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ghouljams · 8 months

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Can you imagine what it must've felt like to be Valeria's demon? They must be living the life, getting to have sex with Valeria AND be their special recon/info retriever

-🧪

I have tried to think about what Valeria's demon would do, who they'd be, and I am a little stumped. Currently I'm thinking her demon is called Hide, and I want to say Valeria earned her demon but I just know she'd try summoning one if she heard about them. Maybe she found out about Alejandro having a demon and decided she needed one too.

You mark down a clipboard, watching crates disappear as you do. Shadows slink over the containers, swallowing them whole until you've gone down your entire list. You hand it off to the enforcer that's in charge of distribution and give him very clear instructions to not touch anything. You know he will, they always do. Pendent.

You check your watch and let your bonds carry you back to Valeria. She rolls her shoulders as you settle in her shadow, tips her head to one side, then the other in faux boredom. You know better than anyone that even when she's quiet she's working overtime. Her mind is always churning to fix leaks and plug holes in whatever operation she's running. You rest your chin against her shoulder, feel her move to brush her hair back, fingers scratch your head. Unseen to the other cartel heads at the table.

"So you want me to fund, what?" Valeria tosses a folder onto the table, shrugs, "Some little sting operation? Pilfering weapons from the Americans?" You purr against her back, eyes glued to the faces of the men around the table.

"Throwing them a bone every once in a while keeps them off our backs," One man explains, as if Valeria isn't already aware.

"So," she draws the word out, "that's your best plan? Feeding a meat grinder spare parts in the hopes of a little fire power?" She leans back against the chair, and you, incorporeal as ever, like the think she's leaning back against you. Valeria tips her head, "I already get all the weapons I need, why should I go after the ones I dont?"

"Everything is set to ship out," you whisper in her ear. You can see her lips twitch, just barely a smile for your work.

"Same reason we do anything," Another man laughs, "the profit."

Valeria hums, and points her finger at him, her thumb raised in an approximation of a gun. She makes a "bang" noise, raising her hand for the recoil. You hide all your shadows in his skull until it pops.

The men on either side of him jump up from their seats with loud swears as his brains splatter the table. His body collapses forward, eyes dangling. Some of the men cross themselves, Valeria kicks her feet up on the table.

"What a shame," She looks at her fingers, inspecting them with a bored sort of expression, "I almost liked him."

"What the fuck did you do?" Someone asks, you don't really care who, you're busy watching two idiots try to get brains off of their nice suits. You wave a hand, and hide every bullet in the room. Well, every bullet save the ones in you handler's gun. Which is a handy trick when everyone is so damn trigger happy.

Several guns raise, pointed at Valeria.

"Nothing any of you could prove," she folds her hands in her lap with a smile, "or that anyone would believe if you told them."

"Bitch," one of the men spits. Rude. You hide his tongue, watch the blood drip from his stunned lips as he chokes. The rapid click of empty guns fills the room. Valeria tuts, shaking her head.

"All that machismo," she snaps her fingers and you feel your shadows ripple as your obscura falls, you bare your teeth at the nearest cartel boss, "really isn't going to help you much, eh cabrónes?"

You feel the chain length of a heavy leash burn into existence, following the clench of Valeria's fist. You quite like the show you both put on. The way all of the men in the room, so used the being the grim reaper in their little world, come face to face with a true beacon of death for the first time and seem to lose all their blood. Valeria drags you back until you tumble into her lap, hooks her finger in your leather collar and makes you look like a lapdog.

"Why don't you sit down before another of you makes a mess?" Valeria advises. And just like a pack of well trained dogs, they do.

#cod x reader #x reader #demon!darlings au #valeria mw2 #valeria cod #valeria x reader #valeria garza #valeria x oc #🧪 anon #tw head injury #tw gore

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llumetesdellums · 2 years

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“If you lose your head, just get another one.”

I’m just saying that putting a magic staff with the power to shrink and grow at your desire into your ear might not be best idea ever... Except if you can grow a new head, then it’s a party trick.

But don’t do it in vans... At less vans that you don’t own--

#tw blood #tw suggestion of violence #tw beheading #tw suggestive gore #lmk #lego monkie kid #sun wukong lmk #sun wukong lego #sun wukong lego monkie kid #monkey king lmk #monkie kid #mk lego monkie kid #mk lmk #mk #monkey king lego monkie kid #tw head trauma #tw head injury #my comics - llum talks #season 3

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what-am-i-doing-in-this-fandom · 10 months

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don't listen to him, guys, that's the concussion talking

#cole's art #mob psycho 100 #mp100 #mp100 reigen arataka #reigen arataka #kageyama “mob” shigeo #shigeo kageyama #mp100 shigeo #tw blood #tw head injury #oh yeah- i guess mob was also traumatized by being forced to watch himself destroy the city and hurt the ones he loves #but it's whatever #guaranteed he's been through worse lmao #almost forgot to tag dimple 💀#mp100 dimple #dimple #i love drawing things from this arc so much <33 #there's just too much potential for reigen angst #mp100 confession arc

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dtdrawz · 2 months

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PLZ REBUILD HIM BACK I WANNA SEE HIM

IF YOU DID PLEASE GIVE HIM IDK FOOD DRINK A HOME PLZ

I DONT LIKE SEE PEOPLE IN THOSE SITUATIONS

BRING HIL BACKKKK

thank you <3

huh.

#dtdrawz art #eating art saga #qeuwusha #dust sans #murder sans #cross sans #tw head injury #tw corpse #tw dead body

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serickswrites · 3 months

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Semi

Warnings: explosion, fire, head injury, blood

Nothing made sense. Nothing made sense to Whumpee as the world erupted into flames. Nothing made sense to Whumpee as sounds crashed in and out, as their vision went in and out of focus. What had happened?

As Whumpee tried to clear their vision, blinking hard against something wet and warm, Caretaker's face suddenly loomed in front of them. Whumpee could see Caretaker's lips moving, but the sound was disconnected.

"Can you......me?" Caretaker's voice was distant. And frantic. What had happened?

Whumpee groaned and blinked again, letting their eyes rest. They were tired. So tired. Caretaker's hand tapping their cheek had them opening their eyes once more.

"None of that," Caretaker's voice was clearer. Their eyes were tight with worry.

"Wha?"

"Whumper set off a bomb. You hit your head. Everything's on fire." Whumpee could suddenly hear Caretaker with crystal clarity.

Whumpee blinked. That made sense. "Whumper?"

Caretaker shook their head. "Doesn't matter. You're what matters. I need to get you out of here. Just stay with me, Whumpee."

"'m tired." Their eyelids were so heavy. The wetness was warm against their cheek. Blood. Blood was flowing down their face. That was the warm wetness. They were bleeding.

"I know you are," Caretaker said as they started to drag Whumpee. Whumpee was so much bigger than Caretaker. There was no way Caretaker was going to be able to carry them. "But, I need you to stay awake. Stay with me, Whumpee."

Whumpee grunted in response. They were determined to stay awake. If Caretaker was working hard to get them out of there, Whumpee could work hard to stay awake. For Caretaker.

#serickswrites #whump #queue #whump writing #whump community #tw explosion #tw fire #tw head injury #tw blood #caretaker and whumpee #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhump day 12 #prompt: semi-conscious #whumpblr

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boots-with-the-fur-club · 2 months

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So, I may not have won the poll, but I’ve decided to continue on the hand lore anyway! I’m going to tag some people but I want to warn you all this contains heavy angst. Make sure to check the tags for trigger warnings!

Start

@daboyau

@phoebepheebsphibs

@littlemissartemisia

@foxolotlfreak

He had been patting himself down basically every second to make sure those things hadn’t left his fanny pack and then suddenly they just weren’t there anymore.

The heavy feeling in his chest started at that point.

He barely started forgiving himself for causing the first apocalypse, his brothers telling him he had no way of knowing what would happen.

Others were to blame, like Warren or Hypno for taking the key in the first place. The Foot Clan, for asking for them to take it.

Sure Leo’s showboating and carelessness were bad but it wasn’t out of malice. He didn’t want to destroy the world. He didn’t know.

But this time he did know.

He saw the worst things imaginable and knew how it effected the people he loves. All he had to do was to stop those stupid mushrooms from hurting anyone else.

Leo saw the look in Raph’s eyes when he admitted what happened. Raph insists that it was just a mistake, that con artist was grabbing at his fanny pack. They probably fell out afterwards or he took it and dumped it when it couldn’t be sold.

What Leo saw in his eyes made him feel differently.

It was similar to how he always looked at him during their missions after Leo became leader.

Judgment.

He can’t be completely sure that Leo wasn’t just being careless. That one distraction caused chaos and havoc throughout an entire multi universe competition.

Leo feels like Raph feels the worst about the little girl he was protecting at first. He was so sure he stopped them from getting her. How they got past him to the nurse’s office, he doesn’t know.

That hand is a big part of it at least though, that’s clear.

Leo feels more tears starting to come.

He’s lost all credibility now, hasn’t he?

Not just to his brothers, but probably everyone there. There’s nobody else to blame for what’s happening. There’s no way anyone else has screwed things up like he has.

His fingers twitch, rubbing his arms painfully.

He needs to calm down before he starts becoming too rough with himself.

Leo reaches into his fanny pack in order to grab one of the many fidget toys. His mouth forms a deep frown at not feeling a favorite of his in there.

So he lost it too?

Pathetic.

Movement in the side of his vision has him glance towards it.

The hand.

That freaking hand!

It has his fidget toy!

Did…..did it take the container too!?

Maybe he didn’t lose it!

It was stolen!

Hope starts replacing that burden in his heart and he stands up.

The hand starts skittering away, so he quickly starts following after it. He’s too distracted to realize that his brothers are also distracted. They don’t notice him as he leaves.

The hand gets into a room and Leo backs it into a corner.

“Finally! You’re not getting away this time. Maybe if I get rid of you the spores will go away again too!” Leo summons and raises his weapon, smiling out of pure relief.

His expression drops when the hand spreads its fingers, revealing some type of canisters between them.

They fall, quickly releasing “gas” that is all too familiar.

He tries to hold his breath and rushes towards the door he came in through. Leo is only quick enough to see the hand escape and the door close behind it.

Leo bangs on the door as hard as he can. Even if no one hears him, maybe his hands will break through instead.

Luck fails him.

He runs out of time.

The room is filled to the brim with spore smoke as, eventually, even his turtle DNA fails him. He finally has to breath.

Contaminated air fills his lungs with a large gasp.

He shuts his eyes tight and covers the sides of his head where ears might be if he had any.

As long as he doesn’t see or hear anything he should be safe until he gets found, right?

Wrong.

Horrific images flash around in his mind until he’s forced to open his eyes to stop them.

What he sees is absolute devastation.

It’s a war zone all around him. Everything is in pieces. Buildings, roads…..people. Shots are ringing back and forth, some of it looking like it’s from alien tech.

He knows exactly what the spores are showing him and it feels his body with a dread that should have been prevented.

Leo can’t move an inch.

It’s obvious to him that the spores are just showing him what he thinks the bad future looked like. The only information he has about it is what he got out of Casey JR. Admittedly, it’s not that much because his brothers made him promise to stop telling Leo about it.

It was impeding his recovery, Donnie said.

He wishes he knew more so that he could tell the loud, nagging voice in his brain that maybe this isn’t just what he made up to fill in what he didn’t know. That this has the possibility of being connected ninpo memories. That this is exactly what happened and is even more awful than he ever could have imagined.

Kraang appear in front of him.

Fear shoots through his veins. They’re not real. He knows this isn’t happening. It can’t be happening.

“What’s this? The leader of the resistance without his guard dogs? They must have finally abandoned their weakest link after you led that last squadron to their deaths. Culling them was highly enjoyable.” The kraang taunts.

Leo grits his teeth.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone!? Why is it always me!?”

The kraang laughs like he’s just been told the funniest thing in this war torn world.

“Because you deserve it. Every second of all of it! And even more than this!”

He can’t think of anything to retort. He’s so tired of everything.

“No last words? Good. We’ve all long since grown tired of your voice.” The kraang aims his hand at Leo, a light beginning to power up inside.

Fine, it’s all fake anyways. This might as well happen. Nothing he can do about it even if he wanted to. Nobody is coming to help him either.

The kraang keeps laughing the more his laser powers up.

No wonder Lou Jitsu always escapes in his more spy themed movies. Death rays take way too long to work.

He tears up.

Leo wishes his dad was here.

The laser finally powers up. The kraang smiles widely. Something red goes up in front of him.

Wait, what?

NO!

The laser fires.

Leo is suddenly grabbed and tossed away into safety.

He tries to quickly stand up, but something stops him.

Raph’s future clone is on keeping him to the ground, hidden behind a broken building where he can still partially see the kraang from before.

The original Raph had bought time for the clone to get Leo to safety.

Both of them were being erased, disintegrated.

Tears stream down Leo’s face as he stares up at the clone who stares back with a smile.

Leo knows fully well that anything he says right now won’t actually be said to anyone.

He says something anyways.

“I love you Raph. Thank you. For everything. I never told you.”

The clone smiles more.

“Big bros always know. Love ya too, Leo. Tell everyone else for me.”

Leo watches as the last parts of his brother’s clone floats away as ninpo into the air.

He’s suddenly somewhere else, but still in this future hell scape.

Donnie’s arm is around his own and Leo sees blooding pouring from a head wound. Usually it makes them look worse than they are and it’s not actually a concern but this definitely looks like it is.

“Leo…..put me down….”

Leo can’t stop crying.

“I told you I’m not leaving you here!”

That’s not his voice.

Well, it is and it isn’t.

Deeper, rougher, far more strained.

“Put me down!” Donnie shoves himself away from him.

Leo falls over trying to catch him but they both end up on the ground.

Oh, he’s supposed to be hurt too.

He sits up and tries to get Donnie up as well.

“I thought this apocalypse made you smarter. I guess you could never be as smart as me, even when they hit me like this….” Donnie says, staying put.

“Shut up! You’re coming with me! Mikey is just a little further!” Leo screams.

Donnie chuckles.

“You won’t even give me a pity laugh? I’m the funny one, papa used to say so.”

Leo desperately tries to stand.

Donnie yanks him back to the ground.

“Leo. Listen. I need a flavor. F-Favor, I mean. Favor….”

Oh.

Donnie’s not making it either.

“Anything, Donnie.”

“Stay here for a minute. It shouldn’t take longer than that.”

Leo chokes back his sobs as he begins clinging to him.

“Okay. I’ll do that.”

“This might be the brain damage, but I want you to keep talking. Don’t stop until….you know. Tell your dumb jokes, even.” Donnie clings to him as well.

Leo takes a shaky, deep breath, then starts talking about anything and everything.

The night sky is clear above them both.

It reminds him of when they shared a room and their ceiling had those glow in the dark starts.

They used to lay together like this and talk all night because of their shared insomnia.

Leo talks and talks and talks, getting some quiet responses from Donnie until eventually he doesn’t.

He doesn’t stop talking or holding until he’s being physically separated by Mikey and some other resistance members.

Leo doesn’t stop talking still. He wants Donnie to respond even thought he knows he never will again.

Mikey hugs Leo tightly and he finally starts crying so hard he can’t talk anymore.

It’s all over as Leo is placed somewhere else again. He knows this part very well. Mikey is shattering into golden pieces in front of him with a big smile.

Leo doesn’t care anymore that he shouldn’t be able to do anything.

He rushes forward and holds onto Mikey’s arm to try to help like his brothers told him they did before.

A chain wraps around Leo, moving him back to Casey just before Mikey fully disintegrates.

He was stupid to try in the first place.

A dumb decision.

Again.

And again and again and again and again and-

It never stops.

His brothers won’t let him die.

It’s not fair.

He doesn’t want to be the last one left.

It hurts.

He’s tossing Casey into the portal and Leo is gone right after, right in front of him.

Leo is drifting now.

A black, empty void.

He’s even more tired than he was before.

There’s no one else with him. He can’t even be reunited with everyone he lost, or could have lost.

It’s so confusing.

The prison dimension was pretty similar to this place. It’s even more even empty than that somehow though. Probably because kraang prime isn’t here with him.

Leo is completely detached from reality.

His eyes have dimmed as he sits on the floor, against the wall. He’s running out of time for anyone to be able to do anything.

He can’t hear the shouting coming from somewhere outside, not close by but shouting nonetheless.

Mikey noticed first that he was missing and now the others are in a complete panic. They lost him once and now they’re losing him again.

They don’t know how right that is.

As the situation only gets worse, a hand watches, perched up high on the ceiling like some kind of spider who’s carefully watching the webs its made.

There’s already one prey caught.

Three more to go.

#tw sibling death #tw hallucinations #tw head injury #tw head trauma #tw injury #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #2018 tmnt #no fun in fungus #rise of the tmnt #tmnt 2018 #rise fanfiction #rottmnt fanfiction #rise leo #rottmnt michelangelo #i’m getting spored now i guess

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leo-actually-draws-things · 3 months

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Back to '83 Jeremy Reference

Jeremy Headshot references in the Back to '83 au

Bonus: Young Love and being an idiot in the '80s (Plus Various Robo-Shenanigans)

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bones-of-a-rabbit · 2 years

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you don’t remember what you did. maybe if i could forget, we could be friends

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real-godzekiel · 10 months

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draw mirror man for instant karma!!! jk. but I kind of get why Tumblr people love him so much now. his mirrors are VERY VERY fun to draw.

anyway. I drew what I imagined to be the dynamic of Opal's ma and pa. It's quite unhealthy at both ways, but they tolerate each other just enough to stay together for some reason.

We need a couple counseling AU I think

#opal wine mom #jack stauber fanart #jack stauber's opal #opal jack stauber #mirror man #wine mom #wine mom/hope #opal mirror man #opal #the pen is greater than the sword #tw bruises #tw head injury #tw dermatillomania #tw skin picking

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inkblot22 · 4 months

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The Same As Always

So I can already hear it. If I'm so scared of Rook, why am I always writing about him? That's because fear makes me nut, and I'm horny on side (this is not my main blog lmao) Also I'm so sorry, I cannot remember who made this divider since I downloaded it a few years ago, so if it's yours please let me know and I will credit you! This is kind of a reimagining of events based on that very loose series I have floating around on my page (He Begs Not For Petulance) so I hope it comes across as well as those.

Who is this fic for? I tried to keep it very gender-neutral, so hopefully anyone who can handle it. I apologize, since Rook does use the masculine version of most pet names in this (cheri instead of cherie, etc) but it's less feminizing than him referring to the reader as "ma biche" or "ma coccinelle", so that's just how that goes. It is a shame, but I also stayed away from "mon nounours" because that is also a bit too gendered. Very cute, though.

Anyways, this fic is DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. It's not as dark as my usual stuff, but that's not saying much. TW for noncon (touching and sa), knifeplay, blood, head injuries (accidental), captivity, and yandere. Also rusty, probably incorrect French and Rook Hunt, of course. I don't add translations because I feel like if the reader doesn't know all or any of what he's saying, it adds to the creep factor.

You don’t like it here. You think you don’t, at least. It’s hard to explain.

It’s winter, it has been for far too long. Maybe you’ve been here for a bit too long as well. It’s hard to keep track of time, since the sun seems to never rise wherever you are.

You can’t exactly remember how you got here. You remember the wagon. You’d needed quick travel through the mountains, but you also can’t remember where you were traveling. You remember everything going dark, waking up to see a blood-stained stone before you, feeling the warmth on your forehead and wondering where the wagon had gone. Your first thought was that you were now in a survival situation as it began to snow around you, the snowflakes dancing in the wind that found its way inside your loose clothing. You stood there for a moment, maybe, and then you started walking, and from there it all goes black.

You can definitely remember the first time you saw him. You were lying in an unfamiliar bed, something snug around your forehead. A candle cast a warm, quiet light into the room, and it burned through your eyelids, your vision a murky orange-pink until you opened your eyes and came face to face with… him.

Flaxen hair, a soft smile as he reached forward to caress your cheek, and most of all, those intense jade eyes. You jumped and immediately felt woozy, but you were confused enough to pay that little mind.

The man shushed you, gently pulling you back into a relaxed position and cooing at you as though you were a small child, “Ah-ah, fear not, mon cheri, you are no longer in death’s grasp. Do you remember your name or how you’ve gotten here?”

You couldn’t answer him at first. His eyes narrowed, the rest of his face still a pleasant mask, and he eased you onto your back, your head against the pillow.

“Fret not, mon petit. How about I tell you my name, and then you can decide if you’d like to tell me yours?” His voice was quiet when he spoke to you, and you noticed that there was a large knife sheath snug on his thigh.

You were still bewildered. You couldn’t connect any of the dots that had led you to this moment, and it was making your heart beat a bit too fast for your liking. The stranger smiled wider and squeezed your trembling hand.

“Je m’appelle Rook Hunt, le chasseur d’amour. I found you wandering aimlessly in this forest, the life pouring from your head like a faucet. You passed out in my arms, and brought you here.”

You didn’t remember wandering around. You could remember getting up, but you didn’t remember wandering around. Your hand comes up to your forehead, the soft bandages rubbing against your fingertips. When you looked back at Rook, you tried to figure out what you should say. Your tongue felt thick in your mouth.

“I… I’m kinda thirsty.”

Rook smiled ever wider and stood, and you got the chance to look around a bit more. You seemed to be in a small log cabin, the bed in a sort of nook, away from the rest of the cabin. You could see Rook from where you were, his back facing you as he poured you a cup of water. The kitchen area was open, but small, a table with three chairs right next to it, and you could sort of see a pretty ornate looking rug, but as you were looking at it, Rook returned and helped you into a seated position.

He held the cup for you as you drank. When you finished, he placed the cup on the table and stroked your cheek, still smiling. His actions towards you were awfully familiar, as though you were old friends or something.

“Where am I?”

“A little cabin in the woods.” Rook didn’t remove his hand from your cheek. His gloved thumb was so gentle against your cheek. “Why don’t you get some rest? You lost quite a bit of blood, cheri.”

You did feel tired… and even though you were confused, it was almost as though a spell was cast on you, lulling you back to sleep.

You’re almost certain you don’t like it here. Although he never said anything to you about it, it became somewhat clear that you couldn’t leave once you felt well enough to move around again. At least you were moving, though.

It was also at this point that Rook began leaving the cabin often. It left you bored, not that his form of entertainment was a good one, and you started cooking to alleviate that boredom. You couldn’t really recall if you were good at it before, but you were decent enough to make basic stuff, so you did. For some reason, Rook had an icebox, not a refrigerator. You didn’t know what it was at first, and you felt like it was rude to open random cabinets in a strange man’s cabin, so you left it alone until he informed you that there were usually fresh vegetables inside.

You’d sit next to the potbelly stove and sip tea as you stared out the window at the snow. This winter was going on for far too long, and it always seemed to be dark here, but you didn’t know where “here” was.

Rook would stomp back in, snow caked along the feather in his hat and melting off the brim, and he’d cast you a smile before swishing into the basement. When he’d return, he’d guide you back to the bed and sit at the table himself, writing furiously… until recently.

Last night, he’d led you back to the bed after checking your wound and changing the bandage, but instead of taking a seat at the table and writing, he slipped into the bed beside you. You didn’t know it at the time, but this would be the precedent for the rest of your life.

“What are you doing-”

“Shh, shh. Relax, cheri. I will recite a poem for you.” He curled his arms around you, holding your aching head to his chest as he whispered.

“What?” You were fatigued, still recovering from your injury, but you struggled to break out of his hold anyway.

He shushed you again, his deceptively slim arms keeping you immobile, and then he began to speak, quiet and steady, “My darling is silent. Quiet as the night.”

“R-Rook…”

He continued speaking as though you hadn’t said anything at all, “Mon orilles sont pauvres faute de sa douce voix.

As I look at that sweet face,

Beautiful as a flower, as the moon, as the blood in our veins,

Je me sens seule dans ma peau.”

You… are not amazing at French. A small English to French dictionary was left on the table whenever Rook left, but reading made your head swim, pangs of pain so bad that you had to rest immediately. But, from what little you understood, the man who had saved you from a cold death outside seemed to have something worse planned for you, if you were in fact this “darling” he spoke of.

You definitely do not like it here. You’d made the mistake of pushing Rook’s increasing affections away every chance you got, resulting in him reading your reluctance to be around him as hostility. You’d gone to cut some vegetables and found that all the knives were replaced with children’s safety cutlery. While you could very well still cause damage with them, you couldn’t do anything life-threatening without a lot of effort and no fighting back. The serrated plastic edges were only good for cutting through the flesh of fruits and tender meats, and the rounded tips meant you couldn’t really pierce anything.You couldn’t even skin a fish that Rook came back with, he did it with his hunting knife after watching you struggle for an irritatingly long time.

And then there’s the cellar. You had taken a nap after trying to read and woken up, the sky dark as usual and a terrifying grinding, clunking noise coming up from the basement. You felt like you needed to hide, so you did. You crawled under the bed and waited, the basement door flying open and a few more candles getting lit echoing as the grinding noise- the sound of something big and heavy being dragged- moved further back towards the area of the cabin that you didn’t go in usually. There wasn’t much over there except for a wardrobe, and you didn’t like opening cabinets here. It stopped being about politeness a while ago, and had turned into the fear of finding something you didn’t like.

When you heard the front door open and close, felt the frigid rush of air that entered the cabin, you felt like you were frozen as well. You couldn’t move as you heard the sound of water being poured, and you worried for a while that you would start to feel the wooden floor beneath you grow cold and wet. Instead of wet floors, however, you saw Rook’s feet- you could only tell because of the freckle that peeps over his sock on his left leg and the fine blond hairs prickling from his skin- in your narrow window of vision from where you were cowering.

“Cheri… come out from under there.”

You did, but you did so slowly. As soon as you were no longer under the bed, Rook pulled you to your feet and looked at your face. He’d never made such a serious expression before, not that you’d seen, and it made you feel a bit panicked.

“R-Rook, what was all that noise?”

His face smoothed and he let go of you, then he waved towards the dark corner of the cabin.

“I’ve run a bath. The water is warm, lapin, so you’d best get in before it cools.”

You did feel grimy, and since you were okay with standing and walking around for longer periods of time now, as compared to the first few weeks you were here, you jumped at the prospect of getting clean. You quickly undressed, knowing it was dark enough that Rook probably couldn’t see you, and climbed into the warm water. You couldn’t see if there was any soap, but as you were squinting into the darkness, kneeling in the tub as you leaned forward over the side, you felt something brush against your back. When you turned around, you shrieked like an owl and had a very intense internal dilemma.

Rook was seated in the tub behind you, or in front of you now, since you were facing him. He produced a bar of soap and began washing himself, dipping his head under the water so he could wash his hair as well. You couldn’t help but blankly stare at him, eyes wide as he acted so casual. This had been a problem for a while, actually, but never so severe as this. Rook was overly familiar with you, he touched you as though you had been married or were close friends, and apparently now he thought it was fine for you to share a bath. His eyes met yours in the dark corner, and he possibly smirked. You couldn’t quite see, but you could hear it in his voice.

“Ah, mon cher, did you need the soap? But you can’t see very well, can you? Come and let me wash your supple skin.”

A moment before he said that, you were debating if you should get out of the tub or something. You couldn’t tell if it’d be better to be ogled as you dressed or if staying under the water would give you a bit more modesty. After he said that, his arms reaching for you, you began to stand up. Although it was dark, you still saw his eyes flash, saw a slight movement in his wrist, and you were brought to your knees. It felt as though vines were wrapped around you, and you tilted forwards into your captor’s chest as your balance failed you in the dark water of the tub.

This man was a mage. You didn’t think you’d ever met one before, but you couldn’t remember. You wailed and begged for him to let you go as he began to gently wash you, but he simply shushed you and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

You absolutely hate it here. As you chopped carrots for the stew you had decided to make, you wondered where you were from or where you were going, and hoped someone knew you had never shown up and was looking for you. You didn’t think that was the case, however.

“That does smell divine, trickster.” Rook said, walking up the stairs from the basement, “Et vous êtes terriblement mignonne, portant ce petit tablier adorable et préparant le dîner…”

“I can’t cut the meat well with this. Can I have an actual knife, please?”

Rook didn’t answer, leaning against the wall and watching as you chopped the carrots with some difficulty. He looked pleased, though whether it was with you or the situation remained to be known. When he finally pushed off of the wall, he wrapped one arm around your front, burying his face in your hair as his other hand slid down your thigh.

“Get off of me!” You tried to slash his arm with the knife, but it barely even scratched his skin, and the hand that was resting on your waist came up to crush your dominant hand so you’d drop the knife.

Panic spiked through your veins as he slipped his hand up your leg so he could slide it in the waistband of the pants you were wearing. His hand that was crushing yours lowered to hold your wrist against the counter.

You’d never tried this before, but when his lips pressed against your neck, you felt your breath hitch and you let out a desperate cry for help.

Rook laughed in response and nipped your neck, his teeth pinching your skin between them. His hand in your waistband smoothed down your pelvis to gently massage your sex, and you screamed again, thrashing and flailing so he would let you go.

Despite him never quite showing this side of him to you before, Rook was something of a strategist. As far as you could tell, it hadn’t been that long since you’d gotten here, if your head injury was anything to measure time by.

“Relax, ma crevette. You are still recovering, no? Allow this lowly hunter to take care of your body.”

Your head hurt and you felt dizzy as he stoked your arousal. A disconnect between your mind and body grew into a chasm and you began to bawl as a pressure built up in your core. Your head was spinning, it felt as though your brain was throbbing, and you shuddered and wept as Rook peppered kisses on your cheek. He had you pressed solidly against the counter, his body keeping you more or less still. His breath was hot on your skin, and you felt like you were in hell.

“Come, trickster. The soup can wait. Je dois t'avoir.”

“No!”

Rook paid you little heed as he dragged you backwards towards the bed, and while you were expecting him to just throw you onto it before he assaulted you, he gently swept you off of your feet and laid you down. That was where his mercy ended, however, if it could even be called mercy here. That knife that was pressed to his thigh, still warm from his skin and him doing whatever he did in the basement, was quickly unsheathed and trailed lightly up your sternum.

“Not struggling any longer, mon petit lapin? I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses.” His blade slid back down and he used a finger to help hook it under the hem of your shirt, cutting through the fabric as though it was nothing, “And I am sure you must be confused, but a little… exercise is good for your condition.”

You wanted to vomit, but Rook’s gloved hand cupped your chin. His knife felt cold against your now bare skin, and your breath hitched as you sucked in and held it, your eyes looking down at where Rook had his knife.

One of his leather-covered fingers tapped your cheek, and you looked back up at him. He smiled sweetly and sat up a bit, his blade still pressed flat against your stomach, right over your navel. He caught the fingertip of his glove in his teeth and yanked that glove off, tossing it to the side and passing the knife to his now bare hand. As he leaned forward to hover over you once more, his knife pressed under your chin and his gloved hand slipped into your pants, shifting lower than your crotch to prod at your poor ass. You closed your legs tighter in panic, and Rook tutted at you as though you were an unruly child.

“Come now, cheri, you should relax.” He whispered, leaning closer to press a kiss against your forehead, where you’d hit your head and how you’d gotten into this whole mess. “Plus vous êtes tendu, plus la douleur est forte…”

“D-don’t do this, don’t-” Your voice sounded so shaky, and you realized that you were trembling. Every time you made the slightest movement, you could feel the sharp edge of Rook’s hunting knife against your chin.

“Open your legs, Trickster. I’m not touching you for my benefit… although your faces of bewilderment and pleasure are quite sweet.” His finger circled the tight ring of muscle around your anus and you slowly relaxed.

“Wh-why are you d-doing…?”

Rook smiled sweetly and removed his finger from your anus slowly, instead dragging your pants down your legs and relaxing his hand with the knife against your neck. When your lower half was mostly bare above the knee, he pressed two fingers into your ass and slowly massaged you from the inside, tilting his head as his face fell.

“After I graduated from NRC, I did not think I’d see your darling little form again. It was a welcome surprise… but I don’t suppose you know what I’m talking about.” He mused, reaching over your head to grab something. He opened the little bottle with one hand, the slippery liquid cold on your asshole as he resumed his gentle fingering, “You don’t remember me in the least. Do you?”

You felt so woozy and scared, but it explained so much if he knew you… but that didn’t matter. He was still a stranger to you, and one who was currently preparing to do more terrible things to you.

“Heh… I did think so.” Rook quickly unbuckled his pants and tugged them down just enough to free himself. He pulled back away from you to seat your thighs on his own, his cock slowly inching into your poor hole. His knife slid away from your neck but remained in his grip as he slowly slid his hips forward, his opposite hand holding your ass.

Your vision was white for a moment, and when it returned it was blurry. Were you crying? You could hear loud, shuddery breathing, and it took a moment for you to figure out that it was coming from you. Rook sighed peacefully, as though this was a walk in the park for him.

“Aw… I do not enjoy harming you, trickster.” Rook murmured, his hips slowly beginning their undulating motion. He shushed your pained sounds, “This is my love for you. You’ve only grown more beautiful these past few years.”

You winced and pushed against him, your feet shifting so you could try to kick him away, and his knife came back to rest against your collarbones. His hips rocked a little faster, every pump leaving a burning stretch that only felt like it doubled over onto itself.

“Did you know? How I felt for you, how I longed for your touch all those years ago? These three on my own… they have been l'écrasement de l'âme. I’ve had far too much time to- Putain, tu n'es pas du tout détendu…” Rook wheezed and grunted, dark and low.

You felt a pit in your lower belly, and you grabbed the wrist that had the knife, your watering eyes wide as you looked up at this man who apparently knew you.

“Please, petit, you have to… fuck- you must unclench, or this will not last much longer.”

His demand was probably one of the most ridiculous things you’d heard. You couldn’t relax. He had a knife to your throat, he was rearranging your guts, and he had chosen just now to inform you that he was aware of at least a portion of your past. You made this strange whining shriek noise, and Rook’s hand holding the knife slipped ever so slightly.

It was unclear as to whether or not he did that on purpose, especially since he removed the blade from your skin and lasciviously lapped at the small cut on your collarbone, his lips trailing up to your ear.

“Préparez-vous, car je vais déposer mon amour dans votre estomac en attente.”

The sentence itself was honestly quite jarring, but Rook groaned loudly into your ear and nearly folded you in half as he came inside of your ass. It felt hot and sickly, and the musky smell of Rook’s skin and sex permeated the room. Your head panged, woozy throbs that made your stomach churn. Rook dragged his body up and gently teased your sex with his gloved fingertips, his murky green eyes glued to yours.

“Wh-”

“Did you truly think I would not give you the same bliss you have given me?” He mumbled, “You really don’t remember me, then.”

As he pulled out of you and stroked you to your own orgasm, he smiled sadly.

"Don't worry, trickster. You will remember in time."

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