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silverflame2724 · 3 years

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WWX decides to kill two birds with one stone and with the help of WQ reforges the Stygian Tiger Seal into a artificial golden core replacement which she implants into WWX.

WWXs eyes are now permanently red and he has the full power of the seal at his fingertips at all times because its part of him now.

Another side effect of this Stygian Core is discovered when WWX misses JZXs ambush and is instead attacked and disembowled in Carp Tower in full view of the cultivation world but then immediately regenerates without a scratch and blood ruined robes.

Watching WWX be more annoyed at the bloody robes than being disembowled because the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation has apparently cultivated to immortality USING RESENTMENT shakes a lot of people.

“Huh.” Wen Qing says as she observes yet another failure of Wei Wuxian’s inventions quite literally blow up in his face. “So this Seal of yours protects you?”

Wei Wuxian coughs from the smoke of his busted invention, “Well, yeah. What about it?”

“It’s sentient, correct?”

“Yeah....?”

“Hmm.” Wen Qing observed the Seal slowly bobbing up and down. “Can you circulate resentful energy through the Seal for a moment? Don’t make it do anything. Just channel resentful energy through it like you would if you channeled spiritual energy normally.”

“Okayyy??” Wei Wuxian was perplexed but nevertheless obeyed and watched as Wen Qing’s eyes brightened. “What? What is it? Wen Qing, tell meeeeee! Don’t leave me out!!!!!”

“Brat, I’m trying to concentrate.” She scolded him, but her tone was fond.

Wei Wuxian waited a few more moments before it seemed like Wen Qing had seen enough.

“I want you to calm down when I say this, but I think you can reforge the Seal into a core which I can transfer into you.”

Wei Wuxian was silent......for about two seconds. “............What?”

Wen Qing sighed. “Wei Wuxian, when you channeled resentful energy through the Seal, the Seal acted much like how it would if someone were to channel spiritual energy through their core. The Seal can be made into an artificial core is what I’m saying.”

“I.....you are sure?” Wei Wuxian asked. He knew Wen Qing wouldn’t joke about this.

“Yes. I’m about eighty percent sure this will go well. I can even knock you out when I cut you open this time.”

“I.....okay.” Wei Wuxian was at a loss for words.

“So I’ve rendered you speechless.” Wen Qing smiled. “That kinda feels good.”

Wei Wuxian pouted.

...........

It took a few days to reform the Seal into a form that would resemble a core but Wei Wuxian was a genius and having Wen Qing there to bounce ideas off of helped in giving him a clue as to how a core should look and feel like.

“Are you ready?” Wen Qing asked.

Wei Wuxian, who was one hundred percent not ready, said, “Yes.”

Wen Qing saw through this. “It will be alright.” She squeezed his hand. “This time, it will be alright.”

That was the last thing he heard before he was knocked out.

When he awoke, his eyes had burned for a little before the pain dissipated.

Wen Qing had been in the midst of declaring the operation successful when she suddenly paused, “Huh.”

“What is it?” He asked nervously. Did something go wrong?

“Oh.....it’s, hmm. A’ Ning, get me some water, will you?”

Wen Ning returned not long later and locked eyes with Wei Wuxian. He seemed quite startled and that made Wei Wuxian even more curious. Based on Wen Qing’s reaction, it wasn’t anything bad, but still.....

“Wei Wuxian.”

“Yes?”

“Look at your reflection and you’ll understand why A’ Ning and I looked startled.”

Wei Wuxian did.

And he was shocked to see that his eyes have now become a brilliant shade of red. “What the hell?”

“Mmhm.”

“Why are my eyes red???”

“Well, Wei Wuxian, I’m not sure if anyone’s told you, but you’re aware your eyes turn red everytime you use demonic cultivation, right?”

“Umm, no??”

“Well, they do. And considering what your core is, well. I’m not entirely surprised this happened. It was certainly unexpected though.” She finished cleaning up and left Wei Wuxian to just sit and admire his reflection.

...................

A week and some carefully supervised experiments later, Wei Wuxian had full control over his core. It was really just the same thing as how one would normally use a golden core, so it didn’t take long for him to get the hang of it. However, considering his core is the Seal, he also had the ability to control thousands of corpses and this time without any of the side effects.

He also spent time trying to get Suibian to respond to him using resentful energy. Considering that the sword was a spiritual sword, he was unsure of the compatibility but Suibian seemed to adapt well enough and Wei Wuxian was so glad he didn’t have to give up ever using his beloved sword again.

The next step on his agenda was to update the wards. Using the power of the Seal to strengthen it was a walk in the park and Wei Wuxian finally felt like despite how the cultivation world was always on the verge of killing him and the Wens, they’d be safe. The wards would hold out.

He then started absorbing all the deep-seated resentment in the soil to make it more fertile as well as trying to clear the Burial Mounds resentment by listening to the stories of the dead and helping them pass on. He also painstakingly dug up all the strewn about corpses, burned them and held proper funeral rites for them.

The crops flourished, the Wens and him were well-fed, and the Burial Mounds started to lighten up. Wei Wuxian no longer looked to be on the verge of death and he was able to cultivate without any problem.

Like this, time passed peacefully.

..........................

He was invited to his nephew’s one month celebration not long later and Wei Wuxian decided that this would be a good time to show the cultivation world that he truly is the grandmaster of demonic cultivation they all claim him to be. (In truth, he never considered himself to be any sort of grandmaster considering how little he knew of demonic cultivation, but it was different now.)

He told Wen Ning and the other corpses - of the resentful spirits that stayed behind saying they wanted to help him - to watch for any Jins since he trusted they’d take this chance to attack the Burial Mounds.

After he put on a concealing talisman for his eyes - since he knew that his different eye color would make a huge uproar -, he took to the skies with Suibian and nearly teared up. He’d missed flying. He’d missed this feeling. Laughing happily, he circulated the resentful energy in his core and sped up, becoming a black blur as he flew straight over Qiongqi Path.

When he landed at the foot of Koi Tower, invitation in hand, the Jin guards seemed surprised to see him there but had to let him in, not wanting to offend him.

Jiang Yanli-- no, it was Jin Yanli saw him and waved excitedly, beckoning him over. Out of his sight, Jin Guangyao and Jin Guangshan seemed surprised to see him there.

“A’ Xian!”

“Shijie!” The form of address slipped out.

Her face softened. “You made it!”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

The whispers of the people around him, wondering why he was there, surrounded him, but he ignored it. “Shijie, here’s my present!”

She looked at the bell with a little bit of wonder. “What does it do?”

“It’ll ensure that high level resentful beings and below won’t be able to move!”

“Oh, A’ Xian! This is perfect.”

“Thank you.” Jin Zixuan said, awkwardly. Wei Wuxian had forgotten he was there.

“No need! If it’s for Shijie’s son, I’d do anything!”

“He’s my son, too.”

Wei Wuxian made a face at that. “Well, yeah.”

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng called and then stopped. “You have your sword?”

Wei Wuxian shrugged, “Yep!” He twirled around. “I started picking Suibian up again! But let’s not focus on that, Jiang Cheng!”

Jiang Cheng seemed hesitant but dropped it readily enough as they started bickering like they used to.

Suddenly--

“Wei Wuxian!” Someone yelled.

Wei Wuxian groaned. Can one day go on without someone yelling my name with hatred??? Like, please??

“Yeeeeeees?” He drawled tiredly.

And some Jin guy that vaguely looked like Jin Zixuan stomped in, looking murderous. “You, remove the curse that you put on me!!”

Murmurs started up all around them.

“Curse?” Wei Wuxian looked confused. “What curse? And who are you anyway? Am I supposed to know you from somewhere??”

“You know who I am!!”

“No, I don’t actually.” Wei Wuxian scratched his head as he walked forward to get a better look. He really didn’t know!

“That’s Jin Zixun.” His shijie said, coming up to him. “From the Phoenix Mountain hunt?” Before Wei Wuxian could say anything, she continued. “The one that was supposed to apologize to you.”

“Hmm?” Wei Wuxian thought really hard. “Oh! I remember you now!” He said to a rather red-faced Jin Zixun. “Sorry about that buddy, but uhh I didn’t curse you! I didn’t even remember you until now!”

“It must be you! It has to be you!!” He screamed and it was really grating on his nerves. “See! Look at this!” He ripped his robes open and everyone gasped at the evidence of the Hundred Holes curse on his torso.

Wei Wuxian whistled. “Well, that’s quite some curse. But I still didn’t do it.” Jin Zixun looked ready to refute so he continued, “Why would I curse you secretly when I usually make a big production of those I kill?”

People had to admit he had a point.

Jin Zixun continued to scream expletives until he finally rushed forward and in a rather bold move, drew his sword, plunging forward. However, in his anger, he completely missed his target and the direction of the blade pointed towards Jin Yanli.

“A’ Jie!!” Jiang Cheng screamed

Wei Wuxian was the closest to her and pushed her back, stepping in front of her taking the sword to his gut.

“A’ XIAN!!!” “WEI WUXIAN!!” “WEI YING!!” Jin Yanli, Jiang Cheng, and Lan Wangji, who was actually there, all screamed.

And Wei Wuxian who had just been disemboweled, grit his teeth and pulled out the sword. Which, in hindsight, was a horrible decision since blood got everywhere. Though not so much when his stomach stitched itself back together. “................Huh.” I knew I regenerated quickly considering how often I got hurt plowing the fields and digging up the corpses to put them to rest, but damn that was quick. Though..... “My robes!” He fake-cried, turning his attention to a stunned Jin Zixun. “You ruined my robes! I just managed to scrounge up enough money to buy this new pair and you ruined them!!!!” He fretted over the large rip over his abdomen. “What am I going to tell Wen Qing? She just told me not to stain them!”

The entire cultivation just stared at him in silent shock, making Wei Wuxian feel a little self-conscious.

“Uhh, what are all of you staring at me for?”

“Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng said with all the patience of an exasperated brother. “Is that the only thing you can ask?!” He glared, signaling for two Jiang disciples to restrain Jin Zixun from anymore stupid ideas he’d like to enact. “When did you cultivate to immortality?”

“I didn’t??? What do you mean??”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan said, checking him over. “Are you alright?”

“Hmm? I’m a little dizzy considering all the blood I’ve lost, but it’s nothing big!” He grinned. It felt nice to have Lan Zhan care for him rather than fight with him.

“Wei Wuxian, stop flirting with Hanguang-Jun and answer the damn question.”

Wei Wuxian turned his attention back to his brother and pouted at him, missing Lan Wangji’s red ears. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“A’ Xian.” Shijie said and Wei Wuxian abruptly realized her robes had his blood on them.

“Shijie, I’m sorry I got your robes dirty!”

“It’s fine.” She patted him. “But A’ Xian, I know you didn’t pay attention to those lectures, but only immortals can heal from wounds like that that quickly.”

“Really?”

“Mn.” Lan Zhan confirmed.

“Huh. So I’m immortal?”

“Yes.” Jiang Cheng deadpanned. “And you didn’t even notice it. In true Wei Wuxian fashion.”

Lan Zhan frowned then. He had still been checking Wei Wuxian’s pulse. “Wei Ying, what happened to your core?”

“Hmm? .........Oh shit.”

“Why is it covered in resentment?”

“Oh. Umm.” Wei Wuxian really was at a loss for words now. “We can discuss that later?”

“Wei Ying.”

“Aiya, how do you make my name sound like reprimand?”

“Don’t try to deflect the conversation.” Jiang Cheng said, now paying attention.

Wei Wuxian groaned. “Okay. Well, everyone would have found out sooner or later but umm. I might have cultivated to immortality accidentally via demonic cultivation? Haha, ha......”

No one laughed with him. They all looked pretty shaken and Wei Wuxian wanted to laugh at their reaction. He felt pretty detached from it all, to be honest.

“Can we all just forget about this and continue celebrating Jin Ling’s one month celebration?”

And everyone collectively said, “No.”

“Aww.”

___________________

To this day, I’m still unsure of whether it’s Carp Tower or Koi Tower.

#mdzs #wei ying #wei wuxian #wen qing #immortal wei wuxian #fluff #wei wuxian has a new core #but it's not a golden core #wen remnants #jiang cheng #jiang wanyin #jiang yanli #jin zixuan #jin zixun #humor #lan zhan #lan wangji #mild warning for blood

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animefreak1145 · 3 years

Text

For Whom the Bell Tolls(Adler x Bell!Reader)

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Chapter 3| How Little We Know of What There is To Know

Chapter Summary:

Pretending and being numb is the key.

Yet Adler always manages to bring some emotion out of you.

Cold War Reset AU| Undertale Reset AU

Warnings: Torture, Brainwashing, Manipulation, Possible Non-Con/Dub-Con, Trauma

A/N: Where pineapple is the nectar of the gods and scars are lightning.

“Bell”

Second Life

23:09 | February 25, 1981

CIA SAFEHOUSE E9, “DIE LANDEBAHN”

You rubbed your dry eyes as you stared at your notes all over the desk you’ve chosen as your little corner, the large bulky computer taking up space but you’ve made do by moving the brick that is the keyboard as much as you could off to the side. Your papers held inks of different colors—although they were only red, blue, and black and yellow highlights—and you had a stack of folders behind the computer that were from the CIA and MI6 archives. You had Kraus’ ledger off to your side, headphones on top of it for you to hear the audio of U.S. cities and numbers. Your fourth mug of coffee of the day was already gone and you would grab another just to enjoy the warm liquid to go down your throat instead of the caffeine itself, you were always one of late night’s either way.

The safehouse was quiet outside the hum of the generator and the lights above. Most of the crew gone. Outside of your absent tapping of a pen against your messy notes and the white of a nearby fan for extra circulation, the main open area of the safehouse was a desert.

If you focused deeply, you can hear mumbles and murmurs that you can’t make out coming from the office. Adler has been in there for awhile talking over the phone. To who, you don’t know but you have your suspicions. You just hope the subject is not about you being suspicious—the talk on the roof was a slight on your part earlier.

You truly don’t know what came over you. But you need to watch your mouth and expressions. Adler is perceptive, deadly and ever watchful of a person’s micro expressions and body language.

You can’t mess up.

A shot rings. And a heart splinters.

“It was never personal.”

You really can’t.

Which is why, you have been focused solely on decoding the entire day. Your eyes scanning and assessing the acquired Intel from the Volkov mission for Operation Chaos and Operation Red Circus. You have the knowledge on how to solve them but you are lacking needed Intel to help finish Operation Red Circus.

Operation Chaos was tricky. With two pieces of evidence outside of the newspaper, it being the audio log and the paper that had the coded message. Earlier in the morning, you wrote down all the possible numbers the missing parts of the code be—trying to find the pattern in the set of red and blue numbers. You were writing down the possibilities, your paper looking chaotic with arrows and numbers and cities that could coincide with said numbers.

After the quick checkup of your head with Adler, all firm and gentle touches with you keeping your eyes to the side or down as he fulfilled why he got the alias Doc—treatments of gun wounds and cuts to bayonets, complete trust he’ll take care of you as he would lecture or tighten a bandage a tad too tight in reprimand due to a reckless action—and kept quiet as he did so outside of a soft yes or no when he asked about the pain, you moved to go to work. Ignoring the feel of his gaze on you as you did so. Park coming to your desk after you moved your stuff from the center table to your chosen corner to begin, papers already everywhere and scattered as you tried to organize it in a manner you could only understand, a mug close to her mouth and a cocked brow at the mess.

“There’s a way to keep it a bit more clean and less like a junk pile,” the British woman said, amused as you made a distracted sound, squinting at the coded language in your hand as papers rustled. “And when I gave you my advice, I didn’t think you would take it so seriously. There’s a better desk you could’ve chosen as your own, Bell.”

You blinked, giving Park a confused look.

“Advice?”

Park making an obvious glance to the center table in front of the evidence board, you automatically following it. Only to turn back to your paper once you noticed Adler’s form by the table, cigarette in his hand as he stared down at his own files.

"From one woman to another, give him a wide berth."

“. . . I just needed some space to focus. I’m sure Adler wouldn’t like all my papers everywhere around him either way.” You could still feel the ghost of his touch on your head and your hand. You wanted to erase it. “But I don’t mind staying close just in case. Easier to hand things to you or him whenever I’m done.”

“Someone sounds confident,” Park commented with a sip of her coffee, making your own lips twitch for a moment as you replied that you are the best as you moved some papers around. Than, in a quiet murmur with a quick dart back to Adler’s direction, “Distractions are best to be avoided. . .”

“What was that?” You asked, placing everything in a pile as well trying to keep some of them up by leaning the papers on the computer screen and failing as they slid down. You heard Park release an exasperated humored huff through her nose just as you heard her step away only for you to have a black leather gloved hand in your face with sticky notes. “What is. . .”

“Oh come now. I am sure it’d be easier if you used these. Make sense of this chaos. I guess there is some fact of what people say about geniuses and their rooms,” she motioned the sticky note pad again as you stared at it. The papers were yellow but new. Unused, outside of a crinkle at an edge.

“Where am I?”

“Who am I?”

“What is happening?”

“Why can’t you remember?”

“D o y o u h e a r i t ? ”

“Who is Perseus?”

“Tell me who I am!”

Blood forms the words, as if with a finger.

“They want to kill you.”

“Make it stop.”

“MK”

Words pressed on the page, over and over and over with harsh penmanship and you don’t understand what’s happening. What is this room? And that man. . . Why does it hurt? Is this helping Russell?

Pain

Pain Pain боль

боль

Pain Pain

боль

Pain Pain Pain

боль боль

It hurts.

GlockeGlockeGlockeG̷̟̩͙̏͌ḽ̸̊̿o̵̦̓͝c̵̭̯̊́ḱ̷̛̼͌͊e—

You turned away back to your papers, jaw tight.

“I’m good. Sticky notes can be a pain. Thank you, Park.” Park lowered her hand, giving you a questioning stare in the back of your head. You sighed, turning your head over your lowered shoulders. “I’m going to try to finish this today but I think I’m missing a few pieces of Intel. You can give me other things to decode for MI6 in the meanwhile.”

Park frowned delicately, lowering her mug.

“That sounds like a hefty workload. And I believe it would be best if we put all our focus into Perseus for now.”

No. You have to be useful.

“It’ll be fine,” you say, searching for a paper and giving it to her while Park grabbed it. “I solved that part of the code already. The other intel we got from Kraus, I’m going to need more information in order to figure out who exactly can be Strong Man, Bearded Lady, and the Juggler. I can’t go forward with that so might as well help with other codes you guys may have trouble with. What did you imply?” You ask with faux curiosity, your lips twitching up before falling as you wrote something down. “That I’m a genius?”

“Smartarse.” Park retorted, although she seemed to still hesitate but eventually she gave you three files where they seemed to be having trouble. You getting to work immediately to help as Park walked away and you hearing later on Park and Adler head to the office.

You did your best to not think too much of it. You have to keep at your work and make sure you’re capable and on task. You rather not get jabbed.

“We got a job to do.”

And although it might be inevitable, you would rather not have those words said to you as well. Even if it didn’t seem to have the same affect as before, the feeling and how your thoughts seemed to blur came back. Being aware you moved like a puppet and were one all along is not what you would like to focus on.

After you finished two of MI6’s files—had to do with KGB and how interesting they would use some quotes of Oscar Wilde’s 1984 hidden in the code as if the man was in support of communism with the work—with a hum mixed with impressed and curiosity from Park as she looked at the solved papers, your nose twitched at the scent of smoke and leather as you worked on the last MI6 folder.

“Stealing away my protege, Park?” Your hand around the pen paused before continuing, a plume of grey gathering above you. “And here I thought we have an equal partnership when it comes to this whole Perseus business. At least tell me you’re not wasting her time?”

“I wouldn’t call it stealing if she’s willing,” Park easily replied before handing him the two files to look over that you did, Adler scanning through it as she continued. “And it still has to do with our red friends. You sure are quick with the ball, Bell.”

“It’s nothing,” you say quietly, “Can’t exactly go forward so might as well help you with other codes that others can’t solve. Just send anymore my way. You too, sir.”

Adler made a distant hum, closing the files and handing it back to Park. You felt his stare at the back of your neck as you stared at the paper in front of you that might as well be nonsense since you sensed him.

Look at him, pup.

“If you wanted a more exciting challenge Bell, you could’ve asked. Always the type to leave no stone unturned and show off.”

“‘More exciting challenge’?” Park repeated, “Think MI6 codes are all flowers and rainbows compared to those in the CIA, Adler? I believe I recall that it was only Bell that could be able to solve the dossier instead of anyone else within your organization.”

Yeah, cause you brainwashed me, you thought bitterly but the two kept going as you could only sit in between. Nice to have to be a witness between these two again.

“Bell is the best CIA decoder we have,” you tightened your jaw in surprise instead of to tense when his hand landed on your shoulder, a gentle squeeze—in comfort, in belief, in trust, in camaraderie, in everything but what you wanted and what you needed, in order to control— as you lowered the paper in your hand. “As well as having a wide range of other skills. You think I would just call in any brain dead desk sitter for this operation?”

You could see in your mind’s eye how dizzy you would get before due to all this praise. Now, you just do your best to press your lips as your chest tightened.

You felt Park shift behind you, her looking at you in appraisal.

“You are one of a kind, Bell. Shame you were born in the wrong country. Having to have Adler here as your superior.”

You huffed through your nose in dry amusement at that. Irony not lost on you.

What a curse indeed.

You turned in your chair finally, lips quirked that didn’t quite meet your eyes as you pointed your thumb towards Adler.

“You should’ve seen him in ‘Nam if you think he’s bad now. Always with the lectures.”

You felt Adler release you, watching as he took an inhale as he did a small shrug in disinterest.

“You can be stubborn, Bell. If I couldn’t beat it out of you, I’ll talk it out of you.” You looked up and you could sense his eyes looking down at you behind those shades. “Although I feel like sometimes I’m wasting my breath. Your recklessness borders on insanity.”

“I think I can see why they put the both of you together than,” Park said, brow arched towards Adler and a certain look in her eyes towards him you couldn’t quite read. It looked like a warning. But what could that look be for? “Insanity breeds insanity as they say.”

They left you after that, you waving off Adler asking if you need a break. He took that as the okay to bring you CIA files for you to decode. Seems he has no trouble using you dry if you’re going to insist on it. Despite that, you took them and you were able to solve three.

Park came back towards your desk and saying you could have a break, again, you waved her off. As well as her concern you wouldn’t want to read into—is it real for you and your body, or is some sort of guilt that perhaps they gave you a strong dose for the memory exercise and you’re running on steam, is it fake or real, don’t break the puppet- so you didn’t. You telling Lazar the food you wish and him dropping it by your desk with his own comment that your brain might fall out and you saying you’ll be fine, even threw in a small joke that with his food your brain will be well nourished. Outside of your favorite brand of pumpkin seeds of course. Sims only made a stray comment about the stacks on your desk, getting tall as the day went on and turned to night. You don’t recall if you said something back. You probably did, Sims was always distant—you have trauma that’s not even real and have the gall to have some nightmares about it when he actually went through that horrible war and sees a therapist for it, you don’t know the war—so you would take what you would get.

Everyone eventually shuffled out, Park—her brows looking creased and a purse to her lips—back to the side of your desk before she left and saying you should rest and leave the rest tomorrow.

“I’ll finish the rest today,” you replied, resolute and determined as you wrote the next possible code from this possible radio station an ally of Perseus may be using. “No rest for the wicked. As they say,” you threw out additionally, an echo of her words earlier which made Park raise her brows. “It’s fine. Once I start something, I have to see it through. It helps I can be patient when it counts—at least with this.”

“You seem to take it literally. You’ve been at it since early this morning. You only moved I believe when Lazar brought your food and to use the washroom.” Once you shrugged and said that seems normal to do and you’re fine with that, you heard Park’s tone grow stronger in reprimand. “Yes, you’re fine. Tell me, is Adler stopping you from taking breaks?”

You stopped, looking at Park and her irritated expression.

“No. . . No, it’s just me.” So none of you stick me with that dreadful drug and dig around my brain. So I can show all of you I don’t need it—that you don’t need to do that. That I’m useful and more than an asset. Unneeded assets get thrown away. “I just—just don’t want to disappoint.”

"Disappoint? You've exceeded expectations at every turn, Bell. Disappoint who?"

You didn’t answer, only turned back around and continued with your pen. You heard Park mutter a curse before walking out, giving you a pat to your back and tell you you’re driving back with Adler than since he’s determined to work as well before leaving. Your eyes round down to your desk.

You’ll be alone together with him again.

You took a shaky breath, focusing on the paper in front of you.

You’ll be fine. Just keep what you’ve been doing. Pretend everything is okay.

Pretend his concern—the touch on your shoulders burned as he shook you, as if to erase your dark thoughts out of you, lifting you up with his hand easily with words of a concerned reliable friend commanding officer—is real. And his kindness—why did they save you, you’re useless, what use is an untrained dog—is real too.

Just don’t question it. You’ll go mad.

Mind your tongue as well—control yourself. You used to tease before with faux confidence when the both of you bantered, but you have to watch your spiteful and petty comments. You really don’t want him to give you a dose.

But if you feel like the path is leading you there, you have a way to get at least a semblance of control back.

Puppets don’t control the puppeteer.

“Bell.” You turned in attention, Adler by the center table as he motioned his head towards the garage door, cigarette in hand. “Time to go.”

You nodded once, getting up after fixing up your desk a bit. Grabbing your beanie turned ski mask and placing it back on your head instead of your face and walked over obediently as the both of you walked out through the side door.

Good dogs come when they listen.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ◁ ◁ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

“Come on, you know I hate fruit cake! Just give me your pears, Singer!”

“Sorry, Bell,” Singer grinned, taking a big purposeful spoonful of pears from the can, teeth flashing. “Guess you have to deal with all of that yourself. Too bad you don’t have a connection to those who pass the MCI’s, huh?”

You quietly glared at him with no heat, the act almost making Singer choke on his precious pears that he could’ve given you. The choking action making him spit out some and towards you, you making a noise of disgust as you punched the laughing man harshly to his shoulder as vengeance. It made him wince as the others around the campsite laughed at the two of you—the sun still above and the Vietnam jungle loud with birds and the trees moving against the wind. Although not really a campsite you would say since there no fire. Can’t have any eyes on them to go towards smoke.

‘They know these jungles better than us’ as Adler says.

Speaking of Adler, you turned towards him where he leaned against a thick great Banyan tree local to this country—the trunk thick just like the branches that spiral even to the floor. They were all actually hidden in the alcove of this tree, the space enough for them until they kept going to their destination. A beautiful yet haunting tree with its dark and smooth bark all around. You overheard once by Lee and other South Vietnam soldiers in base that these trees can have spirits inside. Dangerous they said for some of them. You don’t think these ‘spirits’ ever met Adler.

You could see Adler’s lips were up in amusement due to your predicament despite his war paint, raising his brow over his black shades when he noticed your gaze.

Before you even fully lifted your hand with the can of horrendous fruit cake, he shook his head at you, lips going even more into a smile.

“Don’t even try, kid. I fucking hate fruit cake myself,” he adjusted himself against the tree and the gun in his lap. The food of his MCI basically gone outside the crackers and canned pineapple. “Disgusting things. I don’t know who’s bright idea was it to have hard pieces of fruit and dry raisins in cake.”

That’s what you’re saying!

“Please, Adler. I gave you my cigs already, at least give me some of your pineapple?”

Sims laughed beside you, nudging your shoulder with his and shaking his head in disbelief.

“You think Doc is gonna give you some of his golden nectar away? Might as well have asked him to give his cigs along with his lighter.”

“Not happening, Bell.” Adler answered casually, finishing up his crackers and swiping his hands against his pants before moving to the can. “Besides, not like you smoke anyways. The cigs would just sit there pretty in the box if you don’t hand it to me. Unless you want to try to smoke again. It went well last time.”

“Didn’t she choke?” Singer teased around a mocking grin. It made his youthful face boyish and eyes bright. “Almost hacked out a lung didn’t you?”

Larson, who was quiet between Singer and Adler, spoke up. Already finished with his food since he’s been mostly keeping to himself. This is the first official mission he’s had since he got the news. Poor guy.

“I remember that,” Larson said softly, looking towards you and you just took all their teases. You blame Adler. “It was after the drinking game between Butcher and Hamilton. You wanted to see the big deal about why everyone liked the nicotine.”

“Only for Doc to come to the rescue after Bell took one of his cigs,” Sims ended with a shit eating grin. You’ll kill him. “Surprised you’re still here and alive. Not from just avoiding choking on nothing either, but that you took a cig from him.”

“You guys bet that I couldn’t. . .” You muttered with narrowed eyes towards Sims who shushed you.

“What was that?” Adler asked, cocking his head only for Sims and Singer to shake their heads animatedly. Adler hummed doubtfully but dropped it.

“Never mind that! Just—“ You groaned, putting your head on your hands as you still held the can of fruit cake. “You think I can eat this shitty cake? The ‘raisins’,” you said the word doubtfully, “could be actual pieces of shit for all I know. It could explain the taste. And how hard it can be.”

Singer and Sims snorted next to you, on both sides while Larson actually cracked a grin as you raised your head and told them strongly to think about it! Adler shook his head, watching the jungle periodically in the open spaces of the alcove which all of you did to be cautious but the fruit cake debacle must be solved.

You turned your eyes towards Sims, spotting his fruit cocktail. Only for his hand to block it.

“Nope.”

“Come on!” Sims shook his head, opening the can and eating the fruit cocktail and you scowled. “All of you are shitheads. Now I’m gonna have to eat this.”

“Damn straight you do,” Adler reaffirmed, stern yet you could spot he found your curse to all of them, him included, funny based on his arched brows. “No wasting MCI’s. You know the drill, Bell.”

You grunted unhappily at Adler, but you knew he was right. Which is why you wanted to trade in the first place. Food shouldn’t be wasted, no matter how heinous.

You took a spoonful after managing to cut into the hard cake, Sims laughing in your face and you could spot Larson keeping his smile at your disgruntled expression only for it to deepen when you took a bite.

You tried to distract yourself through bites by asking Adler how far away they were from their destination. Adler answering after they reach the next nearest foxhole which is two hours away, it will be another six till they reach where they need to be.

“Hue is a mess right now. With us additional reinforcements, we’re going to aim for stealth and go around and take out as much as we can.” Adler explained as they all attentively listened. They can’t mess up. “We’ve been able to give them a lot of damage last I heard, with one final push of us taking out some of them when they’re scrambling—we’ll consider the Battle of Hue a win. Of course, if there’s more than we can handle, we’ll stick to recon and head back around to tell command at the Hue MACV compound we have there.”

“And the civvies?” Larson asked.

“Don’t shoot ‘em.” Was all Adler said before they all moved to clean up and move on after you and Sims finished up.

You having to force to swallow and chew the cake and packing up the trash. They can’t leave anything else it can be used to track or find them.

Larson, Sims, and Singer were outside the alcove—waiting for you to finish as you smacked your lips as if that could take away the taste in your mouth as you grumbled. You moved to go out where Adler was as he stood by the opening to head out. You spotted something on the ground where he previously sat.

“You left something, sir,” you say, growing near to pick up the can. Huh, it’s not empty.

Adler turned his head over his shoulder, expression questioning.

“Whatcha mean, kid? That’s yours isn’t it?” You frowned, looking down at the can only for your eyes to widen. There was some pieces of pineapple left, a little less than half of the can gone but it’s something. He turned his head back as he muttered. “Don’t expect this to happen again. Not here to spoil you, Bell.”

“Don’t expect you to, sir.”

“Just pick up the trash and move it, kid.”

You grinned, knocking back the can and easily and quickly eating it. The juices spilling down your chin and neck but you didn’t care as you licked your lips. The taste of disgusting shit cake gone.

You packed the can quickly, swiping your chin with the back of your hand as the both of you walked to where the others were.

“Thanks,” you said to him softly.

“For telling you to pick up your trash?” Adler answered easily and you smiled knowingly but let it go.

Such a hard ass.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ▷ ▷ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

The car ride was silent, passing street lights and empty cafe’s whizzing by and enlightening the car for a mere moment before it would be enveloped in darkness once more until the next light comes. You were staring out the window as they passed the streets of Berlin, the sounds of the wiper periodically occurring due to the light rain occurring. Not many people out at this time of night, nearing midnight unless you were a working girl or at the local bar. Some wisps of smoke remained in the car despite Adler on his side having his window slightly open. Your eyes watching as it moved lazily and glancing towards the quiet, relaxed man next to you before you would turn to look back out. Curious to see more of the city besides in the backstreets and being stealthy.

You didn’t see much last night after Volkov, you falling asleep in the car as Park drove you. You were too out of it when they arrived at the hotel, just absentmindedly listening and nodding along to Park’s directions and promptly knocking out once you reached your room on the bed. Only to awake once more at the alarm you or someone else must’ve set early in the morning.

You were focusing on that instead of the last time you were in the car with Adler.

“You’ll like where we’re going. Trust me.”

You took a sneaky glance towards the man once more, just as the man exhaled out a cloud of smoke that you watched. Enraptured in how it moved to and fro lithely, easily as your nose took in the smell before you glanced back at Adler, the side facing you being his ‘good’ side.

You wonder once more of his scar that accentuated this man’s beauty—all harsh lines that created a map that even now you wish to trace. For someone like this to earn the title America’s Monster, all styled wheat hair, suede shades, and an easy, wry tone—it should at least match the title.

Than again, you thought with faltering wax wings and of another—the fall of a devil with none. It was never about his looks was it?

“It’s a small price to pay.”

What does that make you?

“Alright, kid,” he says, taking out of your stupor as you stared fully at the man now. Smoke releasing out his mouth as he spoke, making you lower your gaze to it. “I’ll bite. What do you want to ask me? Must be a juicy question since you keep burning holes to the side of my face.”

Embarrassment colored your face, caught, as you quickly adjusted your gaze to straight ahead and instead watching raindrops going down the windshield.

“It’s nothing.”

“Mmm. For some reason, I can’t believe that. What did I say before?”

You said a lot of things before, you thought with a sad frown. But you knew what he was referring to. Always wants to be the one you tell all your worries and concerns to. Before, you thought it was genuine. Now, you just see it as how it was—a cloak to observe and make sure if your true real memories came or if they needed to give you a dose.

“Your scar,” you began as he tilted his head towards you, hair moving as he did so as he kept his one hand casually to the wheel while the other was leaning against his door. You didn’t get distracted by it. “How’d you get it? There’s a story there.”

“Scar?” He asked in false confusion, still stoic outside of a cocked brow and making your lips twitch up despite yourself. Before motioning with his cigarette hand towards his face. “You mean this? Is it noticeable?” At your unamused huff though your nose, he continued. “Back in ‘73, I was nearly killed by a tiger while on a mission in Malaysia. But human ingenuity still runs the animal kingdom.” He turned his head towards you when they reached a light, his brows rising above his glasses. “You ever been attacked by a tiger, Bell?”

You stared at him in disbelief before releasing a surprised snort. The nerve of this man.

“You’re lying. That’s not from a tiger, it would be worse than that. You and your need to tell stories. . .” You mumbled the last part, you don’t think he heard that.

“Didn’t know you were an expert on tigers, Bell. Got a degree in zoology under your belt that I don’t know about? What makes you think I’m lying?”

“Because—“ That’s not what you said last time. You stopped, a realization going through you. Because of course he’ll lie to you about this too. Worse kind of crowd, your ass. “If you got that from a tiger than I must be a distant cousin of Joseph Stalin.”

“That unbelievable, huh?” He said more than asked, amused at your sarcasm as you looked at him with crossed arms as the car moved once more. “Fine. I’ll give. I jumped on a roof in Calcutta back in ‘75 while chasing a Soviet agent. The jump was successful . . . the landing not so much. Advice: always know where the utility poles are.” At your deadpanned look when he glanced at you, his lips quirked into a humored smirk. “That one didn’t hit the mark for you either? Was it the jump?”

You shook your head, a small groan leaving your lips as you leaned your head against the dashboard.

“Anybody who’s anybody can jump from roof to roof,” you replied, staring at your leather boots—forehead pressed against the dashboard and maintains it there even as they turned or there was a bump. “You know that. Just like you know a utility pole would’ve either choked you or electrocuted you. At least with electrocution it’d be more scars throughout instead of that part of your face.”

“Watch the cockiness, kid.” He reprimanded but than, “You’re right though. Roof jumps the standard when it comes to our work. But you’re really confident that I don’t have any other scars throughout the rest of me. Know something I don’t?” Your eyes darted towards him, wide and as they passed a street light, you noticed he was peering down at you in turn. Your skin burned as you looked away and mumbled no while staring at your very interesting shoes. The man hummed. “How about this. You know what they say about kids falling in with a bad crowd? Let’s just say I fell in with the worst part of a bad crowd. The girl wasn’t worth it, believe me.”

At your silence, he glanced at you.

“What? That’s the one you believe?” You gave a small shrug. When he first told you that, you didn’t ask any more questions. It sounded personal the way he said it. Truthful. Adler always lies. “What makes this one believable? The lack of a specific date or are you a sucker for romance, Bell?”

You threw him a meaningful look up at him. Not feeling the need to say anything. At his arched brow though, you opened your mouth.

“Your ex-wife.” His brow flattened at that. Something shifting in the air. “Was she worth it?”

A beat. A passing of street lights. The pitter patter of rain against the car.

“A romantic than. . .Never saw you as the type.” At your probing stare and his silence, you turned away. Seeing he won’t answer—too private. You’re a fool to even think he will say the truth at all. “Once.” You blinked, turning your eyes back up and lifting your head in attention as America’s Monster—a secret, a peek through the shades, a hint of something real besides the cold, black abyss, what are you Russell Adler—spoke ever so softly. A sardonic turn of chapped lips. “You can say we had a difference of opinion. Not much to it.”

There was more but you will take what you can get.

You thought of the memories you had, of friends you once believed were your own. Of little moments in beaches and camps and villages when all was calm and not chaotic with smell of burnt bodies or blood or how it feels to stab a bayonet through someone’s chest in defense. You could see them as clearly as any other memory you had. And feel it.

You thought of the poor soldier leaving a war only to get into another one in his home country.

“Larson. . .” you murmured, Adler hearing as he released a dry chuckle.

“Sort of like Larson. The poor bastard.” You watched him take a deep inhale, the cigarette almost a near stub. And you realize when that happens, he’s stressed. As stressed as a man like him could be. You’ve seen him in many moments in Vietnam. Not always the best. You wonder if that was another reason for your death. Adler exhaled a puff before having to throw the cigarette out the window with a flick, putting the window all the way up. “I don’t see why you’re so interested either way. Scars aren’t that impressive. Unless you always had a habit about asking for one’s ugly mug.”

You darted up at his eyes, shaded as they were, trying to sense if he was being serious.

Because he couldn’t be.

Not this man, with strikes of lightning upon his face as if Zeus did it himself. All power. Grace. Strength. Different from your barely functioning wax wings as you struggle to fly. Only able to watch and hope a falling demon crashes to its death—all harsh and slow.

What are you, Russell Adler?

Perhaps he is Zeus himself.

Perhaps how Adler got his scar was harsh retribution to control lightning, his scars even mimic those powerful strikes across his face. All strength. And all beauty. Those who survived struck by lightning always have the most beautiful marks upon their skin indicating their survival—you are selfishly bias though. Even now, you admit with self-loathing. The rougher marks on his face is all grace and you could wonder how he truly got it instead of fantasizing him as a God Of Lightning who mistook his own power upon his face.

It would only make sense. Both beautiful men, although you’ve never met the Greek God.

They both also have a habit of hurting women.

He’s all of that, while you could only hope with your squeaky levers and ropes and feathered wax can go up to said Mount Olympus where he was. A naïveté where you think you’re close with tired and sore arms only to be burnt away. A free fall down to the abyss.

Good pups stay in their place.

“You’re joking.” You accuse seriously as you stared up at him, your head against the dashboard but tilted slightly in his direction.

Adler tilted his head down slightly to stare down at you, a brow arched at your look.

“About?”

You didn’t say anything.

Just meaningfully looked up at him through your lashes, staring at his jaw that was strong as if Michaelengelo carefully carved it himself with minute details with his trusted mallet and chisel until dawn with a candle on his head due to determined ingenuity. Observing how the collar of his shirt did not do a good job in hiding his neck, his favorite jacket failing in that too so you could take it in. Not one strand was mussed or out of place on his head, all volume and thickness as your gloved hand twitched by your knee.

You than met the shades, in turn meeting his eyes as your heart seemed to pound as he stared down at you back. A look passing through his eyes too quick for you to catch, besides what you saw in your peripherals. The hand on the wheel tightening an iota as the air shifted to something heavier, blood pumping as your mind thought of reasons as to why which you pushed away. Impossible.

You licked your dry lips nervously, Adler’s expression seeming to tense when his eyes followed the action. You turned away, looking back down except to play with the ends of your gloves, neck hot and spreading.

You still felt his stare before he focused back onto the road.

They didn’t speak the rest of the ride.

Foolish dog should mind their eyes.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ▷ ▷ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

You couldn’t sleep much when you reached your room, another floor to Adler’s and near Park’s, and not just due to how you were more one with the night.

You opened Pandora’s Box—something forbidden coming out into the world as you thought back to the meaningful stare between you and Adler in the car. That even the thought makes your heart pound once more. Your brain further muddling and melting away the more you spend time alone with that man. Whether in being caught in his pace or just the mere thought of what he’s done.

Although, you suppose you already opened a Pandora’s Box. Possibly even darker than the one you discovered.

If the monster in man’s skin was Zeus—he created the box in the first place. Except he wished to hide it from you and keep you willfully ignorant instead of tease you to release envy and greed and disease out in the world. You managed to open it—and it was none of those things, it was cruel and inhumane to you all the same.

Take this needle and follow the story, do the trick.

If only that box stayed close.

Zeus always did like to confuse.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ◁ ◁ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

You let out a heavy sigh, hand mussing your hair harshly as you chewed your lips, staring at the paper on the center table of the safehouse.

“Having trouble?”

You slightly jumped as Adler, who was quiet in the seat across and to the side of you, spoke. Looking mildly curious at all the papers on your side of the table before taking a small puff. You sighed, looking back down at the paper in slight frustration.

“Just a little. Whoever made this code created a difficult to encrypt language. I have some of the numbers though already, it’s just the rest. I’ve never seen such an elaborate one before. . .” You said in thought as you tapped your pen against the paper. “I have to say, it’s impressive.”

Adler hummed idly, taking note of your words.

“Perhaps you need a sort of incentive.”

You moved your eyes up in confusion, wondering what that could mean. Only to stop once you noticed what was in his opposite hand not holding his precious cigarette.

It was a picture—a polaroid specifically. But not just any one. You stared at your oldest friend in the picture, taken on the rooftops in East Berlin, his face tilted down and a level of focus and calm as he stared down below in his crouched position. The lights behind him giving him an ethereal glow, a mix of white, red, and blue as those shades on his face gave a little glint due to it.

You reached a hand to see it better only for Adler to click his tongue, taking the picture back closer to him with a shake of his head.

“Sorry, kid. Can’t exactly be incentive if I gave it to you easily like that. You seem eager though.” Adler arched a brow at you. “Any reason as to why?”

Your cheeks prickle as you cursed in your mind. Why didn’t you get the film from the red room or Park yourself? You thought of a T.V. turning on it’s own, flashbacks to what happened in Vietnam on the screen, the memory sobering you up. You still. . .haven’t told Adler about that. He’ll call you soft and put you solely in the safehouse with no more field missions. You hate his disappointment. Still though, you recall you were determined to get it. A quick in and out but than. . . something? Something. . . happened?

At your brows furrowing deeply, Adler’s own brows furrowed and you answered his silent question as you touched your head.

“Sorry. . . That coma I woke up from still has done a number on me.”

“You did get shot twice, Bell. You have issues with always trying to push me out the way, even back in ‘Nam.” You smiled at his tease. You did have a protective streak. But only for certain people—even if you knew Adler could handle himself, you would do what you must for him if he told you an order. Or even go against it if it involved him doing something stupid like a sacrificial mission. You’d follow him anywhere. “Don’t think too much on it. I’m sure the rest of your memories will come back soon enough. Just remember in the end that mission was a success.”

“Whatever it takes, sir.” You said, a phrase that he spoke often back in the war. Which you would repeat. You would always do what you must.

Adler’s expression shadowed as he nodded once.

“Whatever it takes,” he glanced at the polaroid in his hand, it facing him as he seemed to stare in thought before turning his gaze towards you. Your expression curious as you wondered what he was thinking before he turned the picture back towards you, brow up inquisitively. “Well, Bell? Don’t think you’re going to dodge the question as to why you want this? I went through a bit of trouble to let Park let me have it. She’s stubborn when she wants to be.”

You slightly scowled at him, feeling the blush once more.

You hated when he did that blasted rhyme!

You also had a sense there was more to him asking Park but you were too busy trying to defend yourself. Not think about their daily quiet pissing match.

“I like taking pictures. It’s an art form. Every artist would like to have their own paintings,” you said, tone even and you wanted to pat yourself in the back for that.

Adler rose both his brows now.

“Really?” The way he said it made it seem he doubted you. “Not a photographer. Was never really interested in art either so maybe that’s why I can’t relate. Still. It’s a good picture, my good side and all. Can see why you would want it.”

You restrained yourself from saying what you wanted like last time. That basically you would want that picture even if it was on his scarred side.

“It had good lighting.” You added as Adler stared at his picture, cigarette being held in his lips. He turned back towards you, glasses slightly falling from his nose and you could see a hint of his eyes. A tease. You stared. His lips curved around the cigarrette, amused and indulging. You panicked. “I-It does!”

“I didn’t say anything. But say, the sooner you finish that code, the sooner you can have this—“ he paused, waving the hand with the polaroid”—piece of art of yours. Never thought I would say that but I guess there’s a first for everything.” He pocketed the picture back in his jacket, blowing his smoke away from you before he stood up and headed towards Sims only to add over his shoulder, “I’ll leave you to it. I know you got this.”

You stared as he walked over, the belief he had in you with those words moving around in your brain. You moved back to work, pointedly ignoring Lazar’s whistle—him able to hear some of what occurred no doubt. You threw him an impolite gesture that only made the man laugh as you focused on the code. It took you three tiring and near sleepless nights, but you finished. Adler handing you the photo in between his fingers as you took it gently, trying not to crinkle the photo further as Adler watched you behind his shades as you held the photo, taking a thoughtful inhale of his cigarette before looking away. Looking around their surroundings outside the safehouse. Their break time spot.

“You sure got talent, kid.”

“You should know by now to not doubt me, Russ,” you replied, your eyes still on the photo between your gloved hands. “Only the best of the best with you. Just took me longer than I thought.”

“Watch that confidence doesn’t blind you one day, Bell.”

“You first.”

He chuckled at that, breathless and surprised making you stare up with wide eyes. The sound rare. Adler tapped the end of his cigarette, ash going on the ground as he stared towards the doors of the safehouse, an echo of a smile on his face. Barely there. Others wouldn’t see it, but you’ve known Adler for years.

“You got guts. And spunk. Met my match with you it seems, kid. You know me too well. . .” Adler took a puff, deep as he trailed off, shades dark.

“That’s not a bad thing,” you say, lowering the photo in your hand. “Sims does too. Can’t exactly get rid of us that easy.”

“Sims has been through many missions with me, but not as much as you.” Adler explained calmly. “Some of those, I’m taking to my grave. If I breathe a word about it, I’ll have a bunch of people up my ass.”

You sense as if this was like a conversation from years ago, on a beach. Quiet and away from everyone in the camp, just the two of you talking about realities and soldiers. You think about that memory a lot.

You recall some of the memories he’s referring to.

You half shrugged, pocketing the photo in your bomber jacket as you leaned against the wall of the safehouse.

“What can you do? It was necessary. Besides, I can’t exactly tell anyone else either, Adler. Brutality is sometimes necessary. That’s all I know.” You paused, tilting your head and throwing a teasing smirk his way to get him out this weird mood. “Don’t tell me America’s Monster actually cares what other people say?”

Adler deeply exhaled in exasperation, smoke coming out his nose.

“Don’t tease me, Bell. You know I can’t give a shit.”

“Than what’s the problem? You do what needs to be done. Make the tough calls. You know. . . you know I understand right?” You asked carefully. “I’m with you when it comes to doing what we must. To protect what we need to.”

Adler was silent. He never answered.

You didn’t push him. Didn’t feel the need.

You understood him the best.

Only monsters can see one another, after all.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ▌▌✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

Monsters, you’ve come to know, are also a certain kind of creature that takes what they need.

To want. Selfish and uncaring and you should be concerned at how easily you take in those traits.

Too busy to worry about regular people—the mundane. There are bigger things to be focused on than other’s opinions on what actions are necessary.

You and Adler can give not one fuck about others. They know what they are and will accept the titles from others with a nod.

What you’re coming to find however, that even with monsters, there’s different breeds.

You basically reiterated to him that what he did with you was necessary. Needed. Sound brutality at its finest. You feel like you can’t even argue.

What is better—loyalty to a country or to people?

You’re trapped.

I have a problem. This story is going to be long when it was supposed to be short. Oh well.

Also, hot take maybe, I love both Soft!Adler and Dark!Adler so let’s just have both sides of him shall we? Wait…is Adler truly soft here? Who knows.

DM me if you wish to be tagged please. ^////^

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downywrites · 3 years

Text

I did my best for this one. I hope I did this well!

Link for ask here

Ranboo was annoyed. That he knew for sure, pacing the outsides of Smajor’s office. He muttered as he walked, trying not to forget why exactly he was pissed. His tails swished, dusting the red carpet below him. He huffed lightly. “When is Scott going to let me in? This is getting stupid!” A small growl escaped him as he glanced at the locked door sitting innocently in front of him. “Just come out of there, Scott. I really, really need to talk to you…” Using one of his haunches, he banged on the door again. ‘This is the third time I’ve done this! When is he going to let me in?’ The sound of the latch unlocking made him sight in relief. “Ah, there he is-” A loud bang went off, making the enderman jump.

“HELLO! IT IS I, SMAJOR!...where are you?” The man glanced around dramatically, eyes alight with pep and overzealous energy for just about no reason. He let go of the doorknob, wincing a little at the sight of the dent that was steadily worsening. Ranboo was not impressed. He deadpanned at the other, tails flat on the floor and unmoving. “...Seriously? Couldn’t you be a little more serious here?” He showed the littlest part of his teeth, trying to intimidate the shorter of the two of them. Unfortunately, the gesture bounced right off of him, the rather bombastic man walking towards him and pulling him eagerly into his office. “Come in, come in! It’s been so long since someone wanted to come into my room- I mean, office. Take a seat!” With a snap of his fingers, a chair pulled itself out of the wall, situating itself onto the floor. Ranboo’s bicolored eyebrows raised in surprise, but he spoke not. He didn’t want to show him the interest he had. No, he wanted to persuade the MCC moderator into letting him into the place.

While he babbled on about dinglehoppers and fascinating doodads he had seen on the road while walking last month, he took the time to look around his office. The area was large, as expected of someone who owned so much and had so much power. The whole room screamed smajor, from the loud patterns and decor everywhere, to the carpets below his paws. Itr was obvious that his interior designer told him to do the exact opposite. He shut his eyes, suppressing the urge to wince at the loud textures inverting behind his eyelids. ‘Ow.’

He turned his ears to hear the man again, growling under his breath when he realized he still hasn’t stopped speaking. “...and picture this! Your husband, Ranboo, forgot to touch the lever afterwards!” He hooted with laughter, swiveling around in his chair. “Ohoho, it was hilarious!” Ranboo cleared his throat loudly. “Scott? Could we, uh, talk? Please?” Ranboo was on his last nerves at this point. He had been trying to contact him for ages, and this is the first thing he subjects the hybrid with? Preposterous. His ears pinned back, trying to signify his annoyance without hurting his feelings.

“Well, have you considered the offer I sent you by bird? Or the other three offers by horse? Or that one I delivered to your doorstep personally?” The man leaned forward in his chair, facial expression unreadable. “...hmmm….No, can’t say that I have. Sorry, Oreo man!” Ranboo spluttered indignantly. “What? HOW?” His claws waved about as he angrily gestured at the man, who simply shrugged and giggled to himself. The enderman stopped, taking a breath dramatically. Ears fluttering back and forth in a flurry of emotions, he shut his eyes almost violently. “Okay. As I have asked you several times before, have you at the very least thought of letting me into the MCCs yet? I haven’t done anything to be banned from it, so am I allowed to come in?”

He opened one heterochromatic eye, hope barely visible in the depths of his pupils. Smajor covered his face with his hand. “Oh, dear. Hmmm….” He acted as if he was genuinely thinking about saying yes, stroking his chin. A small pool of magic shut an open window he wasn’t aware of. “....nah.” Ranboo hissed quietly. “Okay, that’s enough. I’m getting the gun.” The man, almost unbothered, adjusted his tie and cleared his throat softly. “Ah. You know, guns are not allowed in my office.” “Who said it was a physical gun?” Seconds of pure confusion passed. “...what?” Ranboo’s chair pushed back slowly, a look of half-concealed malice (?) evident in his dual colored eyes. Smajor was tempted to get out of his seat, but he thought otherwise. ‘He’s just annoyed because I’m teasing him like this. It’s fine, he’s not going to kill me.’ The enderman slowly walked past the desk, his tails whipping forward in a dangerous gesture.

The moderator found himself in a steadily worsening situation.

He held his hands up in a universal placating gesture, hoping that it would calm him down. “Look, we can set up a compromise if you just take a seat. I can give you keys to the best seats in town?” A single elongated fang poked out as he snarled. “I’m going to take that as a no.” With a swift movement, the man found himself on the floor, pissed hybrid pinning his arms down. “I wasn’t kidding when I said that, you know. I was thinking of being nice to you, but now...now, I don’t think so.” One of Ranboo’s hands trailed up to his neck. ‘Is he going to choke me? That’s not very gentlemanly of him.’ His subconscious helpfully supplied. “However, hurting you would be really, really mean. And Tubbo said that this would be a much better option!” ‘Wait, Tubbo?’ A fluttering feeling at his neck made him scrunch up and giggle. “Wahahait!” He shut his eyes, unwilling to look at the person who was definitely smirking in triumph above him. The feeling shifted to his collarbones, then to his ears. Each spot got the same amount of attention, which was, in his opinion, too much.

“Look, Scott. All you need to do is tell me that you’ll allow me into MCC. That’s all. Just promise me I’ll be let in next time.” He sassed the enderman in return, a forced smile coloring his words. “Iihihi cohohuld ahalso tehehell yohohou thahahat your clothihihing chohohoice reheheminds me of a bohohoy who didn’t know what to wear to prom and came in a full suit during a casual dance.” His hands slowed down as he spoke, before speeding up even quicker, forcing a bout of laughter to escape from Smajor. His dyed hair flipped from side to side as he shook his head, cracked his eyes open to look at the other pleadingly. The enderman processed the movement in his head, smirking a little more again. “Is this flustering you, Scott? You’re so used to being in power. Is this something new for you?” His breath ghosted on his ear, making him shiver through his frantic giggles.

“Nohoho, I tohohotally dohoho shihihit lihihihike this ohohon ahaha dahahaily bahahasis!” Ranboo clicked his tongue teasingly. “That sounds like sarcasm to me. So, tell me, Scott. Do you know where you are ticklish?” At the sound of the word, his body bucked up into his hands, falling down moments later and prompting a small laughter-filled “oof”. The enderman couldn’t help but aww at him. “Can you not handle the word ‘tickle’?” Another fully body jerk. Scott’s arms pushed against his pinning arm in protest. “Stohohop, yohohou drehehessed-uhuhuhp ohohohreo!” Ranboo recoiled in mock offense. Tails lashing, he looked at him balefully, narrowing his eyes playfully. “Oh, now you’re just provoking me.” He jabbed into the man’s sides, flipping his ears down to avoid the resulting shriek he got from blasting his damn eardrums out. “Guessing sides are a good spot, noted.” A small enderwarble escaped his mouth in slight sympathy at the person writhing under him, but he stood firm, scratching lightly at his lower belly.

“You know what you have to say, don’t you? Come on, Scott. It’s not hard, just let me in.” Through his laughter, Smajor flipped him off. “FuhUHuck yohohOohoU!” He immediately regretted his decision, bucking wildly as dulled-down claws scraped over his sides again. And again, and again. He couldn’t help the high-pitched squeal that ripped out of his throat as Ranboo shifted just the slightest bit downwards to the connection between his sides and his back. A few shelves to the side of the man fell, magic sputtering out of control. Ranboo curled his tails over his head, wincing as he plucked out a feathery plume from one of them. He traced one over his neck to tease, teeth poking out of his mischievous smile as the other curled up almost violently as he thrashed. He stopped for a moment, allowing the other to calm down and take a few grounding breaths. He put down the feather for now. He’d save that for later, if he needed it. “So.” Ranboo vwooped quietly. “Have you considered my proposal yet?” Scott pushed the bookshelves partially back up. Eyes focused on the furniture behind the enderman, he shook his head, tongue sticking out in concentration. “Not in the slightest.”

The hybrid rushed to push up his shirt. “B-but!” His hand slowed where it was. “I can accept something else. If you are willing to follow my rules.”

Ranboo nodded, ears fully perked up and focused. Little particles landed on Scott’s bare lower stomach, making him giggle as he spoke. “Wehell, if you and Tubbo would agree to not be on the same team, nor be on the same team as anyone else you’d have a relative behenefit with, I may allow it. Mahahay.” Ranboo’s tails wagged from side to side, black, white, red, and green blurring into a mix of color behind him. “Maybe?” His eyes gleamed with hope. “May…..these nuts get shoved down your throat! HA!”

Ranboo’s facial features seemed to darken.

“Hehe…?” His hand ducked under his shirt, pushing it up fully. Smajor gulped audibly, sucking in his exposed stomach. A pen wiggled in a cloud of his magic, almost nervously. Ranboo kept that in mind, hoping that he’d remember it afterwards. ‘Does his magic respond to his emotions? I’d like to know that...once I’m not trying to make him listen to me.’ With his tummy exposed, the enderman leaned down, breath gentle on the flat of his stomach. “Are you going to say yes now? Or am I going to have to go fully in now?” Scott stayed quiet, barely moving for a moment. A blossom of panic bloomed in Ranboo’s chest. ‘Is he okay? Did I do something?’ A small, almost sheepish smile grew on the other’s face. “Sorry, I was thinking of something snarky. Don’t got anything right now. And, hmm..still thinking about that.” The whites of his teeth broke out through the light pinks of his lips. “The answer’s still no, enderboy. Try your damndest.”

He was quick to give him what he wished, diving in to blow one long raspberry on his tummy. It was evident the moderator was not aware of how sensitive he was to raspberries, based on the gasping burst of laughter he got in response. A swear in a different language as he moved closer to his sides, pepperring little raspberries and nibbles all over his trembling muscles. The sudden change in tenseness as he swiped over a specific spot on his lower belly, his body melting into the floor. Ranboo found it adorable that the sassy man was completely destroyed by a few wiggling fingers on his stomach. He didn’t say it out loud though, for the sake of the moderator’s pride. The laughter settled nicely in his ears. He could get used to this. “AHAHA! RANAHAHA- PLEHEASE!”

On the other hand, Scott could not get used to this. He definitely wouldn’t be able to keep up for much longer. His laughter strained at his throat a little. He tapped at the enderman with a plume of magic, hoping he’d get the hint. After what felt like a century of tickling for the man below him, Ranboo slowed his nibbling and raspberry blowing, gazing into his dazed eyes. “Yes, Smajor?” “Fihihihine, yahoo’ll behehe uhuhuhnbanned. Lehehet mehehe gohoho!” Ranboo’s tails wagged hesitantly, worried he was just bluffing or making a joke. “Promise?” “Ihihi prohohomise. Juhuhust, nohoho mohohore.”

His voice was wheezy, almost like an unused flute that hadn’t been taken care of much. Ranboo couldn’t really tamp down the innate sense of pride with the knowledge that he was the one who did that. He was the one who managed to convince Scott, not Tubbo, not Tommy. Him. He did. His tails thumped on the floor loudly, but he was too busy celebrating his win in the confines of his head. Particles whizzed around him faster and faster, landing on things every which way. That included Scott, unfortunately for him.

He giggled, writhing around as much as he could as the particles slowly landed on his tummy. “Hehehey, ehehenderbohohy? Lehehet mehehe gohoho, plehehease?” No reaction, his eyes far away. His face was contorted into a small smile, but otherwise, his countenance was blank like an empty slate. In other worse, he had literally no clue what was going on. A slight twinge of concern, then. “Uuhuhh, Rahahanbohohoo? Ahahare yohou ehenderwahalking?” Silence. Nothing, absolutely no response. Scott decided to take things into his own hands.

“Rahahnbohoo!”

The pen from earlier slammed into his face, making a small smacking noise as it did so. Ranboo gasped, eyes snapping back into focus at the slight stinging sensation. His bi-colored eyes focused onto him. “What was that for?” Smajor rolled his eyes, using his head and his hands to show the situation he was in. “Did you just forget you have me pinned or what? Dude, you and your brute strength. Goddamn.” His eyes widened in surprise and slight embarrassment. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” His hands were released almost immediately, claws gently scraping against his wrists and making him crack a small wobbly smile. “There you go.”

He sat up with a small wince, small cloud of magic pushing him a slight bit. Getting up shakily, he slowly walked over to his desk, trying not to trip on any errant pieces of carpet/items strewn about. “I’ll get it done, okay? You just shimmy your way home, oreo. I’ll get it done.” A sigh of relief escaped the hybrid. “Oh, thank god.” As he left the office, he turned to look at the man directly in the eyes. He was getting better at that. “Thanks, sir. I appreciate it.” And, as he left, he may or may not have heard a small mutter follow him. “Fucking hell. He does not need to call me sir after THAT.” He couldn’t help but grin a little. ‘Well, I got him to be serious.’

‘That’s a win for me.’

#downy writes #downywrites #tickle fic #sfw tickle #ler!ranboo #lee!smajor #lee!scott #mcyt tickle #dsmp tickle #?#kind of #gimmer requests hhh #my writing

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eleanore-delphinium · 3 years

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Lazarus’ Pit: The Demon Lost His Head

MATURE RATING

MENTION OF VIOLENCE

Loosely related to: The Demon’s Head

When Damian Al Ghul reached the side of his beloved—Raven. She had exhaled her last breath a long time ago. All he could do now was hold her lifeless blue corpse in his hands. He did not understand and could not comprehend—no, it was simply denial—what has happened to his beloved Raven who was in his arms.

He was kneeling down on the ground, a hand resting on the back of her neck. Her head limp and eyes closed and lips so terribly blue, his other arm under her legs. She had died a long time ago, had he come a minute earlier; nothing would have changed.

Time felt awfully too slow for him at that very moment. And yet, he was so very aware of every breathing, moving thing or person around him. And it made the non-existent breathing and moving of his beloved’s chest so sickeningly deafening in his ears.

His lips opened, and his inhalation was slow. “I want them all dead.” He heard himself say, his head spinning. “No—I want their limbs pulled apart, and I want them to suffer.” He heard himself continue on.

“Yes, my lord.” An assassin in black replied.

The heat from the flames around Damian reached his skin.

For a moment, he thought that maybe the heat would warm the cold body in his arms. He pulled her closer, but she was still freezing. He looked up at the sky, imaging a life without the woman he was cradling. And soft splatters of water fall from the sky.

It was like heaven was agreeing: that a life without her, was not a life worth living.

The rain drops pick up, and it felt like pellets against his skin. The cold from the rain quickly settles against his skin, and a small part of him longed for the heat. And he pulled her tightly against him, trying to protect her from the rain.

“You’re already so cold—no more…” He whispered brokenly; his eyes closed tightly as his back arched to shield her from the rain. But her body was so stiff against his, and it just made his heart ache even more.

Behind Damian was chaos. There were orange flames licking everything, his assassins catching those who aren’t a part of the league. Dead bodies littered all around, some people trapped inside the flames. And there was a lot of screaming. And because the rain was strong, the flames were contained but not enough to put the flames out. And Damian screamed and wept. His screams mixed with the harsh sounds of the rain and the chaos behind him. His tears blending with the painful rainfall against his face.

Eventually the flames were quelled by the rain and the screaming of frightened people disappeared. And even the pellets of water weren’t as painful and strong anymore. In front of Damian, the eerily dark, empty and silent forest seemed to mock him.

He too, stopped grieving. He couldn’t even tell if his throat was hoarse from screaming, or if his eyes burned after weeping so much. All Damian knew was emptiness now.

His assassins were hidden, too afraid to even approach him in such a state. They could see very clearly how broken their lord has become. They could see that he had fully entered into the darkness. This was something they have wanted collectively, and yet they feared the day that it would come—of the change necessary—and here it was.

The day they had feared the most.

A death they feared more of happening then their master’s.

Raven was an existence to them that was almost rather vile. It wasn’t that she was a bad person, it was because she was quite the opposite that they recognized the danger. The implication.

The weakness a Demon’s Head should not be having. And yet, it was also the same reason why they would go out of their way to ensure her safety. They could see clearly the kind of man their lord can be when she is taken off the equation. And they feared that kind of man even more.

Sometimes the assassins of the league would think that there really was no right or wrong between a Damian with or without his Raven. But they are Damian Al Ghul’s underlings, so of course, they would just follow. And since they knew he wanted her safe, following that would be easier than deciding who to fear more.

Him without her, or him with her.

Her clothes were no longer white. Her robes were always so pristinely white, thus she always stood out amongst the assassins with their black garbs. Now, it had the tinge of brown, and there was blood, dirt and rips everywhere, and mud on the parts that touch the ground. The assassins felt awful seeing her in that state. It was simply unfamiliar.

And Damian suddenly stood up. The air around him grew lifeless.

What would their leader do?

“Let’s go.” He said in such an empty tone. His voice is slightly different from what his assassins were used to.

His assassins reappeared around him. “Let’s return to Nanda Parbat.”

When Damian arrived at Nanda Parbat, the assassins who were not with their lord previously, upon seeing their lady’s lifeless corpse, understood the situation quickly. And they found that they were holding back their shivers of fear. Soon, the entire place was filled with lifelessness and trepidation.

“Prepare a basin of water, a wash cloth, sponge and every kind of essential oils we have.” Damian ordered as he continued to walk through his palace. The echoes of his footsteps are very eerie.

“Prepare the best silks we have too.” He added quietly.

He brought Raven into a room. “This was supposed to be my surprise for you.” He mumbled looking at the walls and decorations in the room. “I painstakingly prepared everything for you.” He mumbled, setting her down gently on the bed. He kneels by her side, holding her hand and resting it on his forehead. And he wept silently.

Her fingers were so stiff and cold against his skin. And it made his heart ache again.

Soon his subjects placed all that he asked for in the room. They did not say a thing about their own master kneeling on the floor by the side of his dead lover. And they quietly left just like how they entered-- in complete silence.

Minutes passed before he pulled away from her lifeless body. His heart ached as he tried to remove her clothes off of her. He was so careful, he had to be. He was so afraid he’d hurt her more. And when all the dirty clothes were off her, his eyes twitched at the bruises and wounds all over her body.

He couldn’t save her.

Silent tears fell from his eyes as his shaking hands reached out for the sponge and water with some lavender oils. He gently cleaned her with the sponge and dried her skin with the washcloth. And with all the dirt and blood off of her body, he could see even more clearly all the wounds and bruises.

He was late—too late.

But as he cleaned her, he had made up his mind. He has resources.

“You might hate me for this. But I am willing to take the consequences.” He slipped in a white silk dress on her. And he picks her up, his eyes full of resolve.

The next thing Damian knew was the brown walls of the cavern illuminated by torches. And the green liquid of the pool in front of him. He was very familiar with this place. He could hear the sound of the flickering torches around him, and the sound of breathing from his own lips.

The woman in his arms, must have been dead for a few hours now. The pool looked very inviting, despite its disgusting color.

“There have been a few people that the Lazarus Pit revived—and the consequences, my beloved, I am willing to take.” He stroked her cold cheek. “Forgive me.” His apology was simply lip service. He actually didn’t care if he would hate her. He wouldn’t care if she would not be the same.

A life without her—was really—a life he was not willing to live.

As long as her heart was beating, and there was breath in her lungs, then everything was worth it.

He kissed her forehead gently and then looked at the Lazarus Pit. His eyes were cold and determined. He took a step near the pit and continued on. His hold on her was gentle, her head resting on his shoulder. Soon the water was around his waist and he lowered her. He waited for a moment, his heart aching at having to fully submerge his beloved into the green liquid, but he cannot hesitate now.

Damian kneeled and so Raven was submerged under the water, his head above the water.

He waited and waited. And it felt so long that it hurt.

She had already died because he was too late and here he was drowning her dead body. It felt like he was killing her ten times over. But he closed his eyes, his jaw clenched tightly.

And finally, he felt her twitch against him and arms wrapped around him. He quickly pulled her up by standing up. There was a lot of screaming from her, her entire eyes black.

“Raven! Raven!” He called out but she kept screaming. “It’s me!” And he felt a sting on his left shoulder. She had bit him hard, he was bleeding.

“It’s me.” He coaxed her as he patted her head. “It’s me.” He hugged her and she whimpered, teeth still on his shoulder.

“My Lord!” It was the familiar voice of a woman he had become friends with when he was twelve. The worry in her voice was so unlike her. He turned around, and for the first time, her face was not frozen in the expression that he was used to—indifference. Her facial expression matched the tone of her voice.

It was so clear on her face and in her tone, the fear and the pain she felt.

And when her eyes landed on Raven whose teeth were still on his shoulder, her body winced. She gulped down her messy thoughts. And suddenly fell to her knees.

“I should have been there!” She said her head casted down.

“Raven is perfectly fine.” Damian replied, and the woman before him, who was his shadow, his right hand—among other things, just clenched her fist silently.

“I should have been summoned back. I should have gone back.” She made her mind up. She shouldn’t have waited for a summon.

“Everything is alright. Raven is fine.” He caressed his lover's black hair. “You had a mission to complete. And my Raven-- my beloved Raven is completely safe.” Damian insisted as he continued to caress the hair of the woman in his arms who had growled at him like an animal.

“We will be alright.” Damian finally said as he walked out from the waters of the pit. The lady outside the pool silently kneeled with clenched eyes and fists.

Raven was never the same, but Damian welcomed the change with open arms. After all, she was still breathing and alive.

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dragon-fics · 3 years

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(The Dragon Prince) A Different Life (Mentor!Aaravos X Apprentice/Reader)

Online classes had me very bored, so I started to think back to my original prologue of HA and here is the basic Idea I had, in first person.

This is partially based on @kurizeria‘s OC Naymora and her story with Aaravos.

Chapter summary: You are Aaravos’ elven apprentice in a time before Dark Magic, the Mage Wars, the division of Xadia and, Aaravos’ imprisonment.

Prologue, Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3 , Pt. 4, Pt. 5, Pt. 6 , Pt. 7, Pt. 8, Pt. 9, Pt. 10, Pt. 11, Pt. 12, Pt. 13, Pt. 14, Pt. 15

Centuries before Aaravos’ imprisonment

“Master? Where are we going?” I whined, chasing after him.

Aaravos sighed. He’d started to do that a lot recently. Was I becoming annoying because I was a teenager?

He spun around, his dark cloak whipping behind him. “(Y/N), we’re going to Elarion. Like I said this morning?” he said, as if he were trying to jog my memory.

I placed my hand on the strap of my satchel. “You didn’t mention anything this morning,” I muttered, “you just said it was time to leave.” He had become very forgetful recently and almost presumed I had telepathic powers like dragons do—and I am not a dragon.

Aaravos pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right... I’m sorry. I’ve just been very busy with Ziard’s project.”

We started walking again. “The ‘project’ he so desperately needs the Archmage to help him with? Why can’t he just do it himself, if he wants the ‘project’ finished so badly?” I was becoming irritated with this human ‘mage’. He visited almost every day and made demands about the project, asking Aaravos to have it done quickly, when he had done all but nothing to aid its completion—whatever it was. And every time he’d visit, he’d eye me disgustedly and insist I leave, even if it was in the middle of a lesson.

He drew in a sharp breath. “(Y/N), you need to calm down. Once the project is finished, Ziard will be out of our lives, I promise.”

Crossing my arms, I said, “I don’t like this, Aaravos. I can see such darkness in him. Whatever this project is, I hope it doesn’t bring more harm than good.”

“That makes two of us.”

I glanced at him. Was that regret in his voice?

“So, what is this project?” It was a question I had been wanting to ask for months.

Aaravos hesitated. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

He glanced at the long object on his back, wrapped in burlap and string. “It’s best you don’t know.”

I looked at the path ahead of us, Elarion was just beyond this hill, I had travelled enough times to the city with Aaravos to know where it was from here.

Aaravos looked up at the hill and reached inside his cloak, pulling out a small bag of coins. “Go to Elarion and find somewhere to eat, I’ll catch up with you later.”

I followed his gaze. “You’re meeting him here?”

“Just take the money, (Y/N). I’ll see you in Elarion.” He placed the coins in my hand and started up the hill.

I frowned and did I was told, tucking away the bag under my cloak.

*-*-*-*

Aaravos’ stead galloped ahead of mine as the moon lit our path dark overgrown forest path.

“Master, what’s happening?” I called out. He had woken me up in the middle of the night in a panic, saying someone was coming and that they knew everything. He muttered about his regret in making something and making something for ‘him’.

He said nothing, just kept moving.

“Aaravos!” I called.

“The Mage Council is hunting me,” he shouted above the steads’ hooves and the sounding his cloak.

“Why?”

He didn’t respond. What had he done?

I reined my mount to a stop. He released a snort of displeasure.

It took Aaravos several moments to notice I was missing. “Why did you stop?!” he demanded, turning his stead around and rejoining me.

“What have you done?!” I retorted. “What have you done that has not only placed you in danger, but me, your apprentice, your child?!”

Aaravos hung his head in shame, something I have never seen him do before. “I’m sorry.”

“What. Did you. Do?” I said, irritated.

“Ziard is dead. Before Sol Regem killed him, he told Sol Regem that I had given him the staff. The staff was his project.” He looked up at me.

“You started all this? The Dark Magic, the humans being banished, the Mage Wars! You...” I paused, unsure what else to say. “You created that... weapon.”

“(Y/N), please... It was supposed to be a gift, and act of equity from us to humanity.”

I held my face in my hands. He had talked of this ‘act’ since I was an elfling and I knew very well he had never meant to hurt anyone or bring such destruction and hate.

I lowered my hands and drew in a breath. “So, what are we going to do now?”

“Hide.”

“They’ll find us, no matter wh—.“

“You. You need to hide,” he said solemnly.

“What about you?” I moved my stead closer to his.

He raised his hood and looked back at the trail, to the sound of heavy paws and shouting coming closer.

“No! I’m not leaving you to them! They won’t hesitate to—,“ I cut myself off, unable to finish my sentence.

Aaravos placed a hand on my cheek and kissed my brow. “I rather you be safe.”

“They won’t stop at you, they’ll think I’ll know something as well.”

He paused and turned his mount around. “You’re right. So,” he turned to face me, “are you with me?”

“Yes, Master,” I breathed.

We started off again, but our steads weren’t as fast as the hunters’. With every second they got closer and our path was getting harder to traverse.

“Can’t we teleport?” I asked over the hoofbeats of our steads.

“No, they’re too close and we’re moving to fast and the search parties are everywhere right now.”

I looked on at the path ahead. There had to be some way to get rid of them.

But then they yanked me from my saddle and pulled to the ground. I yelped and grunted as I hit the ground. I looked at my arm, a metal whip was wrapped around it.

“(Y/N)!” yelled Aaravos.

“Keep going!” I shouted.

He hesitated for a second before his stead ran off.

I was about to draw a rune to cut the wire when they pulled me up onto another stead. I elbowed the rider, but they drew a sleep rune and I fell limply into their hold.

*-*-*-*

It had been centuries since I had last seen Aaravos.

And now he had been captured.

I followed my new master, and Aaravos’ former master, Kalani. An elf so tall and old I was sure he was older than the eldest tree in all of Xadia. He had the most beautiful pale skin and horns that shown like gold that were as large and as detailed as a moose’s, just more curved and elegant looking. A mass of blue robes that faded from pale blue to the darkest night sky, hung on his body with such a long trail that I often tripped on in—and often his hair as well.

We were beside the Moon Nexus, on a full moon, surrounded by dozens of Moonshadow mages.

“Are we ready?” Kalani asked the master Moonshadow mage.

“Yes, Archmage.”

The name he gave him made my hands curl into a fist. How dare he call that arrogant elf that?!

But I stayed as stoic as I could until Kalani turned around. I mimicked his action.

“Bring him here!” he ordered. They pushed a mirror towards us, it was bronze and gold with runes around the glass. Some hunters came forward, their weapons nudging forward... Aaravos.

I looked down, forcing myself away from his bruised and cut face, torn gown and damaged jewellery. He was leaning forward, his hands bound behind him.

“Kalani!” he growled as they pushed him forward. “Why am I here?” His eyes drifted over to me, and I forced myself to look at him. I wanted to rush over to him and heal him, but I couldn’t.

His ears dropped. “(Y/N)!” he forced himself upright and turned to Kalani. “Why is he/she/are they here? He/She/They shouldn’t be punished for my mistakes.”

“I’m perfectly aware of that, and he/she/they have been an excellent student,” he twirled a lock of my hair. “So, he/she/they won’t be joining you in your prison, Stella Carcerem,” he looked to the mirror.

Some mages pushed Aaravos towards it and began chanting, as did Kalani. The runes on the mirror glowed, and the glass looked like it was made of liquid. I forced myself to watch as a yellow hue left Aaravos’ body and was pulled into the mirror. His spirit.

He fought it, standing in a meditative state to keep his spirit inside him. But to no avail. Before the last of his spirit disappeared, he opened his eyes and gave me a small smile. And he was gone.

The runes on the mirror faded, and the glass became solid again. “It is done,” Kalani said.

I stepped forward, looking at the mirror; it was blank. Kneeling by it, I placed my hand on the glass. “I’m sorry, Father.” tears spilled from my eyes. “I’m sorry.”

The mages slowly dispersed and left me with the mirror.

“We’ll meet again, Master,” I whispered. I softly chanted a reincarnation spell, one that would allow to meet up with him again and free him. My skin became luminescent.

“I’m sorry future me, but you need to do this. For Aaravos,” I looked at my reflection, though I thought I could see Aaravos looking at me before my body flashed.

And then—

Darkness

#the dragon prince #his apprentice #maybe a prologue before the prologue?#aaravos x reader #aaravos #mirror prison #tdp #tdp aaravos #startouch OC #the dragon prince fanfiction #fanfic #short story #one-shot

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not-majestic-bluenicorn · 3 years

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TXT Universe Theory: The Dream Chapter

Hello and welcome back to another one of my theories! This theory will be quite long and will take into account everything in the first chapter of TXT’s story. I won’t be doing Minisode 1 or either of the Chaos Chapters yet cause it will give us all a headache if I do, so yes, there will be things missing. Believe me, I know, I’m just pretending like I don’t know anything for the sake of my mind XD Let’s dive into the theory!

The Protagonists

Name: Choi Yeonjun

Keywords: Promise, guilty, sleepless, apricity

Association: Paranoid Park

Metamorphosis: Horns

Songs: Crown, Magic Island

Yeonjun is, perhaps, more relevant than his character wishes he was. Paranoid Park, the book (and perhaps also movie) he’s associated with, talks about a 16-year-old boy who accidentally kills a policeman and tries to cope with it while simultaneously hiding what he did. Yeonjun’s guilt can be seen almost everywhere. His Dream-Self grows horns during Nap of a Star, which are generally associated with evil and destruction, and in Crown he expresses his fear of being evil.

In the teasers for Magic Island he says “I think there’s someone else aside from us #itsmyfault”. And in the teasers for The Dream Chapter: Eternity he adds the hashtags #imscared #itwasjustajoke when revealing his association. He did something that makes him feel guilty. He possibly didn’t kill anyone (I mean, if anyone did, it’s most likely Beomgyu, but that’s not here nor there), but it hasn’t been revealed yet what he did do.

I associate Magic Island with him because it talks about promises and about the Odd Eye Cat, which I will talk about more in detail later, but suffice to say the Odd Eye Cat might have something against Yeonjun. There is a small chance that Yeonjun feels guilty about having forgotten their promise with the Star, since his word is promise. Everyone forgot, but maybe he’s more emotionally aware of it.

Name: Choi Soobin

Keywords: Tomorrow, invisible, understanding, apricity

Association: Le Doulos

Metamorphosis: Elongated ears

Songs: Eternally

Soobin is on the opposite side of the coin with Yeonjun. He too is aware about the promise with the Star, but in a very different way. He is perhaps what we would define as a traditional protagonist, as he can hear the voice of the Star well before anyone else can, even if he can’t remember the promise. The first time we see him perceiving the voice is in Magic Island, that is when he starts to feel separated from the group. He’s still unaware of it, but he knows something that the others don’t and that puts a wall between them. In the Magic Island teaser he uses the hashtag “#IThinkImTheOnlyOneWhosDifferent”, and in the Eternity concept photos he says “Why am I the only one having a hard time?” and “Everything is your fault”. He is also tagged as invisible, which alludes to the fact that he feels distanced from the others, and is also the only one to get no interactions on his posts. The fact that he’s blaming someone might be that he’s aware of the voice or that he knows someone in the group messed up.

Name: Choi Beomgyu

Keywords: Hope, unfair, relief, serenity

Association: The Catcher in the Rye

Metamorphosis: Spines on the back

Songs: ???

Beomgyu is an interesting if confusing character. Based on how he acts in the MVs, he seems to be rather headstrong and confident, much like the main character, Holden, of Catcher in the Rye, a story strongly related to growing up and leaving the innocence of childhood behind. Holden considers adults (and his life) to be quite unfair, doesn’t trust them, and wants to become a protector of the innocence of other children. However, much like Beomgyu, he’s rather headstrong and careless, moving forward without much consideration, which often gets him in trouble. These aspects can be seen reflected on the Magic Island Teaser, where he writes “What’s the problem? Let’s just do it. #rewind #hope #CantTrustAnyone, as well as the Port teasers from Eternity where he says things like “Who saw me that day?”, “We were all together then, right?” and “I don’t think this is the world I used to know” (which is tagged with “unfair”), and uses the hashtags #NothingToHide, #IsItMyFault?”. We do see him start the fire in both the Magic Island Teaser and MV, which might hint to the fact that he feels it’s unfair to blame him when they were all there, and he doesn’t actually believe himself to be at fault. He was just taking care of them.

Name: Kang Taehyun

Keywords: Clue, suspicious, breathe, serenity

Association: Philip Marlowe

Metamorphosis: Star eye

Songs: ???

Taehyun’s character is observant and prefers to stay on the sidelines to catch every detail before casting his judgement. In the Magic Island Teaser he says “There’s got to be a way out” with the hashtag #LetsThinkAboutIt, plus, in the Port Teasers from Eternity, he keeps a reasonable suspicion on his team members about who’s truly at fault and uses the hashtags #EverybodyLies and #IWantToKnowTheTruth. This ties in well with his associated character, Philip Marlowe, the private detective. Both characters keep a distance and analyze everything carefully, never resorting to violence. It is worth noting that he keeps Yeonjun’s teddy bear at the end of Run Away, which in the teasers is labelled as “clue”. Taehyun is always observing.

Name: Huening Kai

Keywords: Secret, lonely, longing, apricity

Association: Stand by me

Metamorphosis: Wings

Songs: Nap of a star

Huening Kai is perhaps one of the most complicated and mysterious characters in the story, since his role isn’t as established as the others. He’s constantly out of the loop about the situation that is happening, which is demonstrated by phrases like “What the hell is happening?” (Magic Island Teaser) and “What happened?” (‘Port’ Teasers) as well as the hashtags #OnTheSidelines and #IKnowNothing, as well as two of his keywords being secret and lonely. His associated media is also interesting, as Stand by me talks about a man remembering the trip he did with three of his friends when they were 12 to find the body of a missing boy. At the end of the movie, the main character Gordie, recalls his friends and comments on how much he’ll always miss them and how he’s never had friendships like that again. This raises the question if perhaps one of the boys would be the dead kid the others are trying to find. Kai being kept out of the loop could point to him being it, as he’s always trying to reach for them but can’t quite do it, however it could also be argued that either Yeonjun or Soobin could fill that space as well.

The Setting: The Real World vs The Dream World

Back on the very early BTS theories, a lot of us didn’t think time travel or time loops were the answer, but it turned out we were wrong. At first, when working on this theory, I wasn’t sure where I should draw the distinction between reality and fantasy. In the end, I’ve decided that everything is real but in different ways, and I’ve decided to make the distinction between the Real World and the Dream World; after all, this is called the Dream Chapter.

The Real World is, you guessed it, pretty much just our normal world. Nothing magical or physics-law-breaking to be seen here. The Dream World is, well, a world made of dreams. But remember I said everything is real (I know the names I gave the two realities contradict this, hit me up if you have better suggestions). Whatever happens in the Dream World is just as real as whatever happens in the Real World, it’s just in a different plane of existence. It might also be of interest to note that sometimes these worlds blend.

So, if everything is real in the Dream World, what is real in the Real World? This is a complicated question because even our characters struggle telling reality apart from the dreams, especially because the dreams aren’t just dreams. The fires that occur in Run Away and Can’t You See Me are very much symbolic, but them jumping into the Dream World through the subway in Magic Island is real. The visions they have in Eternally aren’t happening in the Real World either. It’s just a matter of what is supported through other clues and pieces of evidence, which I’ll try to provide.

The Story

So, you know, what is like… happening? Everything is extremely confusing and it took me a while to understand that pretty much all videos are happening like, at the same time? As in, it’s the same event but from different perspectives and slightly different intervals of time. So let’s try to lay down a cohesive timeline.

It all starts with the events narrated in Nap of a Star. When they were children, the five of them (or well, maybe I should say six) met through the Dream world and became such good friends that they promised to meet there again. However, as it happens, they grew up and forgot about it, meeting once again many years later through the school and the company without remembering each other.

While growing up, they have gone through many different things that have hurt and changed them, which manifested in their dream bodies as the “imperfections” that they all have. I believe these imperfections are tied to each of their characters: horns tend to represent evil, which ties in with Yeonjun feeling guilty and blaming himself for everything. Kai’s wings look angel-like, which fits his sweet personality who helps the “demon” (Yeonjun) and is always believing the best about his friends. Beomgyu is very defensive, which translates into his porcupine-like spines. Soobin is a good listener (plus he’s literally the first one to hear the Star’s voice) and Taehyun is good at observing the others. So these are all manifestations of how life has shaped them to be who they are now.

They become very good friends once again and get along well, nice! However, we know things are not perfect, and they have to confront a series of personal conflicts. Especially Yeonjun, who’s so overcome by the negativity in his life that he starts a fire that can’t be put out in Run Away. This fire is metaphorical, and represents all the pain and stress he’s been dealing with. So what do they do? They try to find an escape from all their troubles.

There’s two ways this could’ve happened: the first one is that they stumble with the Dream World by accident on the Run Away MV when they go in through the pool. This seems fitting because of their reactions. After that they research it and Soobin discovers that there’s a secret magical entrance at a train station, as we can see in the Sanctuary Photo Teasers from the Magic comeback in the official BigHit website. The other option is that this accidental discovery didn’t happen and they simply researched. This would turn their visit in Run Away into a “summary” of sorts of their first impression of the place.

[Translation:

Soobin: I saw how to find the hidden magic platform?

Soobin: When you close and open your eyes there, your dream becomes reality

Taehyun: Woah, cool

Taehyun: (not sure about this one) for real?

Soobin: Should we go together?]

Either way, they get there. Of course, as shown by the door being set on fire at the end of Run Away when Yeonjun looks at it, his worries aren’t entirely gone, but at least they’re under control now, or so it seems. This part of the video also ties in with the end of Nap of a Star. All of the children come together to help the “monster” and they reunite at the Dream World once again, awakening the Star.

After this, though, weird things begin to happen. Someone or something is trying to reach out to them, and causes them to have really strange dreams. This entity, presumably the Star as marked by the pieces of dialogue, even follows them to their practice room, and keeps begging them to remember them. Yes, I think the Practice Room Ghost and the Star are the same character (and I also think they represent MOA, in a way).

[Translation: Remember my name.]

Here’s where the visions in Eternally come into play. The individual vision each of them has is, physically speaking, nothing more than that: a vision or dream. So they start having these visions, and some of them, especially Soobin who keeps hearing the Star’s voice, start doubting their reality. Plus, weird things start happening in their practice room, so no doubt they end up hearing about the Practice Room Ghost.

They have a conversation about it on the subway, and Soobin goes to mention he had a weird dream but then he backtracks. Obviously, he’s talking about the vision we see in Eternally, because he even says he always wakes up crying from it. In a split second, they decide to stop at the Magic Island using the method that Soobin found previously, and they go have fun there.

[Translation:

Yeonjun: Did you hear about the practice room’s mirror ghost?

Beomgyu: *sland for shivering* A ghost? Wow

Taehyun: I heard about it. There’s no ghosts, you’re just tired and saw wrong.

Soobin: I’ve had weird dreams lately *cries* Maybe it was because I’m tired...

Kai: Did you have a scary dream again?

Soobin: (deleted message) In the dream we...

Yeonjun: Ah, I shouldn’t have said anything.

Beomgyu: What’s scary about this? If there’s a real ghost let’s go and check at night *laughs*

Kai: Hyungs, stop talking about scary things please *cries*

Taehyun: Beomgyu hyung is joking about this too??

Yeonjun: Should we just go to Ttukseom?]

Naturally, things go wrong, what else were we expecting? Their antics end up setting the magic forest on fire, until they end up destroying the whole Dream World, and it leads us to the start of Eternally. One thing I believe to be very interesting is how, when they’re trapped in the storm, Soobin keeps touching his ears, Kai touches his chest like in Nap of a Star, and Beomgyu touches his shoulder. Yeonjun and Taehyun aren’t properly shown but they probably also touch the affected places.

I would argue that Can’t You See Me? is also just a reinterpretation of the conflict they’re going through, both within themselves but also as a group, because they did just destroy their secret place. This is pretty much where the current timeline ends. I’m a bit uncertain if they’re trapped in the Dream World or outside of it without being able to go back, because Taehyun does mention wanting to go back in the Port teasers, but he doesn’t specify where. I want to bet that they’re trapped in the Dream World but I do need to analyze the Chaos Chapter better to decide that.

The Practice Room Star

Yes, this is a play on words, as I fully believe that the Practice Room Ghost and the Star are both the same entity. When they were kids, they made a promise with the Star, but they’ve forgotten it with time, and now that they have reunited and found their way into the Dream World again, the Star wants them back. The Star is probably a very powerful being, since they are able to interfere with the Real World to reach to them, enough to make them confused about their own reality. Their bond seems to be stronger with Soobin, who’s even able to hear them reach out on occasion. It’s uncertain what exactly it is that they want.

The Visions (Eternally MV)

The night of the last day & Song of a Star (Soobin’s visions)

Eternally starts at the end of Magic Island, with the Dream World completely in ruins. Eternally happens before Magic Island, so this dream Soobin has at the beginning is nothing but a prophecy. In the dream, he is holding a book, which we also see Beomgyu with. I think this book is the one they got the information about the Dream World during the Magic era, since the cover is very similar to the symbols we can see in Run Away.

I believe Song of a Star is the Star reaching out to him. He’s the first one to be able to hear the Star, as shown in Magic Island, and he also references the Star’s song in teachers. The kid he sees is probably the version of himself that first entered the Dream World as a kid (or maybe Kai lol), which might be why he wants to cry everytime he has that dream: it’s the nostalgia for a time he left behind.

Room No. 17 (Beomgyu’s vision)

While I’m not sure what the number 17 means yet, and my research on numerology yielded no results, this vision is particularly interesting to me. Through it we get to see Beomgyu’s more ‘brash’ nature as he defends the book that Soobin was seen holding previously. If that book is their key to the Dream World, then it makes a lot of sense that he’s trying to protect it. I’m not sure who the other person trying to stop him is, but it does kinda look like things didn’t go well for them after Beomgyu transformed.

Girl of Eternity (Huening Kai’s vision)

Perhaps the strangest of names for visions, this clearly represents how the rest of the members keep moving far away from Kai and become unreachable to him. He mentions several times how he’s clueless about what’s going on and wants to understand, but the rest of them continue to keep him in the dark, so he feels a distance growing between them, which might increase in the future.

Moratorium of Rest (Taehyun’s vision)

Taehyun’s vision is perhaps the most shocking of all, as it shows us Yeonjun sitting on a chair and covered in spines and purple “paint”. Yeonjun is sitting in the middle of a field of all sorts of violets, and Taehyun tries calling him before realizing the condition Yeonjun is in.

Promise (Yeonjun’s vision)

Yeonjun shares the misfortune with Taehyun of seeing his lifeless corpse, except his vision is much less artistic about it. After finding his body, he sees a fire from the corner of his eye, and right next to it, you guessed it, the odd-eyed cat. His vision in particular finishes with the phrase “I thought it was salvation, then.” And here is where things turn south.

Yeonjun’s promise and the Odd-Eye Cat

I have a very strong reason to believe that Yeonjun is in danger of dying an awful death, and it’s only partially because of the visions. Since Nap of a Star, Yeonjun has been followed by the vigilant eyes of the Odd-Eye Cat almost religiously, and it usually never brings good situations with it. It’s bad enough that the neck cut in Nap of a Star is replicated in Taehyun’s vision, that Soobin sees Yeonjun all bloody in Eternally, and that both Yeonjun and Taehyun see the former dead, but there might be some external clues that hint towards Yeonjun’s upcoming demise.

In the official BigHit website for TxT’s discography, where we found out that Soobin researched and figured out the way to go into the Dream World, we can find a picture of Yeonjun reading a book. In English, this book is called The Alchemaster’s Apprentice. This book narrates the story of a black cat who sells its soul to a sort of wizard in exchange for food, since he’s starving to death. The wizard agrees to fatten the cat for a month, after which it will kill it and use its fat for magical purposes.

The cat in this book doesn’t have heterochromia, however I found out some pagan groups in Eastern Europe believe that a different colored eye was a witch’s eye, meaning that the eye has literally been swapped out with a witch’s. I fully believe that Yeonjun made a deal he shouldn’t have, and the Odd-Eye Cat has been sent by whoever made the deal with him to check on him. It might just be that Yeonjun’s time is going to run out very soon, and the visions are trying to warn everyone of that.

Conclusion

Magic exists and TxT might have bitten more than they can chew because they wanted to run away from the problems of real life (relatable). Now, the Star that they made a promise with is trying to reach them, and maybe warn them about something that’s coming. The fact is that they’re not safe, especially Yeonjun, and things might turn south very quickly very soon.

I’ll try to come back soon with the Minisode 1 + Chaos Chapter Theory update, but for now, if you liked this, please interact with the post and check out my other theories here!

#txt #tomorrow by together #tomorrow x together #the star seekers #txt theory #tomorrow x together theory #tomorrow by together theory #txt yeonjun #txt soobin #txt beomgyu #txt taehyun #txt kai #kpop #kpop theory #bluenicorn does theories

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lucyintheskywithxanax · 3 years

Text

Russian Roulette

Pairing: Sally McKenna x Fem Reader

Requested by anon “sally x reader with the prompt 2, 3, 9, 10, 15, 44 from angst but with a happy ending”

A/N: this one’s a bit chaotic and messy, but I wanted it to be, because so is Sally (I’m sorry anon I didn’t use one of the prompts, but I couldn’t make it fit with the rest of the story. I hope you’ll like it all the same). x

Word count: ~ 3 000

Warning: swearing, not the healthiest of relationships, English isn’t my first language

The Hotel Cortez had eyes. Of that you had always been convinced. The walls could see and they did not avert their gaze when lovers made love or when lovers broke each other’s heart.

You had whispered that to Sally one night, and she had nodded in agreement. Taken a drag on her cigarette, said the whole place was a fucking hamster wheel. But unlike hamsters, human beings were aware of being trapped, she had said, with a sad laugh and wiping at the tears that fell from her eyes (sometimes she would even cry in her sleep).

Liz – the ghost of Liz, still reading a book behind the counter, still so ridiculously faithful to the hotel – raised her head at the sound of your footsteps and peered at you over the rim of her glasses. You walked past her without as much as a glance her way. You didn’t care for reproaches right now. At least not from her.

You stepped into the elevator and waited for the heavy doors to close. Leaned your back against the wall, closed your eyes and took a deep breath. The elevator began to move. You opened your eyes again.

It was here, with her arms folded on her chest and her leopard coat sliding down her shoulders, mascara smeared, lips painted red and her breath stinking of cigarette, that Sally had stared at you and barked, “What am I in your life? Because as of lately I feel as though I’ve been nothing to you.”

And you had been mad at her, so you had shrugged, toed at the ground in silence. Sally had blown smoke in your face, but that didn’t make you cough anymore. You had shot her an angry look as the doors of the elevator had opened, and she had tried to stop you but you had pushed past her with your suitcases in your hands and stormed into the hall, as the walls with their eyes had watched and frowned.

“Don’t be an asshole, Y/N, “Sally had called after you. Behind the counter the ghost of Liz had raised her head at the sound of your footsteps and peered at you over the rim of her glasses. “Fucking fuck Y/N I swear if you take one step out of this godforsaken rat hole I will come after you I will haunt you I will – “

The doors of the elevator opened with a ding. You jumped, straightened your shoulders and stared at the long, empty corridor in front of you. Silence. Only silence. It wasn’t even that late. Where was everyone? The clients? The staff? The ghosts were always so loud. They were mad, so, so angry, screaming and yelling and laughing and crying and stabbing and murdering. The place was too quiet.

On auto-pilot you walked to Sally’s room, knocked on the door, waited, frowned as an old man opened the door and asked you something in a foreign language. You raised one hand apologetically and turned on your heel. Where was she? The walls were sneering. They were mocking you. Run, run, little mouse.

You rushed down the stairs, down an empty corridor, into the bar. And of course – that’s where you should have headed first. For here she was.

She was sitting at the counter with her back to you, in a black velvet dress, shoulders slumped as always. It had been more than a year and a half and yet you remembered everything about her, as if she had haunted you indeed as she had threatened to: the way she walked, like a funambulist on a tightrope, the way her lips would close around her cigarette and how it would bob as she spoke. You remembered the exact shape of the tattoo on the nape of her neck, the exact way her tongue would dart out to lick your face like a hungry, faithful dog. Those greedy, nervous fingers of hers had lingered on your skin and you had been able to feel her touch everywhere and whenever, in the night, in the blazing sun, in the heart of a storm.

For a moment you stood as if frozen watching her. Wondering if you were really about to do the right thing. But then your feet were moving and you carefully sat on the stool next to hers.

“Long time no see, pumpkin,” you teased.

She jumped and turned her head to face you.

Her face still looked exactly the same. Time had altered the shape of your features, but hers were just as you remembered them. Her eyes were still like a dark sun, and they still made the water on her cheeks glint.

Her fingers closed around her glass of whisky like pale spider legs and her lips parted in surprise. You folded your arms on the counter and pressed them against your chest as you shot her a slightly sheepish smile.

And then her anger exploded like a bomb.

You barely managed to dodge her fist as she threw a punch in the general direction of your face. She lost her balance on her stool, almost fell, then with one hand gripping the counter for support she made to throw herself at you, but you pushed her away from you. She slammed into the counter, rounded her shoulders and bared her teeth.

“That’s not exactly what I call a warm welcome,” you hissed.

“Fuck off,” she growled, as she wriggled back up on her stool. Her hand closed around her glass again.

None of you spoke for a long time. Sally stared at her glass. You stared at her. Your fingers were shaking, so you folded them on the counter. A different you, a younger you, would have run away in fear and never come back. You had always wanted a love that was sweet and soft and easy. Sleepy morning kisses to the sound of birds singing outside in the sun. But that was before you had met Sally. Before you had opened Pandora’s box. You had bitten into a rotten fruit and the poison had seeped into your veins and now there was no going back.

You wanted her, and her only. It had taken so long for you to figure that out. You had run away from her, abandoned her with barely any second thoughts, and for a few days it had felt like freedom. Like finally waking up from a nightmare. Sheets soaked with sweat, pillow on the floor. But one morning you had stepped out of the shower and suddenly become aware of the ache in your chest that tasted like her mouth and smelled like her skin. You had tried to ignore it, but it simply would not disappear. It grew, like cancer.

So now that you knew what living without her felt like, nothing could convince you to leave again.

“You stink of cigarettes and booze,” you remarked after a while.

“Shut the fuck up,” she snarled without looking at you.

You waited. Studied her face, followed the glistening trail yet another tear left on her cheek.

“You started drinking again, didn’t you?” you asked. There was no reproach in your voice. Just a casual observation.

Sally let out a mirthless laugh.”Yes, well, you noticed,” she said, voice raspy, gravel in the back of her throat.

“You promised you would stop drinking,” you said.

“And you,” she replied, an angry growl, but her voice broke on the last few words, “you promised you wouldn’t hurt me.” She laughed again, raised her glass. “So, let’s drink a toast to broken promises.” She downed her glass, slammed it onto the counter. “Fucking promises,” she hissed. “Do people really ever mean them?”

“They do,” you nodded.

She glanced sideways at you. “Oh, shut up. What the fuck do you know about it? Plenty of assholes lied to me, but you were the only one who didn’t have the decency not to promise me forever.”

“I never promised you forever,” you retorted, anger rising in your throat.

“Oh you sure did,” Sally growled, straightening in her seat. “You told me, plenty of times, that you’d never leave me, that you’d always be by my side, that you – “

“I didn’t realize it would mean being stuck in this hotel for the rest of my life!” you cried.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before!” Sally cried louder. Two tears dropped from her eyes, and she angrily wiped them away.

“Did you even miss me?” she went on, voice quavering. “Did you even think about me?”

“Of course I did. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

That was the truth. Not only had you carried her in your chest, but you had seen her in every landscape, found her in every song and read her in every book. People had smiled and you had seen her smile instead of theirs.

“But I had to see the world, Sally,” you went on in a softer voice. She scoffed. “What?” you growled. “I know you’d rather I had killed myself and stayed with you, but I can’t – “

“I never asked that of you,” she said.

“Now you are the liar.”

She shot you an angry look, then averted her gaze and stared at her empty glass. For a long moment there was only silence.

“There’s a man in your room,” you said eventually.

“Yes. I got a new room.” She sniffled, wiped her nose on the back of her hand.”The old one reminded me of you.”

Of course you’d known she would miss you; but you hadn’t thought she would miss you that much. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, really. She was an addict, Sally, had always been. First it had been drugs, then the internet, then you, then alcohol; whatever helped her feed that bottomless hole of need that was her mind.

She reached for the bottle of whisky on the counter, but you caught her wrist and held it.

“I think you’ve had enough,” you said gently.

She tried to free herself; you tightened your grip.

“Let go of me, Y/N,” she growled between her teeth.

“I don’t think I will,” you retorted, as gently as before.

Your thumb started stroking the inside of her wrist, tracing the outline of her tattoo; for a few seconds she froze, and her eyes widened slightly and you thought that you had won her, easy as that – that a simple caress could be enough to pacify her wrath. But then she yanked her wrist free, jumped on her feet, grabbed the bottle of whisky and ran towards the elevator.

“Sally!” you called as you sprinted after her.

She gave a furious cry, tripped on nothing; you caught up with her, laid one hand on her shoulder. With her teeth bared she threw the bottle at you. You managed to dodge it at the last second: it crashed on the floor and you both watched, as if transfixed, as the thick carpet slowly soaked up the golden liquid.

Sally gave you a shove and walked away down the corridor. You followed her.

“Leave me alone, Y/N!” she cried over her shoulder.

“I won’t,” you said.

She turned on her heel, shook one finger at you. Her cheeks were flushed with anger or alcohol, you didn’t know.

“Why did you come back anyway?” she snarled. “Uh? Let me guess, you spent every damned penny you owned and now you need a place to sleep?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” You gave her a smile, saw the fury glint in her eyes. “I’m completely broke.” You shrugged, assumed a causal expression again. “I went to all the places I wanted to see and did all the things I dreamt of doing. I guess it was a kind of test. I wanted to know whether they could make me forget you.”

Sally blinked in surprise. For a moment she seemed at a loss for words; then she gritted her teeth and hissed, “Bullshit.”

You shrugged again. “If they had, I wouldn’t have come back,” you said slowly, staring into her eyes.

Her mouth opened, closed again; tears dropped from her eyes. You reached out to wipe them, but she swatted your hand away and once again stumbled towards the elevator.

And once again you followed her.

She reached the elevator, pressed angrily on the button. You leaned against the doors and watched her. She pretended not to see you, then turned abruptly and snarled, “Why are you still here? You can go back to motherfucking Greece or Italy for all I care. I don’t want you here.”

“Oh pumpkin,” you quipped, “we both know you’ll take me back.”

The elevator doors opened with a ding.

“You have no right,” Sally’s voice broke, her face crumpling, “to just waltz back into my life after all the pain you’ve caused! You fucking left me!”

She rushed into the elevator, and for the first time you felt nervous. What if she meant it? What if she really didn’t want you back, what if she had learnt how to live without you? You had thought she wouldn’t, thought she couldn’t. But Sally was fierce, Sally was stubborn. But then again, Sally was starving for love. It didn’t even matter who it was; she would fall for anyone who looked at her fondly.

You slipped between the elevator doors before they had time to close.

“And you,” you said to Sally, voice growing angry again, “you had no right to ask me to sacrifice my life for you. It had to be my choice. And I had to leave in order to make it. But now I’m back.” Something changed in her eyes. Something softened, like night subsiding to gentle morning light, as understanding dawned on her. “I choose to sacrifice my life for you.”

Your voice broke. You shook your head, closing your eyes to hold back the tears you could feel burning under your eyelids. “If that can’t prove my love for you, then I don’t know what can.”

She didn’t answer. You opened your eyes. Her teeth sank into her lower lip as she stared at you, eyes as black as coal, tears coating her face. You didn’t say anything more. She didn’t either.

With another ding the elevator doors opened on an empty corridor. Sally stumbled out, bumping her shoulder into yours, and stopped in front of the second door on the left. With one hand on the handle she stared at you, lower lip still trapped between her teeth. It took you a second too long. The doors of the elevator were already closing.

She had called you on your cell phone the day after you’d left. You hadn’t been able to understand her first few sentences for she had been choking on sobs, her throat full of bits of broken glass, but then you had made out her words when she had demanded where you were and come back at once and she would fucking kill you if you didn’t come back at once. You had hung up on her, hung up on the mess, and your phone had rung again and Sally’s voice had screamed something that sounded like “Did I ever mean anything to you or were you a fucking liar since day one” and something else that ended with “you bitch”.

“Leave me alone,” you had growled, and when your phone had rung again you had thrown it out the window.

Now the bits of broken glass were back in her throat as she let out a groan and threw herself at the elevator doors to prevent them from closing. But she was a second too late. You cursed, slammed the button to open the doors – ding, and then Sally was in your arms and her tears and spit were on your face.

It was a blur of blond hair and red lips and the taste of salt and alcohol, it was all a mess and all too harsh – you pinned her against the wall as her hands desperately roamed and tugged and pinched. Fingers pulling on your hair, fingers kneading your ass. You bit her lip and tasted blood.

And as she panted into your mouth you pressed her against your chest and felt her warmth slowly soothe that ache that tasted like her mouth and smelled like her skin.

“Mine,” she growled, or maybe sobbed. Her tongue darted out and licked up your cheek, collecting tears you had not even noticed were falling. “How I hated you,” she went on, voice breaking, “I could have killed myself if I hadn’t been already dead.”

You groaned, clasped her head between your hands and crashed your lips against hers.

“Mine,” she repeated. Her teeth sank into your tongue, and this time it was your blood that flowed into both your mouths, as if to seal a pact.

“Hold me,” she rasped in the dark, as if your body wasn’t already tangled with hers. Her tongue licked up your neck, hot and wet. You tightened your grip on her, one hand tugging on her hair and the other digging into her back.

“How many did you fuck while you were away?” Sally sobbed. With a groan you tilted your head to capture her lips with yours.

“Shut up,” you moaned into her mouth. She bit your tongue, somehow right on the wound she had made earlier, and you pulled away with a hiss of pain.

You rolled her on her back and kissed her again as another sob pushed out of her throat. “Are you going to leave again?” she whined, raking her fingers through your hair, tugging and pulling and making your skull sting.

“Never,” you groaned. “I told you.”

“So we’re staying trapped in here forever?”

“Together,” you rasped, burying your face so deeply into her chest that the eyes in the walls could no longer see you, only Sally’s face as it crumpled with despair and then her brow pushed up and it brightened with rapture. “Forever.”

#ahs #ahs imagines #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #sally mckenna #sally mckenna x reader #fics

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nightshadedawn · 3 years

Text

Writing prompts!!

Select one of the prompts and a ship and I'll write 300 words for it! I'll keep this open for a week!

Prompts are broken up into categories and further numbered within those categories to help everyone quickly find prompts, so please either give me the category and number of prompt or the prompt itself.

Fuck

"Fuck you." "You know what, [name], I've been trying but you haven't been cooperating." "What."

"I don't hate you." "You bought an entire fucking island to avoid me so we wouldn't be roommates our second year of college." "It obviously didn't work out well because we still ended up in Art History together."

"I'm fucked, I'm screwed. I'm gonna faaaaiillll."

"Well, fuck me and leave me to bleed."

"You're crazy." "Yeah, I'm fucking insane!"

"I have fucking questions!"

"You sir- are fucking hilarious."

"I love you but you're a fucking idiot."

"Love- fuck off."

"I'm cute as all fuck, but I'm an asshole if you piss me off."

"Insomnia's a real fucker, you know?"

"Fuck it- just- breathe! Breathe, damnit!"

"You and your bisexual ass can get the fuck out of here."

"Let's fuck the world over, 'cause that's all we're good for."

"Fuck it. We're not done yet."

"Occasionally I tell people to go fuck themselves just to mess with their puny lives."

"I didn't want anyone else. Fuck it, I just wanted YOU."

"You're a fucking bisexual disaster. Don't at me, brah."

"I'm just a sad, mostly human being that doesn't know what they're doing with their life." "Only mostly?" "Granny honestly got it on so who knows what the fuck Mom is."

"I don't mind if you call me a freak, just don't say it to my face. That's really rather rude." "You're a fucking idiot." "Yes, I've been told."

"I'm DONE! I'm done acting happy, I'm done pretending to be okay, I'm DONE playing this game. I am so. Fucking. DONE. With shits like you! Don't ever come near me again."

"The only reason I kept fighting was because of the people I cared about! And you took them all away from me! I'm not done fighting yet! I'm not done fucking fighting until your body is rotting in the fucking ground!"

"Giving a fuck what other people think about you is like giving them control of your life."

"Please don't pretend to give a fuck about me. I know better now."

"They said I can't." "Well, fuck 'em." "What?" "You're not weak. It's your life. Fuck 'em. Do what you want."

"I trust you about as far as I can throw you. Which is to say I don't. I can't. I'm weak as all fuck."

"I'm as cute as a cucumber. Wait, fuck, that's a kiwi."

Shit

"When you're a sarcastic piece of shit but people keep falling in love with you anyway."

"My sister is a huge piece of shit." "Awe, that's not nice. What'd the shit ever do to you?"

"Shit aside, this isn't the worst plan put into motion."

"Literally no one cares about that shit."

"I'm not a bitch, I'm an asshole. Guys still want to screw me even if all I spew is shit."

"Congratulations! You're in deep shit."

"You've shown great aptitude for bullshitting."

"Shit... I don't... I don't know why I'm crying... Just please don't leave me alone..." "Never."

"I'm one of those people that people regularly tell me not to do stupid shit and I do it anyway."

"I've lived my life watching through windows. I'm ready to go break shit now."

"I promise, I'm okay."

"You expect me to believe that bullshit!?"

"I'm just getting a little tired of having to deal with this shit!"

"Hey, I'm kinda feeling like shit tonight. You think you could... come cuddle me?"

"I don't see myself as someone who breaks promises, spills secrets, or tells lies. I'm not a great person like that statement would suggest. I just don't talk to people enough, and when I do, I don't give enough of a shit to care."

Asshole

"'Cause sometimes, people are just assholes no one else cares about."

"It was an accident! I didn't mean to-" "Now why don't I believe you?" "Because I'm an arrogant prick and an asshole." "At least you're aware of your short comings."

"No, I'm not getting high off lemonade. What are you drinking, bitch?"

"If you're not sucking cock for the fun of it, I don't know what you're doing with your life."

"Ten out of ten. Would bang again." "Please stop." "Love you, babe."

Forget

"I haven't quite forgiven you for that." "No, I don't expect you did."

"The most unforgettable stories are also the most unbelievable, don't you know?"

"I don't need you to hold me like it's okay to forget. I need you to hold me like it's okay to remember, to hold on, and then to let go."

"Sometimes people forget... I'm not normal."

"The world is a wonderful, beautiful, amazing place. That's why it doesn't matter if in thirty years, no one remembers us."

"I want you to remember what it felt like to fight against me."

"Do you remember what it was like when we were young and alright?"

"Do you remember what I promised? That we'd always be together. I don't break promises. Not to anyone, but never to you. As long as you'll have me, I'll be right here. So please, let me stay."

"I want you to remember this feeling; it will follow you all your life."

"Why don't you remember ANYTHING I said!?"

Pain

"Don't you ever wish we could ever be something different? Like, I don't know. Something less hellish?" "I don't know. Sometimes I welcome the pain."

"I just get so restless, and I can't stop moving, and when I have to sit down and focus... it's really hard because I just want to be up. It's genuinely painful when it strikes in the middle of class or something."

"Pain is what made me human."

"You don't understand all the pain we went through to get where we are now."

"I will break, I will burn, but I will not let you hurt me."

"Listen to me and this broken heart of mine."

"It's not your fault you've been hurt before."

"I don't enjoy hurting people." "Could'a fooled me."

"Does it hurt?" "Always."

“It’s not me you have to worry about killing you if you hurt our daughter, it’s my wife.” “Oh, honey, you know me so well.”

"I knew from the beginning I'd never be able to hurt you."

"I shouldn't care. Caring only hurts."

"Sometimes when people get hurt, they shut themselves away. They push away people and the things that hurt them. But I think it's more interesting when they fight back. Revenge is a bitter tale, but it's a more interesting story told."

"I don't want to fall in love. Falling means you get hurt. I want to grow. I want to grow to love someone, see them at their smallest and grow into their mightiest. I want to grow to love, because when something grows, it never stops growing."

"My head feels heavy and my heart just hurts."

"Don't stress the small stuff. It only makes your brain hurt."

"In the end, we were made of blood that could be spilt and bones that could be broken."

"'Broken,' he'd promised. And 'broken' he'd become."

Death

"I have been scared of many things. Surprisingly, my death has never been one of them."

"They're both very strong willed, bull headed, "death to all those who defy me" kind of people."

"Even the bravest close their eyes when facing Death."

"Death seems like the best option right now." "No. No, it does not."

"Touch my phone and you accept Death as your new best friend."

"You tend to just find death everywhere you go. Isn't that a problem?"

"Death is not a good look on you, honey."

"I've got about a hundred years worth of death on my hands and isn't that great?"

"Death comes to all those who wait for it."

"Murder, death, and mayhem are my favorite things to write about."

"You are an angel of death by association. This is your duty."

"I hope you've got some kind of special armor under that dress, 'cause with the way you're surrounded, if you don't, you're gonna die."

"We're gonna die." "That's the plan."

"How many times must she die before you're satisfied?!"

"This time, I'm not letting you die for me."

"Someone's gonna die tonight, but it ain't gonna be me."

"Fine. I'll let you die. I'll just have to bring you back to life."

"But why'd you have to die?"

"If I die, it's officially Your Fault."

"Welp. time to die again,"

"No! No! You don't get to die! You don't get to die and leave me alone!"

"Don't ask me that! Don't do that!" "Why?" "Because everyone knows that when you talk about the future right before a big battle, you're gonna die!"

"When it comes down to it, I want you to make sure I die."

"How did you save them?" "Easy- I died."

"I would live and die for you, but I'd never kill."

"We are not gods. But I shall die like one anyway."

"There was a time when I swear I was just waiting to die."

"I'd rather destroy myself than let her die for me."

"The truth is- I'm just tired of watching you die."

"I've died so many times, and I'm still falling for you."

"I am so done with children." "You have nine." "And I would die for each and every one of them."

"It's a miracle in itself that you haven't died yet."

"The explosion killed thousands. How are you alive?"

"You bother me." "I can't imagine why." "Surely it has nothing to do with the fact you've killed hundreds of people including my family. That couldn't possibly be it."

"I trust you, but the question is, do you trust me?" "I trust you not to get yourself killed." "I think you might be asking a little too much."

"How are you going to tell your sister you killed her best friend?" "I'm not." "That's no way to start a relationship."

"You are legit trying to kill me." "Oh darling, if I really wanted to kill you, I wouldn't be trying. You'd be dead already."

"I'm pretty sure I killed someone. But then again, I could be wrong."

"I'm going to kill someone." "Oh dear god, please be me."

"Ohhhhh, my sister's gonna kill me for this one."

"One time my sister tried to tell me I wasn't right. Valid, I wasn't. But I still tried to kill her anyway."

"Do what you will. But don't come crying to me if it kills you."

"Oh god, just kill me now." "As you wish."

"The next time somebody tries to kill, me, I'm gonna scream." "I should hope so?"

"This child threatened to kill me." "She threatened to burn the entire city to the ground. I don't see what your point is."

"We are all dead and it’s your fault!"

"Oh look. The sun is shining, nobody is dead- today's gonna be a good day."

"I swore I wouldn't do it again. But here I am. Wishing all of them dead."

"I guess being dead wasn't good enough for you. You wanted to erase me from history too."

"Who even knows if we'll be alive tomorrow?"

"What story did they tell you?" "That'd I'd never make it out alive."

"And if I refuse?" "Well, *chuckle* don't suppose you'll get out of this alive."

"You just need to survive."

"The world is a cruel, unfair place. But it's the one we live in, so we gotta do what we can to survive."

"You've done your best to destroy me, but I survived all along."

"I survive because there is nothing else I could do."

"The world didn't want me. But I survived anyway."

"I think I'm more surprised that you're telling me this than the fact that you survived it."

"We exist in this time and place. This isn't the end."

"You hide it in the corners of your mind like it doesn't exist."

"Once upon a time, there was a girl. A regular, ordinary type of girl. The kind of girl... that no longer exists."

"In any other world, we would not exist."

"Hell exists in ways you don't expect it to."

"I exist in your eyes, but not in your life."

"You weren't supposed to exist."

"I suppose that magic exists. In some way or another."

"Time is inconsequential. Unreal. It doesn't exist. All that exists is the here and now."

"The world only exists the way we want it to."

"The world need not know you exist. More importantly, the world need not know you exist as you do."

"Who's dying this time?"

"I've existed long enough to know this is a very bad idea."

"We only sort of exis

"There's something beautiful in the way you look at the world like nothing else exists."

"We exist to be tempered into impossible weapons."

"I am aware of worlds and things that should not exist."

"The difference you have to learn about the past and future is that the future gives us a reason to keep living... the past only exists to hold us back."

"You are the bane of my existence." "I'm the bane of existence in general."

"How many times have I thought about dying? Too many."

My entire life you've made me cry. All you're doing now is making me cry again.

"My room's a mess. Kinda like my life. But nobody's complaining about that."

"My life was wonderful. But it was better without you in it."

When life gives ya lemons, we find someone who has vodka and makes martinis.

"She's living her life in monochrome."

"There are some things in life that just get you down. And then there's her."

"I've been wrong all my life. This is just another instance, isn't it?

"Home is not a place. It's a feeling. Feeling of contentment, life, respect, safety. That is home."

"I live off of two things: spite and validation. I live to spite those who say I can't, but I need validation from those who say I can."

"Please don't live for tomorrow. Live for today."

"My favorite kind of people are the ones who live for themselves, and not for anyone else."

I knew we'd live forever.

"There's not enough time on Earth to see everything. We could go back a billion years and live every moment up to now, and even then we wouldn't see everything." "Nah. But with you, I'd like to try. I feel like I could do anything with you by my side."

#persona 5 #pegoryuann #pegoryu #shuann #yutaba #sk8 the infinity #matchablossom #renga #bnha #bakudeku #kirikami #iidachako #todomomo #if you have questions about another show or ship send me an ask because I honestly am terrible at tagging and i might still be into it #haikyuu!!#kagehina #asanoya #daisuga #honestly most haikyuu ships i just don't know most of their names

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chaoticpuff17 · 4 years

Text

A Dangerous Game

part 3

Masterlist

To say that Y/N was relieved to survive her second encounter with RM was an understatement. A part of her had been convinced that the Mafioso would kill her. She was after all a potential nuisance to him. But the man didn’t seem to have any interest in her death, at least not yet. If anything, he seemed to find her amusing, and she wasn’t sure which was worse RM wanting her dead or his continued interest in her.

It was at this point that she decided that it was time to tell Eun-Ho what had happened. Perhaps he’d have some insight on what she should do as she was far outside her depth with this. Marcus had been bad yes, but RM was worse. Marcus was a brute, but RM was suave and smart and he unnerved her on a very deep level.

There were different kinds of criminals. There were the low level schmucks, middling grease balls, and then there were the higher ups, the king pins. RM was above them all. He was something she hadn’t encountered before.

“I’m serious, Eun-ho ssi.” She hissed glaring at the officer who seemed so unbothered by everything she had just told him.

“It’s going to be fine.” He assured her sipping at his cup of instant coffee. “It’s a little strange…”

“A little strange?” she shrieked eyes wide. “This is more than a little strange.” She ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “I don’t like this. It’s not normal, and you all promised I would be safe when I came here.”

“You are safe!” the poor young man looked almost affronted by the implication that she was in danger.

“The man knows where I live and has dragged me out of my home twice in the middle of the night.”

“I’m sure it will be okay.” He gave her a smile as though that would pacify her. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you.”

“But it could.” She insisted. “This isn’t normal. When things like this happened people end up dead.”

“You’re not going to die.” He promised giving his attention to his computer once more. “And if this continues or escalates, we’ll send you home. Look, why don’t you take the day off tomorrow? You can explore Seoul.” He offered.

“Exploring Seoul is going to make this better?” she asked crossing her arms under her chest and leveling him with a look that clearly conveyed her displeasure.

Eun-ho sighed turning back to her. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“You could try to do something about it!”

“There’s nothing we can do. We don’t even know his name, Y/N.” he dropped the honorifics really catching her attention. Eun-ho never dropped honorifics. “We don’t know who he is or where he took you. He didn’t hurt you either. We have nothing. Take tomorrow off. Relax. We’ll get him eventually. And it could be good for us that he has an interest in you. You could find new information on him. No one else even knows what he looks like.”

She stared at him unable to believe what she was hearing. Eventually. They’d get him eventually. But in the meantime they would use her as live bait. They were hoping that he would meet her again and all the while she would be looking over her shoulder hoping that he would leave her alone. But there was little hope of that with his parting words. “Until next time”.

She knew full well that he was already planning their next meeting. He was a man who was always ten steps ahead in the game, and she was still trying to figure what game they were playing because he made her feel like it was an entirely new game. He was running circles around her, and she was just trying to keep up.

“Fine. That’s fine.” She huffed standing up and collecting her purse.

“I didn’t mean leave now!” he called out after her as she left the station.

Taking the time away from the station had done nothing to calm her nerves. Though it was nice to have some time to herself and pretend that this was just a vacation even if it was only a lie to make herself feel better if only a little.

It also gave her the opportunity to visit some of Seoul’s street markets. She had always loved open markets ever since she was a little girl and had first been taken to the farmer’s market for the first time. There was something exciting about them. They were always fresh and exciting, and the markets here were all of that and more. It was buys and bustling with the ahjummas selling everything from clothing to sweets even pets were sold within the market.

And it was a lovely day to be out and about. The sun was out and there was a lovely breeze. The weather and the exploring of the market had put her in a good mood. And for the first time in days she wasn’t looking over her shoulder. But perhaps she should have been.

The feeling of an arm wrapping around her waist had her nearly jumping out of her skin. Whirling around and throwing offending arm off she was faced with a sight she would have rather not seen.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed eyes wide as he smirked down at her looking just as perfect as ever though far more casual than either of the previous times she had seen him. This man had no right to look as good as he did. “Don’t you have other things to do than stalk me like I don’t know running your criminal empire?”

His smile widened at that. “I received word from one of my men that you were wandering the city without any of your police friends.”

“And?” she snapped glaring up at him.

“I wouldn’t want for you to get lost. It’s a big city.”

“Really?” she asked quirking a brow. “That’s really the excuse you’re going to go with?” He shrugged looping an arm around her waist once more much to her displeasure. “If you’d like to keep that hand, I suggest that you remove it.” she hissed though her threat only seemed to amuse her companion.

“And how do you think you’re going to do that?”

“With a very big knife thank you very much.” she sniffed shoving his arm from around her waist once more.

“Then I’ll be sure to keep you away from knives.”

Y/N released a growl of frustration. It was both infuriating and incredibly creepy that he was here, and it also told her that there were men watching her, and that he most likely already knew that she had told Eun-ho about their late night rendez vous.

“Let me take you for coffee.” He suggested tucking her hand into the crook of his arm instead of wrapping it around her waist. They both knew it wasn’t really a suggestion though.

“And if I say no?” she asked testing the waters to see just how much trouble she was in as she moved on from the stall she was looking at when he arrived. People were looking, and she preferred to keep this low key or as low key as possible when you were dealing with an international crime lord.

“It would be very rude to refuse a friend’s invitation for coffee especially when I came all this way to see you.” He made a point though. Both of their previous meetings involved her being brought to him. He had never come to her before, and that was almost as intriguing as it was worrying.

“It’s also rude to spy on people.” She reminded him giving him sideways glance as she perused the booths around them.

“I’m not spying on you. I’m simply keeping an eye on you, making sure you’re safe.”

She stopped in her tracks slipping her arm away from him as she did so. “And why would you want to keep me safe?”

“Why shouldn’t I want to keep you safe?” he asked tucking her hand in place once more as he moved them through the market. Just as she was about to push him away once more he tightened his grip and hissed into her ear. “You’ll cause a scene if you keep pushing me away. The ahjummas are already looking.”

She glared at him but allowed the contact. It would do no good to cause a scene here not when she didn’t actually know what he wanted. “I’m here to tear down your criminal empire. If anything you should want me gone. Protecting me seems counter-productive.”

He chuckled looking down at her fondly. “Why would I want you gone? You are far too intriguing to send away so soon.”

“I think we could both sleep better at night if I went home.” She scoffed. “You realize that every time we meet like this is a danger for you? I know what you look like now.”

“Perhaps I have other plans in store for you.”

She stiffened her whole body going rigid. “I don’t like the sound of that, but I do like the look of those earrings.” She pulled away from him and moved toward the stall that held the earrings that held her interest. It was a good excuse to pull away from him even if he trailed behind her as she moved.

“I’m beginning to think you don’t like me, Y/N –ah.” He sighed giving her a look that could almost be described as a pout, but that was impossible. Men like RM did not pout.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” she asked rolling her eyes slightly before giving her attention back to the jewelry missing the way that RM’s jaw tightened at her dismissal. “I know my place in this game. I’m just a pawn.”

“A pawn?”

“Yeah. I go where you tell me and do what I’m told. Isn’t that what pawns do? I’ll play my part, and then they’ll send me home.” She wanted to go home more than anything just about now. Home was peaceful. Home was safe. And as far as she was aware home did not have criminal megalomaniacs popping up everywhere she went.

She wasn’t stupid enough to believe that she was on the same level as RM in this game. She was in a strange country without any real knowledge of the language or any friends. This was his home field, and he had all the advantage, and that was more unnerving than anything.

He paused taking a moment to look her over. “Who decided that you were a pawn?”

“I did. I shouldn’t even really be here.” Just then a thought popped into her head. “By the way, do you have men on the police force?” the look he gave her clearly conveyed the answer and that she should have known it without having to ask. “I mean like people in the department I’m working with.”

“Trying to root out my spies, Y/N?”

“Always, but I really am curious.”

“Why?” he asked looking over the jewelry with her placing a large hand on the small of her back despite the way she flinched under the touch. “Don’t trust your officer Choi?”

She scoffed at that pulling her cardigan slightly tighter around her as she did. “He’s not my officer Choi. Why would he be?”

“You can never be too careful of the company you keep.”

“Says the criminal mastermind.” She murmured sarcastically. “You’re clearly the epitome of good company.”

The air around them grew tense as his smile turned from amused to sharp, a front for his annoyance. “I can be a very good friend to have.”

“I don’t need any more friends.” She sniffed moving away from the stall.

“You can always use more friends in our business.” The smile he gave her was far more threatening than it was comforting.

“And why do I need friends in your business. All of this will be over for me when I go home.” She huffed almost marching towards the exit of the market with RM trailing behind her at a more leisurely pace.

“Is that really what you want?” he asked his tone suspiciously silky.

She stopped and turned to him confused by the question. “Why wouldn’t that be what I want?”

He stepped closer. “Despite all that you did to disentangle yourself from this world, here you are.”

“And with any luck it won’t be for much longer.”

There was no mistaking the way his jaw clenched this time as the atmosphere went from tense to almost dangerous. He took another step closer. “Oh, I know. I received a very interesting call yesterday.” Her eyes were like saucers as she stared at him. “Running away so soon, jagiya?”

part 4

#bts #bts fic #yandere bts #rm #rm x reader #namjoon #namjoon x reader #yandere namjoon #mafia #mafia namjoon #mafia au #dark romance #fanfic #soft yandere

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winter-fox-queen · 3 years

Text

Kisses Like Wine Part 7

Thank you, thank you for all the kind words, clever tags…I hope this ending is a good one for all of you. <3

Summary: We end where we begin…at a party. Will the Thief get everything he came for?

Warnings: Making out…I don’t know why, the man exudes pure sex, but I couldn’t fit the smut in. Stealing things. The reader is female, blank canvass, no y/n.

I stared at the card. All that blackmail, clever managing to break into a warehouse, avoiding getting killed…and all I had to show for it was an empty chair and a card.

A King of Spades. What the hell did that even mean? It’s been a few days, and I had no idea where he was, if he was alright, anything.

But I did have a bit of luck. I learned that there was to be a ball…and it was tonight. The Heart of the Rhine would be on delicious display, around the neck of a lady who claimed to be one of the “Last Habsburg Princesses” — though people made fun of her for her grandiose claims. But still. She was going to the ball, wearing the Heart, and I was going to steal it.

I had a glass fake. It wasn’t a very good glass fake, but it would do with the time I had. I also had a beautiful dress, a soft, filmy green that clung where it should and sparkled like a thousand diamonds had been sewn into it.

I then tried to treat myself to dinner, but the card was declined…finally, my father had cut me off. I laughed…I had bought everything from the skin out for the ball, made sure I was the most beautiful and elegant I could be, and it was the MCDonald’s cheeseburger that got declined.

I told myself I was dressing for the part, not for the man. I hadn’t picked out the most beautiful lingerie to wear under the dress that I could just in case he would get to see it.

I’d give my soul to know his name, and it scared me, how far I’d gone.

How much I wanted him.

So, there I was. At the entryway to the Great Ballroom (which I’d cleaned yesterday, and helped set up this morning before collecting my paycheck and canning my maid outfit and wig for good, thank you very much) I paused. It was going to end the way it began.

I told myself I was ready.

“I thought you’d be in the corner, singing to yourself, angel.” His voice was like a heavy velvet wrap around my heart. I was suddenly so very aware. Aware of the warmth of his body near my back, the feel of his hand as he moved to take mine, bending low and kissing the knuckles, the dark pools of his eyes never leaving mine.

“It’s not a masquerade, this time.” I was proud that I almost sounded unaffected. Almost. He was wearing a jacket of silvery grey, it shimmered a little in the light. “All masks are off.”

“Are they?” He presented me with a little pouch. Smiled down into my eyes, his eyes so deep and dark — but warm, like summer shadows.

“What’s this?” I took it gently.

“A thank you present, for later…hide it in one of the pockets you had sewn into your gown.” He caressed my cheek gently. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

I tried to feel it through the velvet of the pouch as I stowed it…paper? Around something hard? His caress distracted me. “I can’t believe you got caught.”

“Perhaps it is time for me to retire.” He held out a hand. “Shall we? We did not get to dance properly last time, and tonight, we have time to kill.”

I let him lead me out on the floor. His hand on the bare skin of my back was warm, intimate. He’s held me close before but this is different…my breath still came faster, heat still pooled in my belly at his touch, feeling his body move against mine, but it felt like home just as much as it felt like lust. Would he move this smoothly, if we were alone in his bed? Would be be this gentle, but this firm as he lead me?

“How…”. I shut myself off. I had been about to say, “How do you fall in love with a Thief?”

“How do I plan to take it?” He tapped his forehead to mine gently. “You know better than to ask.”

“Well. She has four guards around her everywhere she goes. She’s never alone — someone is always talking to her, always saying something.”

He turned me gently in his arms, and now I was back to his front, as they continued dancing to the music. His cheek was pressed against mine, and I felt the bristle of his beard. “They’re all men.” I said softly.

“Good. Good. And see how much she drinks?”

I spin away, his hand gently guides me back and we are face to face again. “That can’t be it. That’s too easy.”

“Sometimes it is.” His nose brushed mine. “Enough talking.” He kissed me. I stopped right in the middle of the dance floor. The world was spinning, but I was still, tucked up against him, his mouth exploring mine, his hands pulling me close. When I opened my eyes I realized he’d guided us off to the side, in a shadow created by one of the pillars that lined either side of teh room. He looked down at me, as if trying to say something, then sighed, closed his eyes and placed his forehead to mine, cupping my face with both of his hands.

“Will you ever tell me your name?” I whispered.

He pressed his face against my neck, I felt him smile. “Maybe,” he said softly. “Or perhaps you should make one for me.”

“I’d rather know yours.” I wrapped my arms around his shoulders as he started kissing my throat. I was pretending to keep my eye on the mark, but failing. “Stop distracting me…anyway…I am tired of calling you The Thief in my head all the time.”

He looked up. “Really? Is that all you call me?”

“Yes.” I drew it out.

“Liar.” He said, and kissed me on the nose.

“This is not what I expected.”

“And what did you expect?”

“Well.” I played with the satin lapel of his jacket. “I thought you’d drag me off to some quiet corner and have your way with me.”

His hands closed in on my waist, and squeezed. “Is that you want, my darling? To hide somewhere and taken so passionately that I need to keep my hand over your mouth to stifle your moans?”

I looked up at him. “Sounds lovely.”

His mouth twisted into an oddly alluring smirk. “Well.” He said softly, leaning closer. His eyes dashed a quick glance over my shoulder, and his frame sank.

“Is she heading for the restroom? Already?”

He nodded.

I held up a finger. “Hold that thought.” I moved through the crowd, muttering about woman and their humming bird sized bladders.

I went in. There was an attendant, the black cloth of the uniform shirt a little too snug around her arms and shoulders. She was built like an amazon, and I thought, That is not coincidence. I used the restroom, washed up, and was checking my makeup as my mark approached mirror.

My body was between the attendant and the mark. Could I do it? Dared I? “Excuse me…the clasp of your necklace looks undone…”. I reached over to fix it, thankful that she had worn her hair upswept. The fake was palmed in my hand.

“I’ll see to that,” the attendant said, pushing me aside gently. “It looks alright.” Her tone was less gentle this time, and she frowned at me. The Hapsburgh Princess — the papers said her friends called her Norri — gave me a glare in the mirror, then kept fixing her face.

“Must have been a trick of the light. I’d hate for you to lose your necklace, it’s really pretty!” I backed to the door. “See you around!”

He was leaning against the wall next to the door. “Attendant?”

“How’d you know?”

He put an arm around my waist. “You need work on your poker face, my love. Which is a shame, because our next shot at the jewel is during the poker gamethey have set up for later.”

I let him lead me away. “What? You think to get her to add it to the pot?”

He shrugged elegantly.

“Oh, come on. Tell me.” He lead me to a balcony, overlooking the city.

“I have a plan. You know how to play, right?”

“I do…I am adequate, but…”

He handed me a card. “This is so you can join the game. The chips have been purchased. Just collect at the end and cash them in.”

“What happens if they figure out that I’m your accomplice?”

He reached over and tucked some hair behind my ear. He looked very sad, in the golden light. “They won’t.”

I cupped his face in my hands. “Why are you so sad? What are you going to do?”

He shook himself and gave me a blinding smile. “Nothing! Everything will go according to plan. Now…”. He sat down in one of the wicker chairs on the balcony. “Come, let me hold you for awhile.” He unbuttoned his coat with careless flicks of his fingers, then looked up at me, held out a hand.

“Well. We do have to kill an hour…” I sat down carefully.

“Shhh. Give me your whole weight, my dove. None of this awkward half sitting, eh?” I shifted as his arm closed around me, and he traced my jaw with his knuckles, and kissed me. His mouth was hotter and sweeter than sin, I shifted to get closer, pressing my chest to his. I ached to be touched, as those soft lips met the skin of my neck, nipped and licked, burning a path that made me moan softly.

“That’s it, my beautiful girl.” He whispers in my ear.

“What do I have to do to get you to tell me your name? Just the first. Lie. It’s fine. Just tell me…”

He’s playing with the strap of my gown, he’d been in the process of pushing it aside. “I will not lie, not to you, not about that. But I have promised myself — I will only tell my name to the woman I love. The woman I want to…”. He cut himself off and looked at me.

“Alright,” I gave him a brave smile, trying to cover the hurt. “Tell me something else. Anything.”

He ran his hands up my arms. “That you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

I let him pull me back, kissed him. “I love you, but I know nothing about you, and I hate myself for it.” I whispered in his ear. His hands stilled and I slipped off his lap, made a point of looking through the glass door. “Ah. It looks like they are opening the poker tables. See you there?”

The angle I was at, I couldn’t see his face. I kissed the top of his head, enjoying the feel of his soft curls. “It’s OK. It really is.”

And I went inside. I heard him follow, but like Orpheus, I did not dare look back for fear of losing everything.

In this case, everything was my sanity, my will not to start crying, not to berate myself…You know, no-strings screwing could be a ton of fun. I felt a bit like Anne Boleyn, leading Henry the 8th of a merry dance to get what I wanted…knowing full well he could kill me if he felt like it.

I knew he wouldn’t kill me. But I knew he’d probably leave me. Maybe that was why he looked so sad. Could the world’s greatest thief feel regret?

He across from me at the table. There was another guest, then Norri, the mossy green diamond glowing. I felt an unreasonable hatred for it, for her, for the whole place. For diamonds worth millions but still not as unattainable as one Thief. Hell, the moon would be easier to get.

Another man, me, the dealer. I ran my hand over the tray that held my chips, the rough edges cool against my palm. If I walked out with this tray I could get home.

We started playing. I was surprised. I expected silence, quiet desperation…but no.

The table wanted to talk about love. LOVE. I threw in some chips.

“I have been in love exactly three times in my life.” The Thief said idly, accepting new cards and inspecting his hand. The pile of chips in front of him was respectable, but not gross. He was winning just a little more than he was losing. Me? I was annoyed and out for blood. “The first one poisoned me.”

“Really?” Norri was fascinated. So, of course, was I. “Why?”

He nodded and threw some chips in. “Difference in opinion about how to run the family business.”

“The second?” I asked, despite myself.

His eyes flickered down to his cards. “I made her sad. She could not bear me, the way I am.” He gave me the sweetest of smiles. “It happens.”

“I’m calling.” Norrie says. “And you must tell me the third?”

We paused to show our cards, or not. I had a full house, and won, scooping my chips in.

“She is the one I love most.” The dealer was dealing cards again. “I did not know how much I loved her, when I first met her I saw a beautiful woman, inside and out, underappreciated, stuck in a cage when she would be so much more. I thought, I could give her a way out.” He grinned. “Vanity is one of my many, many vices.”

Everyone laughed. Except me. He reached over and took the cards from the dealer, despite the man’s protests.

“I wish I could start over,” he says, shuffling the cards. He looked into my eyes. “But it is almost midnight, Cinderella, and the fairy tale is over.” I realized the backs of the cards were different…when had he changed them? “I am so sorry,” he said, and raised his hands, and rained the cards over us. The power went out, and the cards, as they flew into the air hissed and spat, flaring with fire for a second before becoming sparks and ash. Norrie screamed next to me. I felt a touch as light as feathers for the briefest of seconds. A kiss on my temple.

And then the lights came up again, and the greatest thief was gone again.

I was searched…we all were. The fake necklace was gone, but this time it was me who hid it in a small panel I’d found while cleaning. The going away present he’d left me, the little pouch, was well hidden in my dress, so I was snot surprised that they did not find it. They also did not find the playing card. I found it later, where the first card was.

The Queen of Hearts. I never knew that looking at a playing card could feel like a kiss and a slap at the same time.

I traded in my chips. I took my money. I walked out the door, and thought, I am done with all of this.

There were no more diamonds. No more clues to follow. A black car was waiting outside. I quickened my steps, wondering, hoping. The door opened, and all hopes were dashed. My brother came up to me, looking…relieved.

“Are you alright?”

“I am. I failed. So maybe not for long,” I joked.

“It’s time for you to come home.” He looked so serious. “No one’s mad…we just miss you, and this was good…you had fun, we tried to get the diamond back, but…enough is enough.”

“I hate to give up now…”

“It’s OK. Just come back.” He gave me a tentative smile. “Where else are you going to go? It’s your home.”

“I have options.” I said. I hugged him…it was as stiff and welcoming as I expected it to be, so it was short. “I think…I think I’ll take a rain check.”

“Dad’s frozen your cards…”

“I know!” I said cheerfully.

“What are you going to do? I don’t understand…I…”

This time, I petted him, and my “I know” was far more serious. I could never make him understand. He was as much a prisoner as I was, but no one saw enough in him to show him a way out. I started walking.

“Did he seduce you? Is that what this is?”

“Sadly, no.” I said over my shoulder.

As I walked, I took the pouch out. Under a street lamp I looked at it. A signet ring. Heavy. Old gold. I held it up to the light, and etched in the blood red ruby was a little devil’s head.

I knew where he was.

And I knew his name. I’d seen it — and the little sigil from the ring — enough times, researching the Midas’s Rainbow.

There is, if you know where to find it, a castle. It overlooks a formidable bay that had been the bane of many a ship, in the old days.

It looks abandoned. The land for a good distance around it is private, and it is very hard to get to. People at the closest town will tell you it is haunted by a man who sold his soul to the devil, and that he has lived there for hundreds of years. That his castle has a vault full of cursed treasure.

There are people there who will tell you the story with an almost mocking twist. And you — and I — both know that these are the people who have been paid, and paid well. To spread the legend. To bring in supplies. To try and dissuade lone women from walking the long, rutted path into the woods, to climb past rocks to the lonely castle over the ocean. To approach it, the red painted drawbridge bound in black iron.

There’s a door, set in the drawbridge. The knocker looks like the heraldic devil’s head in the ring I wear on a chain around my neck. No one answers my knock.

It does look abandoned. Quiet. But I hear a song, sung softly, and I walk around until I am in a garden.

I call his name, and when he turns, he laughs, a sound of relief as much as pleasure.

I drop my bag, my purse, and throw my arms around him. He crushes me to him, and I can barely whisper his name, over and over, and that I love him, I love him.

“Welcome to your home, my love,” he says, in a pause between kisses, “Thank you for coming to find me.”

The End.

(Unless the actual commercial gives me thots)

With extra, most loving thanks to the people who have been following this and loving it:

Thank you to you lovely people for being on my tag list, if you want added or dropped just let me know. <3

@grogusmum @mishasminion360 @hnt-escape @littlemisspascal @pedro4ever @writteninthestars18 @fromthedeskoftheraven @sharkbait77

@quica-quica-quica @eri16 @the-blind-assassin @ayoungpascallover-readings @songsformonkeys

#casillero diablo wine commercial #The Thief #pedro pascal #all my love and thanks to you.

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twst-headcanon · 4 years

Note

Hii 🙃 May I request some headcanons for Ace, Deuce, Idia, Malleus and Leona with a s/o who loves stuffed animals and takes them everywhere?If it’s possible could you do a bonus reactions when their s/o uses the plushie to kiss them? Make it as fluffy as possible please >//< By the way I love your writing 💕

Heeyyyyyy !! So here is (finally !) the answer for your request ! Mod Amy helped me writing this I hope it’ll meet your needs !! It was fun to write and I might have get overboard at moments tehee~~~. Also thank you for your kind words, it makes us more confident and fired up !! Anyway enjoy reading !! ~Mod Ebi

Warning: Sweetness overload (or so I think), if you get cavities we won’t be responsible for it !!

S/O who loves stuffed animal and takes it anywhere.

Ace:

Well he was surprised at first. « Eh ? A stuffed dog ? Isn’t that a bit childish ? » Ace for the love of whoever you want please think before speaking. And the moment he saw their tense face, he immediately told himself « oh shit I fucked up » yes you did.

Poor boy felt really bad and apologies but the more time he spend with the plushie, the more he grew attached to it. “I’ve only had this smol cutie for a day and half. But if anything happened to him, I would kill everyone in this school and then myself.” They even became besties. « If it wasn’t already yours, I would have already adopt this ball of floff. » Sorry Deuce, your spot was taken.

Ace wouldn’t ever admit it but it brings him comfort to hug it when he sleeps during class using it like a pillow. It’s a wonder how the teachers never scold him about that.

And because he likes to hold it, he uses Grim as an excuse « You already have to hold Grim, let me hold my little puppy ! » and thus, he carries it around on his shoulder -No worries he won’t let it fall when if his life is at stake.-

If you use the plush to kiss him, he’ll give the dog many smooch back ! Until he sees his love a bit envious, that’s when he drown them in kisses too !!

Deuce:

What a cute bunny !! Does it have a name ? For how long did you have it ? He decided that from now on, he’ll to hold it his heart ! It’s just so lovely ! Like them !!

However his lover might not mind the way people talks about them carrying a stuffed animal but he does. He tried to warn them threaten them gently not to, but it didn’t work. What could he do to show some support...

OH !💡! He just got an awesome idea !!

A few days later when Deuce comes to his lover, he shows them a package. “Look at what my mother send me !” It was an old hare plushie. “This was mine when I was still an infant. I asked her to send it back to me. That way not only we match but your plushie won’t be alone anymore !”

Because he thinks his lover and their plushie are alike, he tried to sew a spade pattern under the eye of his hare (at the same place he have his.) Unfortunately he can’t sew for shit and had to ask help from Trey.

Once they use the bunny to kiss Deuce, and he asked he in return “A kiss ? I see then who would you a kiss back from ? Me or my hare ?” Ask for both and both you’ll received !!!

Leona:

At first he didn’t care that much about it. As long as they didn’t ask him to carry this lion plushie, our favorite lion shouldn’t have be bothered about it. Shouldn’t have.

Aha well too bad for him, because a big surprise he never thought would ever happened hit him in the guts.

This plushie was ☆*:.｡ everywhere ｡.:*☆.

During class sitting between him and his chosen one while they brush it.

During lunch “No Leona I won’t feed you, what if I stain my plushie ?”.

During your napping quality time, cuddling the stuffed animal instead of him.

... This has to be a joke. Who’s the boyfriend here ? Leona Kingscholar or that damn plushie ?!

No, wait a minute l! There is NO way his pride would let him to be envious of a fake lion ?!!?!?

BUT THEN HE SAW IT. His lover. Kissing. The toy.

OK THAT’S IT. LEONA HAS ENOUGH.

“Oi ! Stop that right now.” Leona ? What is it why do you look so upset ? “Put this damn plush down. Why do you keep pamper this thing more than me ?”

“... Leona. Love. Are, are you jealous ?” “Haa ?! Of course not what makes you think so ?”

He totally is. You can hear Ruggie wheeze in the background.

“*chuckle* Oh Leona if you were envious you could have say so ! I guess I’ll just have to correct that.” FINALLY.

But the only thing they managed to do, is make the smaller lion kiss him.

“Grrr you got this all wrong. Let me show you what I meant earlier.” And Leona swept them off their feet to kiss them like there is no tomorrow.

Idia:

*Gaaasssp* A STUFFED CAT ! IT LOOKS SO FLUFFY !!!!! HNNNN HIS HEART IS SOFT. Can he hold it too ? Can he pet it ??

He is totally on board with his lover carrying a plushie around. Usually cats flee before him, thanks to it he could try and train how to interact with felines !

Oh ! Maybe he should also tell how admirative he is of them ! Idia is aware that people can be mean, and for his lover to hold always with them without minding other’s thoughts ! How could he not fall even deeper in love ?

Now, your plushie have two person gushing and pampering it ! And when Ortho saw you he couldn’t help but to say : « You looks so cute together !! Like a family !!! If Idia is the father and you the other parent, does that mean I am « ojitan » ? »

Idia.exe has stopped working. ORTHO COULD YOU PLEASE NOT BROKE YOUR BROTHER LIKE THAT ??? HE IS BLUSHING SO MUCH HE LOOKS LIKE OVERHEATED.

-Not that any of you mind that, rather his comments made the both of you really happy-

If they use the plushie to kiss him, Idia will at first blush hard -his hair might as well turn a bit red- but he’ll use the plushie to kiss them back *indirect kiss !!!!!*

If he feels more bold, Idia would even turn it to a snuggle session and kiss them on their head and lips.

Malleus:

He might not show it, but Malleus found that little bat plushie extremely cute ! Unlike some he understands that you like to carry it around, regardless of if it’s a memory, if it helps you relax or even if there is no reason.

If anyone dares to make a bad comment about it, he’ll make sure remember their face. -But let’s face it who would dare to do it knowing that Malleus is their boyfriend.-

In a way to support you, he presents you his tamagotchi !! “Now like this, we know each other’s friends. They could even be friend don’t you think ?”

If you ever need it, Malleus would hold your stuffed bat for you (like if you need to go to the bathroom or whatever.)

During time like this, while you are not aware or watching, he’ll groom and talk softly to it, admiring it like he admire gargoyles.

“My friend I have a request. Please for the times I am not around, could you protect them for me ? Here is a little charm that would guard you if anything happen. I’ll count on you.”

If they use the plushie to kiss Malleus, he’ll chuckle and gently kiss you back. “Fufu did you perhaps wanted to start a Chinese whisper game ? Every loving gesture, I’ll lavish it a hundred times more back to you.”

((So I am not sure about the name “Chinese whisper game”, it’s called “téléphone arabe” in french but I’m not sure if I got the right translation here.))

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allegra-writes · 4 years

Text

“Small talk”

Peter Parker x Vigilante!Reader

NSFW

Warnings: Smut

"Like wolves, we've run wild, let passion get too much, let ourselves get burned by the fire"

Small Talk - Niall Horan

Peter knows it's a bad idea, you are nothing but trouble. But just because he has spidey sense, doesn't mean he has common sense... 🔥

MY MASTERLIST

"Bad idea kid" Tony's voice reached his ears from somewhere at his left, but not even then did he broke eye contact with you. He couldn't. He was paralized, mesmerized, drawn like a moth to a flame. You had been looking at him across the ballroom all night, a vision in your little white number, like an angel with lightning in her eyes… He wanted you, the realization hitting him like a brick.

A hand was waved in front of his face,

"Peter, are you even listening to me?"

He made a non committal hum.

Tony sighed,

"Look, I know you've been through a lot lately. I mean, Michelle practically left you on the altar-"

"Do not" He finally turned to his mentor, tone as cold as his gaze, "say her name. Ever."

"Ok, kid, I won't" Tony raised his hands in surrender, "All I'm saying is, I know everything sucks right now, and you might be feeling a little... reckless and self destructive. And normally I would say go for it, a little rebound sex never killed anyone but in that case" he motioned in your direction with his head, "in that case it just might"

"What do you mean?" You were dancing now, and Tony was loosing Peter's attention fast,

"They call her Cut-Throat" he said, straight to the point, "and she's with those wackjobs from Hell's Kitchen. EDITH identified her right away. Trust me on this one, kid. She's got the wrong kind of crazy"

Yes, Peter could feel that, his spidey sense had been going haywire all night. But he liked it. He liked the dress you were wearing, and he liked the way you talked, and he liked the way you were dancing. He liked you, and he hadn't felt that way about anyone in a while.

He hadn't felt that way about anything actually, ever since MJ…

But now? Now he wanted to run wild, wanted to misbehave at least once in his responsibility filled existence. He wanted to know what it was like to let the passion get the best of him.

He wanted to play with fire, and get burned.

"I'm not a kid anymore, Tony" He cut his mentor off, a little harshly "I have a PhD, I think I'm old enough to know what I'm doing"

"One would think so, and yet…" Tony muttered, grumpily, watching his protegee disappear in the ocean of people on the dance floor.

Peter, on the other hand, was trying not to freak out. Despite his big talk, he was half expecting Tony to follow him, to stop him, but it was too late now: You had seen him making his way to you and now you were walking to him, still staring at him like he was something to eat. And he couldn't run, couldn't hide, not when he wanted so badly to be devoured. Looking at your wolfish smile, he couldn't help but wonder if that's what rabbits felt, right before being gobbled up.

"Hello"

"Hi"

"Want to get out of here?"

Just like that, no small talk. Before he even knew it, the elevator doors were closing behind him and you were on him, smashing your lips against his, pushing him back against the wall, setting his skin on fire everywhere it met yours. And god help him, but the burn was better, so much better than the raw, biting cold he had felt ever since MJ had left him on his knees in the dark. Helpless, with nothing but that unforgiving, bone freezing emptiness.

He fisted his hands on the silk of your dress, bringing you closer, impossibly closer, holding onto your heat as his mouth left yours to suck a bruise on your neck. The helpless little noise that left your throat made his head swim, lips traveling south in their quest to coax more of those pretty noises out of you.

"Fuck!" You cursed as his mouth closed around your nipple over the flimsy fabric.

Peter smiled. He had been wanting to do that all night, his super sight letting him see everything through the sheer fabric of your dress when the light hitted you just right. Your fingers tangled in his soft curls, trying to keep his head where you wanted it, but he was strong, almost unnaturally so. In an instant you were the one against the steel wall, caged between it and his hard body.

One hand at the back of your knee, and soon he was lifting your leg, wrapping it around his hips, opening you up to him, as he grinded his pelvis against yours, making you moan, the sound resonating in the tiny elevator.

"Bet I can make you come just like this" He breathed out, hot against your ear, "rubbing my cock against your pussy through our clothes"

"Fuck yes!"

"You want that, don't you angel?" Peter bit back a moan of his own, still rolling his hips, "Want to be a good girl and come for me…"

"Not really a good girl"

You pushed back against the wall, angling your hips, rocking them faster, chasing your peak. Peter's eyes rolled back inside his head, hands flying to your hip bones, helping you move.

"But you're still gonna come for me, aren't you?"

There it was again, the sharp smile, all teeth and danger,

"Make me"

He attacked your lips again, tongue slipping inside your mouth as his hand slipped underneath your skirt. He found his goal, fingers teasing you over your panties,

"So wet for me already, angel?" He marveled, and you gulped for air. God, he knew how to kiss. You couldn't wait to see what else that talented tongue of his could do.

"You made me wait too long…" You pouted, watching in satisfaction as his eyes zeroed on your lips and his eyes turned even darker. He retaliated by tugging your thong to the side, sliding two fingers inside your wet, velvety heat. Your pretty lips opened in a perfect little O, and he had the dirtiest of visions, of you on your knees, taking his length into that gorgeous, delicious mouth of yours. He licked into your open mouth, filthily.

"It's ok, angel, I got you now"

He could feel it coming, you muscles tensing, your fingers digging into his shoulders, wetness bathing his hand…

But the elevator came to a halt, and a ding announced you had arrived to your floor. He took his fingers out of you, licking them clean one by one, chuckling when you cried out your frustration.

"Shut up" You snickered, grabbing him by his tie, dragging him like a puppy on a leash all the way to your room.

Peter plastered himself to your back as soon as you both reached your door, making the task of unlocking it rather difficult, with him nibbling on the back of your neck, the curve of your shoulders, lowering the straps of your dress…

You felt his impressive hardness against your lower back, and you couldn't hold back the wanton whimper that left your lips.

"Hurry up, angel, or I'm taking you right here against this door" You believed him, what with his hands slowly bunching your skirt up.

The door opened abruptly, making you practically fall into the room, but with quick reflexes, he caught you in his arms.

"I told you I got you, angel"

You scoffed, deciding to make use of your full strength, surprising him by turning the both of you around and pushing him, so he fell flat on his back on the bed.

His eyes widened in surprise.

"I'm no angel, baby boy"

Peter wholeheartedly disagreed. He didn't think he had ever seen something more beautiful than you right then, eyes on fire as you let your dress fall, mischievous smirk promising a world of trouble.

You straddled his waist, helping him get rid of his suit coat and his shirt, stopping short at the wide shoulders and defined chest you found underneath. It was his turn to smirk, as he snaked his big, big arms around your waist and twirled you on the bed, so you were the one trapped between the mattress and his powerful body.

"And I am no boy"

His mouth found yours again, Irresistible and addictive, something long forgotten inside him reawakening with every drag of your soft lips against his, every taste of your tongue on his. Your hands grabbed onto his biceps as he went for your neck again, making sure of sucking hard enough to break blood vessels under your skin and leave behind a dark, deep mark that would not fade quickly. He continued his way south, until he reached the top of your breast. He admired the softness and the color of your skin there, a perfect blank canvass. He bit down, with bruising force.

Peter didn't know why he was being so rough with you, he had always been so careful, so tender with MJ. Always letting her take the lead, so aware of her fragility compared to him, always afraid of hurting her if he let himself get too carried away. He shook himself, he had already spent too many nights, to many hours, too many thoughts on her. He didn't want to waste another, not with your exquisite body under his, so pliant and willing. So eager to take all he was capable of giving you.

Your hands had gone to his head again as soon as he had dug his teeth in, not pushing him away but pulling him closer. Yeah, you could definitely take it.

You were a sobbing, squirming mess, as he trailed kisses and bites down your body,

"Stay still for me, angel" he quipped, annoyed at having to pause on his way to his ultimate goal, "or I'll have to tie you to the bed"

You chuckled,

"Kiny. But sadly I don't have any ropes…"

A whooshing sound was the only warning you had before you found your right hand stuck to the headboard with what looked suspiciously like a spider web. You turned your wide eyes on him.

"Spider-man?" You gasped, astonished. He offered you his wrist, and you took it with your free hand, turning it this way and the other, examining the sophisticated device you had first mistaken for a bracelet.

"Peter"

"What?" Your gaze returned to his handsome face in the dark.

"My name is Peter" He smiled, and you could swear the room lit up.

"Y/n" You confessed, giving him your real name instead of the false identity you had used to enter the party.

"Y/n" He repeated, trying it out "Much prettier than Cut-throat"

He knew who you were. Of course. But you knew who he was too, so maybe it wasn't so bad. He could have kept silent, kept the advantage, but instead he had evened the field. You were equals now, in every way. But more than that, something inside you told you you could trust him. A gut feeling, like those Matt kept talking about.

He was one of the good guys after all.

You offered him your free hand, and if his smile had been bright before, now it was blinding. He kissed your open palm reverently, before sticking it to the headboard next to the other one.

Peter kneeled on the bed, between your open legs, admiring you.

"Have you got any idea" he whispered, fingertips tracing your body, "how beautiful you look like this, all tied up and naked, just for me?"

His hands cupped your breasts, thumbs playing with your nipples with just the right pressure to send shivers up and down your body.

"I wanted to play with you, to tease you, make you beg for it" like a spider playing with the helpless fly trapped in its web, "but I don't think I can wait any longer. I want you so bad…"

"But I am begging," You breathed out, arching your back, pushing yourself into his hands, "please, Peter. Please just fuck me"

He hooked his fingers on the waistband of your ruined underwear.

"Say it again baby"

"Fuck me, Peter, please"

He dragged your panties down your legs, helping you untangle them when they got stuck on your hills. He truly had never seen something so sexy, so sinful. And neither had you, once he had made quick work of his pants and underwear, wrapping his own hand around his impressive member, pumping once, twice, three times when he noticed your unwavering, unabashed stare.

"Now you're just showing off…"

Peter laughed,

"Maybe. Like what you see?"

Your eyes traveled to the sharp, popping veins of his hands, perfectly matching the ones on his angry red length.

"Yeah" You admitted, "yeah, I do"

His boyish grin had no place in a situation like this, but somehow it fitted better than any lecherous look could.

"I changed my mind" he declared, pushing your legs open, "maybe just a taste"

"What? Peter no" you whined, petulant, "I want to feel you! Now!"

"I don't think you understand, baby:" his hot breath fanned over your center, "You're mine tonight. Completely at my mercy…"

He flattened his tongue, licking a long strip over your slit before closing his lips around your pearl and sucking softly, tearing a surprised cry out of you. He was every bit as good as you thought he would be, but you had something else in mind.

"Please, please Peter… I want-" You were panting as he kept on devouring you, the movements of the mattress near your feet making it quite obvious he was touching himself as he ate you, "I want your cock… I want to… I want to come around your cock"

He mumbled something unintelligible, burying his face deeper, sucking harder. You felt his strong, thick tongue make its way inside you, eagerly lapping at your overly sweet juices. It was too much, and you tried to close your legs, to make him stop, but only succeeded in bringing him closer, deeper. You couldn't handle it, the way he was playing your body like a well loved instrument, coaxing the pleasure out of you too fast. And he didn't even need to stop for air. You tried to hold back your orgasm, tried to control it but it was in vain, soon it was crashing over you like a wave, a tsunami, leaving you exhausted, muscles aching by the sudden onslaught of inhuman bliss thrusted upon them.

You were still riding high on your crest when Peter crawled his way up your body, burying himself inside you in one thrust, hissing at the way your walls squeezed him almost too tight. He only gave the both of you a couple of seconds to get used to it before starting to move. Like in the elevator, you tilted your hips to him, offering yourself up, giving him more access. It was the sweetest torture, feeling him so big, so deep, every thrust electrifying your body, making it come alight again, for him.

And he, he couldn't get enough, couldn't control himself, not when you felt so heavenly. He wanted, no, he needed, to give it to you. Every last, shattered piece of what was left of him. Until it was all gone. Until he couldn't remember his name, couldn't remember her name. Until all that was left was you, and the way you felt around his cock, the way your body fitted in his hands, the way your screamed his name into the night, over and over and over again. Cause it sounded different from your lips, sounded brand new, sounded… pure.

There, covered in sweat, grunting obscenely, debasing both you and himself in the dirtiest, most animalistic fucking, he felt alive like he hadn't in years. Maybe ever.

Peter's gaze fixed on you again, tugging at your restraints, hair a halo around your head, cheeks flushed, lips red and swollen. Breathing hard. The loveliest thing he had ever caught in his web. Your sobs and moans inter mingling with his own, were the most pornographic thing he had heard in his life, your hips moving to meet his, wet sounds of skin slapping skin filling the room… and you still looked like an angel.

"Peter…" You cried out. He was so deep you could feel him in every cell of your body, his cock touching places you didn't even knew you had, stretching you almost painfully but not quite, just enough to make you question your sanity, to drive you wild, to keep you begging for more even if you couldn't really take it.

"You feel so good angel" he was talking in your ear, hips never stopping, cock pounding into you without mercy, "gonna come for me again? Gonna let me feel it?..."

You wanted to shake your head, to say no, you weren't that kind of woman, the kind that could come more than once, but you wanted so badly to be good for him. For once in your life, you wanted to be good.

"Ugh… come on, give it to me baby girl… fuck you feel so good… like heaven on my cock"

"Peter!"

His thumb found your clit, rubbing messily, with no rhythm or finesse. No, he was too close for that, but he wanted you to come with him, needed the both of you to fall together.

"You still have one more to give, don't you angel? You said it… said you wanted to come on my cock…"

You sobbed, weakly. You could feel all the muscles in your body lock again, the coil inside you tightening. You were at his mercy, just like he had said, there was nothing you could do to resist it, and you knew, you just knew that by the time this orgasm hitted you, there were gonna be tears in your eyes, for the sheer intensity, the-

"Yeah, like that… just like that… I can feel it… come for me angel, now!"

As on command, you felt your muscles contract and relax, every single one of your nerve endings exploding with bone shattering force. One last thrust and grunt above you, and Peter went lax, falling bonelessly next to you.

"Oh… oh, god!.. That was…"

You gigled, breathlessly,

"Yeah… I know…"

"How… how do you feel? Are you ok? How are your arms?"

"Peter, stop freaking out, I'm ok, I promise" You tried to reach for his face but your hands were still tied to the headboard.

"You sure?"

You stretched on the bed, arching your back like a cat and Peter couldn't help the way his eyes wandered to your breasts.

"I'm better than ever"

He got up anyway, fetching a wet towel to clean you up and a bottle of orange juice from the minibar that he helped you drink. He then threw the cover over both your bodies, cuddling with you.

"So" you started, trying to get a look up at your still bound hands, "how long does this thing usually lasts"

Peter flinched,

"About three hours…"

"THREE HOURS??"

He drowned your indignant cry with a kiss, not stopping until he felt you relax under his body again.

"I'm sure I can find ways to keep you entertained until then…"

You captured his bottom lip, nibbling softly before releasing him,

"And I was thinking, you don't have to leave after. I mean, it's gonna be way too late for you to go, this city is kinda dangerous at night…"

Peter smirked,

"I know… lot of baddies out there at night…"

"And weirdos in costume…" He swallowed the rest of your sentence, coaxing your mouth open with his gifted tongue, deepening the kiss. And you knew.

He was going to stay forever.

The end.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker reader smut #peter parker x reader smut #peter parker imagine #hot peter parker imagine #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland reader smut #tom holland x reader smut #hot tom holland imagine #tom holland imagine #peter parker x reader fanfiction #tom holland x reader fanfiction

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gallavictorious · 3 years

Note

Seven Days left~ Give us 7 favorite Shameless moments

One day late – whoops! Sorry about that, sweet nonnie; this was the most delightful ask and I was very stoked to get it. ❤️❤️❤️

Disclaimer: I misread the question because I’m a dumbass and went for Gallavich moments. My bad. :o These are seven of my favourite moments, by the way: I just can't decisively pick my ultimate top seven. Also put them down in chronological order rather than in order of how fond of them I am, because it'd would've been too hard to do otherwise.

4x08: “You coming back?” This scene is quite uncomfortable, what with Ian's demand for blowjobs and Mickey's obvious (though temporary) discomfort, but I think that's what has me returning to it again and again (and what has had me writing one very long meta and a fic about it). It represents a shift in their dynamic, with Ian claiming some power in the relationship for himself, and even though it is uncomfortable, it's fascinating to see – and needed to happen for them to work in the long term (even if it maybe didn't need to happen like that – but then again, it's just so in character for both of them, however messed up?). The look Lip and Mickey exchanges after Ian's “relationship issues” never fails to get to me either, and I think it's important to note that Lip makes sure that Ian is okay with the situation and then he leaves them to it; he doesn't try to interfere or dissuade Ian. I keep wondering what that means to Mickey, having Lip – who's certainly not a friend at that point – know about him, and about him and Ian, and not really caring beyond making sure his baby brother is okay? I kind of think that maybe Lip and Mandy both showing Mickey that they're aware of the situation but not making a big deal out of it is really fucking important – people can know he's gay without it having to be a thing and without the world ending. Terry is a horrible outlier.

4x11: “Just wondering if we're a couple or not.” Maybe it's the mutual manhandling, maybe it's them trying to negotiate and sort out the current dynamics of their relationship. There's so much tension and so many layers here, history lingering, even as they're both fond and playful: lots to unpack. Damngoodcoffee once noted that Ian almost looks scared when Mickey pushes him to the bed, and I haven't been able to unsee that since, or to forget that the last time Ian pushed Mickey to verbalize the truth of their relationship Mickey kicked him in the face. I also love love love the lead up with Carl and Ian, “do you love Mickey?” – “I like how he smells.” Please take note of Mickey washing his hands: the dirtiest white boy in American is an example to penis pee:ers everywhere.

5x08: “Sorry I'm late.” Ian's surprise, and the look of hesitant wonder as Mickey shows up and moves to lie down next to him, like he can't quite believe that Mickey is really there, that he actually came. Mickey's quiet apology, no excuses or explanations about how he needed some time to deal (which, you know, it's very fair for him to need); he's there for Ian now, putting his own fears and pain and needs to the side to be what (he thinks) Ian needs him to be. That admittedly doesn't work out great for either of them in the end, but still, in this moment, it is what they both desperately crave: to just have each other and find shelter in the other's arms. Ungh. That gentle kiss to Ian's hair, how Ian finally relaxes and reaches up to grasp Mickey's wrist, holding on. It breaks my heart and soothes me, all at the same time.

10x07: Domestic bitches. Probably the scene I've tag ranted about the most, because I. Love. It. To. Pieces. Ian's so glad to be back in a place where he feels at home and can be useful by doing important stuff like picking up shampoo and shit for Mickey (in prison, I think he was acutely aware of them being on Mickey's turf and him feeling a bit not comfortable with being the one in need of protection?) and he's so damned happy that he gets to be here with Mickey. Gets to help him out and playfully slap his ass and kiss his cheek and squeeze his titty and just love him and be with him. And Mickey, being completely unconcerned about this display in front of Sandy; in fact he seems to adore being so obviously claimed and loved and wanted, and that's such a huge shift from the boy who was once terrified by the idea of letting Ian kiss him even in private. Argh. Just. Them being domestic bitches and loving it – and each other – so fucking much. They're giddy with it here and it makes my heart swell.

10x10: “When you know, you know. Right?” I have an absurd weakness for Ian being petty, and Mickey really had it coming here, so. You know. Allow me an evil chuckle. The Byron of it all is an unwelcome distraction (and Mickey gritting out “the love of my life” makes me cringe so hard every single time), but then I look at the absolute glee in Ian's eyes when he realizes that Mickey is going to a hipster concert and yeah, this is Kee's shriek of delight. Mickey looks very good in his shirt and with the hair and the cigarette, and that's always an easy sell with me. (He also looks so uncomfortable with Ian finding out about the concert but, again, he kind of had it coming.) Aah. Ian's certainly not the only petty character on the show, but it just looks better on him than on anyone else. He's got it down.

11x10: “Hit my husband again, I'll fucking kill you.” Mickey isn't even in this scene, and still. I didn't expect Ian to take such a firm stance on this (considering that Lip is his brother and Mickey was not innocent in the fight) but maybe that's why I love it so much? I swear, the jolt I felt when hearing it for the first time, it nigh on knocked me over. “My husband” Ian says, making a point of emphasising the nature of his relationship to Mickey; the Gallaghers generally strike me as having a general expectation of putting birth family above partners when push comes to shove. Fiona certainly did for a long while, and though Lip's kind of screwing his siblings over to create the life he wants with Tami and Fred this season, I think he still sees the sibling group as Ian's primary unit, and Ian wants to remind him that this isn't the whole truth anymore. Also, protective!Ian is glorious. (I love me some brothers on the porch, so even without this line, this is a great scene. But with it – holy mother of God, I've been slain. I'd feel embarrassed about the number of times I played it on repeat the next day, but I'm too old for that shit.)

11x11: Intro Speaking of protective!Ian... I'm sorry, there's just no arguing with the aftercare vibes and I don't even know how to process that properly. Mickey's a little out of it, seems like, since he's rather slow to respond to the intrusion and displays none of his usual intiative and agression, whereas Ian is very quick to shift from gazing lovingly at Mickey to chasing us out with a determination and anger usually reserved for Frank. I mean, how else would you explain it? (And okay, it's an intro and breaking the fourth wall, so speculating about when it happens in canon is of course foolish, but I'm just saying that they're in their new flat with very little furniture still so it has to happen around the time of the last episode but I very much doubt they played around like this when everything was so weird between them so probably not between 11x10 and 11x11, but say they got back to their place after their reconciliation on their old bed and just kept on reaffirming their bond in all possible ways? Yes? Yes.)

Special mention: 10x06 Deleted Bathroom Scene. Mickey is looking fine as fuck – please, do wear black tanks more often, I am begging you, Mick – and his eyebrow game is in excellent shape, and then we have Ian seeing to his wounds (be still my heart) and pulling at his hair when Mickey's just a shade too bratty and Mickey's little look of 'okay sure I had that coming' and I'm sorry, but I am dead now. Deceased. Only two things detract from this otherwise perfect scene: Ian's titties tattoo on prominent and unfortunate display, and the confusion about whether or not Mickey didn't even learn the simplest Spanish words during his stint in Mexico.

So, that's me. I could just as easily have picked seven completely different moment, but I do love all of these very much.

#gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #meta #favorite moments #just thinking about them makes me SO HAPPY #this ask made me so happy #asks

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tintentrinkerin · 3 years

Text

adelphopoiesis

Author: tintentrinkerin

Title: adelphopoiesis

Requested by: @schaefchenherde

Header by: @wincestismyheart

Divider by: @firefly-graphics

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Sam

Warnings: Blood and Gore, Sam Drinks Dean’s Demon Blood, Anal Sex, Not Canon Compliant

Content: Chasing your baby brother around the bunker with a hammer is fun, right? But what if you tickle his thing for blood?

Read here or on AO3

Dean’s most effective weapon is not the hammer he destroyed the door with. The hammer that’s stuck in the wall now beside Sam’s head. It’s not his physical strength, radiating like utter heat from his body, showing in the tension of his neck, the firm grimace of his mouth, his pretty mouth. It’s not the First Blade. A blade powerful enough to kill anything and anyone, but Dean himself.

Sam’s only weapon is a lousy knife. A demon knife, that will barely leave a scratch on a Knight of Hell.

“It’s all you”, Dean says, leaning in the knife, leaning into Sam’s half hearted attack.

The way Dean looks at his brother, it’s tearing Sam apart in so many ways. Ways he thought he’d buried under guilt and hunts and lore and his shame. Sam gives in and takes the knife away, he will regret it so bitterly, he knows. Of course he knows. He can’t even lay a single finger on Dean. The demon in front of him wears the face of his brother but there is nothing left of his soft side for Sam. His voice, how he calls Sam, how he says Sammy, the hair, the determined look, the tongue against his teeth. Like he’s a predator and Sam’s the prey.

Dean’s eyes turn black.

It’s a whooshing sound and it darts Sam’s ears the moment he thought he’d surrender and then, the First Blade, fast as an arrow lands in Dean’s hand. There is not a blink for Sam to react before Dean looks at him with a triumphant smirk. The knife glides through Dean’s smooth skin of his throat like it’s warm butter. Blood spills.

Blood

Spills

Blood is Dean's most effective weapon.

Its smell is so familiar, so luring. So intimate and so…powerful. Sam turns and runs. He needs to go. He needs to get away.

“Oh Sammy, baby brother, don’t run away!”, Dean mocks.

Shit, he’s right behind Sam and Sam’s judgement clouds already. He isn’t even fast. It feels like running through molasses. The air feels thick and strong, pressing Sam down, and the smell of iron and lust and Dean, oh my God, it’s Dean’s blood! - He needs to get away! Sam manages to worm through the destroyed door to the electrical room, but he catches several splinters. Some even bite his face and he gets stuck with the cast of his elbow. Spraining the right elbow, why, Sam, why did that happen? Everything’s against him.

Memories of Ruby appear in his head. Of the smell, the taste, her body, the sex. The grunting and the mind blowing orgasm, the banging against walls everywhere they went. The power, the trip. His increasing power, a stimulant better than any human known drug. It resonates all within him with the odor of Dean’s musk and his blood. He can smell its potential, its strong taste. Sam even imagines how it would make him feel. Running away never felt so hard like right now. He remembers the withdrawal and the pain behind his eyes blinds him as he trips in the hallway and tumbles against a wall. Stinging pain in his arm, in his head and his legs feel heavy. It’s like he has Dean’s breath in his neck all this time. Even though he can’t hear him come close at all. It sounds like Dean is far away, in another world.

“Come on, Sammy, I know you want a sip of it. Makes you all giddy, doesn't it? I can smell you. All of you.”

Sam yells something, but he can’t even make out what he says.

“Keep runnin’ if you must, but you know I gotta find you sooner or later. It’s my home, too!”

The alarm is blaring again and Sam has no idea how far he can run. There won’t be any walls that might hold Dean back. He’s regaining strength, the human blood wears off. Even that Sam can smell. How much stronger Dean gets with every minute.

“I taste delicious, Sammy. Just fuckin’ delicious.”

Oh, yes, Sam bets he does, that’s exactly why he needs to keep running. The smell gets even more intense now and Sam wonders how much Dean can cut himself up with the First Blade. He should’ve given the damn thing to Crowley when he had the chance to do so.

“Stay away”, he croaks.

There’s another hallway, one leading deep into the intestines of the Forbidden Bunker, how Dean and him called it jokingly, when they discovered it. An area full of locked doors made of the weirdest materials. Only one chance is left for Sam, when he finds that one door he unlocked in these months without Dean. He had learned a lot about witchcraft since Dean left this note on his bed, when he left Sam for Crowley and a life as a demon. When the only way to save himself from Dean was to hide himself in a panic room again, hallucinate again, he would have to do it. He rather sees Lucifer again, Mary, Bobby, all the victims they couldn’t save than to fall for Dean’s lure. Drink his own brother’s blood. This was perverted, disgusting, twisted. Even for them. The monster hunters, the monster fuckers, the monsters themselves.

“The longer you run, the harder I bleed, brother!”

Sam tries every door on the way, but none opens. Sam’s eyes sting from the smell. What the hell is Dean doing? Covering the walls in blood? That would be insane. Even Dean would faint at one point. It must be impossible to drain a body so much before it dies. Dean isn’t possessing a body, he still has his own, whatever that means for him and his physis then. Sam trips again, he falls, on his right arm of course. He tears up from the pain that fills his chest, his arm, his shoulder. He can’t survive that long if doesn’t find a hide-out.

It seems to be near, because Sam still can read the signs on the doors and when he finds room 616, he pushes the door open with a long and agonizing cry and slams it shut. It’s the door he unlocked already, a room, bleak as an empty tomb. Cold and pitchblack, there’s no electrical light, just candles, but Sam won’t be able to find them. He can just hide in here, pressed against a wall, praying to Castiel, to Hannah. He even cries for Crowley inside, someone needs to help him.

Footsteps.

The smell of blood. The First Blade scraping on the tiles, Sam knows it’s that.

“Gotcha! I really thought you’d be a bit cleverer than that. Where’s the fun when you cage yourself like a mouse?”

The door bursts open, way too easily. None of the sigils and runes seem to be an obstacle for Dean. And when light shines in the room and Sam can see not only Dean’s silhouette but also his face, he knows. Dean is covered in his own blood. His face, his slit throat, still pumping blood in long and rhythmic spurts from the wound. His arms are drenched in blood and now, with a biting smile, Dean looks at Sam and the Blade carves an S in Dean’s arm.

“Come here, Sammy. Come to your big bro and lemme get you something real good

The stench is so intense now that Sam first vomits in violent jerks and then faints. The last thing he sees before the world turns completely black is Dean’s triumphant, sweet smile and his eyes. His normal green eyes.

When Sam awakes again, he is tied up. Bound to a chair. They’re in the dungeon again, how did Sam come here? His head aches like it’s been run over by a stampede of bulls and his mouth tastes like vomit and blood. He tenses immediately as he’s present enough to realize his situation. Dean has tied him up here, and now he’s sitting on the desk in one corner, right beside the blood donor box that Sam got from the hospital. His legs swing and he hums a strange melody.

“Oh, look who’s up.”

Dean jumps on his feet. Sam can see the First Blade, the damn Blade, resting on the table. Then Dean takes the syringes of human blood and starts spilling them.

“You won’t need them anymore, Sammy. I think I won our little chase.”

“Dean, don’t do that… please. I can still…”

Dean hisses. His eyes turn black.

“You can still what, brother dearest? I already told you. I am what I am now, I am free. I’m finally free. Of humanity. I’m strong now. Efficient. Deadly.”

Sam winces when he moves in the ties. The ropes cut in his flesh and Dean removed the sling on his arm. His elbow hurts so much, it’s taking his words away.

“You were deadly before already. The Mark made you powerful.”

“But guess what, I’m even better now. Dean Winchester 2.0 - I’m all in for my upgrade. You see it as a bad thing, but what I see is … potential. Chances. Oh Sammy, I can conquer the world. Hell. Heaven. You really want the boring Dean back, huh?”

Sam shakes his head but that makes him feel dizzy, he stops.

“I want my brother back. The brother I loved.”

Dean’s black eyes target Sam like he’s prey again and he hates being looked at like this. It makes him feel less human, less Dean’s brother.

“I am your brother. Nothing ever changed that. But I told you to stay away from me, I told you not to look for me. But you did. You plotted against me, with Crowley, with Cas. You tied me up in this chair, you tortured me with human blood. Against my will. For someone who’s all over the place with autonomy and respecting boundaries you violated mine just perfectly.”

Sam squirms. The problem is that Dean is right. But Sam did it for the greater cause, didn’t he? Dean becoming human again was the best for everyone!

“You make me sound like the bad guy here, that’s not fair”, Sam mutters.

Dean laughs and it’s a deep, rough laugh that makes Sam’s skin crawl. This is so much Dean, even darker than usual. And it shakes Sam to the core.

“Good, bad… Who cares. Human categories, bullshit. Nothing’s fair, Sam.”

“I need something to drink”, Sam says faintly now.

He won’t make Dean untie him, that’s for sure, but maybe Cas will come to the rescue soon, he can maybe delay things. Also he needs to get rid of the taste of old blood in his mouth. Dean doesn’t reek of his blood that bad anymore, Sam is very much aware of the pink line across Dean’s throat. A scar. The blade will cause scars. Or at least the weapon delays even Dean’s healing.

Dean smiles.

“Sure. But why waste water on you when I kill you anyway?”

Sam’s heart sinks.

“Will you?”

Dean shrugs as if he doesn’t give a shit at all.

“Thinking about it. But you’re my brother, as you keep on reminding me. Maybe I should give you a chance to redeem yourself in my eyes and let you live?”

“And how would you do that?”, Sam asks, winding in his ties.

Dean goes away. Doesn’t say another word. Sam is stunned and damn, holy shit, he’s afraid. Dean will kill him. But what is it with the possibility of letting him live?

The smell of iron. Like a perfume, soft and silky. No. No no no.

“Dean? Dean!”, Sam cries and fights the restraints harder.

He did it again. He slit his fucking throat, Sam knows it. And this time, he won’t be able to run, he won’t be able to fight back. He’s tied up, he’s in pain, he’s weak. It’s not like with the other hunters who wanted to force him to drink demon blood. He could fight them off, but now?

Emaciated. Sick. Depressed. A broken arm. Hungry. Tied up. The addiction is pulsating through his veins, giving him the chills. It’s hot and cold at the same time. Like crackling in the air, the heavy scent of blood and Dean, he can only say no.

Dean won’t take a no, why should he? He’s a Knight of Hell. Sam is human. His brother is back, his throat cut deep enough to see the structures of muscles, veins, nerves, his trachea, the pulsing blood. Sam vomits all over his shirt, but there’s not much left except bitter, yellow gall.

“You’re sick, huh?”, Dean coos in a voice like he did when Sam was younger. It’s meant for comfort but now it just feels like mockery and Sam wonders how he deserves to see his brother slit his throat, twice, just to seduce Sam to drink it. It's so fucked up. It’s low, even for lean, mean Dean. Human Dean would’ve never provoked Sam’s demon blood addiction.

Sam nuzzles against the hand that’s stroking his face, his eyes squeezed shut. His lips tremble.

“Let me make you feel better, don’t pull away, Sammy…”

Sam cries out and some ugly big tears fall down his face. Is it so easy to break? He’s gone through so much pain already, through torture, rape, withdrawal. He was betrayed by everyone he loved, especially Dean. Dean’s hand is warm, but his skin feels like marble when Sam leans in, rubs his face in the palm of Dean’s hand. Is this still his brother? Is there any humanity left?

But what would that change? They’re here now. In a bunker soaked with demon blood, Sam is tied up, Dean reigns.

“Hush, hush”, Dean purrs, both of his hands holding Sam’s bobbing head. “It’s gonna be alright… Sammy, just give in. There will be no more pain, just us. You and me, against the world. Like it used to be.”

Sam opens his eyes but all he sees is blurry and red, it stinks of iron and vomit and Dean’s black eyes…

“I wanna see your normal eyes”, is all Sam can say right now.

A smirk.

“Anything for you, Sammy.”

And Dean’s eyes flash back to green and Sam can have the illusion of his brother just for a moment longer. Thick dark blood is pulsing out of Dean’s cut on his throat.

“It looks disgusting, Dee.”

Dean only laughs.

“It’s not supposed to be beautiful.”

Dean cups his hand before the dripping wound, collects a tiny lake of blood in his hand and then, gently presses his blood covered hand against Sam’s lips.

The world turns upside down. Sam feels the spinning, the spinning, the spinning!

The taste makes him want to barf, violently, but the old creature, the blood sucking monster was waiting patiently beneath the surface. Patient but greedy. Now it’s unleashed it bursts out and the first drops, he swallows. His lips limp and curled in utter disgust, but now, oh now, there’s a jolt running through his body, he sits straight up, first ties grinding, the ropes won’t last. The shackles won’t last.

“Come on, sweet baby boy, you want more…” Dean sings, eyes black as the night.

And slowly, very slowly and enjoying, Sam’s lips brush Dean’s hand, collect the blood, a tongue, pink, hot sneaks out, licks the offered hand.

The ropes break. The pain in Sam’s arm fades. It’s a movement even Dean didn’t see coming when Sam bursts out of all restraints he put on him and grips Dean’s hand tight, as tight as possible and sucks three of Dean’s fingers dry.

The Knight of Hell rejoices, pulls Sam close, closer than they’ve been for a very long time.

“That’s it, Sammy, yes, that’s it, let me take care of you… such a greedy boy…”

Dean’s voice is distant to Sam, distorted and hollow, he remembers their youth, the motel rooms, the flickering lights, the old tv, how Dean smelled of whiskey and beer. John’s passed out in an armchair, stained in blood, piss and vomit.

He remembers Dean’s care. The kisses at night, the stealthy handjobs in the shower, how Dean ‘taught’ him how people do it.

Make love.

Sam was twelve. Dean was sixteen. And he was a grower.

A slut.

All of this drenched in velvety red tint.

The ritual.

“Let me take care of you, Sammy…”

“I love you, Dee.”

“Never tell anyone.”

And Sam never had told anyone (but Lucifer knew - he knew everything) and deep down, buried in his mind, these feelings were in peaceful slumber, violently dragged across the floor now, kicking and crying,

A W A K E

Sam is awake.

He remembers the awkward, painful, dry fuck in the back of the Impala after they killed the Wendigo, so long ago, and how they never ever said a word.

Spit is shitty lube.

So is blood.

It roars. The monster roars in Sam’s chest. It’s in agony, it’s in joy, it’s free!

And Sam is just a puppet, always been nothing more than a puppet. He watches himself suck Dean’s fingers, then sticking his own fingers in the wound, stir it, stir Dean’s insides. The gurgling, the retching. Dean’s satisfied moans, his hands all over Sam’s now healed body.

“Yes, Sammy, let it all out, come on… Let it all out.”

Sam only hisses. This blood, Dean’s blood, the blood of a demon, of a Knight. It’s so much more potent than Ruby’s or any other demon’s he’s ever drank and tasted. Dean is delicious. Demon tend to taste like rotting meat, titan arum aroma.

But Dean tastes of all the good things. Dahlia, petrichor, amber. His musk makes Sam’s blood boil and his pants bulge.

“Sammy.”

“Dean”, is the first thing New Sam says.

What Monster Sam says. His voice sounds low, rough, barely in control. His body is shaking, too much force is withhold now.

“Brother.”

The wound on Dean’s throat is closing up again already, the healing ability is really incredible. Sam will bite it open very, very soon, but first…

Dean doesn’t protest, he doesn’t fight back at all when Sam slams him down to the ground like he weighs nothing. There’s the crunchy sound of maybe, bones breaking, or just getting sprained, but even that, Dean will heal in no time. Dean lies on his stomach, attempts to get up.

“Sammy-”

“Sammy is not here right now.”

There’s no surprise, no scare in Dean’s voice. Sam stomps his bare foot in Dean’s back and Dean stays, doesn’t even breathe. The adrenaline rush in Sam’s ears makes him deaf for most other things and seeing demon Dean down on his stomach, defeated so easily, it’s almost an insult. Sam crouches down, one foot still on Dean’s back, pressing him down.

“You surrender?”, Sam asks, eyebrows raise.

“I didn’t mean to fight you at all.”

Dean chuckles, his voice raspy

Sam drags Dean on all fours, rips apart his shirt (the pretty red shirt, ruined with blood anyway) and Jeans and when he holds Dean’s hips, bends over and bites Dean’s neck, Dean hisses “Come on, Sammy, that’s it.”

That’s it.

Sam tears apart skin, Dean’s blood gushes in Sam’s mouth, warm and silky, smooth and delicious.

“Is that what you wanted?”, Sam says in a breathless moment, before he starts sucking the wound dry, the bleeding will stop soon, way too soon for Sam to be satisfied.

Dean growls deeply, pushes against Sam. Pleading. Sam pushes two fingers inside Dean, but feels very quickly, Dean doesn’t need it. He doesn’t want it. He needs Sam. He rips off his jeans, down to his knees and when that’s not giving him enough space, he just tears it to shreds completely. Dean’s ass is perfect. Round, juicy, firm. When he gives it a slap - a hard one - he enjoys the noise Dean makes. And then he thrusts completely inside, without hesitation. No foreplay. No gentle feeling ahead and preparing Dean’s wonderfully tight and delicious ass. He feels amazing, hot, tight, smooth. Dean hands grip Sam’s wrists tight while he fucks into him, raw, without anything to soothe the pain, make it easier, make Dean nice, slick and wet. But he doesn’t complain at all.

“That’s it”, Dean chants, in his low, low “Let’s finish this game” voice. That’s it, over and over.

This is no sex Sam would ever have if he was in his right mind. Covered in his own vomit, Dean’s blood, on the cold floor. Not that he has fucked any guy after he fled off to Stanford anyway. Dean is all he knows. He only knows what Dean taught him about fucking ass.

Dean starts getting slippery with his own blood, Sam’s blood infused spit and finally, cum. Sam loses the feeling of time and space, all he can do is fuck Dean until one of them passes out, and if Dean passed out, Sam would continue anyway.

The adrenaline rush plummets too early for Sam’s taste, the haze clears up and he’s getting aware of his ripped off clothes, the shreds of Dean’s. The fluids, the smell, the feeling. Crust everywhere. Dean is still on his knees, head sunken on the floor, his arms stretched out, breathing heavily. There’s no sign that he’s in pain. But Dean’s a demon, right? He will be fine.

Sam drags him up, and the cocky smile, the perfect hair, it’s all gone. Dean looks like he’s had the same otherworldly experience. It’s a sight that makes Sam chuckle.

“What are you laughing at?”, Dean asks, coming on his feet, gently swaying, but finally his wounds are closing up.

“You threatened to rip my throat out. With your teeth.”

“Not there yet, Sammy. Not yet.”

The situation is unreal, Sam feels unreal. He knows he will never be the same. Something’s broken inside him, crumbled - yet ready to expand again, into unknown territory.

He doesn’t remember the coercion, Dean’s betrayal - or was it Dean’s way of deliberating Sam?

Sam, leaning on the table, watches Dean come close and he leans in, a hand in Sam’s hair, gently pulling. Their kiss isn’t gentle, nothing will be gentle for a while. Teeth clash, the table scrapes along the floor and the throbbing of Dean’s pulse makes Sam rise up again. Dean bites Sam’s neck, sharp pain - and Dean drinks. The feeling is satisfying and roughening Sam up at the same time. He pulls his Knight close, closer, grabs him and bends him over the table, both still bleeding, Dean high from Sam’s blood.

“For a Knight of Hell, you’re very pliant”, Sam growls in Dean’s ear.

Dean chuckles.

“I just bend the knee to my King.”

Sam frowns.

“What do you mean?”

Dean hikes up and drags Sam to the mirror in the Dungeon.

“Take a look”, Dean hums, rich and satisfied in tone, “acknowledge who you are.”

Breathe in. Breathe out. First, Sam’s mossy eyes just look glassy, clear, beaming with desire for Dean.

Then he draws in his breath with a sharp hiss.

“You got your daddy’s eyes, Sammy.”

Sam’s eyes turned yellow.

#wincest #dean x sam #samdean #deansam #demon!dean #sin is sinning #tw:blood #tw:gore #tw:addiction #kink:blood #bottom!dean #powerful!sam #demon blood!sam #yellow eyes!sam #boyking!sam #tw:smut #tw:violence #tw:knives

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mymadmedleyw · 3 years

Text

Death

(ao3), belongs under Certain Moment of Time, could be read independently, just as each for the days will be shorts, but all together forming a whole picture

(As this is the last chapter within the 'Going Angst Week 2021', a little reminder about the right order in reading the chapters chronologically (I suggest CMOT link): 4, 6, 2, 5, 3, and 7, 1)

tw: miscarriage

---

Blood. One could say after seeing it many times, sensing its rusty, salty odour within the air might have lost the sensibility to it after a while. But it never ceased on the weight if it was about loss, about death.

Then it always changed to the horrible, suffocating disinfectant scent with the white surrounding and the sound of silent sobs. Just as this time. They didn't even dare to count for how many occasions they ended up here, broken and devastated.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" mumbled for like the thousand times the hollow voice. "It's all my fault, I shouldn't have- I shouldn't have-" the sentence trailed off by another chuckling, squeezing hard on his hand that was holding hers, never letting it go.

Every attempt, every hopeful try led back here and- and it just twisted his heart, seeing, again and again, the slightly greyishly paled skin that years ago was beaming. Years ago…

Suddenly the picture of the small child in her arms came back, like that could have been a mirage. Sadly, he was well aware it wasn't, that happened, but- what he had done wrong?

Vlad pressed his forehead on her, taking the same question that he was asking from himself during the past few years. Why he hadn't told her? It was the same damn question, but with a different meaning this time. Time… yes, that it was.

He clearly could remember the day in the hospital bed, staring at the black and white photograph, bringing for them good news again… and then he couldn't tell what had happened, but he had woken up with years of memories in his mind and- and then as he had sat up, holding his throbbing head someone put a hand on his shoulder, asking with the greatest concern if he was okay.

It had needed hours to understand it wasn't a dream, and by lunch – made by the most amazing woman on the Earth – his mind settled too.

As much weird it was, but this was the truth. Madeline Masters. His wife. Also aware of his state – that they, according to his new-old memories, together tried to keep at bay. He knew he lied to her about its seriousness. That she only was informed about the simply side-effects: floating, invisibility and intangibility, sometimes glowing hands – but she had no conscious about the rest, about the other form… (which learning from a memory surprised Vlad too).

He kept then on with that lie, just as with the other one too, that somehow, he remembered a time when everything was different.

It worked for years. To tell the truth, Vlad forgot everything after their first positive test, even after the second, or the third, but-

Then he didn't dare to count. He couldn't recall anymore the days when she was happy – except in that other life. He slowly was destroying her, breaking the sweet image of his love… He tried to tell her several times to give up, but as much as stubborn she was, like feeling she should have been a mother, she never listened.

Then he eventually had run some tests (surprisingly facing with the result wasn't even his worst day, because his worst day was now…). The accident in the lab, five years ago ruined his biology. It was his fault. Vlad had been on to tell her, several times really, that they- that they wouldn't ever have a child, but- but he had been afraid. He still was afraid. He was a coward, fearing to lose her, so then he never told her, but now…

"Daniel…" a hollow, weak breath was formed into a name. "I thought- I chose- I really thought this time…"

"It's okay…" Vlad whispered, fighting against the suffocating guilt.

Daniel… he almost could imagine a view of a boy with her kindness, smartness and maybe with his steel bright eyes, and-

A soft sniffling broke the silence in the room, he knew it would take days and weeks to calm her down (or months, especially that this time she really had hoped…). But then she would return to her obsessed determines, again, not giving up until she would be able to fight for it…

But Vlad couldn't watch it, not again. This time, it had endangered her life too. He just couldn't let it happen, not anymore… especially as the date slipped into his mind. It was the same as on the letter, containing the black and white picture of their second child… she would have been expecting her second and-

He bit his lips as hard as it drew blood, rusty, salty and sinner. The sound of the woman, the so loved Maddie died away in a faint snuffling, undoubtedly dreaming about a great life he couldn't give her… Even though Vlad was conscious of their reality, he still wished to fulfil her dreams…

Wish… suddenly his eyes snapped open, remembering word-to-word to his half-mumbled sentence before everything had changed and he had woken up in this dream (nightmare…).

Would it be that easy? –Vlad wondered, sceptical about such childish way, but then he grabbed on it, tight, as ridiculous it sounded, and he'd have literally killed to make her happy. So then, he opened his mouth, already putting together what he wanted to say, and then-

"Won't work." stopped him an abrupt voice, then the owner cleared it. "I set the rules with Desiree. She is not allowed to grant any timeline-altering wishes, unless I allow it." Vlad blinked at the sudden presence of someone else, searching with his eyes immediately to catch the person, but there was no sign of anyone, just a quiet ticking sound was telling someone was definitely there.

A moment passed in silence, making Vlad wondering about if he hallucinated the voice, but then it spoke again. "Clockwork, by the way, Master of Time – though it's rather a given title than a name. Theatrical, isn't it?" Vlad scoffed at the unmistakable enjoying waving of the words, whoever this ghost was – because, based on the invisibility it was undoubtedly an unearthly creature from the other realm –, he clearly was amused by this scenario.

"What do you-?" Vlad started, frustrated by the spectre's presence and mocking.

"Want?" was Vlad interrupted. "From you? Nothing… albeit your stubborn wish created a glitch that didn't suppose to exist. A knot, that tangled the flow of events, blinding me. In short," the ghost took a break. "you scarred the time." well, that definitely sounded like a lecture… but then, the title slipped into his mind, along with the accounting for: Master of Time.

"You can make it back…" Vlad pieced together. "You can change on the time, change on this all." he couldn't tell if it scared him or filled with him hope, but definitely that drew out a way – more like an alternative – after the wish-one. For a short time, the ticking skipped a beat, like the ghost would have been stuck on a thought, but then talked again.

"Yes, I can change on this all." was Vlad's sentence, almost exactly repeated. He didn't have to be a genius, to feel it wasn't an admitting. "But I won't." was it added, not even a second later. "I might be responsible to watch over the timelines, and every single outcome, but on this, I am afraid, I can't do anything. You created it, it's your duty to fix it, and decide." Vlad stunned. Decide what exactly? This or- that? It wasn't an actual question, he could give the answer easily, but-

Suddenly he averted his gaze from the space where he suspected the ghost was floating invisibly – getting on his nerves by that – then he looked back to the woman, gazing at his wife, and gently got out a long curly lock of hair that fell into her face. She seemed so calm, pale, yes, shattered by the tired wrinkles under her closed eyes, and…

"I see you already made your decision." Vlad heard the cursed voice again. He didn't have to guess to know his eyes were burning red, clenching his jaw and fighting inside to not lash out at the ghost, transforming to his other outlook and end the ghost, it that was even possible in case of a timeless existence. Was it really counted as entertainment for him? This?!

"It's not a decision." Vlad spitted.

"No, it really isn't." said the ghost sternly, accompanied by a sound that gave an impression like an old clock would have been adjusted, bored by the current discussion as if it had been something obvious, or expected. "But I am seeing no future over this certain moment, neither in this time or your original one. Just imagine, how it could be to be blind after millennia. Curious, I was for centuries to learn what it caused. Well, it turned out it was just a desperate hybrid's wish, fighting against his true nature, cornering himself to endless suffering than accepting the new him… comical, isn't it?"

It felt harder and harder to hold back and stay unmoved listen to the words, but as much as he loathed hearing it, if this Clockwork could mean the solution from this, then-

"Besides, what happens now, how you decide, is beyond me, I can't see through it, until it happens." defined the being, at the same time out of nowhere a swirling green-ness formed in the air. It was similar to the Proto-Portal, which Vlad had seen many years ago, but this was enough big for anyone to walk through it. "It's either this time or the other one, the knot you created still makes the connection available. But it has to end. Only one could remain."

Vlad swallowed, lost in the neon colour, like an unescapable doom that followed him everywhere. He remembered his time, his muscles still could recall the seizures, the endless days in that hospital room, and reading about his friends' perfect life against his… the ghost was right, he had been desperate, now he could control his other side, but it could be only thanked to Maddie, this Maddie… in that other world, he was nothing but- he was literally nothing… here, now, on the other hand, he had the love of his life, but still-

Suddenly, he put together no matter how he'd choose, what path he'd take, it would turn his heart a stone, destroying by the ghost's words the other time. But then, he took a glimpse at the resting woman, at his Maddie, silently sleeping unaware of another being's presence in the room, only lost in a dream-world her mind created. For a moment, he wondered about the possibilities, about the alternatives, but then, hard, Vlad realised it was out of the question.

He never felt his limbs as heavy as he stood up from the chair, earlier placed beside the hospital bed, to mean support Maddie after the loss... And he never felt more hatred towards anyone – even towards Jack – that now took over his entire body about the ghost.

"I really hope, you are able to see your so cherished future now." Vlad cursed, the sourness and hurt suffocated him from inside as he took a step towards the greenness.

"I do." acknowledged the Master of Time, but not spilling anything else, what it would mean or how things would turn out. But Vlad knew even if the ghost was aware of some outcome, he wouldn't be informed about those. As Vlad disappeared behind the gate between the two realities, he took himself a promise, to somehow, when everything had settled, whatever it would take, he would find Clockwork and claim justice.

#going angst week 2021 #going angst week #danny phantom #vlad masters #clockwork

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