his hood. The nose of this creature was missing and its lips had been torn off, furthering his corpse-like appearance, and his eyes were black and sunken-in with glowing yellow irises. He crawled up the wall to greet the frightened youngsters.

“Oh good, oh good. My guests are awake,” said the beast. “Welcome, children, to Château des Cauchemars.”

“Who, or what, are you?” asked Chloé, trembling.

“Everything you have feared and will fear, sweet child. I am the Bogeyman.”

The Bogeyman crawled across the wall like a spider, making his way towards Marinette, who did her best to keep her composure, despite being scared.

“I-I’m assuming you’re Hawkmoth’s latest Akuma?” she asked.

“Bingo,” said the villain. “He gave me the power to warp the world around me into a nightmare, and I plan to take full advantage of that”

Chloé rolled her eyes. “Make the world into a haunted house? Just sounds like another way of saying “take over the world.”

Bogeyman crawled over to Chloé and turned her head towards him. “Take over the world? Oh no, my dear child. Nothing so superficial,” he said as he licked her cheek with his long, slimy tongue. “As I said before, I’m the Bogeyman, and as such, I crave the taste of fear. That is why I plan to turn Paris into my personal playground, just as soon as I give Hawkmoth his precious jewelry.”

Adrien watched helplessly while the beast laughed. He couldn’t get his hands free, and even if he could, transforming in front of him would reveal their identities to the villain. The situation seemed hopeless. He could only hope that his other allies weren’t captured.

Carapace and Rena Rouge could hardly believe their eyes. This new Akuma had turned a mental hospital into a haunted house. A place of healing had now become a house of horrors, people were being kidnapped left and right, and Ladybug, Chat Noir, and Queen B were nowhere to be found, and both Carapace and Rena had a good idea as to why.

“I have a really bad feeling about this,” said Carapace.

“You’re not the only one,” said Rena. “I’d feel better if Ladybug, Chat, and Queenie were here instead of in there.”

Carapace shivered. “I don’t even want to think about what the Akuma is doing to them in there.

“Don’t remind me. Just thinking about it makes my skin crawl.”

“Yeah,” said Carapace before taking a deep breath. “But we won’t save them by standing here and being scared. We’re getting in there, kicking some butt, saving our friends, and our town.”

“Not without some backup, you’re not,” said a familiar, masculine voice.

Rena and Carapace turned around to see Viperion and Ryuko.

Carapace gave a big smile. “Boy am I glad to see you guys. We have a serious problem.”.

“We’ve noticed,” said Ryuko. “Where’s Ladybug and Chat?”

“That’s just it! They’ve gone missing! Queen B too!” said Rena

“And we have a hunch that the Akuma has them!” said Carapace.

Viperion growled. “If that Akuma hurts one hair on my queen’s beautiful head...”

“Easy, partner,” said Ryuko. “She’ll be fine, but only if we focus on saving Paris.”

Viperion took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s get in there, and kick some butt.”

With that, the four young heroes made their way in to save their teammates.

Adrien, Chloé, and Marinette all sneered as their creepy captor played an eerie tune on the piano that he had conjured into the room with his powers.

“You know, you might as well give up,” said Chloé. “Even if Ladybug and Chat Noir never show up, there’s at least five other heroes out there just waiting for a chance to beat you down, Bogeyboy.”

The beast chuckled and went up to the blonde girl. “That’s Bogey-MAN to you, my pretty. And let them come. It won’t spoil my fun. Speaking of which, I have other children to attend to. Au Revoir.”

The fiends vanished into the shadows, and the three youngsters looked at each other, and nodded.

“Tikki, Plagg, Pollen, you’re up,” said Marinette. “Hurry, before he comes back.”

The Kwamis came out and started working the locks on the shackles.

“Wait, did he just say there were “other children” in here?” Chloé asked.

“That means we’re not the only ones t-t-t-trapped in here,” said Adrien.

Marinette’s brow furrowed. “We need to find them and get them out of here before the Bogeyman does who-knows-what to them.”

Adrien shuttered. “I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Me neither,” said Plagg as he unlocked Adrien’s shackles. “There.”

Tikki was the next to free her chosen host. “All done.”

Finally, Pollen undid Chloé’s locks. “You’re free, my queen!”

“Good work,” said Chloé. “Now, let’s power-up and give the Boogeyman something to be scared of.”

“Right,” said Marinette. “Tikki, Spots On!”

“Plagg, C-Claws Out!” said Adrien.

Finally, came Chloé. “Pollen, Buzz On!”

Deep in the twisted hallways of the Boogeyman’s castle, Team Miraculous was wandering around, looking for their lost comrades. The castle was dark and quiet, dimly lit by torches. Its walls were covered with images of the horrific torture of humans by hideous monsters, and all sorts of creepy creatures crawled through the cracks and crevices.

Viperion shivered. “This place gives me the creeps.”

“Right there with you,” said Ryuko, holding up her sword. “Everyone, just stay close to me.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” said Rena.

Carapace wiped the sweat from his brow. “This place is huge. How are we going to find anyone in here?”

Just then, the young heroes heard a loud scream from a room down the hall.

“That’s one way,” said Viperion. “Hurry! Someone’s in trouble!”

The team rushed towards the room, and peeked inside. In the room was Sabrina Raincomprix and Wayhem, hanging from chains on the wall over a pit with giant snakes. Standing next to them was a ghoulish giant in a black robe.

“What’s wrong, children?” the villain asked. “Don’t you like my pets?”

The youngsters struggled and screamed as the creature pulled one of two levers that lowered them into the pit and took a deep breath.

“Ah, the sweet smell of cortisol and adrenaline,” he said as he licked his chops like a hungry predator. “Let’s see if my pets like it too.”

Ryuko growled as she leaped into action, followed quickly by Rena, Carapace, and Viperion. Carapace tossed his shield, hitting the villain in the head while Ryuko sliced through the chains, catching Wayhem while Viperion caught Sabrina before they could fall into the pit. Rena worked the levers, stopping the chains from lowering and closing the pit. While they had a moment, the heroes tended to the two victims.

“Are you okay, Wayhem?” Ryuko asked.

Wayhem responded by clinging tightly to the heroine. “Thank you! I was so scared!”

Ryuko blushed as she comforted the frightened young man. Meanwhile, Viperion tended to Sabrina.

“You have to stop him!” she said as she grabbed Viperion’s shoulders. “He’s got Marinette, Adrien, Chloe, Kim, and Max! He’s going to...”

“Sabrina, calm down,” said Viperion. “We’re going to stop this thing. Trust me.

The monster picked himself off the floor by contorting and twisting his body. With several sickening cracks, he was standing up straight and snarling at his intruders.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” he asked as he gnashed his teeth. “Ladybug and Chat Noir’s little playmates.”

Viperion sneered. “Who are you, and what have you done to the others?! You better have an answer!”

“My my, don’t we have a temper,” said the villain with a mocking chuckle. “I am the Bogeyman, and as for your little friends, I’ve done nothing yet, but oh do I have plans.”

“Okay, you, listen up. I don’t know who you are or what Hawkmoth offered you, but this game of yours is over,” said Ryuko, pointing at him with her sword.

Bogeyman chuckled. “Oh no, my dear child. The game has only begun.”

As the Bogeyman said this, he opened a door to reveal Lila, Rose, Alix, Nathaniel, and Ivan. They were all turned into large, rotting ghouls with sharp claws and teeth and glowing, yellow eyes, marked with a glowing, yellow bite mark somewhere on their necks, legs, or arms.

“Come, my children. I have some sweeties for you,” said the Bogeyman with a chuckle. “ Be sure to share.”

With a demented cackle, the Bogeyman melted into the shadows and slithered away, leaving the young heroes and hostages alone, surrounded by their mutated friends. Ryuko handed Wayhem to Sabrina. She struggled a bit, but was able to get a hold of the poor boy.

“Take him, and get out of here,” Ryuko ordered.

“Got it,” said Sabrina, “Come on, Wayhem.”

Wayhem felt guilty as Sabrina struggled. “I’m sorry, Sabrina. If I just had my wheelchair...”

“Don’t worry about it. I can manage. Let’s just get out of here before that creep comes back.”

Ladybug, Chat Noir and Queen B walked through what felt like a labyrinth of hallways, searching for any other captives of the Bogeyman.

“Man, this place is huge,” said Queen B. “What do you think it was before Boogeyman warped it?”

“Probably s-s-s-somerthing creepy. Like an an old castle, or an abandoned insane asylum with broken windows, old cages, discarded straightjackets, and...” Chat went on.

Ladybug covered her ears. “Chat, this place has been creepy enough already! Please don’t make it worse!”

“Oh, right,” said Chat, giving a sheepish grin. “Sorry.”

Just then, something caught the trio’s attention the heard the frightened screams of two young men.

“That sounded like Kim and Max!” said Queen B, running towards the screaming

Ladybug chased after her. “Queenie, wait up!”

“Hang on, guys!” said Chat. “We’re c-c-coming!”

They entered the room and found the boys, tied together and dangling upside down from a rope over a pit with a pack of rabid dogs The boys were panicking, making the rope flail back and forth as they desperately tried to avoid the beasts.

“Help!” shouted Kim. “These things are gonna kill us!”

“Don’t panic. We’ll get you down,” said Ladybug.

Chat used his claws to cut through the ropes, and as the boys fell, Queen B leaped across the pit, catching them both and setting them down on the floor.

Chat Noir smiled. “No sense hanging around here.”

“Are you boys okay?” Queen B asked.

“Yeah,” said Max, rubbing his sore neck. “Thanks to you guys.”

Chat helped Kim up. “Okay. You... You guys need to get out of here.”

“No way. We’re staying right here to help you take down this creep,” said Kim.

“Yeah,” said Max. “It may be risky, but I refuse to let this Akuma hurt anyone else.”

Queen B guided them to the door. “No offense, boys, but I’m pretty sure the Bogeyman would literally swallow you guys whole and spit out your bones.”

“That’s a good point,” said Max.

Kim sighed. “Alright, but give him a punch for us.”

“You’ve got it,” said Ladybug, waving them goodbye.

Queen B took a second glance at the boys as they left. She couldn’t help but admire their willingness to fight. It got her thinking.

Viperion and his team of heroes fought ferociously against their corrupted friends, taking them out one by one.

“Man, after tonight, I think I’m off horror movies for a long, long time,” said Carapace as he knocked Ivan down.

“Ditto,” said Rena, as she tripped up Lila. “The last time I saw stuff like this was in a nightmare,”

Ryuko shivered as she slammed Rose onto the ground. “I’m not entirely convinced that this isn’t all one, big nightmare.”

“Keep it together, guys,” said Viperion, kicking Nathanial in the head. “I’m scared too, but once we beat Bogeyman, the nightmare is over. We just need to find...”

“Ladybug! Quick! I heard s-s-someone over here!” said the familiar voice of Chat Noir.

Viperion’s face lit up, “Chat, is that you?!”

“Viperion?” Chat replied. “Hang on, we’re coming!”

The two groups ran towards each other until they met at the corner in the hall. This reunion was marked with laughter, relief, and hugs all around.

“Boy, are we glad to see you guys,” said Ladybug, hugging Rena and Ryuko.

“Us too,” said Rena. “I was starting to fear the worst.”

“Did that creep hurt you guys?” Carapace asked.

“Nothing we can’t handle,” said Chat. “What’s important is that w-we are all here.”

Viperion hugged Queen B, then looked to Chat. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s find that ghoul and kick his butt.”

That’s when the team felt a chill in the air, followed by the echo of the villain’s voice.

“What a touching little reunion, but no need to go searching for the Bogeyman, child,” said the beast as he appeared out of the wall. “The Bogeyman has found you.”

The group gathered themselves and took out their weapons, staring at the ghoulish giant in his tattered robes and torn gauze.

“Give up, Bogeyman,” said Ladybug. “This nightmare of yours stops here.”

Bogeyman laughed. “Dear child, this is merely a prelude to the nightmare. Once I dispose of all of you, I will turn Paris into a pit of shadow and despair: A vile cesspool crawling with monsters. It will be magnificent.”

“I’d hate to spoil your mood, but your p-p-plan is going to end in utter catastrophe,” said Chat, taking out his baton.

Before anyone could respond to the pun, Bogeyman attacked, lunging at the children. They managed to jump out of the way, but Viperion got pinned down by the monster’s right hand. However, before he could deliver a fatal blow, he felt something slash his other arm. He snarled in pain, and looked to see Ryuko, holding up her sword.

“Keep your claws off my partner.”

The Bogeyman growled, spewing what looked like a green, corrosive goo from his mouth.

“AUGH!” Ryuuko said as it burned her arm.

“Ryuko!” Ladybug said as she rushed to her aid.

“Aw, sick!” said Queen B, jumping off the walls. “Seriously, what is with you and gross stuff?!”

The monster snarled, slashed Queen B across the back, causing her to scream. He then tossed her across the room, laughing as he did. He then slammed Ryuuko on the ground and kicked Rena in the head. He then grabbed Queen B, and expanded his jaws until they were large enough to devour her.

“Pitiful! Just what I would expect from children!”

Just when it seemed over for Queen B, Bogeyman felt Chat Noir’s staff knock him right in the face, followed by a blow to the neck with Viperion’s lyre, and another from Carapace’s shield, and Ladybug’s yo-yo tripping him up, causing him to drop his victim. He turned to see the four young heroes standing with Rena Rouge, scowling at him while Ryuko helped Queen B.

“Nobody m-m-messes with my team,” Chat said, ready to strike again.

Bogeyman chucked. “Team players, are we?”

He then whistled, summoning Rose, Lila, Ivan, Alix and Nathaniel to their feet. Another battle began. Rena used her powers to distract them with duplicates.

Ladybug decided now was as good a time as any to make the call.

“LUCKY CHARM!”

From out of thin air came a paint gun.

“Okay, a paint gun. Fine,” said the heroine. “Now think, Ladybug, think.”

Ladybug observed the fight going on around, and saw the cuffs of the Bogeyman’s wrists, having a hunch that is where the Akuma must be. She then came up with a plan. She took the gun, took aim, and shot the Bogeyman in the face, causing him to give an unsettling, inhuman screech.

“My eyes!” he shouted. “I can’t see!”

Ladybug took the chance to use her yo-yo to tie up his wrists.She then turned to her teammates.

“Rena! Ryuko! Keep his minions distracted!”

The girls nodded and continued fighting. “Right!”said Rena. “Got it!” said Ryuuko.

“Carapace! Viperion!” she shouted. “Go for his head!”

“On the double!” the boys said in unison as the threw their weapons at the villain’s head.

With the villain dazed, Ladybig turned to Queen B.

“Queen B! Paralyze him! Quick!”

Queen B winced as she took out her weapon. “You’ve got it. VENOM!”

The Bogeyman was paralyzed, and Ladybug turned to her partner.

“Chat!” she said. “Go for the cuffs on his wrists!”

“You’ve got it, M’lady! CATACLSYM!”

The cuffs were destroyed, and out of the one on his right came the Akuma. Ladybug knew what she had to do as she readied her yo-yo.

“No more evil-doing for you, little Akuma,” said Ladybug. “TIME TO DE-EVILIZE!”

The butterfly was captured, cleansed, and set free.

Ladybug waved goodbye as she watched it fly away. “Bye-bye, little butterfly.”

There was only one thing left to do.

“MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!”

She tossed her Lucky Charm into the air, and the swarm of ladybugs undid all the damage done by the Bogeyman. Every twisted image, every deadly trap, every vicious monster, gone. All of his minions were set free, and everyone’s injuries were healed. The Bogeyman’s lair was revealed to be an abandoned hospital, and the Bogeyman was revealed to be a tall, thin man with long, black hair, and a short beard.

“Anton Moreau?!” said Ladybug, terrified. “The escaped homicidal maniac?!”

Moreau chuckled. “I didn’t need to be the Bogeyman to take out my enemies before,” he said, picking up a discarded, broken bottle. “And I don’t need it to get rid of you!”

The maniac laughed as he rushed them, only to be taken down by Ryuko.

“You’ve done enough damage, Moreau,” she said. “Like I said before, the game’s over.”

It didn’t take long for the police to arrive and arrest Moreau. As soon as they got the chance, the heroes made their way to Master Fu’s shop, being careful not to be seen. Once out of sight, they all detransformed.

"Boy, am I glad that's over," said Nino.

"Tell me about it," said Chloé, wincing at the sharp pain in her back. "The wounds are gone, but my back still hurts. Is that normal?"

Marinette nodded. "Don't worry. The soreness usually fades in about an hour."

Chloé sighed and sat down in a nearby chair where she felt Luka’s lips press gently against her cheek, making her smile and blush. As this was going on, Fu made his way in, looking over the group before smiling.

“Another job well done, team. You should all be very proud.”

“All in a day’s work, Master Fu,” said Alya. “I’m just glad Moreau is going back to the asylum. Akuma or not, that guy is going to give me nightmares.”

“Well, at least the living n-n-nightmare is over,” said Adrien.

The team all relaxed and talked amongst themselves, glad to put another battle behind them. That’s when Chloé approached the old guardian.

“Um, Master Fu?” she said, tapping him on the shoulder

Fu turned and smiled at her. “Yes, Chloé?”

“I don’t really know how this works or if it’s my call to make, but I think I found two more worthy candidates for Team Miraculous.

With those words, Chloé had the master’s full attention. “Go on...”

Epilogue

Max and Kim were hanging out at Max’s house, playing one of his games. Both boys were laser-focused on obtaining victory. However, just as they were ready to beat the boss level, they heard a tapping at Max’s window. They paused the game to investigate, opening the window, and what they saw made their jaws drop.

“Queen B?”

The yellow-striped heroine climbed in. “Evening, boys.”

“No way,” said Kim as he stared. “What are you doing here?”

Queen Bee stretched a bit before looking at the duo. “Earlier today, you two were willing to risk your safety to help me and my team beat the Bogeyman.”

“Well, yeah,” said Kim. “We’re tired of Hawkmoth’s Akumas pushing everyone around.”

Max sighed. “We just wish we could help in some way.”

“Maybe you can, boys,” said Queen B, taking out two octagonal boxes. “Maybe you can.”

The two boys gaped at the boxes, then back at the heroine.

“You... You mean... “ Kim started.

Queen B nodded. “Max Kante, Le Chien Kim, you two have been chosen to wield the Horse and Monkey Miraculous. You must reveal your identities to no one and use them responsibly. Are you two ready and willing to do this?”

Max and Kim’s eyes lit up as they gazed upon the artifacts. Kim took the Monkey and Max took the Horse.

“You can count on us, Queen B,” said Kim.

“Yeah,” said Max. “We won’t let you down.”

Queen B smiled. She knew she made the right choice.

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chloe bourgeois #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #luka couffaine #kagam tsurugi #wayhem #sabrina raincomprix #le chien kim #max kante #miraculous ladybug au #stammering!adrien #stammering adrien au #the bogeyman

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fandomlife-giver · 4 years

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Bedewed Maid - 2

Summary: My young master’s soul emites a heady aroma. A scent that intoxicated demons, drives them mad, impels them to battle. Music shall play, captivating all...And secrets shall be revealed.

Next time, “Bedewed Maid”

Surely I can resolve a prickly situation without Sebastian in 5 minutes, master. Otherwise, what kind of maid would I be?

Pairings: Sebastian X Demon!Reader X Claude

@wintersdoll @naniky @danabuggxd @redryderdesigns @inumorph

Word Count: 4217

Warnings: Mild language, Mentions of death, Minor gore

Your name: submit What is this?

His eyes instantly lit up when they recognized you, his toothy grin showing when you called his name.

He jumped up from the bag and tried to run to you before the maid walked over and grabbed him by the throat. He whimpered as she held him down to the ground.

Your eyes widened as you watched her. “What do you think you’re doing? And how could you have possibly known about him or his location? I hid him far too well for anyone to find.”

She chuckled as she glanced at you. “You think your attempts to hide this hound would go over my head? You aren’t as good as you think you are.”

You tilted your head, mildly surprised at her tone toward you.

“Pardon me, I never got your name. I’ve seen you around the manor and by your demeanor, I would certainly assume you would not be capable of this. Who exactly are you?”

She turned her head away from you and tied Pluto’s hands behind his back before standing up and making her way toward the nun.

“My name is Hannah. I serve under my beloved master, Lord Trancy.”

You slowly nodded as you eyed the bandage that covered one of her eyes. “Right. I see that. I was referring to your true identity.”

Her feet stopped right before the nun. Slowly, she turned her head, confusion clear in her eyes.

“I’m not sure what you mean. I am only a mere servant, nothing more.”

You frowned at her response. She turned back and smiled apologetically at the nun.

“I am sorry, but I have my orders from my master. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Her eyes filled with panic when Hannah grabbed her by the neck and pulled her up, practically dragging her to the back of the room.

“W-wait, what are you doing? No, no, please!”

She locked eyes with you briefly, anger suddenly flooding her. “This...this is all your fault! If that woman never took me from the convent, I would have never been kicked out. I wish I never crossed paths with you!”

You slightly laughed at her as Hannah pulled her behind a pillar, her attempts to flee being futile.

“Blaming a demon for your own sins? How typical.”

Not even a second later, you heard her blood-curdling screams as a slicing sound cut through the air.

Beside you, Uriel sucked the air from his teeth. “That sounded like more than a papercut.”

A slow grin crept onto your face as you listened to her screams.

“Enjoy hell. Bitch.”

He looked at you, eyes narrowed. “You have some serious problems, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes at him as Hannah emerged seconds later, the nun nowhere in sight, but there was what you assumed to be her heart dripping blood in Hannah’s hand.

You watched her curiously as she moved in your direction toward a large object that was covered up with a red cloth. In one swift motion, she tore it off. Uriel tensed up when he saw what it was.

You eyed the black instrument closely, taking the outside details in until she opened it up and dropped the freshly cut out heart into the spirals of the inside.

Briefly, the instrument glowed but didn’t remain the bright light it had shown.

You scoffed. “Well, would you look at that? It doesn’t work.”

Beside you, Uriel cleared his throat. When you looked at him, he gave a guilty smile. “Actually, um...the instrument requires something else. Not just a demonically marked human sacrifice. I may have forgotten to mention it.”

Your eyes narrowed at him. “Oh really? You’re telling me this now? Great, what else is needed then?”

“The heart is what powers it.” Hannah’s eyes moved over to Pluto. “But the blood of a demon hound is what is needed to activate it.”

Your jaw clenched as Pluto’s large eyes stared at you, a howl erupting from him in despair.

Your fists tightened in your bounds. The blood was almost entirely gone by now, but you were still not strong enough to break apart. All you could do was watch as Hannah placed her knee on Pluto’s back, a blade emerging from her sleeve.

You leaped forward, but the shackles on your waist forced to stay put. Hannah noticed what you tried to do, but it didn’t stop her from continuing her actions. She flipped Pluto over on his back and brought the tip of the blade to his stomach.

You continued to squirm, ignoring the pain of the metal pressing into your flesh. But it was no use.

She cut deep into the center of his back, the howls of pain that came from him were enough to break your heart. Well, if you had one.

Hannah smeared her hand all over his back, soaking up as much of his blood as possible. Pluto had tears in his eyes as his entire body shook.

After a minute, Hannah stood and moved back to the instrument. She allowed the blood to fall into the interior. It only took one drop for the entire device to light up. At that moment, you could feel the power emanating from it.

She briefly glanced at you as she closed it once again and grabbed the red cloth beside her, covering every inch of the black build.

With a push, she rolled it toward the door she had entered through, only stopping to address both of you.

“My master will come for you when he is ready. I’d advise you to not try anything, it won’t go well for you if you do.”

And with that, she left the room with the deadly instrument in her grasp. The moment she shut the door behind her, you smiled at Pluto.

“Are you alright boy?”

He weakly smiled back at you and nodded, adding a cute woof to his actions. You scooted a little to place your bound hands in front of him.

“Good. Now, do you think you can tear through this contraption with those canines of yours?”

He barked happily and extended his neck. Within a minute, he had managed to chew through the chain that held everything together. You threw your head back as you pulled down your fists, which instantly snapped what remained.

You stood up and untied the rope around Pluto’s hands. Once you did, however, Pluto jumped onto you, his legs wrapping around your waist as he licked your cheek.

You giggled as you pet his head. “Good job, Pluto.”

Hearing a loud whistle of annoyance, you frowned at Uriel, who was looking at you expectantly. “I hate to break up whatever it is you’re doing, but I would like my awesome powers back if you don’t mind.”

Sighing, you moved over to break open his handcuffs. You couldn’t help but stare at the words you couldn’t read, silently telling yourself to take some time to study up on the Enochian language.

“You seem to be having a moment over there. Would you like some privacy with them?”

You couldn’t hide the smile that came on your lips at Uriel’s comment and you threw the cuffs back at him as you stood up.

Your smile dropped as you looked at Uriel. “Alright, angel. Tell me everything you know about that device.”

●●●

Music and merriment filled the atmosphere of the ballroom. The guests continued to happily dance the night away down to the last second the notes played.

The moment the band ceased their playing, the couples across the dance floor became idle and started to chat amongst themselves.

However, all attention moved to the center of the room once Hannah emerged, wheeling out her deadly surprise.

Lau lifted his head up and gazed at it curiously. “Oh?”

The servants stood beside him, their eyes also on the newcomer and her hidden object. Mey-Rin pursed her lips. “What’s in there?”

Finny smiled wide. ”An instrument maybe?”

Lau hummed as she stopped in the middle of the room and removed the covering, revealing the black box. ”This is a surprise. I certainly didn’t expect to see that here tonight.”

Soma stared at Lau in confusion while she opened it and sat herself down on a chair beside it.

”See what? You know what that is?”

Lau didn’t seem to acknowledge his question and they all instead watched Hannah as she licked her fingers. Even sticking them down her throat which earned a few gushes of attraction from the servants.

Moving her hands over the spirals of the inside, her foot pressed on the pedal connected to it, and immediately a hauntingly sweet sound began to play.

A few guests gathered around to get a better listen in admiration. All was well until Soma suddenly crouched down, his hands covering his ears in pain.

Ayani noticed this and ran to his side, only to collapse beside him in pain as well. ”M-My prince!”

Suddenly, the entire crowd of people erupted into shrieks and cries of pain, attempting to cover their ears as Hannah played.

Soma managed to look back at Hannah and her instrument. ”W...what’s happening?”

●●●

Sebastian was smiling down at Ciel as he continued to catch his breath. But his smile faded away as his ears picked up a faint ringing sound in the distance.

“Master. Cover your ears.”

Ciel looked at him weirdly. ”My ears? Why?”

Not even a few seconds later, Ciel found out what he meant when the sharp pain in his ears erupted a cry from him. His hands covered his ears as Sebastian ran over to put his own over them.

”What is that horrid noise?”

Sebastian looked into the distance in the direction of the manor. ”I haven’t heard it in a while. At least a hundred years, I believe. It seems to be coming from the Trancy manor.”

Ciel grabbed tightly onto Sebastian’s arm and looked at him. ”Then let’s go! We need to get back to the ball!”

Sebastian smiled at him, a worry-free look on his face. ”Don’t worry, master. Fortunately, someone I trust who is very capable is at the dance this evening.”

●●●

“What do you mean there’s nothing we can do?”

Your sharp tone made Pluto jump slightly but it only made Uriel shrug.

“Well, it’s as I said. There’s nothing we can do. I don’t know what’s so hard to understand about that.”

Your fists gripped his shirt tightly, pulling him off the ground as you you stared into his eyes. “I’m not in the mood for any games, Uriel. Tell me how to stop the device.”

He sighed and gently removed your hand from his shirt, falling back on the ground when he did. He smoothed down the wrinkles you had created and cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry. I forgot how hard of hearing you demons are. Let me make it simple for you.”

He got up in your face, his mouth moving dramatically with his words. “There. Is. Nothing. We. Can. Do. Capiche?”

He moved his hands in front of your face flamboyantly. “The sound it creates completely corrupts the mind of any human that comes near it. It was created by humans. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

You furrowed your eyebrows which was his sign that you didn’t. “Well, Abigail, if the sound was purposely made to corrupt and control minds, don’t you think they made it purposely impenetrable?”

You continued to stare at him in confusion. “What exactly are you saying?”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh my gosh, what I’m saying is once the instrument is being played nothing will stop the sound from being heard, because the closer you are to it, the stronger the effect is. The player is untouchable and the only way to stop it at that point is to counteract the ingredients put in, which means you need the heart of a virgin and the blood of a holy man.”

Your jaw dropped as you rapidly blinked your eyes in disbelief. “You’re not serious, are you? We don’t have time to look for those ingredients.”

He threw his hands up in the air. “Way to state the obvious, Abigail. Honestly, what did you think I meant by ‘there’s nothing we can do’? It means we can’t do jack!”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to think up a way to protect the party guests, keep Ciel out of harms way, avoid fighting any of the demon servants or Hannah and not reveal what you really were over anything else.

Pluto’s head suddenly perked up and a few seconds after, that’s when you heard it. Your eyes opened back up as you stared at Uriel, who stared right back at you with worry on his face.

With a groan, you grabbed a costume that was laying on the ground and threw it to Pluto. “Pluto, I need you to get dressed, alright?”

With a woof, he turned and began doing as you said. You then walked to the door and gestured for Uriel to follow.

Once the two of you emerged from the hidden room, you spotted a balcony overlooking the ballroom.

You both got closer and hid behind a curtain in the archway of the balcony, allowing you to see the scene taking place.

Hannah sat in the center of the ballroom, playing the instrument while all the attendees surrounding her were clutching their heads. Their pain-filled cries echoed throughout the room and somewhere in the sea of people, you managed to spot the servants as well as Elizabeth and Soma covering their ears as well.

But beside them was Ayani, who seemed to be attacking the possessed party-goers. Some then began going around and hitting certain points of the servants’ necks, which resulted in them being able to no longer hear the sound.

You smiled as you watched them, but it dropped once Soma had begun to be surrounded by the guests that were still affected by it. Ayani was still caught up in fighting and didn’t notice. That was when you looked to Uriel with a smirk on your face.

“I think it’s time for plan b. If we can’t stop the noise, I guess we’ll just have to trump it.”

You removed your torn gloves, revealing your faded contract mark as well as your black nails, and pointed to the kitchen.

“Go and fill as many glasses of water as possible. I need to see something.”

Uriel didn’t give any snarky remark and only ran off to do as you requested. You walked up to the balcony and watched Hannah’s movements more while listening intently to the sound she played. And honestly, if a demon could have a distinct sound, that would be it. Dark, ominous and sinister, yet inviting and incredibly attractive. But it was as empty as a void and it made you feel cold all over.

That’s when it hit you. Humans had created it to corrupt other humans. Buy molding it out of the embodiment of a demon. But if it were to be made as an embodiment of human nature, it would be the opposite.

You snapped out of your thoughts when Uriel’s blurred figure came, placing each glass of water along the rim of the railing.

Once he finished, he looked at you, anxious to see what you would do. “Alright, now what?”

You looked into the water of the glasses and took a deep breath before exhaling. You spread your hands and delicately began to slide your fingers over the rims of the glasses. Your eyes closed as a warm feeling covered your entire body.

Slowly, a strong sound emerged from where you stood that covered the entire manor.

●●●

Soma shrieked as he was enveloped by the crowd of infected guests, ducking down as he covered his head. And he waited, only to notice that every person had frozen in their spot.

“Prince Soma!”

He turned his head to see Ayani running over to him. She crouched down and picked him up, pulling him away from the crowd. Tears filled her eyes as she looked him over.

“Prince Soma! You’re Highness! Are you alright, my prince?”

He smiled at her and patted her back. ”Yes, Ayani. But what is happening?”

He glanced around at the room, seeing everyone still as a statue, and he realized something had happened. ”The sound has changed.”

From not too far away, he heard Finny shout out and point up. ”Look! It’s Y/N!”

All the persons you were acquainted with gazed up at you in awe as you moved from glass to glass, seemingly in a trance by your own music.

Finny smiled widely as he watched you. ”I feel all peaceful-like somehow.”

Mey-Rin clapped her hands together. ”It’s very relaxing!”

Ayani couldn’t keep her eyes off of you.

”This is magnificent. Y/N’s music is merging perfectly with hers. Transforming the quality of the sound. Her threatening, ominous playing becomes a melody full of warmth and kindness...such a complete change is incredible!”

The tears that had threatened to fall before began streaming down her cheeks as she rubbed her hands in a praying motion. ”We are blessed to be able to witness such purity in a performer. True beauty! What a transcendence...thank you, Y/N.”

●●●

Your eyes opened when your ears heard Hannah start to play her instrument more aggressively as if she was trying to overpower you. You narrowed your eyes at this and your body swayed faster now, moving in a blur as you played every single glass in a specific order, making the sound come out fuller and warmer.

Mey-Rin sighed dreamily, a blush coming on her cheeks when she watched your body move. “She plays like some sort of goddess…”

You felt the vibrations of your glasses become stronger as you played and your eyes snapped over to Hannah when the instrument sparked on the inside. Not even a few seconds later, the glass coils of it shattered, sending Hannah falling to the ground as shards flew all around her.

Slowly, your fingers grew softer and your body sopped moving. The sound dies out and it became completely silent as your fingertip slid on the remaining glass rim.

Seconds passed with the room dead quiet. And then it erupted in applause and cheer. You glanced down at the many people that stood to look up at you, praising you for your performance as if they had completely forgotten that they were just being controlled.

You smiled down at them before climbing over the railing and jumping down. You landed directly beside Hannah and you stayed in the crouched position had you landed in to whisper into her ear.

“The performance wouldn’t have been the same without your help. I thank you, Hannah.”

Afterward, you moved to straighten up, but her voice made you stop.

”You won’t win.”

You chuckled at her words and leaned closer into her. “I find it amusing that you continue to underestimate me. It’ll make my victory all the more enjoyable.”

She stayed quiet which was enough for you to stand up and walk over to the servants. From the corner of your eye you spotted Ciel and Sebastian enter the room, coming over to the servants as well. This made you stop in your tracks.

You avoided looking at Sebastian as an uneasy feeling settled in your body.

“So that’s what you meat by plan b. I admit, it was pretty good.”

You tiredly laughed when Uriel appeared beside you, nudging you in the side. “Which is why I’m glad I chose to join you.”

Your eyebrow raised at him. “Join me? What do you mean?”

He smirked and tipped his hat at you. “This isn’t a one-time thing, y’know. I actually think you’ll add some spice to my life. And I am your warden, after all. I think we will both benefit from me staying by your side.”

He grabbed your shoulder and squished you into a side hug. “Say hello to your new bestie!”

You sighed and shook your head, but yours and his attention moved to Ciel and Sebastian when they walked up to you. Your back instantly became straighter and your hands folded behind your back.

“Ah. There you are, master. I grew worried when I noticed you had left. I am glad that you were safe from what transpired here, though.”

Ciel didn’t respond and only eyed you cautiously. “The servants tell me it was you who managed to put a stop to it.”

You grinned at him. “Of course, sir. If I couldn’t stop a horrible event such as this, what kind of cat would I be?”

His eyes widened and a blush crept onto his face when he remembered the outfit you still had on. “Yes, well...at any rate, how did you not become affected by it?”

You chuckled as your eyes shifted to Sebastian, a coldness clear within them.

“Simple, Ciel. I completely eliminated every trace of the negative demonic sound that tried to penetrate me. I had it briefly and it left me feeling angry and used so I ignored it and focused on myself.”

Sebastian tilted his head in confusion at your words, his eyes landing on the arm that was still around your shoulder. You could practically hear his jaw clench as he looked at Uriel.

He hummed, a proud smile coming on his lips as he crossed his arms. ”Then tell me, what was that instrument she was playing?”

Uriel leaned forward as he held up a finger to explain.

”That was a glass harmonica. It was popular in the 18th Century. Some call it the voice of the angels while others feel it disturbed the mind of those who heard it. Thus, it fell into the dark corners of history as a demon’s instrument.”

Ciel, who had seemed to completely ignore Uriel’s presence glared at him. “And who might you be?”

His eyebrows shot up as he glanced at you and pulled the brim of his hat over his eyes. “Oh, me? I’m no-one special, but you can call me Uriel.”

When his name left his tongue, Sebastian’s eyes snapped to you questioningly.

You smiled and looked at Uriel. “Yes, if it wasn’t for my new friend here, I wouldn’t have been able to do it. I think he would be a valuable ally, my lord. Please know that I trust and vouch for him.”

Ciel eyed him suspiciously but didn’t say anything further. “Right. If you say so, Y/N. Anyway, this harmonica, why would someone play such a thing at a costume ball?”

”As a diversion for my guests.”

You all turned at the sound of a new voice. And the air became tense when you spotted Alois, his butler, and his trio of demonic servants walking into the room.

He smiled royally at his audience. ”Ladies and gentlemen, please accept my sincere apologies for being late. I am Alois Trancy. I’m so honored that you came!”

He stopped once he passed by Hannah, who was still on the floor with broken glass surrounding her. You noticed the side-eye he gave her before addressing the guests. ”I see that you enjoyed the entertainment while I was away and I’m relieved that it was to your liking.”

The guests all seemed to start talking amongst themselves again as the servants of the manor cleaned up the mess that was made and dragged Hannah away. Uriel removed his arm from you when Alois and Claude came up to the four of you, his smile still on his face as he looked directly at you.

”That performance was amazing. I must say, you have a true talent for music, Y/N.”

You glanced down in embarrassment. “Oh, my. I cannot accept such praise. I am simply one hell of a maid.”

Ciel gave you an odd look at your statement but Alois only continued to smile as he turned to him.

”Yes, she is quite a servant. A beautiful one at that. You are lucky, Earl Phantomhive.”

Ciel glanced at you before looking back at Alois. ”Yes. I suppose I am.”

You bit back your smile at his compliment right before Sebastian stepped forward and looked down at Ciel.

”Master. I would like a word with Claude if it wouldn’t trouble you. It wouldn’t take terribly long.”

Your face fell as you were forced to stare at Sebastian, that bad feeling returning in your being. He noticed you staring and smiled as if telling you not to worry.

If only he knew that was the last thing you’d feel for him right now.

Alois laughed and turned to Claude. ”He can do that. Right, Claude?”

Alois turned so Ciel couldn’t hear. But what you heard him say made you want to roll your eyes.

”Ten minutes, Claude. I want you to settle this quickly. If you can’t do that, you’ll be punished.”

Claude gave a curt nod. “Yes, your highness.”

Ciel scoffed as he and Sebastian shared a look. ”Fine, but do it swiftly, understood?”

Sebastian smiled sweetly at him. ” Why, yes, my young lord.”

Your jaw clenched as you watched them walk away. But when you caught the look Ciel was giving you, you smirked.

“May I help you master?”

He placed a hand on his hip and narrowed his eyes. “So…”

He clicked his tongue. “You mind telling me what exactly is going on between you and my butler, Y/N?”

#black butler #black butler fanfic #kuroshitsuji #sebastian michaelis x reader #sebastian michaelis #demon!reader

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advernia · 4 years

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fic: heaven just called, said it wants you back

— y'see, things naturally fall from the sky. for example, rain. hail. dead birds. bird poop. oh, then there was you. - ace of spades & alice the second.

1: alternatively - fenrir godspeed gets a bad case of the shoujo eyes, made possible by cradle's local random substance-making association ╮( ꒪౪꒪)╭

Fenrir's hands are loose fists with tingling fingers, pinching away at the fabric of his pants. Were the Ace of Spades a couple years younger and seated in front of a desk again, Dean would've taken that as a sign of another beloved student forgetting that somehow, there was a hundred-point exam waiting to be finished in five minutes.

Ah, good times.

"So - how am I, doc? Am I still good to go?"

Kyle chuckles, looping the stethoscope around his neck. "What's with the jitter, Ace of Spades? You're in tip-top shape. Heck, if I could smack some of that health onto my worst patient, he'd be outta my hair for a month or two."

"Even an untrained eye can tell that you're energetic as ever, Fenrir," Dean adds, snapping his book shut. "What made you run after Kyle when you heard that he was done doing his rounds here in Central?"

"Yeah, about that..." a scratch of the cheek, a boyish grin. "One of the smugglers I chased down earlier suddenly threw some sparkly liquid to my face. Kinda stung, yeesh."

"Oh. Sounds like a regular morning to me."

Dean does not address that comment. At all. "I see. So you sought out a doctor to check if the liquid had some adverse effect on you as a precaution."

"Right you are, prof - but if Cradle's best doc says I'm fine, then I probably am!" Fenrir beams, rising up from the bench. "Should've known though, just the usual weird bunch making all sorts of stuff with bogus effects!"

"Hm?" Kyle frowns, leaning back on the bench. "So you're saying that the sparkly stuff wasn't just meant for distraction, but it should've had some actual effect on you?"

"I guess? The smuggler did say that it will make you powerless at the face of sheer beauty, hah!"

Doctor and professor exchange glances: the no-trace-of-a-single-expression variety, face-so-perfectly-neutral variety.

Then, turning back to face Fenrir and in deadpan unison:

"What."

"I know, right? Like, what kind of effect is that?!"

Fenrir scours the Central Quarter's streets for at least four more hours, and he doesn't go weak in the knees at all.

Oh no, Central was already loads of pretty to begin with anyway, with its tons of market stall rows and crowds of people and various shops open for business. There's all sorts of energy teeming about from every road and alley be it good or bad, and each day there's always something new just waiting to be discovered - that's the sheer beauty in Central, if Fenrir would say so himself.

But the thing was, everything in Fenrir's perspective still looked as fine like usual: no change on how he saw his favorite spots around town (they're still the best), no change on how he saw all the people he passed by be it the group of young ladies (charming, they're all wearing new makeup) or that old man by the bookstore (pudge and wrinkle galore), no change on how he saw those stuffy Red Army goons in all their whitewashed uniform glory.

But then again, no sparkle in the world could make any Red Army goon's toothy grin look the least bit prettier in Fenrir's book.

So, yeah. In conclusion: local smuggler's liquid that will make you powerless at the face of sheer beauty?

Bogus. Slip-up. Dud. The usual back alley magic shenanigans, nothing to see here, case closed. What would true beauty even look like, and how would that render him powerless, anyway?

Ah, well. Another successful patrol under his belt, Fenrir whistles a tune on his way back to Black Army headquarters, choosing the scenic Central Quarter market route.

He regrets that in five seconds. He cringes, a shiver running down his spine, legs moving faster.

Sheer beauty, my foot.

That one tomato stall could make him walk away, but it didn't mean that it was beautiful, dammit!

Making his way past the Black bridge, a couple more villages, a short hike up a hill, and at last stepping within the familiar grounds of Black Army headquarters; he passes by the old man and his raccoon-skin-wearing-imp for a pet.

Nope, nothing beautiful there, especially with those sharp rows of teeth. The blooming tulips look great though!

He runs into Seth by the hallways, who, for all his claims of being the prettiest guy in the whole barracks; still looked pretty manly to the eyes.

... Okay, so maybe his hair was far from manly - did he seriously brush all those strands every single morning?

Then, at long last, the kitchen: something lingering about in the air had become a siren's call to both Fenrir's nose and stomach, amplified to the extreme when he finally makes it to the source. He just sort of stands there by the doorway for a moment, taking in a strong savory scent.

Hmm, meat in brown sauce, maybe? Or some stew or soup that was heavy on the onions?

Another sharp inhale of Fenrir's catches the attention of one of the backs facing him, of the person standing near the stove.

"Oh - welcome back, Fenrir," Luka nods, a ladle in hand.

"Heya, Mister Head Chef!" a wave back, a couple of sure paces forward. "Sooo, what're you and our assistant chef cook... ing..."

Fenrir feels his breath abruptly catch in his throat, words losing their coherence the same time his feet just stop themselves from taking another step closer.

Eyes open wide like they've never done before, as if determined to capture every detail what was unfolding before him.

Illuminated by bright rays of midday sunlight passing through the windows, hair he had always perceived to be a shade of honey-brown has turned golden, shining with a beautiful luster that gold itself would envy and desire to possess. The vivid color has a dazzle to it that achieves a delightful balanced feast of soothing and fascinating to the eyes, not making one have the urge to turn away or squint due to its sheer brilliance.

Its waist-length entirety had been gathered together, pulled up high, and was held secure by a white ribbon, but every single strand and every lengthy lock of gold followed and swayed; a shimmering veil dancing along in accordance to the movement of their owner - a turn of the head to look back, an action almost so painfully slow as it was simple, and the veil gives way to reveal what it has kept hidden.

Fenrir could literally feel his throat go dry.

Oh boy.

An even skin tone with touches of rose-pink undertones, absent of any prominent blemish from the tip of the forehead to the base of a very bare neck -

A face longer than it was wide, with a soft jawline that tapers from the cheeks to a rounded chin -

Neat eyebrows with delicate arches towards the tail, plump cheeks and pert nose blooming with a gentle flush perhaps due to the heat in the kitchen -

Innocently round eyes complementarily framed by long wispy lashes, holding in irises painted repeatedly with the combined natural hues taken from the clearest summer skies and cleanest waters of the sea: the end result was such an alluring blue, a shade that not even the finest jewel in the world could compare to, a color that could capture passing gazes and never let go; rendering one lost in the wonder of those eyes -

Then finally, full lips with both ends perpetually curved upwards; unpainted yet bearing a delicate peach-like tint, drawn closed but parting themselves open to say just one na -

"Fenrir!" Alice the Second smiles and just like that her face lights up - she's the sun in that very moment and he's hopelessly drawn to her, to those eyes visibly crinkling at the corners, to those eyes that were set solely on him and him alone. "Welcome home!"

Oh, man.

Seth always called her cute, but that one word hardly gave any of her features a single shred of the justice they deserved.

Here in the kitchen, standing not so far away and with the sun generously bathing her in its light, she was beautiful. Lovely. Enchanting. Divine.

Perfect.

A shaking hand pulls up to cover his mouth, fingers press down on cheeks that feel warm to the touch.

Not good. So not good.

She and Luka exchange a glance when he doesn't say anything, when he doesn't as much move from his spot. Then she - she with the blue Mary Janes protecting her dainty feet, she with the pure white socks modestly hugging her shapely legs - takes a step forward.

Towards him.

His heartbeat roars in his ears. Quite loudly, complete with relentless echoing.

Oh no. Oh no, oh n -

"Fenrir?" those pretty, pretty lips spell, with a voice kind and beckoning. He grips his face a little tighter, takes a step back, tries not to look at her lips. Tries. For his efforts, his eyes reward him with quite the pleasant view of her clothed chest - two buttons of her blouse are undone, giving way to a tantalizing view of more unblemished skin and the shape of her very prominent collarbones, and -

She takes another step forward, her lithe figure still occupies his whole line of vision, and he swears something in him is slowly dying.

Aw, shit. Remember rule number three! Rule number three, you're not supposed to -

He bumps into something as he takes another shaking step back and he takes that whatever he bumped into was a person, so he quickly turns on his heels; eyes brimming with a desperation and sorrow of a sinner as he pleaded rather loudly:

"Punch me."

Behind Fenrir, two voices say: "What?"

And standing in front of him, the bulky Seven of Spades, with his understanding heart as big as his brawn; offers Fenrir a toothy grin and not a single question as he replied: "Okay!"

The Jack of Spades and Alice the Second could only stare in horror as the Seven of Spades demonstrated an uppercut right before their very eyes.

2: it's february and i should be writing lighter things, aka a crack prompt revolving around the wonder that are the many odd substances being smuggled in cradle asides from aphrodisiacs 乁( ◔ ౪◔)ㄏ happy valentine's day! (‘∀’●)♡

#ikemen kakumei #ikemen revolution #ikerev fanfic #fenrir godspeed #dean tweedle #kyle ash #luka clemence #ikerev alice

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lamp-up-my-ass · 4 years

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Jumping on that mermay sides train before its too late

So i was thinking about mermay and the sides and i wanted to come up with my own take!!

Patton is a big boy Florida manatee mer

Grew up in human captivity due to the rarity of his kind, had a pretty positive experience until the end

When he reached sexual maturity, the humans tried to get him to mate with on of the other manatee mers. However, hes gay as heck and reluctant. Hes pressured into it by one of the worse people, told that by refuseing his hurting everyone around him.

And so he mates with the other mers, who despite their sympathy towards him are unadle to help. He feels awful about himself but tries to act like hes okay. Though eventually its found his efforts are futile, because it turns out that hes infertile.

Hes relieved by this news, because that means he wont need to mate anymore. However it also means hes no longer seen as useful and is chipped put in the wild.

Tries to keep hope at first, passing time by cleaning the rubbish littered around the river he now lives in. He makes things, weaving little bracelts and tieing a net around his neck like his favorite human who did the same with their hoodie. Doing this makes him happy because he knows how bad these thing can be for the environment.

Hes pretty much alone besides a few fish, tend to stay away due to his size. The loneliness hurts, especially when more time passes and he loses hope on the humans returning. Until one day, something zooms past him when hes napping.

Curious, he swims after the thing that woke him. He swam to a new area of the river hes never seen, due to its lack of vegetation for him to eat. There in the middle of the wide river, propped on a rock and messily eating a fish, was another mer.

Despite the others sharp teeth and claws, he felt no fear as he slowly approached. When the other noticed him he startled, but quickly grew a toothy grin and waved.

The mers name was Remus, and hes an crocodile mer. Hes new to the river, but has been alone for a lot longer then Patton. Hes delighted to see another mer who wasnt swimming away in fear, rambeling excitedly as he circles the other. He then gasps and points at pattons "trash fashion". Patton gets excited by this and the two talk about what they have made, Remus showing off his beloved trash-bag sash.

Overtime there relationship grows, Remus visiting Pattons part of the river to share stories. Patton teaches Remus a few puns and Remus shares with him things hes crafted. They care immensely for one another, the smaller croc loveing to cuddle hug patton while telling him every little detail of his day.

Their relationship is strong despite their major differences,bonding over the abandonment they both have faced. Perhaps ones day something will happen where they meet other mers, but until then they are comfortable just having each other.

I already wanted to do something with Manatee Patton, but then i learnd mantatees and crocodiles are actually alright with eachother. That made me think of florida which made me think of Thomas and then the sides.

This is Intruality, but i couldnt decide if i eanted to make it romantic or a qpr but either way i think its cute. Anyways, if enough people enjoy then may expand on it and draw something for this idea.

#sanders sides #patton sanders #remus sanders #mer sides #inturality #story ideas #they cute #also inspired by my stuffed animal #shout out to merida the manatee #also i imagine Patton and pretty cubby #being a manatee and all #he also has goggles given from the humans #remus i imagine as very muscely with scars all over #sorry if its bad #tw rape

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lady-oceana9518 · 4 years

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Let’s Misbehave! (A Charlastor Holiday Fic)

A/N: This fic was inspired by one of my current favorite songs, “Let’s Misbehave” (the Swing Republic version)! I’ll admit that this is a little self-indulgent; Charlie’s outfit is inspired by a dress that I actually just bought myself (I’ll put a link in a separate post of anyone wants a visual of it), and I just started teaching myself how to dance, 1920s style! :)

It was a warm afternoon in mid-December (because when wasn’t it warm in Hell?) and the staff of the Hazbin Hotel were preparing for their first annual holiday gala! Being the theatrical folks that they were, the event was, of course, Charlie and Alastor’s idea originally. The hotel staff had spent the better part of the day cleaning and decorating the as-of-yet underused ballroom with gorgeous crystal chandeliers, garlands of fairy lights in a variety of colors, and wreaths and swags made of fresh-cut pine branches that would have been common decor on Earth around this time of year. Charlie had even found several decorations that consisted of strings of lights shaped into various animals that she insisted on purchasing for the event. Alastor wasn’t strong enough to refuse his mate’s puppy-dog eyes, which is how they ended up buying a few lighted swans, a unicorn, a shark (whose permanent toothy grin reminded her of a certain Radio Demon she loved), and (of course) a reindeer. The latter amused Charlie to no end.

Now that cleaning and decorating were out of the way, the hotel staff and tenants were busy getting dressed and ready for the event. Charlie wanted to surprise Alastor with her outfit, which is why she was currently all but skipping down the hall to Vaggie’s room with a dazzling flapper-style dress in hand.

“Vags, I found the most perfect dress for tonight!!” Charlie sang, sweeping dramatically into her best friend’s room and presenting said dress with a flourish as soon as she closed the door behind her. “Do you think Al will like it?” she asked with a giggle as she imagined her mate’s reaction.

Vaggie smiled fondly at her friend, stepping over to place her hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’d be happy with whatever you decided to wear. But yes, he’s going to love it. No question!” Charlie grinned in response to Vaggie’s encouragement. “Now, come on; we’d better get ready before the gala starts!”

With that said, both women donned their dresses, chatting about the night to come as they worked on their hair and makeup. Vaggie had braided her hair earlier that morning so when she loosened it, it cascaded in waves down her back. Charlie on the other hand, wanting to commit to the flapper look that she was excited to surprise Alastor with, used her magic to curl and shorten her flowing blond hair to shoulder length. The style was reminiscent of the first dance she and her Radio Demon shared when he originally came to the hotel. After securing the final touch to her outfit in the form of a shimmering black lace headband adorned with a large red feather, she decided she was ready. Arm-in-arm, the two best friends headed downstairs, where the other attendees began to gather.

Meanwhile, the party had begun in earnest down in the ballroom. Alastor and his shadow minions provided the music which some of the guests had already begun to dance to, while others chatted, mingled with one another, munched on appetizers that the staff had prepared together, and enjoyed the festive atmosphere.

The Radio Demon busied himself while he waited for Charlie by talking with Husk and nursing a glass of red wine. He was beginning to grow impatient, as he usually did when they were apart for too long, especially because she refused to tell him anything about the outfit she’d planned. All she told him was to make sure he dressed in red and black which, he thought to himself with a chuckle, was what the majority of his wardrobe consisted of. He had decided to wear a formal black suit with a red tie, wanting to change things up and reverse his usual color scheme for the evening.

He was laughing heartily at some comment that Husk made when the feline demon suddenly glanced at a point behind Alastor. He raised his eyebrows and nudged Alastor’s arm with his own to get the Radio Demon’s attention.

“Hey man, you might want to turn around...looks like a certain someone is here to see you,” Husk chuckled with a knowing smirk on his face.

No sooner had Husk spoken than Alastor turned to face the most breathtaking sight he’d seen in the entirety of his life and afterlife. There, at the entrance of the ballroom stood Charlie. His Charlie. She was dressed like so many of the gals he remembered seeing on Earth during the 1920s, but none of them held a candle to the way his beloved mate looked tonight. Her flapper dress, which was adorned with intricate red beadwork and hemmed with asymmetrical black fringes, flattered her long and lean body. She wore a black and red feathered headband to match, and her hair was short and curled, just the way he styled it with his own magic on the day they met.

He felt his normally calm, collected and confident composure slip when the two of them locked eyes from across the ballroom and Charlie offered him a wave and a shy smile. His crimson eyes widened and the glass of wine he was holding nearly slipped from his claws. Not trusting the steadiness of his hands, he hastily handed the half-full glass to Husk.

“Husk, be a dear and take this for me, won’t you? Thank you ever so much!” Without sparing a second glance toward the feline demon, Alastor strode briskly across the ballroom toward his charming demon belle. She had the same idea and met him halfway, a darker blush than usual painting her cheeks as she gazed at him.

“Al, you look so handsome! And look, you finally tied your hair back! I love it!!” Charlie fawned over him, raising her hand to touch the short ponytail he’d fastened his hair into. She couldn’t resist brushing one of his ears with her finger, giggling at the way it twitched automatically beneath her touch. Alastor growled and grabbed her hand before she could lower it.

“Careful, dear...” he warned, trying and failing to be intimidating. He gently nipped at the inside of her wrist with his razor-sharp teeth, at which she snorted and rolled her eyes before fixing him with an affectionate look.

Alastor couldn’t help but return her fond gaze, and kissed the palm of her hand that was still within his grasp. He began to feel uncharacteristically self-conscious, as he wanted to express just how beautiful he thought she looked. He had improved at expressing his emotions since he met Charlie, but was still a bit out of practice. He decided to give it his best shot anyway. “Charlie, I...you...you look incredible, my dear. Truly, the most stunning woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

Charlie was taken aback by his admission and could only stare at him, wide-eyed and blushing, for several moments. Finally, she grinned and wrapped one of her arms around his waist, nestling herself close to him. “Aw Al, you charmer!” she giggled, gazing up at him from beneath her long, dark lashes. “Come on, let’s go dance!”

“Sweetheart, I thought you’d never ask!” Alastor replied with his usual grin in place as he wrapped one of his arms around her shoulders and led her toward the dance floor.

They arrived just in time for a couple of slow songs, which the pair used as an excuse to stay as close to one another as they could as they swayed rhythmically back and forth. Several minutes later, Alastor decided that it was time to pick up the pace a bit. With a snap of his fingers, the jazzy notes of a trumpet began to play one of his favorite songs, and he couldn’t help but sing along as he led Charlie through the steps of the Charleston. They were in perfect sync, one stepping forward while the other stepped back, both of them nimble on their feet as they seemed to fly across the hardwood floor. At one point Charlie broke away from him for a few moments, pivoting on one foot and shaking her hips in a way that set the tassels on her dress to flying. Alastor was entranced by the movement and reclaimed her hand moments later with a grin.

As the two of them neared the bar set up in one corner of the ballroom, Charlie cocked an eyebrow questioningly. “Al, where are you taking me?” she inquired with a breathless giggle. In response, Alastor’s grin widened as he stepped daintily onto a barstool and then leaped onto the top of the bar itself, pulling Charlie along with him.

“The fuck...? What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Husk yelled, to no avail, as he gathered a couple of liquor bottles into his arms to prevent them from being kicked over by the over-zealous deer demon.

Alastor and Charlie laughed at their own ridiculousness as they danced across the bar. Many of the other guests stopped their own dancing and mingling, amazed to see the infamous Radio Demon letting loose and having fun. Neither Alastor nor Charlie had done such a thing before but when the two theatrical souls were together and in their element, there was no telling what would happen.

As the song reached its conclusion, Alastor wrapped his arms around Charlie’s waist, dipping her while simultaneously pulling her into a searing kiss. Charlie gasped, pleasantly surprised, before cupping his face between her hands and returning the kiss in earnest.

“There’s something wild about you child

That’s so contagious

Let’s be outrageous

Let’s misbehave!

They say that spring means just one thing

To little lovebirds

We’re not above birds

Let’s misbehave!!”

#charlastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel charlie #charlie magne #hazbin hotel #vivziepop #charlastor fic #fanfic #roaring 20s #the charleston #1920s fashion #swing republic #let’s misbehave

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isafalco · 4 years

Text

Getting Back Into Nico’s Good Graces

Featuring: @silasbriar, @thomaswieland, @presleystone, @isafalco

Location: The Barn

Summary: Silas convinces Thomas to force Blair to torture Isa and Presley to test his and her loyalty and possibly impress Nico with some sadistic tendencies.

Warnings: Gratuitous violence, torture.

Silas:

It takes a little artistry to get it all set up, but nothing even remotely outside of his abilities. The chains in the barn are prepped and there are two vials of wolfsbane in Silas’ pocket as he stalks his first target. The manor is abuzz with one panic or another, a wolf recovering from her near-death encounter, or a human seriously injured for reasons unbeknownst to him. They’re distracted, and not looking to the shadows where Silas lurks.

He spots the first one, the former Beta (the bonded one) and is grappling her from behind before she could make a sound. He plunges a syringe full of wolfsbane into her neck until he can feel her struggle losing its strength, then has them both out of the back door and into the barn in seconds.

The second wolf he’s less graceful with. Isa gets a hand over her mouth, seemingly from nowhere, dragged backwards out of the manor, then tossed halfway across the lawn in a display of strength to set the tone of helplessness for the rest of her unfortunate evening. He’s at her side again before she can recover, and throws her, again and again, until she’s inside of the barn being chained up against the wall, directly opposite from where Presley droops in her own mess of chains– wrists and feet– and feeling the effects of the poison.

Silas rubs his hands together and sighs while he admires his work. “Thank you for joining us this evening. And now we wait for our guest of honor.”

Thomas:

Thomas does no explaining, already testing the limits of how obedient Blair plans to be tonight during their little show. The scene is already set by the time they enter, the two wolves chained and the smell of wolfsbane sharp and cloying. Blair must be able to smell it too. The role of tormentor is all too easy to fall into, and he finally turns to the wolf by his side.

“Earn your place. These wolves practically attacked my dear brother and they need punishing. If you’re truly on our team, then there’s no going back to this wretched little pack anyway. Time to strike a match and burn the pieces of your old family to ash.”

Thomas rummages around in his pocket, transferring a few items in slow movements into Blair’s hands. A dagger. A lighter. And another syringe of wolfsbane for good measure, destined for the wolf of her choice. “Restore the family name, pet. Get as creative as you’d like. I’ll stop you when I’m satisfied.”

Blair:

Blair doesn't know why exactly Thomas called her, though she has been enjoying the brief respite after her encounter with Nico. Not that it seemed to help, considering Riley almost got murdered because the head vampire wanted to throw a tantrum, but that is a problem for someone else that wasn't her. Thomas seems uncharacteristically silent as he leads her to the barn, and her steps falter briefly as the acrid bitterness of wolfsbane reaches her nose. She's had enough of the scent for the rest of her life.

But none of that compares when she sees who is waiting for her. Silas, and Isa and Presley. She doesn't know what they did to anger Silas, whether they did anything at all. The lighter and dagger are pressed into her hands but Blair simply stares at the two wolves in front of her, a blank expression on her face.

Internally, she is scrambling. She has known this moment would come and yet she still feels entirely blindsided. Finally, she turns back to Thomas and Silas, hoping that her internal conflict is not written all over her face.

"How is me torturing anyone fun for you? Okay, I get it, this is a loyalty test. So let me fight one of them. We've got dead leg Barbie over here and the dead Alpha's runaway sister, so it's hardly a fair fight to begin with, but at least it doesn't feel like kicking a puppy."

She keeps her eyes trained on the vampires, back ramrod straight, knowing that if she turns around, she may lose her nerve. "If I win, then pretty sure that bridge gets burned anyways. If I lose, well then, better you know sooner rather than later."

Silas:

Silas rolls his eyes and with heavy, impatient steps in Blair’s direction, he gets a hand around the back of her neck and forcibly walks her towards Isa. “You were given an order, pet, and a purpose. We’re not interested in standing here and watching you negotiate your way around this like someone who may be a tad bit still on the fence about where her loyalties lie. Which brings us right back to–” He pushes, hard, when they reach the chained wolf, then takes a few steps backwards with his palms toward the ceiling like a showman. “–Get creative! Cut your old, beloved Alpha’s memory from your life and you’ll have won the beginnings of an official welcome to the family. This isn't fun, love, it's principal. It's symbolic. It's loyalty, earned." When he finds his way back to Thomas' side, he places a hand on his shoulder and flashes a toothy grin. "The fun is just a bonus."

Isa:

She's never felt so helpless in battle before. A trained assassin who traded her life of camaraderie and family for something she probably will never come back from, and she had never been bested like this. Her body flies across the lawn like she's nothing but a rock skidding across the surface of a still body of water; Isa rolls, and then she's tossed again, and again, until she's inside the barn and chained against the wall with the same ones they use for the full moon. To her left, there's Presley, and the rotten smell of Wolfsbane that has her struggling against the chains like a wolf possessed, a growl sitting in her throat furiously.

There's a second, when Blair appears before her and she's given a dagger, that she pulls on her chains so hard the wood cracks under the pressure, but they're enchanted, and keeping Isa so tightly in place she knows she won't get out of them. But anger boils in her chest, and when she finally settles against the chains, she blows her hair out of her face, looking at Blair through her eyelashes. She knows what's coming; Isa grips the chains harder, grips her teeth. Its not the first time she's been doused in wolfsbane, it probably won't be the last.

"Do your worst, bitch". She spouts, laughing under her breath. "Loyalty means nothing to you anyway".

Blair:

Of course Silas is the one to respond, his inability to stay out of anything probably causing a good chunk of this. She doesn't bother masking the annoyance or the trepidation that she felt. Hiding would only make it seem like she has something worth investigating, and that would be worse. So if he gets an extra wave of disgust, that is all sincere on her end too. Her jaw twitches slightly, wanting to point out that she could "get creative" by doing exactly what she had asked, but she doesn't know what else these two have planned. If this is only the first part, she couldn't pull out her ace at the start of the game. Isa and Presley would be fine. They are both soldiers, and beyond that, both are survivors. Even after telling herself that, Blair doesn't feel any better.

A cold expression sweeps across her face as she turns toward Isa. Presley is still in and out of it seemingly, with wolfsbane already running through her so Blair turns her focus back on the brunette. She steps into Isa's space, face to hers, and holds out the syringe to her. "All right hero, since you want to talk a tough game, I'll make you a deal. Either, you put this entire syringe of wolfsbane in yourself or I'll put it in Presley and we can see what her pain tolerance really is."(edited)

Isa:

Up close and even through the syringe, the wolfsbane reeks, and it makes Isa's nose flare. She bares her teeth, hands tightening around her chains and sweat running down her forehead. Of course she would take the wolfsbane, better her than Presley. The decision is easy, as her eyes flicker to her unconscious beside her. But its not just about Presley, or her, or this -- its about betrayal, and thinking about Blair making a mockery of her brother's legacy and Victoria's pack like this.

They're too close, too close and personal and Isa's pissed. So pissed that all she does is tighten her jaw, draw her head back, and head-butt Blair on the nose as hard she possibly could while dangling from those chains. It makes her forehead throb, bruise, but it leaves her with a sadistic sense of satisfaction. Like killing hunters again... "I already said do your worst. What are you waiting for? Instructions?"

Presley:

It happens fast. Presley hears footsteps, goes to turn and before she can clue in to the smell of wolfsbane, she feels it. It's a low dose but mixed the right way, like a sedative. She fights for only a second before it passes and when she finds realy consciousness again, she's in the bar, chains holding her arms and legs, her head hung. The sound of something like a scuffle besides her clues her in just as Blair knocks backward. She sees who did it, eyes suddenly wide and on high alert as she pulls against the chains holding her back. "Isa? What's --" There are two vampires in front of them, and Presley knows the feeling of the weakness in her bones all too well. The very thought of that, and Isa beside her makes her heart race. She looks from Blair, to the vampires, the woman chained beside her. "Let her go. Let us both go. Blair you don't have to do this."

Thomas:

An involuntary snarl leaves his lips as he watches Isa wind up and headbutt Blair with jarring force, some misplaced protective instinct for this wolf he was supposed to be protecting surfacing. He finds a place for his fury to go. Presley stirs, pipes up, and he draws more attention to it, forcing Blair to acknowledge it. If he wants to earn Nico’s forgiveness, it needs to be a good show. Both wolves will have to come back bruised and shaken. Drifting close behind Blair, he runs fingertips lightly over the curve of her shoulder, full of taunting advice. “No pressure, pet. But I’m bored already. Nice half-hearted attempt. Choices are always a good start, it’s a real lose-lose situation. But you know from experience wolves are suffering, simpering, stoic little martyrs. She’ll always choose to hurt herself first. These two are lovers. The pain isn’t in hurting them both. It’s in them having to watch the other get hurt. Why do you think they’re face to face?”

He raises his voice to address the two wolves. “This is Blair’s little show, and she can steer the ship, but one note from me. Lock eyes for that romantic ambience, you two. If either of you choose to look away from your beloved, to look down from the pain on her face, to shut your eyes for a momentary respite….I break one of your girlfriend’s fingers. I guess that gives you ten chances to look away.”

Blair:

The burst of pain that explodes behind nose makes her eyes water, and she can immediately taste the blood from where her teeth split her lip. The growl she lets out in response isn't forced, and she bares bloody teeth at Isa before her eyes snap towards Presley who is now awake, with her idiotically earnest eyes. She is barely able to meet her gaze for a second before Thomas commands attention once more, his hands ghosting along her skin. For a split second, she has the urge to shove the dagger into his throat, but she stamps that down.

Blair knows that having two wolves out of commission, especially having these specific two wolves out of commission is dangerous to the pack. She has to make a decision, and it would be far easier to throw a punch at Isa than at Presley, not because the blonde was weak, but because knowing that the other wolf would spend the entire time trying to make everyone other than herself feel better.

"If I'm supposed to be the creative one, you both are trying to take a whole lot of artistic license. And you suck at emotional torture. Sure, you can send them back all bruised and bloody, but they puff out their chests and tell each other how proud they are of each other for making it through. It doesn't last past tonight. Send one back pristine while the other ends up in a full-body cast? That's where you make the guilt roll in. Also, Presley's bonded. If you want to piss off Miss Aemilia, again I might add, go right ahead, but that probably would be the opposite of making your daddy happy. So I'll do whatever sick torture porn fantasy you have with Isa, make Presley watch, because that's going to hurt her way more than any bad leg ever would. Then when all this is over, she can torture herself for being perfectly unharmed while her girlfriend is nursing some broken ribs. Everyone happy with that?"

Isa:

In the most twisted of ways, Blair is right. This is a sure way to make them suffer. Making the other watch while one remains unharmed, but its relieving, all in the same, because she'll be the target of Blair's torture and Presley will come out unscathed. Its not the first time she's been tortured, something tells her it won't be the last. Whatever pain Blair puts her through she knows she'll be able to handle, regardless of how beaten, and bruised, and out of commission it will put her.

She tilts her chin up, looks at Presley apologetically -- she doesn't know why, this isn't her fault, but she has the vague reminder that Presley had watched someone she loved be tortured before, in a way that was eerily similar to this one. Isa inhales sharply, lets the air fill her lungs like she's preparing herself for the inevitable. "What are you waiting for? You're wasting my time. If you're going to torture me get on with it. I'm bored".

Presley:

It takes only a second or her to get her bearings, to take in the situation, hear Thomas's voice again and understand fully what's going on. presley's heart hammers, her blood runs with wolfsbane -- no doubt so does Isa's now too. And as they continue, as she hears Blair's spiel and fights the hold on her chains, she's reminded of this moment -- of staring back into the eyes of someone that matters and not being able to do anything. Her stomach flips, the air leaves her lungs. And in that moment, exactly, it all makes sense. She and Blair had discussed Eden, discussed the torture Presley had faced while her girlfriend watched. Switching the target -- it's protective. It has to be. Which means that somewhere, somewhere in Blair there's a shred of who she really is underneath it. "Blair --" Presley tugs at the chains but her eyes stay on Isa, not at all willing to break the vampire's rules. "Blair you don't have to do this. We're a pack. We're your pack. I know you feel scared, and alone, and you don't want to lose things again but none of us -- we can help you. I'll do it with you. You don't have to hurt her, you don't have to prove anything to anyone."

Blair:

Blair is glad that for the twisted instruction that makes Isa and Presley look at each other instead of at her. Hearing them is hard enough, but to face either of their accusatory stares would make this near impossible. And Presley... listening to her plead with Blair is both exactly what she wants and the opposite of that. Hearing those worlds helps, knowing that maybe people haven't entirely given up on her yet, but at the same time, she needs everyone to give up on her for this plan to work.

"Give it up, Superstar. We're not a pack. Even your girlfriend over there will tell you that. We're not going to kumbaya this away with your trusty guitar, so as Isa requested, let's get on with it."

She tosses the dagger on the ground, not caring to give herself yet another edge during this farce of a test. If they won't let Isa out to create a fair fight, then she could do at least this much. Without warning, her fist strikes out and catches Isa on the bridge of her nose, and Blair takes advantage of the surprise to stab the syringe of wolfsbane into her neck. She steps away briefly as the poison works its way through Isa's body, and Blair takes a moment to steady herself. There is no more need to gloat or talk, just a singleminded focus on getting through this intact. And with that, she wastes no time on raining blows down on Isa.September 7, 2020

Isa:

It comes fast and it comes hard, a right hook to the nose that immediately makes her bleed, blood rushing down her mouth. She doesn't wince, she only takes it, but she knows its broken and she'll have to set it back in place by the time this was all over. But what comes next is even more painful: wolfsbane. She's always described the feeling as being shot up with embers, the type that sizzle and make her entire body burn like she's been set on fire. What comes out of her mouth is a whimper, like a dog defeated; her muscles go weak and she looses her grip on the chains keeping her steady until she can't hold her neck up any longer, and she falls limp against her chains.

She's been beat up before, multiple times, with and without wolfsbane, but with the wolfsbane coursing through her veins, she can't tense her muscles to make the blows hurt less. There's blood on her neck from her cracked nose and bruises surely forming under her shirt, Blair's punches making her rock against the chains like a punching bag, all the while keeping her half open eyes on Presley as she watches Blair beat the crap out of her.

Isa coughs, with a second to breathe, and spits blood on the floor that she wishes she could wipe with the back of her hand. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but air gets caught in her throat at the pain on her sides. All she can do is grit her bloody teeth together again.

Blair:

She channels all of her rage and hurt into her attack on Isa. Blair tries to forget the way she can feel bones cracking under her knuckles, hoping that maybe some of those crunches are her own hands giving way. A small price to pay in exchange for this. She doesn't bother to check whether they're still looking at each other and she figures that one of the vampires will have something to say if they don't.

By the time she pauses, there is a thick scent of blood filling the barn, almost enough to mask the wolfsbane. Blair blinks, staring at a very battered and bruised wolf, and she almost loses her nerve in that moment. Loyalty means nothing to you anyway. Isa's words bounce and rattle around in her head, along with Presley's pleas for her to do the right thing. It's too much and enough is enough. Maybe if she can end this now, she would have enough time to pass a message to Ellery before even more damage was caused.

She steps away from Isa and turns to look at Presley for a long moment, wondering if the wolf finally hates her now as she should. Then she glances at Silas and Thomas, a disinterested expression flitting across her face. "Okay, so we good here? Let them limp back, I'm sure the wolves will cry about it some more, and you get to have all the angry threats you can twist into something else that's fucked. Did I pass? Again?"

Presley:

She wants to look at Blair, wants to look her in the eyes and see what's there, figure out what's causing all of this. Because Presley can't fathom that it's betrayal. It doesn't make sense, as Blair calls Aemilia Miss Aemilia, and forgoes the tools for her fists. She can't fathom that the same Blair who sympathized with her brother and their pack and everything they'd gone through would turn and betray them all -- betray Derrick -- now. I must be something else. She repeats the broken sound of Blair's words when they fought in her head, and knows if nothing else, that there's a person under all of this pain that wants something. Like Elias, like Ronan, like the people who they'd all met who had done awful things for reasons people couldn't understand -- but reasons all the same.

But her focus on what Blair might need goes out the door fast when she starts wailing on Isa anyway. At first, Presley flinches, a few times, jaw steeled as much as she can against the wolfsbane in her own system. BUt as she continues, panic hits. "Blair, stop!" She finally blurts out, abrupt and pained and pushing past all her better judgement about giving them the satisfaction they want. There are tears in her eyes she'd barely felt, and her head feels foggy with memories and her rapidly beating heart. Her voice cracks when the beating stops and she tries to use it again but she doesn't look away from Isa's bloodied face. Not once. "Please stop...."

Thomas:

The dagger hits the ground and Thomas sighs, a quiet sound. Fists and fighting don’t seem out of the usual for the wolves, just more of the same pain, but the wolfsbane will bring a sharper, less familiar edge to it all. The barn smells of iron and the cracking of bones bounce back from the barn walls, and he by the time Blair stops it looks like the chains are the only thing keeping Isa’s slender body from crumpling the the ground. His eyes stray to Presley, treated to the novel sight of the stoic wolf streaked with tears and panicked. He doesn’t answer Blair's question. Silas is the supposedly affronted party and the one who wanted to watch the wolves bleed, the one who didn’t trust Blair, the one who might whisper to Nico that Thomas was still worth trusting.

“Up to my elder, pet. I always respect the hierarchy.”

Supernaturally fast, he flits to pick up the dropped and forgotten dagger and is back in front of Blair in an instant, dragging the blade across his palm. If she’s so determined to leave Presley unmarred physically, he refuses to let her escape the same fate. No, he wants the scrapes across her knuckles to disappear and the fragile bones of them to mend. Let the other wolves picture darker weapons than her fists when they looked at her torn apart packmate. He presses the bleeding gash to cover her mouth, blocking Blair’s air until she’s forced to swallow. It’s the first time he’s forced her to do anything, a conscious choice since she first told him she didn’t have a choice in her original bond. Turning to exit the barn, he squeezes Silas’ shoulder on the way past but doesn’t make eye contact, giving him little chance to stop him from leaving. He doesn’t believe his brother will bicker about family drama in front of the wolves, not when it would sour the mood of the performance.

Isa:

She's barely holding herself together, once Blair stops railing on her with her fists, but barely makes a sound. Something akin to a shaky breath leaves her lips, and she doesn't know if what falls down her cheekbones is sweat, blood, or tears. Her wrists are limp against the chains as her head lulls forward, unable to hold herself upright for much longer; she thinks she sees Thomas heal Blair, but its a blur, even Presley looks foggy through her eyes.

Its hard not to focus on her pain, but its everywhere, on her chest, on her ribs, on her abdomen. In a fair fight she might have the upper hand, but with the wolfsbane weakening her body its so incapacitating she can barely move, and when she finally decides to speak up, her words tremble, her lips shake, they come through a bloodied mouth and a hoarse voice. "When... all of this is over..." She spats and even though her eyes are on Presley, the threat is for Blair, and only Blair. "... I'm going... to slit your throat... and I'm going... to enjoy it. Remember that... Falcos... Keep their word".

Silas:

Silas lingers with his lips pursed. He’s not completely satisfied, what with all of the excessive talking and negotiating, the dropping the knife and the lighter when they were the sole, implied parameters, the lack of the creativity he had expected… but then again, these are wolves, and he’s not completely disappointed either. Isa is in rough shape, and the threat to Blair is the cherry on the cake. It takes a second of mulling over his level of satisfaction before he turns sharply on his heels and begins to follow Thomas. "Come, pet," he commands over his shoulder with a sharp whistle like one might call a dog. "Leave them."

Blair:

She doesn't know what she was expecting, but the bitter taste of blood explodes on her tongue as Thomas shoves his bleeding hand against her lips. There is a slight albeit futile struggle, and there is a stark look of shocked betrayal on her face before she forces it away. She supposes this is a small price to pay for defying their demands, but as he walks away from her, she can feel the split skin on her knuckles beginning to knit back together. The ache remains, but as though this had happened days ago, not minutes.

Isa's threat, as labored as her words are, hits home and Blair turns, caught between Silas and Thomas' retreating backs, and Presley and Isa still hanging by their chains. She wants to ask how long they'll be locked up, but she knows she's not supposed to. She's not supposed to care about them. But she also can't say nothing. So she walks back over to Isa, uncaring about the bloody mess that is spattered around her. She tilts her head up, gently but with purpose, and she blocks her view of Presley so that the wolf has to focus on her.

"If you manage to get the jump on me, I'll let you do it." She forces a levity into her words, but she means them nonetheless. Not that either of them would understand. She doesn't bother to look at Presley as she turns and follows the vampires.

Blair needs to find Ellery.

#c: presley #c: silas #c: thomas #c: blair

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aufanficfanatic · 4 years

Text

BNHA Pokémon AU Part 1: Kirishima Eijirou

II. LYCANROC

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"Riot, use Crush Claw!"

Twelve-year-old Kirishima Eijirou watched with a critical eye as a little tan canine slashed at a Geodude with extended claws, cracking its outer defence and leaving it vulnerable for further physical attacks. Geodude tried to curl its body around the vulnerability to compensate, but Eijirou and Riot were too quick. With a toothy grin, Ei shouted, "Riot, show Geodude some love!" With a cute little bark, Riot ran right up to the curled Pokémon and began vigorously rubbing his rocky collar along its body. The rocks' sharpness proved to be the end of the match when one stuck into the crack previously made by Crush Claw. Geodude fainted and was recalled by the Pewter Gym Trainer.

"Way to go, Riot! Yeah!" Eijirou cheered, running to give his Pokémon some pets. The Rockruff's blue eyes shown with affection as his Trainer rubbed between his ears, and he barked just as loudly as Eijirou cheered.

"Eiji-kun, please call official Pokémon moves when you're in a proper match, okay? That kind of improvisation is all well and good for wild Pokémon tussles, but as a Gym leader I could disqualify Riot for something like that outside the registered moveset."

"Aw, Brock-ojiisan!"

The Pewter City gym leader was thirty-seven and had been training Eijirou since the boy had turned ten. Every weekday, after he got out of school, Eijirou would run to the Pewter Gym and train with Brock and his subordinates for a few hours. Brock-ojiisan was a great teacher, knew all the tricks and tips for raising rock-type Pokémon, and was strict but fair with Eijirou and Riot. Case in point—

"Sometimes it really sucks being limited to Riot's moveset. I get lots of ideas during a match, and I wanna try them all! Why does it have to be like that, Brock-ojiisan?"

Brock tousled the boy's chin-length black hair, sighing in that particular way that meant Eijirou probably learned about this before but had forgotten. "For the same reason a Pokémon Trainer can only utilize up to six Pokémon at a time. It keeps matches fair and balanced. To even the playing field for all different types of Trainers, the rules need to be standardized across the Regions."

"I guess that makes sense. Playing fair is manly! I'll only use Riot's registered moveset next time, I promise!" The boy turned to Kanta, one of Brock's gym trainers, and bowed in apology. "Thanks for the match! Sorry for the unregistered move! It won't happen again!"

Brock chuckled, smiling warmly at the boy who's become like a nephew to him. He never quite outgrew speaking in exclamations. "And how is Riot doing compared to the timeline you drew up? Is he on-schedule? It's going to be soon, right?"

Eijirou grinned again, showing off his shaper-than-normal teeth. "He's officially level twenty-four, as of yesterday. I'm observing his experience growth... I've got it timed to Friday at 5pm on the dot! He's gonna be an even prettier Dusk colour than kaa-san's!" Eijirou was bouncing now, too excited to contain his energy. "I'm gonna have a Lycanroc! Are ya excited, Riot? Are ya, are ya?" His energy overflowed, spilling over to Riot quickly as the Rockruff bounded in circles and barked incessantly.

Brock laughed. "Alright, kid, calm down. So just a couple days, huh? And are you prepared for the aggression spike? I've noticed that Riot is already a lot rougher than he used to be ... he won't hurt you on purpose, I know that, but you've gotta prepare for an adjustment period. Have your moms walked you through everything?"

Eijirou's laugh turned into a pout. "Hey, Brock-ojiisan, I grew up on Rockruff Ranch! I've taken care of loads of Lycanroc, I can totally handle it!"

Well, that was probably true. Brock thought that he was perhaps the one who wasn't ready to handle the aggression of a Lycanroc in his Gym every day.

Suddenly, the doors flew open, banging against the wall as another gym trainer ran into the building. "Brock-sama! Pewter's downtown is under attack! Its Team Rocket!" The other gym trainers erupted with shock and anger, turning to their Gym Leader to wait for instructions.

Brock leapt into action, racing over to his bag to switch out his weaker gym Pokémon for his personal team. "Grab your teams and get to the Pokémon Center, quickly! Protect the nurses; don't let any grunts steal injured Pokémon!" The Gym emptied out quickly, and soon it was just Brock and Eijirou.

"Brock-ojiisan ..." Eijirou murmured fearfully, clenching a fist in Riot's ruff. "What should I do?"

Brock tossed a Pokéball out the door of the Gym, and Eijirou saw Brock's favoured Onix appear in an explosion of light. "Stay here, Eiji-kun, and stay safe. I'm locking you in—don't answer the door for anybody, okay? Keep Riot close, and protect each other." With that, Brock was gone, and Eijirou was left in the empty Gym alone.

"Be safe ..." Eijirou murmured, and Riot butted his head against Eijirou's hand, whining softly. "I know, boy—this is really scary! I can't believe Team Rocket would attack Pewter City in broad daylight. I feel like I should be with Brock-ojiisan, helping protect everyone ..." Riot cocked his head at Eijirou, yipping almost in admonishment. "No, Brock-ojiisan told us to stay here, Riot! Sorry boy, but we can't go." He sighed, sitting down cross-legged on the floor. "When you evolve into a Lycanroc, Riot, we'll have all the strength we need to protect everybody! Even Brock-ojiisan! So let's keep working hard when this is over, and get you your Dusk form!" His beloved partner yipped in agreement, and then settled down by Eijirou's side, blue eyes focused on the glass doors.

Nothing happened, for a long while. Eijirou couldn't sit still, opting to stand up and pace over by the reception desk to try and relieve some of his nervous energy. He tried not to worry about Brock-ojiisan, but it was proving to be difficult. "What if they gang up on him," he asked Riot in desperation, the Pokémon cocking an ear in Eijirou's direction. "What if they have lots of water and grass Pokémon and Onix gets hurt? What if—"

"Hello, hello? Is anyone there? Brock-sama? Please, let us in! Help us!" Eijirou froze in his tracks as two girls suddenly ran up to the Gym doors, one of them banging a fist on the glass while the other had her back turned, focusing on something in the distance. Eijirou recognized them from school, though they weren't in his class. What should he do? Brock-ojiisan told him not to open the door for anyone ...

And then, a Rocket grunt stepped onto the path behind the girls. He was a mean-looking brute, all muscles and small squinting eyes. He had an equally mean-looking Raticate beside him, drool dripping down its wicked teeth. He couldn't hear what the grunt said to the girls, but it was clear he was after their Pokémon.

Eijirou's heart leapt to his throat. He should do something! He and Riot had been training for two years now, surely he could handle one Raticate? His legs wouldn't cooperate. His chest hurt with how fast his heart was beating. The girls were trembling, and the grunt was getting closer to them. Why wasn't he doing anything?! He was so scared, but the girls had it so much worse. He could help them! Why couldn't he move, was he really so pathetic? Yes, he was. He was just a stupid scared loser who didn't have the right to call himself a Pokémon trainer—

"Ruff." Riot was suddenly there, nipping at Eijirou's fingers and dragging him out of his own head.

"Ouch! Riot?" Startled red eyes stared into solemn blue. Eijirou had never seen Riot look so intense before like he was staring through him. There was a determination that filled Riot to the brim, making his fur stand on end and his eyes gleam with sharpness, muzzle lifted proudly in the air.

"Ruff, ruff!" His Pokémon's presence filled the space around him. He butted his head sharply against Eijirou's hand, chasing away the anxious, buzzing thoughts and giving Eijirou clarity for the first time since word of Team Rocket had first reached them.

"We ... can do this. We can help those girls," Eijirou said, hesitation slowly leaking out of his body and voice as he spoke. "I'm a Pokémon Trainer. My Pokémon is standing strong, so I will, too! I gotta be manly—to be anything less would be an insult to my Pokémon's hard work! Yeah! C'mon Riot, let's be heroes!"

"Ruff, ruff, ruff!" Riot barked loudly, spinning in a tight circle and then facing the glass doors with fangs bared. The grunt was leaning over the crying girls in a position of power and intimidation, one hand resting on the door over their heads and the other held out for their Pokéballs.

Eijirou's legs didn't freeze up this time. He sprinted to the door, Riot on his heels, and threw it open. The grunt was thrown off-balance and stumbled to the ground with an expletive. Eijirou used the distraction to push the girls behind him into the safety of the Gym lobby. "Close the doors behind me, don't open them for anyone except Brock-ojiisan or Officer Jenny!"

Riot had already tackled the Raticate, sending it sprawling a few feet away. The grunt recovered and narrowed his eyes at the interloper standing between him and his prey. "Who do you think you are, punk? You think you can just step in and interfere with Team Rocket? Fine, I'll take your Pokémon first! Raticate, Bite that stupid dog!"

Eijirou had never been a part of such a high-stakes Pokémon match. But strangely, all he felt was confidence as Riot dodged the Raticate's teeth and regrouped in front of his Trainer, snarling and baring his fangs. "I won't let you take their Pokémon, and you won't have mine, either! I'll stop you right here and now!"

The grunt backpedalled away from Ejirou, regrouping with his Raticate a safe distance away. "Think you're some kinda hotshot, punk? We'll see which is stronger—your rocks or our teeth!"

He sent the Raticate forward with another Bite. Riot attempted to dodge, but the vicious teeth caught one of the rocks in his ruff with just enough leverage to drag the littler Pokémon closer. Eijirou had a move ready to call out as soon as the Raticate finished its turn and withdrew—but it didn't, just held Riot between its teeth, and before Eijirou could do more than blink in confusion the Rocket grunt yelled, "Hyper Fang!" The stone between the Raticate's wide, flat teeth chipped off with the force of the bite, causing the Rockruff to yelp.

"Riot!" Eijirou shouted in shock and then turned angrily on the grunt. "You used two moves in a row, that's against the rules!"

The Raticate withdrew and hopped back towards its Trainer, who scoffed out a laugh. "What are you gonna do, punk? Call the League on me?"

Eijirou grit his teeth. Man, he hated this guy! "Riot, you good?" he asked his partner, who shook out his ruff and then barked affirmatively. "Awesome! Okay, boy, it's our turn! Looks like that Raticate wants to chew on some rocks—let's give it a whole buffet! Rock Throw!"

Riot's bright blue eyes blazed keenly as his tail began to glow, ejecting sharp stones that hurled themselves at the opponents. There were too many to dodge, but the rocks were small, and Raticate was able to take the attack standing.

Eijirou and Riot settled into the battle with tenacity and focus. Eijirou decided on a long-range battle style, determined to keep Riot away from Raticate's teeth and tail. Riot danced evasively around the increasingly-frustrated rat, picking away at its HP with Rock Throws and using his fluffy tail to sweep a few Sand Attacks into its eyes. Even so, Raticate was a vicious opponent, and its Trainer didn't follow League rules at all—Eijirou had counted six different moves used against Riot so far, often in succession instead of turn-based.

After a few successful Fury Swipes that sent bits of Riot's fur flying, Eijirou decided enough was enough. It was time to end this, the way Eijirou and Riot preferred—up close and personal. "Good boy, Riot! Now, use Crush Claw!"

Riot rushed forward, leaping in the air over the tail that had whipped around in an attempt to trip him up ("Seriously, dude, again?") and landed claws-first on the Raticate's back. Though he was the smaller Pokémon, he was still a rock-type—and therefore weighed enough to flatten that Raticate right out on the ground.

Surprisingly, it didn't faint. It was close, though, and Crush Claw had lowered its defences even further. Riot, on the other hand, had incredible stamina and could take a few more Bites if Eijirou followed the rules; if he allowed Riot to wait his turn and end this the League way.

But the grunt had made Eijirou realize that this was no proper Pokémon battle. There were no League officials to call fouls, or Gym Leaders to disqualify him. There were no rules and regulations, other than to make sure he and his beloved Pokémon partner got out of this fight in one piece. So Eijirou was going to finish it now, his way. He grinned widely, and peripherally he could see the grunt flinch at the sight of Eijirou's sharp teeth.

"Hey, Riot! Show that Raticate some love!"

Riot nearly howled in delight and nuzzled his jagged rocks into the Pokémon beneath him in aggression more than affection. With a pained cry, Raticate fainted, and then it was finally over. Riot ran barking over to Eijriou and leapt into his arms, and Eijirou was so proud of him he couldn't contain it, laughing and spinning him through the air. "You did it! We did it! We were awesome, yeah!"

The Rocket grunt recalled his fainted Pokémon with a snarl. "You brat. You think you got the best of Team Rocket? You better think again. We got admins here, and you can bet they'll crush that stupid Gym Leader and his rock-type Pokémon to gravel! And you'll be next, I'll make sure of that."

Riot leapt out of Eijirou's hands, snarling viciously, and his tail glowed up for another Rock Throw. The grunt quickly turned tail and ran, cursing as he got pelted with small stones on the way. So unmanly.

Eijirou's Pokédex chirped with battle results and an updated account balance, but Eijirou ignored it. He paced, his victory grin fading into a nervous frown. "I'm kinda worried about Brock-ojiisan. What do ya think, Riot? Should we go find him? And maybe kick more Team Rocket butts along the way?"

Riot full-out howled, claws digging into the earth and hackles rising as he cried out his battle lust to the darkening sky. His eyes almost looked red in the light of the setting sun. Eijirou stared at his Pokémon partner in awe, suddenly understanding Brock-ojiisan's concerns a bit. "You really are getting pretty aggressive, aren't ya little man? Aw, it's kinda cute!"

That had earned him a nipped finger or five.

-------- (-o-) --------

It was a long evening. Eijirou hadn't come across Brock-ojiisan right away, instead diving in to help the ordinary citizens of Pewter City, whose homes and businesses were being looted and their Pokémon stolen by Team Rocket grunts. But Pewter people were tough as nails, and often they dove right into the fray to help each other out, double and even triple battling to send grunts packing. Riot was a force of nature, fast and vicious and tenacious. Eijirou couldn't believe he'd ever doubted this, their strength and their bond, as they won battle after battle.

By the time he found Brock-ojiisan, Eijirou was covered in sweat and dirt, had a lump in the back of his head where he'd been nailed by a stray Bullet Seed, and was having the time of his life.

To his credit, Brock-ojiisan wasn't at all surprised to see him. He just rolled his eyes, tossed Eijirou a Super Potion, and went back to soundly thrashing the Rocket Admin before him. Brock's slightly-psychotic Steelix was out to play, and Eijirou felt bad for the guy, villain though he was—there were definitely broken bones in his future.

He spared a few moments to watch Brock-ojiisan be manly and cool, and then he turned back around. "Alright Riot, let's go towards the school and make sure all the ... students are ... safe?" Eijirou blinked, spinning around and searching the ground around his feet. "Riot? Where are ya, boy?" He stuttered forward a few feet, looking around at the various battles and chaos ensuing around him, trying to catch a glimpse of tan fur. Did that rock-brained dog really just leave to fight without him? Man, he was going to be so aggressive as a Lycanroc ...

But as Eijirou finished a lap around the plaza without a sign of Riot, panic began to set low in his belly. "Riot? RIOT, WHERE ARE YOU?" He'd only taken his eyes off his partner for a second, how could he have lost him? There was no way a Rocket grunt could've snuck up behind him and taken Riot without a sound ... right?

Oh, Arceus. Eijirou broke into a sprint, picking a random street and running past Rocket grunts and Pewple alike. "RIOT! RIOT!" he called over and over, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as all the terrible scenarios played in his mind. He was laying in a ditch, fainted and hurt. He was abducted by Team Rocket. He was lost, searching for Eijirou just as desperately ...

Out of nowhere, down some side street that Eijirou didn't know the name of, something collided painfully with the back of his knees, and he ate the pavement. It hurt; tears poured down his cheeks as he sat up and spat blood onto the street; his sharp teeth had bitten deep into his tongue. But it didn't matter, because all he could feel was joy and relief. "Riot, thank Arceus I found you—huh?" He looked up into narrow, black eyes and wide, drooling teeth, and that joy died viciously in his chest.

"Well, well, well ... just the brat we were looking for, eh Raticate?" It was him, the grunt from the Gym! But ... why was he here? Eijirou had already defeated him, he wasn't supposed to come back ...! Eijirou scrambled to his feet, mouth full of blood and heart full of fear.

"Aw, did you lose something, Sharpedo-boy? Why don't I help you with that, huh?"

That paralyzing, choking feeling from the Gym lobby was filling him again. His body trembled. His heart throbbed in his throat, and his legs went numb. What should he do? He'd already decided to never to feel this way again, to doubt in his and Riot's bond—but Riot wasn't here. He'd left Eijirou on his own, with no other Pokémon, to face a villain who so clearly wanted to hurt him.

The grunt's eyes matched his Raticate's, black and small and vicious. "Not so tough without that yappy dog at your heels, slinging its pathetic pebbles, are you brat?" Eijirou stumbled backwards, some sort of flight instinct trying to kick in through the numbness. The grunt stayed still. "Let's see if we can make you faint this time. Raticate, Tackle."

Eijirou barely had time to throw up his hands in a defensive manoeuver before he was thrown off his feet by what felt like the force of a small train, knocking all the wind out of him and laying him flat on his back. Wheezing, Eijirou tried to scramble back to his feet, but he felt uncoordinated and dizzy.

The grunt was drawing closer. His face was so blank, and his eyes were so cold. "Quick Attack." Raticate moved so quickly Eijirou didn't have time to flinch before his body skidded across the ground and his head smacked painfully into the wall behind him. His gasp of pain made him choke on the blood that had been pooling in his mouth from his cut tongue, and he coughed. It hurt. It hurt. He wanted his kaa-san.

The grunt was standing before him now, watching him with a smirk. "That's the problem with these young Pokémon trainers, Raticate. They go traipsing around the region throwing Pokéballs at all sorts of people bigger than them, convinced that theirs is the only kind of power in the world. But take away that Pokéball and all you have left is some snot-nosed brat peeing his pants and crying for Mummy."

Eijirou coughed and spat out more blood and tried not to puke the rest of it up. "W-where ... is h-he?" he gasped. He couldn't sit up, lead lolling uselessly against the wall. "Where's ... Riot ...?"

The grunt shrugged. "Dunno. Shoved in a sack in the back of a van? Kicked into the gutter like old rubbish? Suffocating in some Muk's body? Who knows. Don't really care, I only came here because of you. I owe you." Eijirou had encountered evil for the first time in this world, was looking it in the face, watching as it looked back. This man ... this evil man looked at a little twelve-year-old's bruised and battered face and only said, "Try for a critical hit this time, Raticate. Faint him good and permanent."

Raticate shifted its weight to its back feet, ready to strike—

And then, a howl sounded through the narrow street, so deep and loud that it made the bricks beneath Eijirou's head resonate with the timbre. The Rocket grunt's head whipped around, but by then it was too late—in an explosion of rock shards and a streak of deep red, the Raticate was flung thirty-odd meters down to the other end of the street, crashed into a rubbish bin, and laid still.

The grunt had tripped backwards in shock, falling on the ground and banging his elbow against the cobbles. "Ow, what the f—" he looked up into glowing red eyes, and the curse died on his tongue.

A Midnight-Form Lycanroc stood in front of Eijirou like some avenging angel—no, an avenging devil—muzzle full of sharp teeth and wide paws tipped with wicked claws and glowing red eyes that promised nothing but complete and utter destruction.

The grunt had fear in his eyes, for the first time. He leapt to his feet and ran as fast as he could, fumbling for Raticate's Pokéball to collect him on his way out. But then four massive boulders slammed into the ground around him, boxing him in, preventing escape. Eijirou gaped. Rock Tomb, had to be, but so incredibly powerful ...! And then a fifth boulder, not nearly as large as the others but big enough to get the job done, fell right on top of his head, and the man crumbled and didn't get up again.

Eijirou was too dizzy to move, could only stare incomprehensibly at this strange Lycanroc that had come to rescue him out of nowhere. Really, it was a wonder he was still conscious at this point, so he could be forgiven for the absolute delusion that spilled out of his lips when he looked at this fierce, protective Pokémon—"Dad?"

The Lycanroc whimpered, curling into Eijirou's side and licking his cheek. Suddenly different than before, the Lycanroc curled tightly in a ball, almost in shame, and whined on every exhale.

Eijirou hurt all over. He wanted his kaa-san, but this strange Lycanroc was warm and soft. He closed his eyes, laying his aching head down onto soft scarlet fur, and let himself drift for a bit. He thought at one point maybe he'd heard the Lycanroc barking, and someone calling his name, but Eijirou decided he'd deal with it later. He slept.

-------- (-o-) --------

#bnha fanfiction #bnha pokemon au #kirishima eijiro #brock #Rockruff #lycanroc #bnha #the origin story continues #make sure to read part 1 #bnha canon violence #but very much non-canon pokemon violence #be aware #its not that bad at all but still #also i'm like going back and forth as to how accurate i want to make this as I go along #like i don't mind spending lots of time on Bulbapedia #but on the other hand thats less time writing #so...#Kirishima is a ray of sunshine

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beautyandthewarcanons · 4 years

Text

Life is Risky: Entry Eleven

"Can you pick the lock on the front door?" I asked.

"Shouldn't be too difficult, but I'll have to see it." Dev replied.

"Let's see what kind of layout we're up against here and what security measures are in place." I suggested. "If it's nothing too fancy, pick the lock in front. I'll head inside, and you can try to get a scope of the perimeter. Try to pinpoint where Ambrosia is, if possible."

"And what happens when you find trouble?" Dev asked.

"I'll deal with it. And if I can't, get help." I replied. "The only reason I'm not calling the cops is because I don't want this to potentially turn into a hostage situation. We have no idea what we're dealing with."

"If that call told us anything, this guy is off his rocker."

"No kidding." I said. "Let's go."

---

[Perspective switch activated]

[Primary program run: Dominic.exe]

I narrowed my eyes as I stared at my laptop screen. "Well, well... so that's who lives there. That girl really is a naive little lamb. Never know who you're meeting up with." I said to myself, rising from my chair. "I guess I'm going to collect quite a debt. Let's pay him a visit, shall we?"

Just then, there was a knock on my door.

"Now who could that be? So many visitors today..." I muttered as I opened the door. "Well hello there."

Standing before me was a lovely little thing. White chopped hair, but not quite as sharp as her tongue. "Look, sorry to bother you, handsome. I'm looking for my boyfriend. Is he here?"

I pursed my lip. "I wonder... yea tall? Red hair?"

"Yes!" She snapped.

"You know, for talking to a complete stranger, you're pretty bold. It's late. I could have been sleeping."

"Well, you're not now. And you weren't before you answered the door either, because you wouldn't have answered as quickly."

I rose a brow. "Smart girl. Do you have a name, doll?"

"It's Evie Olive. Just tell me where my boyfriend went so I can find him, please. I checked the tracker and it led me here, and now it's out of range."

"Sure... but first, how old are you, Evie?"

"Not legal, in case you're wondering."

"Exactly as I thought." I snatched the keys out of her hands, much to her displeasure.

"Give those back, asshole!" She shouted.

"I'll tell you what. You tell me what your story is, and I won't have you arrested for driving without a license." I smirked.

"Are you serious?! Ugh, fine! I'm going to get my boyfriend out of whatever stupid shit he got himself into. The psycho he's with nearly killed me because she's going crazy over Ambrosia getting herself into trouble! What she does isn't MY problem!"

"Ambrosia... is she a friend of yours?" I asked.

"Unfortunately." Evie snapped. "Now give me my keys!"

"Now if I recall, I said I wouldn't have you arrested if you told me your story. I didn't say I'd give these back." I chuckled.

That's when she pulled a fast one on me.

In a flash, she grabbed a firearm from off my belt, pointing it at me. "Give. Me. My. Keys."

A moment passed. I rose my brows. "Well, you're something, aren't you?"

"You talk too much. Give me my keys! I'm getting my boyfriend and then I'm calling the cops on that psycho bitch!"

"And your... 'unfortunate friend...?'" I asked.

"She got herself into what she got herself into. She can get herself out of it." Evie snapped.

"I'll tell you what. I'll make you a deal. I give you these back. But then you're coming with me. Turns out, there's someone I want there too. The man who lives there happens to be someone who has evaded a great deal of trouble. Someone who has been under the radar for far too long. Get your boyfriend out of the way, and it makes my job easier. I let you off the hook."

"And that psycho girl?"

"She didn't seem all that unhinged to me, just deeply concerned." I pondered aloud.

"Trust me. She's a wild animal that should be put down." Evie said.

"Look. I can't guarantee anyone's safety." I said.

"Good. So what happens there, stays there." She turned the gun to hand it to me, extending her other hand. We quickly exchanged the gun and the keys. "Let's go. I don't want this to take all night."

---

[Perspective switch reverted]

[Primary program run: Kara.exe.]

I took a deep breath. I put in ear buds given to me by Dev, quietly entering the house. No alarms were set off. In fact- it seemed like there was no power in the house whatsoever.

A sense of dread swelled within me. I listened for any sound, any indication of Ambrosia being there. I glanced at my phone. Nothing from Dev. I navigated through the large house, locating the kitchen. Looking around, I quietly sifted through one of the drawers, finding a decent sized knife. As I quietly made my way, every sound, no matter how subtle, was like an explosion in my eardrums.

It was then I heard it.

The sound of laughter. His laughter.

My breath was caught in my throat. I was trembling as it took every ounce of restraint to proceed quietly down the hall. My knuckles were white. I swallowed thickly, trying my damnest to control my breathing. I approached the door from where the laughter was coming from. It was open ever so slightly. The laughter stopped then, and I froze. I could hear shuffling from inside.

Then, I heard a muffled whimper.

On instinct, I leaned in, looking past the gap in the door. Every nerve ending in my body was on fire. Even in the low light, I saw her on a bed, stripped down to her undergarments, her hands handcuffed behind her back.

[System shock inflicted.]

[Sanity backup: adequate.]

[Cooldown initiated.]

[Control status: rapid stabilization.]

It took everything to not burst in there. I could feel a clawing deep inside, but I quickly suppressed it before it could come close to surface.

(Because of current sanity levels, Her was not triggered.)

Before I could even react, my view of Ambrosia was blocked by a face shrouded in shadow. All I could see was a wide, toothy grin-

The same exact one from my nightmares.

A gunshot fired. I scrambled back. I whipped my head behind me. A bullet hole was now in the wall behind me.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk... I missed. Kyahaha!"

I was gasping for air, scrambling to my feet as I charged for his legs. I knocked the man down, the gun flying out of his hand and onto the floor.

"AMBROSIA!" I screamed.

"Kara!" She cried.

"Dev is outside, get the hell out of here!" My voice cracked. I raised the knife in the air, about to stab the crazed man when he flipped me onto my back effortlessly, pinning my hands to the ground.

"What do we have here, hmm...? So you are my beloved's sister? You're a delicious thing yourself... though, so very different a flavor, hehe!"

"Sir, please! Don't hurt my sister!" Ambrosia cried.

Before the man could answer, I used all my force to shove the man off of me. I scrambled to my feet, rushing to Ambrosia. I grabbed her hand with my free one, dragging her as we stumbled into the bathroom. I slammed the door shut, locking it as I held the knife in my hand. Ambrosia was behind me, her clothes lying on the bathroom floor. I pointed the knife at the door, my breathing heavy.

"Now dearies, you can't hide in there forever!" The man sang.

"Shit, my phone is almost dead." I whimpered, shakily calling Dev.

Outside, his phone rang. "You find her?"

"We're in the last room in the ground floor hallway to the right, in an attached bathroom with no windows! He has a gun!" I screamed.

"Call the cops. I'm-" Just then, my phone died. "Hey. Kara. Shit..." He hissed, pocketing his phone. He took out his gun, approaching the back deck of the house. Just as he was about to head inside, he felt a sharp strike to the back of his head. Everything became blurry, and he fell into unconsiousness.

Meanwhile, inside, I scrambled through the man's medicine cabinet, trying to look for something blunt. I looked around, finding a handlebar affixed to the wall.

"Ambrosia, try breaking the cuffs off with this."

"Kara... you shouldn't have come here, you don't understand-"

"Do it, Ambrosia!" I snapped. She nodded, and after a few strikes, she was able to break the handcuffs, removing them before turning to put her clothes on.

"What do we do now?" She asked.

"We wait for Dev. And if I hear him get caught up in there, I'll help him out. But no matter what, you run, Ambrosia. Do you understand me? You get out of here and get to safety."

"But what about you?" Ambrosia whimpered.

"Like I told Dev... I'll deal with it."

A loud noice made us both jolt then. My eyes had adjusted to the low light. I realized then that the man was trying to bust the door handle. I clenched my teeth, waiting in anticipation.

---

[Flashback]

"AMBROSIA!" I screamed, thrashing in Rayne's grip. I broke free, falling to my knees. "Ambrosia, say something!" I shouted, unable to see anything in the dark hole in the roof she had fallen through.

You can't save her... you can't even save yourself.

I slowly glanced over my shoulder. I clenched my fists.

"You can't stop me." I whirled back around, staring into the hole as I took in a deep breath.

---

"What the hell did you do to him?!"

"I told you already, doll. He would only be in the way. Now if you'll excuse me, I have business to take care of."

"You asshole!" Evie fell to her knees, lifting Dev's head to make sure he wasn't bleeding.

"Will you relax? He'll survive. Just drag your boy toy to my car and wait there. I shouldn't be long." Dominic said before heading into the house.

Evie growled lowly, dragging Dev to Dominic's rather shoddy looking car. She managed to lay him across the back seat, catching her breath, glancing over him for a moment. She then returned to where he had fallen, bending down to pick up his gun. "Believe me... I have some business to take care of, too." Her expression darkened as she entered the house.

The door burst open. In the low light, all I could see were his teeth. He was like a hungry predator coming to consume his prey. My breathing quickened when time lapsed, and he still hasn't moved.

"Sir, please..." Ambrosia spoke up then, and I whipped my head to glance over my shoulder. "I beg you. My sister just wants to protect me."

"So tell her then, my love." The man replied. My blood began to boil.

"Don't call her that. After tonight, you will NEVER see her again." I hissed.

"You would keep lovers apart? You would take my one true love from me, miss?"

"Shut up, you sick freak!" I shouted.

"Speak for yourself!"

Ambrosia gasped, both of us shocked to see Evie now standing behind Unknown. She had a gun in her hand.

"Evie, what are you doing here?" Ambrosia asked.

"Hey guy, get out of the way." Evie snapped.

The man chuckled. "My, my... so many want to take my precious flower from me."

"Look, I don't care what you do with Ambrosia. You're doing me a favor." I seethed with anger as she took the safety off. "I'm here to put down that rabid animal."

The man stared at Evie for a moment. "Perhaps I don't want my house to become a murder scene, hm?"

Evie was about to snap when she was shoved to the ground, Dominic stepping forth to point the sword at the man's throat. "What the hell do you think you're doing?! I'll blow your head off!"

"That may be a bad idea, doll. See, I'm someone very important in the U.S. government. And this man is more dangerous than any of you even know."

I glanced at the open bedroom door then. I had to get Ambrosia out of here. Otherwise, we would all be trapped in here with one another, with no chance of escape.

Choice A: Tell Ambrosia to run. Tackle Unknown to the ground.

Choice B: Grab Ambrosia and book for the door.

Choice C: Shove Unknown into Dominic's sword.

Results:

Choice A: 33%

Choice B: 50%

Choice C: 17%

#beautyandthewar #poisonappletales #beauty and the war x playing pieces #beauty and the war #donttakethisrisk #dont take this risk #unknown #fanficion #interactive #drama #series

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