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archival-account-2 · 3 years

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softer to the touch. (part ii). | diluc ragnvindr [genshin impact]

❛ 𑁍 pairing: diluc ragnvindr x reader

❛ 𑁍 scenario: affectionate reader and their shenanigans (part ii, baby)

❛ 𑁍 warning: nu

❛ 𑁍 note (i): aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh (that’s it, that’s the whole note)

❛ 𑁍 post form: bulleted

💎 the story/backstory (part ii):

diluc glared down on kaeya, but not menacingly. he looked at his being as if he's a nuiscance. then he turns... to look at you.

his piercing crimson eyes caught you off-guard, and for a moment you thought ethereal was merely an illusion, and eternity is becoming real. his eyes were bright and burning, you could feel that behind them are the mirrors of a blackened occurence. for a moment, you thought you were entrapped in a small room and the only thing that you ever feel was the gaze of the captor. you couldn't look away. and even if you can, you have doubts his stare would go away.

his lips were quirked in a definite, small frown, clearly displeased by the disturbance caused by kaeya, you, and venti. but there was something that had changed when he turned to look at you after he gave kaeya a forewarning glare.

he looked at you curiously... his eyes were sizing you up and scrutinizing your presence. for all he knew now, you're a new face in town, since he hadn't seen you anywhere.

there was awkward silent shared between you and him. your expressive (e/c) orbs were still looking at him back, unable to move away from his leering. because of it, your cheeks warmed up a little bit out of little fluster and embarrassment. you didn't know what to do.

look away? you'll just show you're kind of affected.

stare him more? aren't you a little bit rude?

look past him? what, is there something more interesting than him?

diluc sighed. he was the first one to break the eye-contact by closing his eyes and letting out a breath. he suddenly said, “what’s your order?

you were caught off-guard once again. but this time, you didn’t make it obvious. (admittedly, the way his voice just came out made you flinch a little since you never expected the sound to be quite... bonny. for a young man like him, you wondered if he’s a charmer like kaeya, too. although you doubt he’s even close to having kaeya’s charisma.)

“um... what’s good on the menu today?” you asked.

“give her the good, old death after noon,” kaeya jokingly piped up.

“kaeya!” venti exclaimed, his eyes almost bugging out of his eyes. “they can’t drink that! they might not tolerate it!”

“... ... ... i’ll prepare you some juice,” diluc said, sighing once again before turning his back and walking back to kitchen-brewery behind the counter

diluc wasn’t fazed at all. but while he was brewing the juice, he wondered about you and where you came from. you were obviously not around from mondt, judging by the way how chummy venti was and how extra entertaining kaeya was, too. he figured you might be a visitor or somehow a new resident in the region.

he looked back at you...

you were laughing at what something kaeya had said (a corny joke, but you have an excellent sense of humor, so you ride on his jokes with perfect strides). you might be a good distance away from him, but, god...

did angel installed a music box in your vocal chords? because that’s somehow stuck with diluc as he continues to scrutinize you from afar.

“kaeya, stop with the jokes!” you exclaimed, cutely wheezing from laughter.

“oh, no, lassie... i have a better one than the last. listen to this -”

“i suppose you keep your noise to yourselves and not disturb the other customers,” diluc said, intervening you, venti, and kaeya. he placed the brewed orange juice in front of you, and two glasses of water in front of kaeya and venti. “the mountains can even hear your ruckus.”

you looked at diluc, then back at the juice. back at diluc, then the juice. diluc. juice. diluc. juice. and lastly, at diluc.

“is... is this supposed to be alcohol?” you asked, picking the glassy mug and smelling the contents. okay, admittedly, the smell was heaven in itself, and you suddenly had the urged to take back your question.

before you did, diluc said, “does it suppose to reek of alcohol?”

the little sass in his words piqued you.

you picked the glass, took a sip (while ignoring kaeya and venti’s complaints), and you feel a huge burst of flavor coming alive on your tongue. the moment the taste settled in, you didn’t stop drinking from the glass and you finished the whole thing in one go.

kaeya and venti looked at you.

how were you able to finish that whole tall, big, wide glass all in one go?

“aah~” you said, putting the glass down. you looked with satisfied eyes at diluc and held up the glass. you added, “hit me one more time, please!” you sound like you’re a happy drunk even if he didn’t gave you alcoholic drinks to consume.

and that’s the time you made diluc ragvndir hold a little sort of interest to you.

[ timeskip ; less than a month, give or take ]

now, dawn winery became your go-to place right after the end of the day. you are part of a successful guild that offers you good pay, good bonuses, and trusted friends. you settled in just fine with the help of venti and your friends in mondt. in no time, you’re accommodated with the life in mondt and you enjoyed it - the beginning, the middle, and the future stuffs.

by then, you had already befriended the knights, being close to little klee and bubbly amber, aside from kaeya.

at every chance you get, you always visit the winery and have a nice quality time with some of your intimate friends.

this time, you were with klee.

now, klee isn’t exactly at the right age to drink, but like you, you’re more of a fan to the fruity juices rather than fruity alcohols, though, you mean no malice to your distaste in alcoholic drinks.

in the span of less than a month, you have somehow, also... befriended diluc, who you found was the owner of the winery you like to go to.

it was awkward at first. well, mostly to diluc, since he wasn’t a fan of social interaction since ever.

but you were no shy soul. your straightforward and directness in showing keenness to gain friendship was something that diluc had to deal why you were trying to gain closure with him.

the day after you first arrived, you came back to the winery bearing gifts to diluc. admittedly, he was surprised and he wondered if you were riding onto a joke venti or kaeya suggested for you to do. but you simply brushed off his caution and openly offered a fruits basket to him. mostly from your region, since coincidentally, there was a trader that traveled from there to mondt.

“what’s this?“ diluc asked, eyeing the basket of fruits in the basket you’re holding up to him. he didn’t mean to sound like he doesn’t want it. but now that you’re chums with kaeya and venti (+ klee at the end of yesterday), he just feels something is holding him up.

you shook your head vigorously. you said, “no. i just want to make sure we get on the right foot together.” the way you said with eagerness made him wonder if you were really genuine now. “so, let’s be friends from now on, okay?”

diluc didn’t directly say it to your face. but you knew the moment he accepted the fruits basket, you knew you planted a seed that you hoped to grow and flourish between you and him as good companions.

ever since that day, diluc was becoming more and more accustomed to your gifts. of course, he had difficulties in accepting them at first because he hadn’t known anyone who’s a natural at giving away something or anything to him without expecting a materialistic return. he was experiencing a little bit firsthand embarrassment in the inside since he felt... a little bit inferior... in a way because he was the receiving and you were the one always giving.

he wanted to confront you about it. but you look so eager and so keen and so nice and so alive when you were giving himself that he felt a little bit bad and rude if he turned you down, even if he had reason or not to. so since then, instead of you adjusting to his nature, he’s the one adjusting to yours.

you may not have noticed about his change personality... mainly because you were never a resident of mondt in the first place. but people are starting to pick up some scent about this little change of the ragvndir son... and they were wondering who was driving force behind it...

anyways, back to the story. with klee.

you just came from a successful hunt with your guild members. all of them were weary... but you still had little bit of energy left in you. for all you know, you could still make time to see your favorite redhead of mondt, the owner of dawn winery.

on your way earlier, you bumped into klee. luckily, you both met, because you were too tired to give yourself a little hype, so klee did the ‘hyping’ for you and cheered you on the way as you spent the last minute scouring the market stalls and open verandas for something to put in your basket for diluc.

when you were done, you only had, like, two hours before closing time of the winery. so, you and klee headed there.

when you arrived, you immediately plopped down on your usual seat right after you helped klee sit beside you.

you picked up the silver bell with your name. okay, so... why is there a silver bell with you name? kaeya said he bought it specially for you - custom made since you’re quickly becoming a regular. not only that, you are a comrade and friend. giving you a silver bell in the winery he partially owned himself was the least thing he can do. (he was partly honestly lying for diluc since it was the redhead who thought the golden, clanging bell was an annoying sound and he’d prefer a “calmer” tinkling bell; kaeya made an illusionary “1+1=2” and thought it’s going to be a breeze having a silver new bell with your name on it). you rang it and diluc gradually appeared before you.

“what’s your order?” he asked.

you were about to say but you suddenly yawned. you covered your mouth and bashfully excused yourself. “excuse me... i just had a long day... but i want to make a stop here since i have... i have... i have time to spare.” (yes, like, skipping actual rest for that time to spare).

he looked at you as if you had turn into a gadfly. it was quiet for a moment... then you looked up.

your eyes were sleepy... they were droopy... but to be honest, the slumberland behind your (e/c) eyes had somehow made diluc wonder for a moment what really was happening inside your mind. he never made it known, though.

his discerning flaming eyes bored holes in yours as your softer ones looked back at him as if bouncing on feather. the contrast...

“i’ll just some juice... thanks,” you suddenly said, feeling the urge to yawn again. “oh, before i forget.” you pushed to him the fruits basket klee helped you composed. “here... for you.” ah, yes... so, this is what it’s all about. he already had known.

“thank you,” diluc softly said. his tone was hushed, as if only wanting you to hear it alone and not the other customers. he set aside the fruits basket and you expected him to turn back and start to brew your juice. but that didn’t happen. instead, he just whipped out the finished product and pushed it in front of you, the glassy mug shining with orange tint of fruitiness and with an artificial foam on top of it. he faintly added, “your usual.” he gave klee a similar drink, but in a cup and less sugar.

❛ 𑁍 note (ii): i think... i’m getting way too deep.

#genshin #impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #ragnvindr x reader #fluff

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ecoamerica · 20 days

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capri-ramblings · 4 years

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Hey,hey,hey. *Drops this post from my pocket and stumbles down stairs*

[ R a p t u r e d ]

A Twisted Wonderland Yandere Short Fic.

Summary: Your brother, obsessed with making a name for himself as a huntsman slaughters the beast in the Nostorne Forest, an olden land rumoured to be where the Faefolk reside with their Mother Goddess Gaia and her seven sons. But the rumours are true, and the price for having a fool brother is a heavy one.

Chapter One: Rage

"When was the last time you had the sun on you?" Idia asked this with a gentle smile curling on his lips. His blue flamed eyes glistening with a fondness too endearing to be let off as friendly.

The cuffs on your hand bit into your skin. Bruised and calloused, you balled your hands into fists yet your lips didn't part open for any of your anger to manifest into words.

Idia frowned. Guilt lingering on his features. The tower you were in was dark with nothing but a single window and a door only magic could make visible. In Idia's mind your refusal to speak to him was from a lack of comfort. Of course,anyone would be as frustrated as you were.

Perhaps,he could help with that.

His hand went up to unlatch the lock on the window and as he pushed the wooden frames back, a simmering sunlight entered the room through streaks of warmness you haven't felt in months. In your dreary state, you almost wanted to swoon from it, but then you caught the smile in Idia's eyes and your anger flared once more. You clenched your jaw and turn away from the window.

Idia's frown returned and this time with a painful jab to his heart.

"What are you doing?" Came another familiar voice you dreaded to hear, and it was from Riddle who had just materialised in front of you, his usual condescending gaze glowering at your cuffed form.

Idia furrowed his brows.

"The sun was out, I thought it'll be good for them."

Riddle scoffed,his high and mighty stance crushing your pride as he strode pass you and towards the window, where he glanced out briefly before slamming it shut. The moment darkness engulfed you once more, the regret of not facing the heat of the morning came to slap you in the face, and your shoulders slumped.

Idia looked to Riddle disapprovingly, but said nothing. Though he did glanced at you with pity. He knew you liked the sun even when you acted like you didn't, and being one of your captors, you weren't sure whether to be disgusted or grateful for his efforts to understand you.

"They're not a plant" Riddle drawled, "And with that scornful look in their eyes, you shouldn't be treating them to something so pleasant,brother."

"Humans need their sun" Idia argued "They'll get sick if you keep them locked up like this"

Riddle cocked one brow, his glowering glare seeping into your very bones when he stared down at you. When he began taking strides towards you,the sound of his boots thudding against the wooden floorboards made you flinch. For such a petite looking male, he walked with a confidence of a king marching with his army.

"Look at them,Idia" He said, softly, as if attempting to coerce his brother onto his side. "Just us standing nearby makes them sick."

When Riddle turned to face him,Idia wore a painful look on his face as if he was pleading for the words to not escape Riddle.

The red haired turned back to you, leaning down to push back the bangs obscuring your eyes from meeting his. The gentle scent of floral emitting from him matched well with the softness of his delicate fingers running through your hair, and yet both greatly contrasted the bitter grey in his gaze.

"You're fortunate I dislike seeing my brother displeased,human." He cooed, mockingly. "I'd have you collared and hung otherwise."

Riddle pulled away swiftly when the flames on Idia's hair flickered lightly, a sign of annoyance.

Mean while, you tried swallowing the immense fear in your throat to make way for the words you've wanted to pour out ever since you were captured. Alas, it seemed as if someone had sewn your own will too tightly.

"You're going too soft on it" Riddle said after going to Idia's side,the slight aggression in his voice earning a scowl from blue haired male.

"Them. Not it. And if you keep treating them like that they'll refuse to eat"

"If it's not eating, it's barely my fault."

"They'll die,Riddle. And I thought we were supposed to keep them well and alive until their brother gets back with his homage."

"Alive." Riddle said firmly, "The well part is only because you like them."

The accusation brought colour to his cheeks and Idia found his tongue betraying him when it refused to utter proper words. Riddle looked to the hunched over form of the unfortunate human they were responsible for looking after and sighed. Bringing up his index finger to rub the side of his temple.

"It's decaying. How could you even stand near it? Let alone find it pleasing to watch over?"

"You don't know." Idia said simply, and though he was frowning, Riddle caught the nostalgic look in his eyes.

Years together, and Riddle still couldn't really figure his brother out. He was closer to Idia than he was with the rest of his brothers,but the way Idia held certain things with such sentiment gave Riddle a headache. To think someone of nobility like his brother would go soft for something as meager as a human...He was going to have tea after this, that would clear his head.

But that was later. Now, he needed to make sure, as Idia had stated multiple times, that their human wouldn't die.

***

The cold water that splashed ontop of your head and trailed down the rest of your body made you shiver and flinch as the wounds on your wrist hissed at the sudden exposure.

The small, encircling, faeries dusted in the pale colour of blue giggled at your reaction, never once stopping to ask you if the water bothered you. Water Fairies... You've only ever heard of them in stories your mother told you before you slept, but now for the past two months, they were the ones keeping your body clean.

Your gaze dropped to your bare feet soaked in the wooden basin you bathed in, and the memories of when you were free brought tears to your eyes. Before you actually realized it, you were crying. Tears uncontrollably slipping through your eyes like rain dripping in-between the creaks of a broken roof. Your body trembled and despite the soreness of your limbs, you hunched over to hug your knees. The water Fairies, continued their job, carelessly oblivious to your sorrows.

You didn't even noticed Idia entering the room until his panicked voice broke through the silence and a pair of his hands gripped your shoulders.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" He sounded worried, hasty even. The water Fairies giggled, splashing the water from your bath playfully as if to greet the young male but when he lifted his gaze towards them, the gold in his eyes flared like fire and within seconds you heard the small cries of pain elicited by the water Fairies before, one by one, Idia's fire engulfed them all.

"They're gone now" He said, cupping your tear stained face clumsily in his hands. "They won't hurt you again. I swear."

He wasn't expecting a 'Thank you' or a grateful smile or even your body welcoming him in an embrace, even if he did craved those things from you, but Idia also didn't expect for your hands to push him away so vigorously. As if by his touch alone he had made you feel disgusted.

His gaze was wide when it met yours,a tinge of hurt lingering in them but when Riddle entered the room then, it vanished and Idia looked away from you.

"What happened here? Why are you on the floor—" Riddle let common sense piece up the scenes together and when it did, the annoyance In his demeanor shifted to anger.

"Get up,Idia. You'll need a change of clothes,Azul is already downstairs,have him help you."

Idia got up without a word and when the door vanished the moment he went through it, dread settled into the room like a plague.

"I don't know how many times I've said it" Riddle started,looming over your bared body still sitting in the basin.

"But you should consider yourself lucky I'm neither Leona or Azul. They would've given you nothing to wear and tossed you out naked."

You didn't dare meet his gaze then but Riddle made you to by placing his thumb underneath your chin and slowly lifting it up.

"I wanted you dead,you know. After all, what your foolish brother did was unforgivable. Mindlessly slaughtering the creature our mother raised on her own as the family's protector..." He jerked your chin back with a flick, his every action a sting of aggression. "I've always felt my own brothers were a handful" Riddle looked you right in the eyes then before he laughed, "But now that I've seen yours,I'm grateful. Very unfortunate for you though"

"Why are keeping me like this?" The words came in a whisper but Riddle caught it and he arched both his brows as if he was impressed you could actually talk.

"You're not an idiot" He said "You heard me perfectly well."

"Yes,I heard you...but why? I don't understand." Slowly, your eyes began to burn with an ignition of life, and for once, Riddle did find it pleasing to look at you.

"What difference does it make if you did? The situation here is very clear. Your brother,an arrogant hunter, thought he'd be doing the world a favour by intruding into my family's ancient lands and arousing the beast that protects it,killing it in the end. I'll admit,it's no small feat, and he does have an ounce of talent in his veins but he's done wrong by us," Riddle's voice shifted into a drawl, gaze darkening, "And perhaps he should've think twice before angering us Faefolk."

"But why am I the captive?" You were almost screaming, your throat coarse and dry it hurt to even utter the words, but it was unfair. Why was it you had to pay for the fault of a man you weren't even related to by blood. With the little energy you had left, you stood on your trembling legs, not caring that your naked body was in full display to the red haired who all but stared at you in bewilderment.

"I'm not to blame. I take no responsibility for the death of your creature. If it's vengeance you want then maybe giving me a sword would suit better."

Riddle's rage glimmered in his eyes.

"You're challenging me?"

"No." You said. "I'm offering to give you the head of the man who dishonoured your family, Fae."

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfic #twst mc #riddle rosehearts #idia shroud #twst riddle x reader #twst idia x reader #twst Wonderland au #twisted wonderland yandere #twst yandere #twst yandere riddle #twst yandere idia

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doorsclosingslowly · 3 years

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If This Changed Your Life Did You Have One Before

Kaz is dismayed to learn that for an entire year, the key to a three million kruge pay-out from the Ravkan crown has been hiding right under his nose. Even worse: he’s making excuses not to turn Jesper in, Sun Summoner or not.

4k | Sun Summoner Jesper AU | Jesper Fahey & Kaz Brekker | warning for on-screen torture

The Smirnov home was as easy a target as Kaz predicted. The entire family is out at some gala or other, the staff having used the reprieve to go out dancing, leaving only two guards patrolling in front of the villa. Really, he needn’t have brought in three other Dregs to make copies of the scheduled arrivals of the cargo vessels they have coming over from West Ravka in the next two months. Kaz could have easily done this alone, but his new spider Inej needs all the practice she can get, Anika’s been complaining about getting propositioned in a gambling hall, and Jesper—well, Jesper’s obnoxious when he’s bored.

He’s obnoxious anyway. Kaz has been back with Anika at her watcher’s spot for ten minutes now, Inej materializing out of thin air right after him, and Jesper’s still missing. Probably got distracted, the utter flake, and Kaz has half a mind to go back to the Slat without him. He’ll show up eventually. He always does.

It’s time to discern which lesson Inej needs to learn more at this moment. Should Kaz impress upon her the need for single-minded focus on the job at hand, lest she displease him? Make an example of Jesper that she will not forget? Or should he build her loyalty by implying—not promising—that the Dregs do not leave one of their own behind?

Inej does Kaz’ bidding without question. Only one of these lessons is useful for his new dutiful, terrified spider to learn.

“We could have called it a day early this time,” Kaz rasps, “but unfortunately Jesper has not yet learned the value of punctuality. Let’s hope he hasn’t found another kitchen boy, or we’ll be here all night.”

He hands the copied schedules over to Anika and instructs her and Inej to wait inconspicuously while he retrieves the errant sharpshooter.

The second entry’s just as easy as the first, and this time, he doesn’t take the stairs to the first floor where the office was but explores the ground floor that he ordered Jesper to case out. Useless as Jesper is, surely not even he would dare to diverge from Kaz’ plans that early.

The hallway is dark and empty, and so is the dining room, dark and empty except for—the crack under the door to the kitchen, casting out bright light, light that glints on the pearl-handle of a revolver on the floor. Kaz is almost relieved to see it. The second one, someone’s kicked under a chair, and he quickly picks them up. Guns might come in useful, anyway: Jesper wouldn’t just leave them, ever, he plays loose with money and orders but is far too attached to his weapons, so he must be in danger. He didn’t needlessly complicate Kaz’ plans by being stupid and distractible, after all. To lose a fight is far more excusable than flakiness, and Jesper’s usually a good thief and fighter and a loyal Dreg, so Kaz would hate to have to cut him loose just for his intrinsic character flaws.

It’s not only light that spills out from under the kitchen door. Voices, too, two loud and male and obviously drunk—one Kaz places as mercher Smirnov, who must’ve begged off from the gala, and the other has a similar West Ravkan accent—and then there is someone else, desperately breathless and sobbing and begging, and since Kaz has never heard him sound anything like this before, even though he already knew from the context, it takes him an entire second to recognize the voice as Jesper.

“Please,” Jesper slurs, “I’m sorry,” and then the dull impact of fist against flesh.

“I didn’t tell you to speak you piece of shit crook,” Smirnov hisses, “sorry won’t bring my brother back,” and then Jesper moans in pain again.

Kaz creeps closer, foregoing the use of his cane to avoid any noise despite the discomfort. The mercher sounds much angrier than the situation warrants. This is Ketterdam: the occasional breaking and entering is an occupational hazard for any wealthy person here, and teenage Jesper on his own is hardly a scary sight, unless he’s using his face to make the most hideous shirt look haute couture or he’s landing impossible hits in a shootout, and from the clean smell in the dining room and the fact that Kaz, who must have been a single floor up when Jesper was grabbed, didn’t hear anything, it’s most likely Jesper was taken by surprise before he could fire a single shot. A simple call to the staadwatch would have sufficed. This job was not supposed to involve the risk of torture.

It makes no sense for it to be personal. Kaz has never before targeted Smirnov or his business, and Haskell didn’t recognize the name when Kaz came to him to argue for his plan. Haskell’s not the most talented Barrel boss, to say it lightly, but he does have a good memory for past marks, so it’s most likely the Dregs have never crossed paths with Smirnov in any way. Kaz has never known him to have any siblings, either, and he did observe him for a while before this heist. Jesper, of course, gets into enough scrapes during his off-time, but they’re nearly all about gambling or money he owes from gambling, and if Smirnov was a gambler, Kaz would know. It’s his job to keep track of which merchers are easy targets.

It’s possible, of course, Kaz muses while he silently and gently lowers the handle of the kitchen door—in case this display is an ambush for him—and opens it to a small crack as quickly as he can—he’d prefer to keep his sharpshooter in working condition—it’s definitely possible that Jesper just annoyed the shit out of his captors. Kaz can empathise. He’s also annoyed that Jesper got himself caught by a random sadist on the easiest of jobs.

“Don’t worry, you’ll have enough time to heal up pretty before you get to the Little Palace.”

Or—

The kitchen is bright.

It’s a standard narrow kitchen, very orderly and clean, with a bottle of liquor and two glasses on the work surface. There are three people inside, and it’s ridiculously bright.

Brighter than any room with a single lit candle has any right to be. Brighter than daylight.

And it’s all coming from Jesper.

Jesper, who’s held in the arms of the non-Smirnov drunk, a man who has one big hand pressed to Jesper’s neck and is squeezing so hard that Kaz would probably see Jesper’s face turning blue if he could actually look, squeezing, and then letting go, squeezing again. His other arm is wrapped around Jesper’s waist, pressing both his arms against his body. Jesper’s feet are on the floor, knees bent even; he’s not being held aloft but he’s far too busy sobbing and shuddering to kick his feet against the man holding him captive.

Kaz has always thought Jesper unreasonably tall and lanky—only occasionally with vicious envy—but he looks weirdly small next to his captor, not because he’s shorter because he probably isn’t, just definitely not as broad-shouldered and muscular… Not because the other man is impressive. He’s got a red nose and desperate shallow scratches all over his face (so Jesper’s tried to escape. Kaz makes a mental note to force him to practice grappling and other forms of unarmed combat henceforth. Rotty’s a decent instructor, but he’s still hampered by the ethics taught in childhood boxing practice. Kaz will have to teach a few lessons himself, if he wants his sharpshooter to excel the next time he’s outmanoeuvred and alone). Jesper doesn’t look small for any of those reasons, but because he’s panicking and brutalized and miserably helpless in this mercher’s grasp, and that’s so hard to square with the presence of the flirty, boastful, loud boy he should be.

He lights up every room he enters.

Well, he’s lighting up the room now, just not like that.

All of Jesper’s skin is glowing brightly, every inch that isn’t covered by his hideous outfit (though the glare washes out the vivid contrasts of his chosen colours, rendering the coat slightly less of an eyesore), and the deep bloody slashes down his chest, the cut on his bruised cheek, the gash on his head where someone must have surprise-bashed him—they’re blinding, as if Kaz was looking straight at the sun.

Because that iswhat he’s looking at.

Jesper’s Grisha.

Jesper’s Grisha, and he’s far craftier than Kaz thought he was, because he’s been hiding his secret for a year now, Jesper who can’t keep his fucking mouth shut even when he isn’t drunk, Jesper who pretends to be an open happy book. He’s been hurt before, too, though not often enough for Kaz to give thought to his unarmed defence… so maybe something about the kitchen knife that Smirnov’s using to carve holes into his chest forced him to start burning, or maybe it’s the dazed hopeless terror that permeates every single one of his pleas, his laboured breathing…

“If you’d just gone and destroyed the Fold, instead of stealing from respectable men, this needn’t have happened,” Smirnov says with lethal friendliness, and then he punches Jesper in the face again. The ring he’s wearing tears another gash into Jesper’s cheek: another eruption of sunlight, another sob. “Sun Summoner.”

“Just please—” If Kaz could look at Jesper’s face for more than an instant, he could probably see him flickering through what he might offer—money, information, sexual services, appeals to this man’s mercy or veneration for a mythic Saint or reminders that the Ravkan bounty for the Sun Summoner is alive only. He doesn’t say anything but another “Please,” because it’s plainly useless: these two men have decided he can be hurt just shy of his death, and then he’ll be sold to the Darkling. And if no-one’s come to find him yet, no-one will. It’s over. Jesper knows. Those men know.

Kaz knows, and so he has to figure out a way to get the other West Ravkan to let go of Jesper. Right now, this is intimidation, punishment, and another minute or two while Kaz plots won’t make much of a difference; but once he transforms the nature of this situation by his own attack, Jesper’s safety is far less assured.

No matter how much money the Sun Summoner will fetch (and Kaz knows it’s millions) once they figure out that he means to kill them, and that he came here for Jesper, they’ll use his life to bargain and Kaz is not interested in bartering anything for an excitable fool who’s been lying to Kaz for the entire time they’ve been working together. So he could—

But while he plots, Smirnov walks up to Jesper, a cast iron pan in his hand, and bashes him over the head. The other guy must have known he would, because he lets go, and so Jesper just crumples to the ground, bleeding from yet another burst bruise in his forehead and unconscious and still glowing brightly.

Whatever their plan may have been, they’ve released Jesper. It’s the opening that Kaz was searching for.

He dispatches the other Ravkan with a cane-blow to his face, and then he disarms Smirnov and uses his kitchen knife to slit his throat. Beats the other Ravkan again and again, strategically, so he’ll slowly die from his injuries: killing a mercher is terrible form, especially on a heist he could barely get permission for, but this way, the Staadwatch might believe Smirnov got into a drunken fight with his companion that ended tragically. For good measure (and because Jesper’s still glowing, and he can’t very well bring him back to the Slat this way without attracting attention), Kaz trashes the kitchen as well.

Then, he collects Jesper’s hat from the dining room, and gently places it on his sharpshooter’s head. Jesper’s barely glowing now, and in just a few seconds—

He’s back to normal. Kaz nudges his shoulder with his boot.

“Kaz.” Despite the pain he’s in, Jesper’s face is bright with joy as soon as he realizes it’s Kaz beside him. None of the weird Grisha light—as he turns his head to meet Kaz’ eyes, his skin’s almost gone back to its normal warm brown, although it’s slightly ashen from shock and blood loss and it’s starting to bruise badly, too—but he’s glowing in his own idiot Jesper way, with a happiness no-one sane would feel upon looking at Dirtyhands, not even a Dreg whose life he just saved.

Jesper, though—even when Kaz has called him into his office to chew him out for some indiscretion or other, there’s this fraction of a second where he just looks happy to see him.

“Get up, Jesper. Inej and Anika are waiting.”

“What did you…” And just like during those reprimands in his office, Jesper’s light is dimming as he tries to work out how much trouble he’s in. He probably wants to know whether Kaz knows he’s Grisha, and given the work he put in to conceal it for a year and how brutal Smirnov turned after he found out, it’s a distinct possibility he’ll run away from Ketterdam if he thinks he got made. And deprive Kaz of his reward. That he’ll definitely cash in. In a couple of days, because unlike Smirnov and his friend, he’s not going to assume that the Darkling wants his prize looking a few punches shy of becoming a corpse. Even if he wants to despoil his mythic Grisha, he probably wants to start from something pristine. They all do.

“I found your guns in the dining room,” Kaz rasps. “So I assumed those sadists carried you off into the kitchen to have their fun. You were passed out when I arrived; they were taking a break from inflicting torture, and I need a sharpshooter more than I need to skim from West Ravkan shipments, so I took them out. Who knew these lovely expensive walls conceal such depravity? They’re worse than we are.”

“They didn’t say anything?”

“About why they hurt you? I didn’t give them time. Personally, I think it was your crimes against fashion.”

Jesper attempts a relieved snort, but just groans in pain. Hopefully his ribs are bruised, not broken.

“It’s time to leave now. Get up. I didn’t spend my time constructing the scene of a tragic drunken brawl just for Smirnov’s family to come back early from their gala and catch us in their kitchen.”

Kaz doesn’t offer a hand to help Jesper up, but then, he doesn’t need to. They left his legs and arms alone, apparently, focusing their attacks on his torso and his face for reasons now unknown to all living beings, which means Jesper looks horrifying, ruined, half-dead, but he can still walk unaided. That makes it easier: if there was no choice Kaz could hold him up, but Jesper’s dangerously over-familiar with him as it is, and doesn’t need the encouragement. He keeps Jesper slightly in front, since he’s shaking wildly and his balance is shot from being bashed to unconsciousness twice, but he makes it without incident to the shadowed spot where Inej and Anika wait.

“Jesper kindly volunteered himself to distract the men who stayed inside the mansion,” Kaz tells them, and the look that Jesper shoots him is weirdly—grateful? But then, Kaz just saved his life. “Anika, get a medik to the Slat. No Grisha, no Ravkans, just in case. I know Smirnov was involved in his community, and we should not arouse any unnecessary suspicion.”

“Yes, boss,” Anika says, glaring at him before jogging off.

Inej, too, looks deeply unhappy while they walk back. Almost like… almost like they’re assuming Kazbeat Jesper up in response to his tardiness. Well. That may even be of use to his public image, so he shan’t make a move to dispel the idea, but—

“Thanks, Kaz,” Jesper mumbles the second they meet up with Anika and a young freckled medik at the Slat, “They’d never have stopped if you hadn’t saved me.” Obnoxious, obstinate Jesper, who’s definitely seen the same worried glances. And took it upon himself to wreck any of Kaz’ attempts at reputation management.

Kaz collects the now worthless copied schedules from Anika. He’ll have to grovel before Haskell for this failure. He ignores the eyes burning holes into his back.

Jesper doesn’t stay inside his room for even a day. His face makes him look like he lost several boxing matches in a row, and Kaz assumes the medik sewed shut the cuts on his chest and belly but Jesper’s still wincing, as soon as he thinks he’s unobserved, whenever anyone hugs or touches him during breakfast. His neck is ringed with bruising so severe it looks almost black, and his damaged throat makes him sound, for the moment, uncannily like Kaz himself does. Jesper, being an asshole, of course exploits that fact to recount the sad tale of what happened to him: again and again, then in some flowery monologue he's pretending is from Kaz' perspective, changing details, changing everything, until there's nothing left of the terrified boy who knew the only way out of getting punched and cut because of his imagined crimes against a sadist was the sale to a more mysterious sadist. Until Jesper's story is so funny even Kaz, who was there, can't help but laugh.

Kaz would have preferred him to sleep, rest, or failing that, clean his guns or whatever, since Jesper’s left eye is swollen completely shut and he needs to heal up before he’s anything approaching useful again—that’s why Kaz ordered Jesper to stay in bed for three days—but then, this is Jesper. Jesper does not do bedrest. After that first breakfast, Kaz is careful not to cross Jesper’s path for those three days, so he does not technically know that Jesper’s being stupid and insubordinate. So he doesn’t have to endure, again, Jesper pointing out, with stubborn adoration, that Kaz saved his life. He’s approached Rotty for lessons in unarmed combat, and prepared exercises of his own, but these can wait. As long as Jesper stays inside the Slat, and that, at least, seems likely.

Inej, whenever she’s not working, stops by Jesper’s bed or his table or wherever Jesper is now, listening to Jesper recount his usual Jesper bullshit. Anika comes by, and Roeder and Rotty and Pim and Specht and Big Bol and Luig and whoever else does, too, sometimes enough to gamble Jesper out of yet more kruge and sometimes pretending to feel pity for the current invalid. Kaz can hear their laughter when he limps down from his office to talk to Haskell, and when he returns from the Crow Club to climb up again. He can hear their laughter, far more often than necessary, because he’s passing by far more often than necessary. Taking trips he doesn’t need to, and his leg protests, but it’s simple precaution to watch his future asset.

As long as Jesper’s happy with the Dregs, he’s not running; and as long as he’s not running Kaz can still claim his reward.

It’s a year after Kaz found out that Jesper Fahey’s the mythical Sun Summoner with a three million kruge bounty on his head. A year in which he’s failed to make use of his knowledge. Presently, Kaz is attempting to puke out the last dregs of harbour water (successfully) and also to tune out Jesper’s prattling on about the expensive gorgeous, by which he means mindbendingly ugly coat he just ruined and the hours of maintenance his babies will need before they’re back to peak condition (no success yet, sadly. Jesper’s hard to ignore).

Although Jesper’s pretending to be unhappy, the second Kaz’ lame leg caught on a raised stone when he tried to evade the new sharpshooter the Razorgulls hired, and he tipped over right into the water—the second Kaz fell in, Jesper dove after him, and wrestled him back onto the pier despite Kaz’ mindless panic and despite whatever damage his precious outfit might have sustained. And now, Jesper’s nattering on and on about fripperies while he waits for Kaz to come back from his terror. His left eye’s swelling shut, and Kaz must have been the cause of it with his mindless desperation, but since Jesper doesn’t acknowledge it, neither does he. Whether he was angry at first or not, he probably forgave all when he noticed Kaz’ panic. Jesper’s always been prepared to cover for Kaz’ weaknesses. He’s an integral part of the Dregs’ operations (of Kaz’ life) and his absence will wreck them.

The three million kruge for the Sun Summoner would pay off Inej’s indenture easily, but Inej loves Jesper, and if she ever found out where the money came from she’d never speak to Kaz again. Even if she didn’t find out it was Kaz: she would insist on rescuing Jesper, worse, Sankt Jesper she would call him, and then go off on her own. He’ll lose his sharpshooter and his spider.

Three million kruge will get Kaz much further in his plan to take down Pekka Rollins, but he does need loyal people in order to succeed.

Three million kruge is a lot of money, but Jesper’s so charismatic that all the Dregs adore him: when Kaz claims his bounty with the Little Palace, he’ll have to be as secretive as possible, because it’s hard enough wrangling his recruits now, let alone when they’re all devastated by the loss of Ketterdam’s most flirtatious gambler, and painting Kaz as the villain. Kaz doesn’t mind villainy—he is who he is—but there are reputations that aid his work and those that don’t, and if nothing else this reward would involve taking a genuine risk.

And drenched, swollen-eyed, inimitable secretive Sun Summoner Jesper is still stealing glances at Kaz, like he thinks Kaz won’t notice—and he probably didn’t notice, when he was drowning in corpses just a few seconds ago, before he managed to turn his mind to rewards and their downsides—he’s still looking at Kaz and then carrying on with his minuscule complaints. He’s making no move to get up. He’s looking away again, communicating something silent to Rotty while still talking at Kaz, and then he must see something in Kaz that makes him go, “I smell awful! Let’s get back to the Slat, I need a change of clothes. ‘Gulls are gone now anyway, boss.”

Kaz does not particularly enjoy being cared for, but if needs must then this style of pretend-apathetic easily denied help is certainly his preference, and Jesper his most frequent provider.

So then, if Kaz is going to leave the reward for the Sun Summoner as a back-up plan for when he is dearly in need of money… Kaz isn’t going to make of his knowledge any time soon, since he’s found excuse after excuse not to for the entire last year. Jesper is both an incredible shot and loyal. He does whatever Kaz asks, and even when he gets distracted half-way through, he still tends to deliver whatever Kaz wants. If Kaz is going to keep the Sun Summoner with the Dregs simply for his other uses, it’s time to start planning for a different set of eventualities. He doesn’t need to know exactly who to contact and how to drug Jesper and where to deliver him, anymore.

Jesper, though he’s managed so far, is not the most discreet of people. He’ll mess up at some point, and it’s Kaz’ task to ensure that no-one believes even the plainest, most obvious evidence of the Sun Summoner's presence. Whatever happens—Kaz doesn’t need the worry that someone else might discover Jesper and thereby ruin any heist that Kaz has sent his sharpshooter on.

If Kaz won’t give the Sun Summoner to the Darkling, he will make sure that no-one else can, either.

#jesper fahey #kaz brekker #sun summoner jesper au #dimtraces makes things #a lot of Kaz just starting to figure Jesper out early in their working relationship tbh #shadow & bone #six of crows #shadow and bone

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willowistic22 · 4 years

Text

Please... (Redfinch)

Albert has been thrown to the refuge before. It was an ugly story but at least it prepared him from what was coming when he got thrown in again. But Finch? This was his first time learning on his own how relentless Snyder is...

Word count: 3302

Part : [1 this] - (if ppl like this i’ll make more parts)

Warnings: Blood, abuse, torture, knife cuts, restraints, mentions of death, beatings, cussing (no surprise there lol), in short this is a whump fic. I probably missed some warnings and if I did please let me know!

A/N: Hello, yes, I am well aware that I’ve vanished from my fanfic writing spree. It’s gonna be more common now because school is more hectic online than irl. Anyways, i came up with this idea when I was in the middle of having writers block from writing another wip and ended up finishing this one whoops. I also like ignored the remainder of requests from my inbox not bcs i don’t want to do them but i haven’t gotten the time. Especially since this is October and my school always have special plans on October so I’m sorry. But, hey I got a fic out! ENJOY! (might make this a three part thing if you guys want idk)

[ @jaelynn-is-slightly-confused i did it.......................... ]

The first time he got sent to this hellspace was years ago, and fortunately for Albert it only lasted for four days before he was able to bust out. Odd how he thought something would be different. He expected the treatment would stay the same, no surprise there. The bounded limbs, the painful souvenirs smeared all over his body, being left to fend for your own life, none of this was new. And yet, Al thought maybe something physical about this awful settlement would be different. Maybe painting the walls a different color? Cleaning the little drops of blood on the floor?

A funny idea to be thinking about in this kind of situation. But he needed something to calm him down. Something to distract him from the pain all over his body. The bruises from punches, the strangling feeling made by a strong pair of hands ghosting his neck, the cuts from a knife marking his skin, the pain in his wrists while they’re tightly bound to each other with a rope, basically everything that’s been given to him the minute he arrived here.

An itch in his throat triggered him to go on a coughing fit. It made him feel every inch of pain all over his torso as he reached for that itch. He ends up opening his eyes after spending a long time closing them.

His senses are now hyper focused on everything around him. Albert can feel the coarse cement wall through the back of his shirt. It’s the only thing making him sit up properly while he spreads his legs out on the dirty floor, just as equally coarse as the wall. He can see streaks of lights coming from the tiny windows on the wall he’s leaning onto. The only light source provided for this basement.

There isn’t anything in here. Most of the kids held in the refuge would stay up stairs. Rooms provided with rickety bunks where at least six kids slept all at once. Big scary men put on guard on every corner with batons, ready to strike when a kid acted up. You only get sent down to the basement, or what most kids would say the ‘torture chamber’, when the ungoldy amount of scars already given to you haven’t made you obey anything they say. And Albert has been a huge pain in the ass.

The sound of the heavy metal door opening bounces on the walls, pulling Albert’s consciousness away from the distraction forming in his head as he was about to close his eyes for another rest. Slow footsteps climbing down the wooden stairs echoes throughout the room. A weak light slowly gets stronger as the footsteps get louder in Al’s ears.

The sound of the footsteps against the wooden stairs turn into strong assertive steps on the concrete floor. Al weakly darts his eyes up at the big man, bringing a candle in one hand and a lit cigarette hanging loosely in his mouth.

“Good to see you again, Al!” Snyder exclaimed after huffing out a cloud of smoke, a devilish grin painting his face.

“Wish I could say the same to you” Albert voiced as best as he could, hoarse but Snyder could hear the hatred behind it.

The beaten up redhead proceeds to spit at his captor’s shoes with a glare. In return, Snyder chuckles out whilst shaking his head.

“You think that’s funny?” Snyder challenged.

“Actually, I do!”

In the matter of seconds, Snyder gets closer and viciously grabs Albert by the neck with a tight grip. He holds him up with one hand on the neck, high with his back up against the wall.

Despite his throat being seconds away from being totally crushed, he was able to hold up his glare. The pain is unimaginable, but his smile remains. Albert is not giving in to obeying this man in any way. Not even the fear he’s trying to assert on him.

“Fearless. I admire that” Snyder notes, curiously tilting his head as he examines the details of his face.

“Thanks. My parents are pretty proud of that too” Albert needed some effort to get the words out, but thought it was definitely worth the pain to see the displeased look in Snyder.

“And very stubborn...”

They lock their eyes in a glare, none of them showing any sign of turning away.

“I’ll have to fix that attitude…” Snyder exclaimed. He turns towards the stairs leading upstairs and shouts, “Bring ‘em in”

The door opened, followed by a sound of two men viciously telling someone to obey their orders. Not a moment later, a tumbling noise reveals a weak body being pushed down the stairs and onto the concrete floor with a loud thud. Their back was facing Al, so he didn’t know who that was.

But Al noticed the newsboy cap, lying on the floor not far from the figure. It was thrown away from their head when they fell down the stairs. The cap looks eerily familiar. God, did Albert hope it wasn’t who he thinks it is…

The two men from earlier came down. One uses his feet to flip over the person they’ve just thrown down here, along with the bound wrists with the same rope as Al dropping in front of their chest. With the minimal light provided by the little windows and now the presence of Snyder’s candle, Albert can tell who they’ve just thrown in.

His smirk slowly drops at the sight of the weak boy. His hazel eyes no longer glaring at his captor, but staring helplessly at the body lying on the floor. Blond hair no longer electrified as it used to. Al’s favorite face to cradle no longer looks the same as before. Eyes still clenched shut. Snyder smirks, seeing his tactic has shown some progress. And he barely did anything yet.

“Not so funny now, huh?” Snyder taunted under his breath, only Albert was able to hear it, “Should’ve brought the boy into the mix sooner…”

Snyder loosens his grip around Al’s neck, but he’s soon held up once again by two of Snyder’s henchmen. One holds down his shoulders, pinning him up against the wall, and another by the chest and stomach.

Snyder makes his way to the boy on the ground with lazy steps. Albert can see him reaching for something under his jacket. It was soon revealed to be a knife once he playfully glides it in the air while kneeling down to the boy. He throws away his burnt out cigarette and places the candle on the floor, not far from the helpless body. He grabs the boy’s chin to make him look up with his free hand, smiling like the devil when he hears the boy whimpering from his touch.

“I’m not one to like guys… but this one’s clearly a looker, don’t you think?” Snyder examines the face in his hand.

Albert’s temper was acting up, but his struggles to break free from the strong grip was instantly met with punches to the stomach. The bruises from earlier makes the pain hurt even more. With a silent raise of two fingers, Snyder made the two henchmen stop the punching. It gives Albert some time to settle in with the pain.

Another signal from Snyder, and the henchmen drops Al on the floor and leaves the basement to the three. Albert’s head was up against the concrete floor, taking in the cold and dusty texture.

He’s on the same eye level as the boy. A desperate gaze towards the innocent face now full of blood, water, dust, and dirt all smudged together on his skin. Al could see more details, maybe bruises or cuts covered up by the smudges.

“Come on now, Finch! You’re invited to the party!” Snyder said to the boy, bringing his face right to his own. It forces him to slightly sit up, whimpering along as his body is getting forced under all that pain, “The least you could do is appreciate the invitation”

It was the order to open his eyes. God knows what Snyder would do if he didn’t. The action reveals a pair of Albert’s favorite blue eyes, but fear clouds it along with the redness caused from what he assumes to be a lot of crying.

Finch never loses his composure. He’s that cool and mysterious guy everyone is intrigued by. Either have a cool smirk or a neutral quiet face at all times. He doesn’t express his feelings freely, so it keeps people guessing. But those tear streaks, shaky limbs, pressed down sobs in his throat, that wasn’t usual. Albert may have seen him vulnerable, but this wasn’t the romantic and soft side of him that he’s used to. This was genuine fear.

��I know you’re not one to follow orders from me…” Snyder started, guiding Finch to sit up properly. His unbalanced head moves along with the dazing motion in his mind. In a split second, the sound of a slap echoes through the room. Finch falling helplessly the moment his huge hand connects to his cheek. With a little yelp from the pain, he’s back on the ground, desperately holding back his sobs and scrunching his eyes shut.

“... But I’m sure we could… make some changes to that” Snyder continued, turning his head around to face Albert.

By now, Al found the little strength to prop himself up to sit up against the wall again. He snarls, pushing Snyder to smile to his own amusement.

“I see progress being made!” He exclaimed with an unsettling grin after noting his silence. He turns back to face Finch, “Let’s see how much of that we can get for today’s session…”

Snyder drags Finch by the ropes that ties his arms together up till it can reach the rusty old hook attached to the ceiling. He gasps at the pain in his wrists carrying his entire weight up on the hook, all the pain being stretched out. The tip of his toes grazed the floor and his head hung low.

The same knife from earlier makes its way to press on Finch’s chest. Albert had only realized his shirt was unbuttoned just now and takes in all the horrifying scars. It ranges from faint purples and blues and very clear red and pink lines, all of which are smeared across his body. The cold blade hasn’t cut through his skin, but it made Finch’s senses hyper focused. Lungs working at full force, loud breathing and rapid chest movements. He thought he was just playing tricks, making him think he’s seconds away from cutting some skin.

When he least expected it, the blade drew another line just below his collar bone. It causes the boy to let out a half suppressed yelp. Snyder dragged the knife so slow, Finch could feel every bit of the pain.

“Wait! Stop!” Albert could only yell from a distance.

“Thought we’ve managed to get you to shut up...” Snyder turns his head a little to see Albert behind his shoulder. He digs the blade an inch deeper into Finch’s skin, causing a little cry to finally escape his lips but soon was suppressed once again.

“He has nothin’ to do with this!”

Albert shifts a bit loudly. It instantly alerts Snyder, causing him to fully turn his head towards him with a glare.

“Try getting any closer, and I’ll slit his throat open right now!” Snyder growled, firmly holding the blade against the weak throat. It made Finch pull his head up to avoid getting cut, inevitably forcing his eyes to open to stay cautious around it.

Albert locks his eyes in Finch’s desperate gaze back at him. A silent cry for help, which only made Al furious because he can’t do anything. He wants to wipe his tears away, clean his face, and just hold him tight against his chest. Get the two back to the lodge where their friends are waiting. Everything in his power to get Finch away from any more torture.

Snyder smiled at Albert’s compliance, forcibly settling his body back on the wall.

“Atta, boy,” He said, turning his head back to face Finch. He grabs a fistful of blonde curls and whispers, “See? Told’ja he’d listen to you”

Snyder pulls the knife out of his flesh. Finch gasps at the pain, red blood dripping down his body. His breath becomes fast and uncontrollable once again. And he didn’t stop there. Punches being thrown, more knife cuts, and a hand gripping firmly around his neck while he growls words that shapes nightmares. The chest starts to add in more color to it. Streaks of blood dripped down his slightly toned body. Each of those marks burns deeply into him. With every swing from the fist, Finch uses all his energy to suppress his voice despite the unimaginable pain it emits.

Finch has been in a fight before. He knows what it feels like getting punched over and over again. But this? This is something new. He’s in a position where he can’t do anything. And god is he scared for his life. Albert won’t blame him. After a few dozen punches, his lover fell limp. Hanging helplessly on the hook and taking all the new cuts and bruises like he deserves it. His heart skipped a beat, thinking that he actually might’ve given up.

“Can’t you tell he’s had enough of it?” Albert shouted, helplessly watching his lover get tortured to near death.

Snyder continues to use Finch as a punching bag, ignoring his near silent cries and Albert’s pleas to stop.

“What does it have to do with ‘im?!”

A hook to the chin this time.

“You fucking bastard! You’ll kill him!”

Finch couldn’t hold his crying anymore, despite being told to before he got thrown in the basement. Snyder draws out the knife again upon hearing all the sobs escape his cut lips.

“Snyder, please!” Albert’s voice shakes.

He stops his arm and turns to face Albert, dropping his hand with the knife to his side. Albert can be seen on the verge of tears, and he won’t deny it to anyone. Snyder’s lips fell open with wonderment.

“I get the point already. You don’t have to keep hurting him...” Albert explained even further, desperation lacing his words. Eyes slowly welling up with water, “Please…”

Snyder scoffs, twisting his lips into the devil's satisfied smile, “Say that again”

He just wants to see Albert complying to him. Hear him beg to stop the injustice torture. Maybe as far as to hear him cry.

“Please… Let him go...” breathlessly, Albert begged. He could feel a drop of water from one of his eyes threatening to fall down his cheek.

Snyder approaches Albert, kneeling down in front of him. He uses the knife from earlier, still full of Finch’s blood dripping off the blade, to tilt Albert’s chin upwards. He glares at Snyder once their eyes meet, but it only makes the man smirk with delight.

“I see you’ve come to your senses”

Hopefully that meant he’d stop and let Finch back upstairs. But this is Snyder, he’s not going to let one of his detained kids off for free.

“But I don’t think you’re... ‘docile’ enough,” Snyder added.

He puts away the knife, letting Albert breathe for a moment. But that breath was stolen from him as Snyder proceeds to slap his cheek, so hard the noise echoes throughout the room. He falls to the ground, adding more to the pain he’s feeling. If his hands weren’t tied up, he would’ve already punched the crap out of that monster.

“You sound adorable when you beg, y’know?” Snyder said standing up to walk back to Finch.

Albert huffs out breaths full of anger, watching him approach his bloody human punching bag. He blows a strain of red locks away from his eyes to carefully watch what he’s going to do.

Snyder grabs Finch’s cheeks, forcing him to look up, “You’re definitely a keeper. Isn’t that right, Al?”

He turns to face Albert, watching as the redhead struggles to sit upright once again. He didn’t break his glare at the man while doing so, showing his own daggers through hazel eyes.

Snyder scoffs it off, focusing back to Finch. He unhooks the rope off of the ceiling, the limp body giving in to gravity and hitting the floor instantly. His breathing is slowing down, but hitched with a sob ever so often.

“So, why don’tcha have a little alone time—“ He grabs Finch by the hair. He yelped in pain before being tossed towards where Albert is sitting, his feet somehow complying to the push despite the ache he feels, “—and think about what you did”

He was lucky, Albert was able to catch him into his chest and lap. If he didn’t, Finch would’ve hit the floor and added another bruise on his face. Finch quickly scrambles himself into his embrace as best as he can with tied hands in front of him. Shaking with suppressed sobs into Al’s tattered clothes.

“You don’t wanna make him suffer for something he didn’t do, right?” Snyder taunted.

It fuels Albert’s anger to the brim. He tries his best to wrap his arms around the boy while maintaining his glare at Snyder as he makes his way up the stairs. The heavy door quickly opens and shuts not long after a dozen or so drawn out steps up the stairs. The basement is once again left with minimal lighting since the candle from previously was brought up along with him.

The moment he hears the door close, Finch lets out his sobs. Loud, fueled with ache and fear. Albert suspects he was told to stay quiet while they were doing… whatever it is they did to him to make him look like this. He had a few guesses about what it was, but Al couldn’t bear to put the image in his head.

“Oh, Finch, what did they do to you?” Albert whispered, carefully holding Finch’s cheek up to see the damage.

Finch stays silent as they view each other’s faces. Albert wipes Finch’s tears with his thumb delicately to be careful as to not harm him. He cries at the touch of his soft hand, the gentleness he’s been longing for the moment he got into this shithole of a place.

He crashes his face into the crook of Albert’s neck, sobbing a little softer than before. Al places his chin on his curls gently. He rubs Finch’s back and shushes in his hair. Albert knows it won’t calm him down, but there’s nothing wrong with trying.

“Albert… please… I wanna go home…” Finch said shakily, so soft Al nearly couldn’t hear him. About the only thing he has said since the moment the couple has reunited.

Albert hushed the boy, rubbing his cheeks against Finch’s curls, “I know. I know. Just hold on for me”

He continues to sob, a puddle slowly forming on Albert’s shirt. The dam for Albert himself finally broke, letting a drop of water fall down his cheek and a nose slowly getting stuffed. He holds him in his tight arms, as if he’d disappear the moment he lets go.

“We’re gettin’ outta here. I promise” Albert promised, a big promise to uphold too.

It would seem difficult with the position they’re in. He believes their friends are out there coming up with an escape plan or will visit them frequently to check up on them till a plan forms. Till then, he promises to do everything he can to get Finch off of Snyder’s evil hands. Anything to see his Finchy smile again. Even if it ends up being the last thing he does.

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unluckyadept · 3 years

Text

Flare of the Morning Star

<<—Previous——————Flare of the Morning Star——————Next—>>

PART III: LIVING NIGHTMARE

Somehow… he always knew it would come to this.

Always.

He had dared to believe that the darkness could be pushed back, and he could finally move on in his life as the sun finally began to rise at last.

Instead, he was tormented mercilessly as time pressed on, making it clear there would not be a sunrise. Not for him.

This is why we can’t have nice things.

Be aware that the following themes are present in the text below.

Locked In The Dungeon

Denied Food As Punishment

A Taste of the Lash

To The Pain

Fed to the Beast (Threatened)

Rape, Pillage, and Burn (Threatened)

Forced to Watch (Threatened)

Public Execution (Intended/Attempted)

Make An Example of Them (Intended)

[He was surprised when he woke up in chains.

Not so much because of the chains themselves; more over the fact he had woken up at all.]

“…”

[He remembered the blaze of glory, the sheer power of triumph. He was destroying them, and then suddenly, after shattering their might—

Nothing.]

“…”

[Was it enough to save them from the terrors of a life under tyranny? They had spent so long preparing for that very day, and they had driven back the attack—and he had put in the strongest of measures to prevent the Tolbi Empire from just overrunning them and brutalizing the populace into submission.

Had it been enough?

He had no doubts at all that it had been worth it. Of course it was worth it. But had it been enough? That was the real question.]

“…”

[If he didn’t break free, then they would try and break him. Knowing this, however, only left him with a cold feeling of unmoved resolve.

They certainly couldn’t coerce him with threats on his life; he knew very well that—unless he escaped—there were no scenarios that ended with him surviving the ordeal. With that in mind, anything else was ultimately redundant.

They would try, but they would not succeed. They had no real power over him. What could they blackmail him with? Not his family. Not his hometown. Not Lalivero. Not Sheba. Certainly not the Grand Master Tamer, who would be unmoved if the face of torture.

He wondered what his friend would say now. He had tried to ask about this very moment, this nightmare that wasn’t breaking—but the Proxan had refused to entertain the notion.

And he supposed, upon reflection, that the answer was the same.

His duties did not change just because he was now captive to tyranny, and soon to be punished for standing up against it. No… if anything, it was all the more serious of a task, since the reward would not be of any benefit to him, and may not come to others for a long time.

He was grateful that the Teleport Lapis was with Sheba and the rest of the Alchemy artifacts were in Prox. The Sol Blade, too, was in Lalivero—he had taken the Rune Blade, as this had been meant as a scouting mission.

He was mildly surprised that he was still in his armor, but perhaps they liked the visual of an opposing general in chains. It would make sense, given how much they relied on propaganda and drama, all smoke and mirrors.]

“…”

[He found that he had no energy to use the brooch. No real energy at all, really.

Not too surprising. After what he had been put through, it really was a marvel that he was alive at all. It was to be expected that he was absolutely burned out.

Ah well. It couldn’t be said he didn’t think of it, didn’t try.

There just hadn’t been enough time.]

“…”

[Tired.

He was too tired to be angry, upset, or afraid at this point.

He had a long fight ahead of him. A battle against abject despair. He needed to fight for the will to live. Without it, he would fall.

Undoubtedly, Darzul would have a fiery motivational speech right now. Certainly, it wasn’t the end yet. He wasn’t going to put up with this for long—he would die free before surrender to tyranny, ultimately.

So this wasn’t a surrender. No.]

“…”

[He squinted against the light of the morning as sun filtered through the cell and hit his face.

Whether for good or ill, the day was only just beginning. It had started off terribly, and he knew he had a long fight ahead of him.

But this wasn’t over.

Not even close.]

=-=-=-=-=-=-=

“{So. It really IS you, after all these years.}”

“…”

[Felix kept an unmoved expression, despite the utterly humiliating circumstances.

Chains held him tightly in place against the wall, preventing him from folding his arms in.

His gloves and his cape had been taken away, leaving old scars plain to see.

Old scars that were on record. And he had to be somewhat impressed that they’d managed to figure it out so quickly, that they were able to identify him and pull his records.]

“{You’re just a real thorn in our side, aren’t you? Determined to be a criminal agitator that creates chaos in his wake. Never satisfied, are you? Well, now you’ve outlasted your luck, names aside.}”

[He gave a very unamused expression at this.]

“{Do you know what happens to murderers and agitators in Tolbi?}”

“{Vaguely.}”

“{Oh, so you CAN speak. AND in our language.}”

“…”

[The officer tapped something against his hand, giving a displeased stare.]

“{Good. It wouldn’t be nearly as meaningful if you didn’t understand what was going on.}”

[Felix gave a bitter, exhausted, and scornful grin at this.]

“{You won’t be smiling for long. You think you have some sort of victory here?}”

“{Do you really want to know?}”

“{You are incredibly impertinent.}”

“{Why waste our time if you will try and silence me at every turn?}”

“{At least you have some degree of insight.}”

[Tap. Tap.]

“…”

[There was a harsh noise as his captor suddenly lashed out—literally—and streaks of pain sliced across the left side of his face. He had unwittingly cringed and recoiled against the pain, so his shoulders and wrists were also left sore, and his sense of dignity damaged as blood ran down his face.]

“{Learn your place. You have crimes to answer for, and you will answer for them.}”

[Felix managed to give a glower to match the other man’s cold glare, the two of them growing increasingly tense in alpha domination and defiance.]

“{If you think that you do yourself any favor or flattery by continuing to defy us, you are vastly mistaken. Do not think for a moment that it will earn you any admiration or glory.}”

[He could taste the overpowering taste of iron, now, but he remained silent.

Oh, he had much to say. So much to say.

But he would wait. He would wait until he were dealing with someone worth his time.

On some level, the other man recognized this unspoken message, and it left him fuming.

This time, the lashes hit across his right forearm, and it truly burned. He gritted his teeth in the aftermath—equally out of pain as out of scorn. He glared at the other man, who was turning to leave the room.

The temptation to exert his own dominance and authority was strong. Very strong. He was not afraid to do so, not at all—

But he did want it to be worth the effort, and this man was not honorable enough for that.

He had to give a rueful laugh at this. How absolutely absurd that he hoped that he’d get a chance to deal with someone who treated him as an equal. An enemy, but an equal. How absurd, that his primary thought was injured Pride, over outrage at the very situation.

Sheba, for her part, would not be amused at this. And Ray would be “disappointed”, in a very angry way.]

({I stand by my decisions. And frankly, I’m tired of it.})

[He looked up with a sudden glare, brooding in alpha dominance.]

({It’s about TIME someone stood up to these dictatorial tyrants. I’m SICK AND TIRED of ALWAYS living in fear of them! They have been RUINING my life with fear for DECADES!})

[He drew himself up to his full height, clenching his fists and teeth tightly.]

({I’m not just going to let them take away EVERYTHING that matters! I will fight. I will fight with everything I have. I WILL FIGHT TO THE END!})

[For the first time he could remember, he was _brimming_ with anger, but not crushed with the pressure of power. He’d burned himself out, and his rage no longer drew forth energy from the world, unleashing it in raw form. Truly, he was as weak as a normal man now, if much more sturdy.

And yet, that didn’t burden him in the slightest. He didn’t feel helpless, and certainly not given to despair.

He let out a small laugh.]

({Dirty tricks in the middle of the night by a pack of brutal COWARDS who hack and BURN everything that they don’t like… that’s the EPITOME of weakness.})

[He was filled with an inner fire.]

({I expected better than such a spineless ruse. Not sure why… they don’t see us as real people, only as slaves they are entitled to work to death, to dispose of at any moment, utterly reliant on them to survive. I should have expected something so appalling and dirty.})

[He closed his eyes, wiping what he could of his face against his shoulder.]

({Well, they’ve underestimated me. Vastly underestimated me. And that will be their downfall, that they can’t even come CLOSE to matching me when I’m awake.})

[Oh yes, they were going to find out. They would find out the hard way.

For he was no whipped hound to be abused into a cowering mess—he was an wild wolf, an Alpha with the fire of dragons boiling in his core.]

({This. Isn’t. Over.})

[Felix was daydreaming in contentment about working at the forges when the sound of the door opening interrupted his peace. He opened his eyes, looking on with mild disinterest as several people walked into the room.]

“{Is it true that you understand our speech?}”

[Felix gave an unamused frown, saying nothing at first.

The conversation was starting off better than the last one had gone, but it was evident that his behavior had reached the ears of someone with more authority and power. He would have liked to think that would make them more reasonable, but he could not imagine that he would be treated any differently than he had been up to that point.]

“{I suggest you answer before your refusal to do so costs you the ability to speak at all.}”

[He gave a brief look of unmoved gravity before speaking up in a flat tone.]

“{Why?}”

[A pause at that.]

“{How do you know our speech?}”

[Felix grinned at this, smirking in amusement.]

“{I learned it from your best scholar, decades ago.}”

[This clearly came as some sort of surprise. Felix shifted his weight, leaning more casually against the wall.

It was true. Kraden had taught him how to read and write in the language of the Tolbi scholars, as Kraden himself had been. It was Garet’s mother that taught them how to read in the language of Vale—but he hadn’t paid much attention to either until after several years into his exile.]

“{This shouldn’t come as a surprise to you.}”

“{Name the man.}”

[He closes his eyes and shook his head at this.]

“{I will not warn you a third time.}”

“{I have no interest in facilitating the injury of my former teacher. He’s a good man… and does not deserve to be hunted down.}”

“{If you cannot name him, then I reject your claim as a lie.}”

[Felix remained unmoved.]

“{I will not repeat myself, either. It would waste our time.}”

“{I begin to see why you were reported as a particularly haughty agitator.}”

[Felix gestured as best as he could.]

“{There isn’t much point to responding one way or another, if one won’t be permitted to finish their response to others. It wasn’t worth my time or effort to interact with someone who didn’t have the prudence to listen.}”

“{You presume much about your situation.}”

“{Do I? Just because I realize others see me as beneath them doesn’t mean I am unworthy of respect.}”

“{Respect?}”

“{Come now. When one faces their equal or superior in battle, respect is necessary in order to take them seriously as a worthy opponent. If you do not see or treat me that way, then it’s not worth your time to bother, and not worth mine to interact. Surely, as someone with many responsibilities, you can see the value of not wasting time, and the implications of devoting time from what limited amount there is.}”

“{You have done nothing worthy of respect, but you are right about one thing: my time is not to be wasted.}”

“{Pity. I should have liked the opportunity to speak with an equal.}”

“{I am superior to you.}”

“{On what grounds?}”

“{You are a prisoner, and I am a commanding officer of the greatest army in Weyard.}”

“{Hmm. So then, why are you wasting your time with a ‘mere’ prisoner?}”

“{I am not answerable to you.}”

“{Then there is nothing for us to discuss.}”

[The soldier lowered his eyelids.]

“{You act above your station, and with far too much disrespect for someone in your position.}”

“{I am willing to be respectful, but I shall not be deferential. There is a difference.}”

“{Again with the impertinence. You owe us both.}”

[Felix just shook his head in silence.]

“{Still defiant? There will be consequences for that.}”

“{Is that meant to intimidate me?}”

“{I would question your sanity, let alone intelligence, if you are truly unafraid.}”

“…”

“{We know what you are capable of. Kidnapping, blackmail, assault, arson, murder of armed and unarmed men—assassinations, even—this only adds to your list of crimes. Creatures like you aren’t even worth being called ‘men’. Such lawless barbarity is beyond that.}”

“{I am not going to waste our time responding to your accusations.}”

[A pair of spears were leveled at his throat, but he only laughed.]

“{This man is mad as well as barbaric…}”

“{You think this is the first time someone has leveled a blade to my throat? Hardly. How utterly absurd.}”

“{We’ll see how you fare when subjected to the punishment you have earned. Something tells me you won’t be full of bravado then.}”

“{Always looking for a show, aren’t you?}”

“{You really ought to take the matter more seriously.}”

“{I respect you enough to say this: if you have something to say or ask, do so. If you have something to do, please get on with it. And if not… I’d rather we not waste any more of each other’s time.}”

[The soldier seemed to think this over. As best Felix could tell, he was tempted to act on his own… but prohibited from acting freely due to not being high enough of a rank to do whatever he pleased.

Ultimately, he commanded the other soldiers to stand guard outside the cell, and left Felix in silence.

After they finally let him be, he let out a slow sigh and closed his eyes.

Maybe now wasn’t the time for daydreaming, but he was going to have to wait for a better opportunity or greater necessity. And he needed to remember why he was doing this, anyway. Why it was worth it.

Why he absolutely had to put up with whatever happened by fighting against it.]

[He wasn’t about to give up what he had. What he had earned, after so long in exile.

He had been happy, before all of this. He had been at peace, and lived in peace. His life was his own; he was his own man, and he wasn’t about to let all of that fall away.]

({If they think this is the end of it, they’ve got another thing coming.})

[Even if he were overpowered, it wouldn’t be over.

And they were in for a massive wake-up call if they thought that they could coerce him into submission.]

({This still isn’t over.})

[Daydreams turned to real dreams as the time went by.

At first, his dreams were pleasant. And perhaps that was the main reason he slept as soundly as he did.

He slept away valuable hours, only waking to the loud clatter of someone opening the cell door and—more importantly—lashing him across the face again. He didn’t really have time to react before he was hit a second time—and he only just managed to shut his eyes in time.]

“{I’ve heard a fair bit about you.}”

[He made an effort to try and return his breathing to normal as the new voice continued.]

“{Why do you think so highly of yourself? Do you not understand your situation?}”

[He raised his head, squinting through the bloody bangs that were plastered to his face.

One of the Tolbi soldiers was standing at the doorway, his hands behind his back. At his side, he carried none other than the Rune Blade—Felix’s own sword.

And he was struck with weary emptiness, thinking back on how confident he had been that _he_ would have been the one presenting his friends with the spoils of victory.]

({I’m sorry, Brandish…})

[Instead, it was his gear that would be flaunted as a prize.]

({To the victor goes the sword of the fallen.})

[Well.

He wasn’t quite fallen yet.]

“{I understand your intentions perfectly well.}”

[He raised his head, looking at the other man with an unmoved expression.]

“{I always have.}”

[He gave an empty smile.]

“{It doesn’t change the truth of what happened.}”

[The other man stepped forward.]

“{I will say this but once: surrender, or suffer the consequences.}”

“{Why would I surrender? You have no intention of letting me live either way. It’s no benefit to anyone else for me to surrender. And even if there were, I don’t trust that you’d keep your word.}”

“{For whatever reason, you chose to defend Lalivero. If you wish to have them spared, you will surrender.}”

[Felix glared.]

“{You are never going to take Venus Lighthouse.}”

“{Do you think mere mountains will stop us? It is only a matter of time before the city falls.}”

“{Your empire has been falling apart all year long. Don’t think we haven’t noticed—}”

[He was interrupted by the end of the Rune Blade being put right to his throat.]

“{I’ve heard enough. You have chosen a bitter end. Not only for yourself, but for that miserable city of cowards.}”

[Felix gave a very unimpressed expression.]

“{You’re the ones who were so desperate to terrorize a peaceful people without having to face them. Tell me, who’s the real coward? The one who stood up against a professional army to protect his family from a life of slavery, or the heavily armed soldier who ran as soon as their target started fighting back?}”

[He saw it coming, and he was faster.

Gripping the chains to hoist himself up higher, he delivered a sound kick to his captor, striking the man back with considerable force and knocking him off balance.

This only served to anger him, however—]

“{Pin him down!}”

[But Felix wasn’t at all concerned when the others held him in place, because he wasn’t done yet.]

[Felix used ECHO!]

[Before the soldier could strike, he was slammed back much more forcefully than the first time, much to the surprise and alarm of all the others present… given he hadn’t moved.]

“{I’d stop now, if I were you.}”

“{You will not live to regret that—!}”

[And Felix could sense it in the soldier, plain as day; the Life in his heart and the Death in his hands.

And feeling the chilling brutality leveled at him with complete disregard for his humanity filled him with a cold fury.

He had lived far too long playing the part of the deferential peacemaker, hiding from conflict and avoiding confrontation. Nearly two thirds of his whole life, chained to an unwillingness to stand up for himself to others who mistreated him.

And he was fed up with it.

He had been pushed around and punished for what he valued for the last time.]

[He had no hesitation at all in what he did next.]

[Felix used BANE!]

[The aggressive Djinn plowed directly into the soldier before he could strike. A dark aura of deep red consumed him, and a crippling toxicity spiked in his blood.

The blow itself had almost knocked him out entirely, but the venom that came along with it sapped his strength completely, causing him to collapse.

Of the two men restraining him further, one of them rushed over to his superior, and the other just backed away in horror.

Felix glared at them both.

Seeing one of the strongest men in Tolbi taken down so quickly did not inspire great confidence in the subordinates, and they cleared out as hastily as they could, leaving one unfortunate soul to fearfully stand guard at the door.]

“{I think I rest my case.}”

[The days passed.

He had lost all true sense of a value of time. His sense of thirst and hunger compounded, leaving a hollow void as he continued to draw energy from the earth. It was a confirmation that he was “only” unable to safely use Psynergy, but all else remained the same.

A small comfort, given how little it seemed to matter.

Time alone gave him time for thought. Too much time, really. He didn’t particularly care to stay awake; it always took less energy to stay asleep without food than awake without food.

He supposed that they had forgotten about giving him food and water when it seemed to not affect him at all; perhaps they had meant to withhold it as a means of making him weak enough to keep in hand, and realized that he could survive well enough without it.

He was certainly the least of their worries, that was for certain.]

[With all the damage he had caused, and the inability to make up for it due to a lack of sufficient resources, they would have to change their plans. They, too, had expected an easy victory; they never planned for being routed. They never thought they’d need to use so much power, let alone that it wouldn’t work. Now, they were stuck in Northern Gondowan.

They could go through the desert, perhaps, but that would be resource-intensive. (Clearly, the scouts had never returned, which told them that advancing from the south was something that would be met with resistance.) Even more so now, he had to imagine; it was said that the spirits of the desert always retaliated against those who earned their wrath, which Tolbi had done already at least once before. Going through the desert was hardly ideal.

Not impossible, but not ideal. Certainly not realistic without proper preparations, first. They may be able to hold what was left of Suhalla, but the supply chain was not fully integrated.]

[It also appeared that things were not well in the Empire; he could only assume that there were issues in the highest echelons of power. Possibly as a result of how terribly their attempted invasion had gone; he could only imagine that the failure reflected very poorly on those in charge of the affair and those who proposed it in the first place.

He really would have liked the opportunity to speak to someone who would take him seriously, but he was never given that option.

That was the worst of it all, really.

Well. That, and the crippling sense of abject despair.]

[He hadn’t felt so destitute in years. He felt utterly worthless and void of purpose; it was no small thing to be imprisoned by force by those who hated him on principle… and were eager to subject everyone else around them to suffering.

As the days went by and nothing happened, nothing changed, he began to see that even if there were any forces that would try to oppose the force stationed in the Suhalla ruins specifically, they were not successful at even coming close. It was no surprise, really; crossing the desert would surely be all but impossible, and crossing the mountains was no easy task, either. Sure, there were those who could get around those problems…

…but the fact he had actively chosen (for weeks, at the very least) to cut off Weyard from the Wilderness would prevent most of said people from trying.

And so, he could do nothing but wait.]

[He HAD considered how he might escape, but it was quite clear that he wasn’t strong enough to break free of the chains. They—along with the rest of the prison—were fairly new. (This suggested they might have been made in response to the destabilization of the region over the last few years, but that was a thought for another time.) He could call upon the power of the Djinn… but such a strategy was very risky. Using Djinn would leave him weaker, and he would need their true power to get out of a situation like his. The fraction they permitted in use of Summons was connected to the power of the Adept in question, as a means of withholding power that the Adept could not physically or respectably wield. It also had traditionally been restricted to something beyond the purely physical plane… as far as his experiences had shown, at any rate.

Granted, he had never actually tried to call upon the power of the spirits with the purpose of unleashing pure destruction. He had to suspect that it would be unwise to do so, for the spirits cared little for the conflicts of Man.]

[This left only one option he could see: taking advantage of an opportunity that finally resulted in him being freed from the shackles.

The main problem was that he couldn’t see any reason for them to do this as long as he appeared to be stronger than they could handle.

The second problem was that their possible reasons for doing so all spelled a grim picture for him. If he were to fail, he would be left in a much more vulnerable state, and possibly unable to defend himself at all.

But then again, what else could he expect? There really was no ending to this that would be a happy one.]

[Upon reflection, he considered that to be his greatest error. He’d grown overly optimistic after the last few years of happiness.

It hadn’t been a perfect happiness, to be sure, but it had been his. He had worked very hard and finally started to heal… to heal and to grow.

And he had therefore started to truly believe that it was indeed possible for him to be at peace—to be at peace, to be happy, to succeed, to be worth anything at all.

He’d had a role, once. An important role. A role that demanded sacrifice, that held people together in a time of great distress. He had protected others, he had served them.

But now?

Now he was nothing. It hadn’t been enough.

He hadn’t been wrong about his own power.

He’d just failed to foresee the depths to which tyrants would sink to obtain power.

And he would pay the price for that.]

There was one exchange, however, that stood out above all the rest, and continues even now to echo in his mind and heart.

“{So that’s it, huh? You fancy yourself to bed with the jewel of Gondowan?}”

[Felix pressed his mouth into a thin line.]

“{When we march through the city, she’ll be taken captive like all the rest. She’ll be made into the whore of the Karagol, imprisoned until her beauty has faded and she no longer satisfies for pleasurable deeds. She’ll be fed naked to beasts for all the empire to see. And who knows. A young, fit man such as yourself… perhaps we’ll do the same to you.}”

[Some of the others laughed at this, but Felix could not hide the burning rage in his eyes.

He hadn’t wanted to kill someone this badly in a long, long time. He’d wanted to instill the fear of death as soon as several years ago, but this? No. He wanted to kill the man, then and there.

He could best any one of them in open combat. And they knew it. The only way they could win was by trying to keep him chained down.

But even that would not be enough to stop him, really.]

“{Nothing to say?}”

“{Plenty.}”

“{Really now? Go on, entertain us with your laughable denial.}”

“{Denial?}”

“{Still think you have a way out of this, don’t you? You just can’t see that your time in power is over. Now, we will make sure that all those who knew you—all those who looked to you and followed your commands—are brought to swift justice and punished for sowing chaos in word and deed.}”

“{You’re taking a terribly arrogant position for someone who had to resort to cowardly ploys in order to stand a chance against a singular pair of people.}”

[That earned him a stinging lash to the face.]

“{We won, you worthless filth! You will pay the consequences for daring to attempt to obstruct our peaceful path to the Eastern Sea!}”

”Tch! {Peaceful? I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware that ‘arson’ and ‘murder’ had such a strange translation in your imperial speech.}”

[Another strike.]

“{You will never walk free again. All this show you put on of having won somehow is an absolute disgrace. Not that one could expect anything else from the likes of you…}”

“{You know, repeatedly sneering a mantra of insults and threats isn’t going to change what actually happened.}”

“{By the gods, you really are that stupid, aren’t you? How did you ever end up in charge of those pathetic drones?}”

[Felix snorted at this.]

“{As if I’d tell you that story.}”

“{Well, it won’t matter. You’ll go down as the worst agitator to ever pervert the affairs of our people, the most scandalously terrible and corrupt creature to ever disgrace Weyard’s soil.}”

“{You say that as if you haven’t been slandering my name for decades.}”

“{You are responsible for terrible crimes, and you will face justice for them! Accept your defeat!}”

“{Perhaps if you had legitimately overpowered me and enslaved those I protected—in open combat—then I would be forced to admit I was not strong enough to defend them from the likes of you.}”

“{We HAVE overpowered you. Even YOU should know THAT.}”

[Felix laughed briefly at that.]

“{Are you seriously telling your men such lies for ego? Pathetic.}”

[Another strike, but it didn’t strip the grin off Felix’s face.]

“{Your so-called ‘victory’ was to prey upon a man exhausted of energy spent turning back some of the worst tyrants the modern world has ever seen—you failed to take the Lighthouse, and you failed to take the city! You have failed miserably, and your only way to counter your ruination was to seize power in the dark of night with sufficient speed as to confound those who had deterred you!}”

“{Your deranged claims are blatantly a sign of your brutish madness. Such flailings amount to nothing! You cannot stop us now; you just deluded yourself into refusing to accept the truth!}”

“{What did I just say? Repeating your lies will not change what actually happened.}”

“{And denying what happened will not change the truth! You lost. Stop wasting everyone’s time and stirring up discontent by falsely claiming you have won! You’re the one who was captured!}”

“{Temporarily.}”

“{Oh, you think you’re getting out of this? That’s rich.}”

“{I do know that you can’t hold me here forever, and you won’t be able to force me to leave.}”

“{We’ll drag you out of the city in chains if you insist on being dramatic.}”

“{And he’ll probably still be raving about his alleged ‘victory’, too…}”

“{Tell me. You set out to overtake the city and force the people into submission, correct?}”

“{Stop playing the martyr. That land belongs to the Tolbi Empire; we arranged to build the roads, to build the lighthouse—}”

“{The blasphemy that was Babi Lighthouse was torn asunder YEARS ago. Just answer the question.}”

“{We are aware of what you and that scheming woman have done to unravel the work we put into bringing the ungrateful populace into the civilized world. And that’s the first thing we’ll fix, once we get there.}”

“{Answer the question.}”

[Another strike.]

“{We set out to take back what belonged to us and bring justice to those who have acted to undermine the unity of the empire!}”

“{Right then. Your delusions aside, your goals as outlined failed miserably. Each and every one of them. You didn’t seize control, let alone with the ease and glory you had the hubris to convince yourselves would grant you absolute power. I defeated all of you AND shredded what power you were counting on using to oppress the rest of the continent into submission. Even with all your cowardly attempts to undermine, you still failed to conquer—}”

[The last thing he saw was the crazed rage in the other man’s eyes.]

Even though he managed to escape by overpowering the soldiers when they freed him from the wall as part of the process of taking him to a place of execution—further turning the ruins of Suhalla into rubble in the process of bringing down his Judgment—

The next, cold chapter of his terrible fate still awaited him.

<<—Previous——————Flare of the Morning Star——————Next—>>

#cje #unluckyadept

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imagethat · 5 years

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Final Goodbye | Vergil x Kitsune!Reader

Alright! So this one reads like an absolute novel lmao I like writing while laying in bed. It helps me relax and fall asleep. I don’t post everything, but I wanted to post this. It’s a part two to my Kitsune!Reader drabble.

Something was festering inside you, as the nights grew longer during the winter, so too did your slumber. Each dream becoming more infatuating than the last, lulling you deeper and deeper into your once home. You knew this realm was not of your own creation, it had echoes of familiarity mixed in with the confusion. You already discerned its owner. Why they felt the need to drag this on was an ever evasive answer. You continued still, trying to reach the heart of this world. Before you could reach your destination, an alarm woke you up and you were pulled aggressively back into reality. An annoyed growl escaped you as you sat up in your bed. You’d have to be more cunning if you wished to speak with your nightly captor. The fact you hadn’t yet only adding more to your irritation. You peeled yourself from under the sheets and went downstairs. Dante puffed some air out of his chest before leaning forwards. “Whoah, someones on the warpath.” He commented. Was your irritability really that visible? “Not today Dante.” You warned while placing a hand on your forehead. Vergil quirked a brow. “You’ve been sleeping in rather late, are you alright?” He asked. The only reply he got was a half baked ‘Fine’ from your back as you went into the kitchen to get some food. Dante's eyes scanned over his brother curiously as he leaned back in his chair with crossed arms. Vergil knew something he didn’t, and wasn’t making any moves to tell him either. You returned from the kitchen, only to march past the twins without a word and return to your room. Once inside, you ate the cereal you had poured for yourself while packing for the day. Once ready you went downstairs. “Where are you going?” To your surprise, Vergil asked rather than Dante. “To attend to some business.” You replied, not giving any more of an explanation before heading out the front door.

It would start snowing soon, the sky was dark enough and a horrible chill dampened your bones. You checked Red Grave, making sure all the hexes you had placed remained in tact. Not only because they marked your territory, but because they acted as a ward. To your disappointment, some were broken. That was to be expected though, since another had come into your space. All at once the world gave way beneath your feet as you tumbled into darkness. The sound of your heart beat heavy in your ears with the depth and percussion of a full orchestra. You hit something on your fall and then once more. Your eyes shot open as you jolted forwards, those hits having been something shaking you. The dreams grasp was becoming so tight that you could not discern reality from it. Your eyes darted all around the park, not remembering the sheet of white that veiled it. Vergil was standing beside you, examining you quietly. “You’ve been gone for a whole day.” He commented. You paused… A whole day? Had the dream taken you for that long? It certainly didn’t feel like it had been that long. You didn’t remember moving to this bench either. Before you could question the man beside you, a sharp stinging burned your head. A loud noise rang and you had to cover your ears. You felt weak as you collapsed to the ground while your vision went blurry. Vergil was saying something, but you couldn’t tell what. “Dream…. Snare….. Run…” You tried to warn, your words almost failing you. When you awoke you realized you had finished your fall. But the world hadn’t gotten any lighter. You couldn’t make anything out in the dark despite your demon blood. There was whispering from all directions. You stood up and cautiously searched through the dark with your hands until you found a wall. Then you followed that until you saw the soft glow of light. You could feel it’s presence more clearly now. As you dashed towards it, you broke from the darkness into a cleaning underneath a beautiful never ending sky. Sitting across the clearing from you was your brother who would be the eldest had you not been born. The clearing was reminiscent of where you fought both Vergil and Nero originally. It was to taunt you. “It has been too long, sister.” He mused quietly. You nodded softly. “That is has been, how disrespectful of you to play such pranks on your sister.” You replied. He seemed displeased with your response and flicked his tail. “I would argue that if anyones been disrespectful, it’s you. Have you forgotten your teachings?” He questioned. “I have not, but father lied to us. Humans aren’t the only source of consumption for us.” You answered with a determined look. “That may be true, but why stay with them? They are beneath us, and to even share the same space with them…” He pierced his lips before glaring at you. “You aren’t suited to be the head of the family, return the key to me.” He demanded. When you came of age and proved your worth to your parents they gave you a key. Every dream realm was attached to an item, and the one handed down in your particular lineage was a gold embellished key. “It is mine, I owe you nothing.” You replied, already feeling the tension surrounding you both. This wasn’t going to end well for one of you.

Vergil had carried you back in the snow to Devil May Cry. Dante didn’t think much of it at first, but when he saw the way your veins seemed to be darkened he knew something was wrong. “There is another.” Vergil said before his brother could ask what happened. “So how do we wake y/n up then?” Dante asked. Vergil and you had grown pretty close during the time you agreed to stay at Devil May Cry. That included sharing your knowledge with him. “Only the one who created the snare can release her. By their will or by death.” He replied. Dante seemed to think for a moment before nodding. “Well, it’s nothing we can’t handle.” He said with a teasing smirk. “As long as I’m gettin paid at the end that is.” He added and Vergil scoffed at his brother quietly. They called Lady and Trish to stay with your resting body then headed off.

The fight was long, your brother enjoying every moment of proving his superiority. The world would glitch, and apparitions of your friends would appear in his place. It took everything in you to keep swinging when it happened. He had only dug so deep into your memory thus far. “They have made you weak! Yield sister! Join us once more!” He yelled at you. For a moment you internally stopped and pondered why you were fighting so hard to stay with your new found company when you had been so eager to never see their faces again just a few months ago. In that moment of weakness, not only did he strike you but he delved deeper into your mind. Summing forth your true feelings and more twisted visions of the people who truly matter to you. Your brother sneered loudly, striking you with force you didn’t know was possible. He looked down at you with hateful eyes. “I thought you’d have more respect for father, if you should walk amongst humans you should at least keep his most basic of rules in mind. But it’s true isn’t it!?” He demanded as you pounced back to avoid an attack. You bared your teeth. “What do you speak of!? Have you gone mad! I know my place! I am the head of this family!” You shot back. “We shall see.” He replied while lunging forwards. The action was so unpredictably sudden that it caught you off guard. He lifted you from the ground by your throat. You tried to claw at his arm and halfway to his face you saw him shift to an aplirition. In that moment, you couldn’t strike. Even if you knew it was your brother inside your head tricking you. You gave into your fate as he plunged a blade through your stomach. You were dropped to the floor unceremoniously afterwords. Vergil, or rather your brother standing above you. His eyes boring into your weekend ones. “So it is true… Such a pitiful heir to the family.” He commented. The next few moments were rushed. You heard yelling and gunfire. You opened your eyes as you felt someone lift you. You were being cradled. Through your blurry vision you could see his white hair. But you couldn’t tell if it was a fake figure meant to torment you or actually him. You let your weight fall dead against him.

When you came to this time around, you were in Devil May Cry. Thick familiar gauze was wrapped around your waist. Lady rushed over when she saw you rise to check your status. “Where…. Vergil…” you forced out in a dazed tone. “Where is Vergil?” You asked. Lady looked up at Trish. “Still in the dream.” The blonde haired woman said. “No…” you whispered, fear overtaking you. “They’re still alive… but…” Trish added. She was unsure of their status. You shifted onto your elbows, finally realizing what heavy fabric rested on you. It was Vergil’s coat. He had wrapped it around you when he carried you back from the park. Even such a simple act of courtesy was odd from him and should be taken to heart. You bit your lip as you pulled it against your chest. “I have to go back!” You urged and the two looked at each other. “L-listen… I care for them just as much as you do, but you’re not in any state to fight… Plus, it’s Dante. I’m sure they’ll be fine.” Lady tried to reassure you, but her efforts were in vain. You pleaded to her with your eyes. She finally gave in with a sigh. “Trish and I will go if it will make you feel better.” She offered and you nodded your head no. “I have to go with.” You demanded. Trish crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Why?” She asked. You were taken aback. Assuming the answer would be obvious. But it wasn’t as clear as you initially thought. You took a moment to assess why you so desperately needed to go, seeming somewhat baffled by the answer. So… Your brother was right… You quietly hugged Vergil’s coat to your chest as if doing so would somehow reassure you or make things better. You had grown soft in your time within this realm. Most of all though, you broke the most enforced rule your parents taught you. Warm tears spilled down your cheeks. You didn’t know if he’d ever return your feelings or if it was possible to go on being friends after coming to this realization. Worry overtook you, wondering if you would even get the chance to see him again. You had always known he was more comfortable in your presence, never seeming bothered by your antics. He enjoyed when you two would visit your realm so he could borrow books or discuss your kinds traditions. You squeezed his coat in your hands, never having realized all these things until now. You had been willfully ignorant of them. Lady did her best to comfort you, but her condolences fell on deaf ears. They did nothing to help you from your thoughts. All at once, you could feel the heavyweight in your pocket. The one thing in this situation you had. The source of all your pride, the prize of all those hard years spent in training. You couldn’t bare the thought of letting it go. It meant more than anything else in this world. But so too did your friends. Perhaps you were a glutton, one of the cardinal sins. And this would be your punishment. You rose up so quickly that it startled Lady. You knew what had to be done, even if it felt as though someone was crushing your heart.

You returned to the moonlit grove. The battle had taken its toll on the surrounding flora. All three seemed roughed up to a certain extent, but Dante and Vergil were worse for wear. When you entered the clearing, all fighting stopped. A force pushing the twins to the ground as you brother seathed his blade. “It is good to see you’ve returned sister. While I doubt you’ve come to your senses. It is not too late for you to return to us, though your former status can never be repaired.” He offered his hand out to you but could see the hesitation in your eyes. You pulled the key out of your pocket with a somber look on your face. Flipping it in your hands a few times. You had to breath in deeply just to speak. “I see… if you will not honor your ancestors then give me the key.” He said. Dante didn’t know what the key was or the significance of it, but he could tell you were attached to it. “Don’t listen to him.” Vergil spoke out, leaning against his blade. “Yeah, we got this.” Dante added. The one thing the twins shared was their stubbornness. Another wave forced them down and Dante groaned in pain. You sniffled softly, squeezing the key in your hand softly. Knowing it would be the last time you ever held it. You internally said your farewells to your family before chucking the key across the clearing to your brother. He caught it without the slightest bit of hesitation and looked it over before turning his attention to you. He nodded softly. “Thank you… I’m glad you came to your senses, but after the decision you have made… You cannot return here.” He said his voice got softer at the end. It was possible he felt bad for you, but he held his pride higher than you did yours. “Should you foolishly return here, you will be killed on sight. A heavy bounty is now placed on your head.” He added. Your eyes dropped to the ground, understanding the ramifications of the events that just occurred. You didn’t need his reperminds to know of your exile. Once he could tell you knew the extent of your punishment, he left. You fell to your knees, forgetting of Dante and Vergil as all the plants in the clearing started to wither. The tree leaves ashened and fell from their branches. The moon slowly faded from sight and you were left in the dark. Even the world was rejecting you.

Devil May Cry slowly came into view as you were returned to reality. Trish and Lady instantly rushed over to Dante and Vergil. Vergil shrugged them off, asking for your assistance upstairs. You agreed with a soft nod of your head. Lady could tell that you two both needed to be alone. Vergil knew best how to comfort you. Once upstairs, Vergil removed his vest and took a seat while you grabbed a first aid kit from the bathroom. You carefully started applying disinfectant to his cuts, a particularly bad slice cutting across his shoulders and back. You knew he wasn’t careless, he must have been taken by surprise when he rushed in to check on you. It made you feel guilty. “How does that feel?” You asked as you started to wrap soms gauze around his shoulder. “Fine.” He replied, seeming preoccupied with thoughts of his own. “You should have told us originally what was going on. We could have helped.” He said in an authoritative tone. You muttered I know quitely, not in the mood to be even further punished. He quietly acknowledged that with a nod. “…I'm… I’m sorry.” He said softly once you were finished patching him up. “I know… that key meant a lot to you.” He admitted. If he was honest, he felt somewhat at fault since he rushed in. When he saw you on the ground he disregarded his care for the enemy. He had to question why he did that. Vergil was usually so calm and composed. “It’s fine, I’m just glad you and Dante are both okay.” You mused in a somber tone while taking a seat across from him. “Would it be possible to retrieve the key? Or possible to make a world of your own?” He asked, trying to find a solution. His brain always functioned on the basis of logic. You shifted so your back faced him and pulled up your shirt so it showed your back. A mark had started appearing in the center, and was growing darker. It was such a hideous thing. “It marks my fate… I am forsworn…” You replied. Vergil reached out his hand and placed it on top of your new mark. You didn’t flinch or make a move to pull away as he traced its delicate lines. “Now that I’m branded with it everyone in that realm, realms like it, and the realm itself will know of my exile.” You added, breathing out slowly. As if even the thought if it was painful. When he pulled away you let your shirt drop. You turned to face him again, noticing Vergil had picked up the Yamato and was carefully untying the decorative string that garnered the seath. He took one of your hands and began wrapping the ornamental leather around it. After a few more moments he was finished. It started on your upper arm, crossed down in a x formation, wrapped around your wrist, then connected to a design he had made around your fingers. He let his hands rest against yours. “Perhaps if you cannot return, consider this as a key to this realm then.” He said. He wasn’t the best at being emotionally sensitive, but you could tell he was trying his best. “I will.” You nodded softly before scotting in closer so you could wrap your arms gently around his shoulders. There was a brief moment between Vergil hugging you back where he hesitated. Things like this were new to him, even if he had been in the human world for awhile. More so than the physical contact, he was coming to terms with something inside himself. You felt his arms get a little bit tighter around you, but you didn’t mind. This moment was nice, and was what you needed after all that had happened. You couldn’t return home, but you would never forget where you came from. Now this was your home. “If you would join me tomorrow, that would be greatly appreciated. I have something I’d like to show you.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but you could hear him loud as day because of how close you two were. You nodded before hiding your face in his shoulder. You didn’t know it, but he was smiling.

#dmc #dmcv #dmc v #dmc5 #dmc 5 #Devil May Cry 5 #Devil May Cry V #dmc vergil #dmc dante #devil may cry vergil #devil may cry dante #vergil sparda #dante sparda #vergil son of sparda #dante son of sparda #sparda twins #vergil x reader #gender neutral reader #devil may cry

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straight-to-the-pain · 5 years

Text

Protection

Hi again, I’m back with more whumpy content, featuring Sam and a new whumpee! Thanks so much to @shameless-whumper for all the suggestions and inspiration, and to @scath001, with whom I discuss everything <3 There isn’t really any torture yet, but there I can promise you that there is a lot more fun stuff planned ;)

When they had finished with them, the men dumped Sam onto the hard floor of a cell, and they lay motionless for a few minutes, too exhausted and in pain to do anything else. Finally, they attempted to push themself up against the wall, trying to find a position that didn't press against their bruised ribs.

Opening their eyes again, they glanced around the cell, noting the bare concrete walls and the metal grate in the centre. It was only then that they saw the figure huddled in the far corner, trembling slightly but otherwise staying completely silent. So that was why Sam hadn't noticed him earlier.

When he caught Sam looking at him, he shrank even further into the wall and whimpered slightly, looking absolutely terrified. "Please," he muttered, "don't hurt me. I'm no one, I don't know anything." More mumbled pleas fell from his lips but Sam couldn't be bothered to make out what he was saying.

"Do I look like I could torture you, even if I wanted to?" Their tone was harsher than they'd meant it to be, but they didn't care. They were tired and their head hurt, and they just wanted the kid to be quiet so they could get some rest before it all began again. It wasn't like he even had any reason to be making such a fuss, since he didn't look injured at all.

Their words seemed to have the opposite effect, however, and the crying and whimpering only increased in volume. "Just be quiet, will you?" they snapped. Even as the words left their mouth, Sam felt a pang of regret at being so mean. The kid didn't deserve their anger. After all, he wasn't the one who got Sam hurt.

The figure was still crying, but quietly now, flinching as if he really did expect Sam to hurt him at any minute, silent tears dripping down his cheeks. "Hey, I'm sorry," they tried again, softer this time. "I'm Sam. What's your name?" They hoped that he would respond, and that they hadn't just lost their chances of making the closest thing to a friend they had down there.

"I... I'm Jacob," came the quiet reply from the corner. "Please, I really don't want to die here," he continued, voice shaking. "I'm only 18 and... and I... I can't die yet, please help me." It was cute really, how the kid thought that Sam could do anything to improve his situation, but they tried their best to be comforting anyway.

"Hey, hey calm down," Sam tried to be soothing, moving an inch closer to Jacob's corner. "Nobody's dying yet, you're okay." They knew it wasn't the most reassuring thing they could have said, but they couldn't lie to him either.

Jacob seemed to consider this for a moment, before scooting a little closer to Sam, tentatively deciding to trust them for the moment. "A-are you really a spy then?" The question caught Sam off guard, and they wondered if they should answer honestly. The cell could always be bugged, though their captors didn't seem the type to be so thorough, and they decided that it was hardly a secret at that point.

"I suppose you could say that." They wouldn't necessarily call themself a 'spy' but it was probably the easiest way to describe what they did to someone who didn't know. "Let's just say, these people think I know some things that they don't, and that displeases them." Though at this point, Sam thought, they seemed to care more about their pain than any information they might have had.

"Oh." The boy - Jacob - was quiet for a moment, thinking. "They... they kept saying that I was a spy," he continued, voice shaking. "I kept telling them that I... I didn't know anything but they wouldn't listen. Then they... they gagged me and put a bag over my head and brought me here." His last word was punctuated by another sob and a torrent of tears.

Well, that explained the lack of preparation and training, and why Sam had never heard of this guy before. And in that moment, even though they barely knew him, something told them that they needed to protect him.

When the sobs quietened down again, Sam realised that Jacob was speaking again. "You're so... calm. How are you so calm?" he asked, incredulous. "Have you... done this before or something?"

Sam laughed at that, which was a bad idea really, because it made them descend into a coughing fit that left them with blood on their hands. "Kid, this is like my usual Friday night," they joked. They were used to using humour to lighten the mood, but clearly it didn't work on Jacob, who only looked more alarmed.

Maybe he was catching on to the reality of his situation though. "What... what do I do if they.... if they...?" Even though he had calmed down considerably since Sam had first seen him, he was still unable to finish the question, the terror still evident in his tone.

"When they torture you?" Sam finished helpfully. "All you can really do is stay quiet, take your mind somewhere else, and try to enjoy it." They knew it wasn't the best of advice, but it was all they could give.

Jacob seemed to contemplate this for a while, and Sam noticed that at some point he had shifted even closer to them, until their shoulders were almost touching. They wondered if they should reach out and try to give the kid a comforting hug, but they didn't want to spook him again, and moving wasn't exactly easy.

"Is that really what you do?" he asked, finally. "How can you enjoy any of it?" It was a reasonable question, and one that Sam honestly didn't have the answer to. They shrugged, hoping that they could at least avoid an interrogation from their cell mate.

Their answer seemed to satisfy the kid, and before Sam knew what was happening, his head was in their lap and they automatically reached out to pet his dark curls. Jacob looked so comfortable, so peaceful for the first time, that Sam didn't have the heart to tell him that he was pressing on their injuries. So they settled into the most comfortable position they could find, and wondered what they would do with the poor boy.

#whump #captivity #kidnapping #mistaken identity #Implied/Referenced Torture #beating #comfort #sort of?#Sam tries #but it really isn't their thing #they didn't sign up for babysitting duty #my stuff #my writing #oc: sam #oc: jacob #also.. hint: I have some fun pair torture planned #yeee #I finally write something!

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unfortunate-stranger-losers · 5 years

Photo

Six Baudelaires AU, Part Three {AO3} {Masterlist} {Part One} {Part Two}

Chapter Three → in which Sunny cusses quite a bit

“The baby won’t stop biting!” Esme shouted.

“Well, put her in the glove compartment!” said Olaf, taking a swig from a bottle.

Sunny let out a feral hiss and flipped them all off.

She was not pleased to be here in the slightest, and she made absolutely certain that everybody around her was aware of this fact. They’d been driving for quite some time, and she was very proud of the fact that she had annoyed the shit out of all of the other passengers. The White-Faced Women were leaning against the window, while the Hook-Handed Man gave her a sympathetic glance and her former coworkers, sitting on the floor underneath the seats, covered their ears and groaned.

“Fuck you!” Sunny cheered again. “Weiss!” That last word meant something like, “Violet’s going to invent something that’ll kill you!” She had no doubt that her siblings had escaped their predicament, just like she had no doubt they would find one of their parents at Headquarters, and they would solve everything.

“She won’t fit.” Esme groaned, opening the glove compartment, only to see several costumes shoved in.

“Nin!” Sunny shouted, which meant, “Lilac will strangle you with her ribbon!”

“Can’t we just throw her out the window?” Esme asked.

“Esme, we need her for her fortune!” Olaf reminded her. “Besides, it’s dangerous to throw things out of car windows.”

He then immediately rolled down the car window and threw out his now empty bottle.

“Nat!” Sunny said, which meant, “Solitude will set venomous reptiles on you!”

“Are we there yet?” the Hook-Handed Man asked. “The kid’s threats are starting to make me nervous.”

“She’s a baby, hooky.” Olaf said. “She can’t hurt you.”

“Hyn!” “No, but Klaus can!”

“And we won’t reach headquarters for a while.” Olaf said. “But I know a decent camping spot in a few miles. We can stop at Mount Fraught before we set fire to the Valley of Four Drafts.”

“Mount Fraught will be cold this time of year.” Kevin said.

“It’s almost False Spring, it’ll be fine.” Olaf shrugged.

“Once we burn down Headquarters,” Esme said, “We’ll be looking for the Sugar Bowl, won’t we?”

“Yes, dear,” Olaf said, tiredly, “We’ll find your precious sugar bowl.”

“You know it’s not just precious to me, Olaf! It’s incredibly important! It-”

“Not in front of the prisoner!”

Sunny leaned over and bit Esme’s finger.

“Ow! You stupid brat!” Esme groaned.

“Bitch!” Sunny shouted back.

“Ugh, children do nothing but complain.” said one of the White-Faced Women.

“Yes.” said her sister. “Remember the Quagmires? They complained when we had them in the trunk, then in the cage, then the fountain.”

“We eventually got them to shut up.” Esme said. “And we got her horrible brother to stop being such a nuisance, no thanks to the lot of you. Olaf and I had to do that messy business ourselves, and while it was quite enjoyable, you know how much we hate actually working.”

Sunny opened her mouth, about to add a threat that Nick would slaughter them all, only to remember, with a jolt, that Nick wasn’t quite in the mood to fight. That still startled her quite a bit; she’d never known Nick to not want to fight someone. This new… this behavior he had at the moment was foreign to her, and incredibly scary.

Could that happen to me?

No. No, my siblings will find me first.

She glanced into the backseat, to see that the Hook-Handed Man actually did look a bit uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing, but she was snapped out of her thoughts when Colette said, “Are we going to pitch tents for camping? I’m pretty good at that!”

“Oh, no, we’ll just make the baby do that for us.” Olaf said. “Infant servants are pretty useful.”

“Which tent will she sleep in?” Hugo asked.

“Not ours!” a White-Faced Woman said. “I hear babies steal your breath while you sleep!”

“There’s a casserole dish she can sleep in.” Olaf said.

“Will that be safe?” Esme asked. “You just said we need her alive.”

“There’s holes she can breathe through, and the lid can protect her from snow gnats.”

“What are snow gnats?” Kevin asked.

“Annoying insects that travel in packs.” Olaf shrugged.

“Swarms.” Sunny corrected.

“See, there she goes in her stupid foreign language.” Esme said.

“Actually, she said-” the Hook-Handed Man began.

“Nobody cares!” Olaf said.

“I do.” Hugo said kindly. “I think it’s very interesting.”

“It’s not.” Olaf said. “And if you freaks want to remain employed here, you’ll learn to accept that I am always right.”

“Wrong.” Sunny said, and then she bit Esme again.

The Baudelaires walked by the river for several hours in silence. They carried the coats at first, before eventually passing them around to wear. Violet had three, to cover her hospital gown, and Solitude was wrapped in the poncho like a burrito, carried by Nick while she muttered to Babbitt.

“Will Babbitt be alright in this cold?” Klaus asked.

“Their species can completely freeze over in cold temperatures.” Solitude assured him. “So they may stop moving, almost look dead, but they’ll be alright, and they’ll unfreeze when we get somewhere warm. We’ll have to catch them up on whatever happens.”

“Are they frozen now?” Lilac asked, hugging her coat tightly around her.

Solitude shook her head. “Under the poncho, they’re fine. But they could freeze any time.”

Nick hugged her a little, and Violet said, “Do you think we’ll find somewhere warm to sleep? It’s getting a little dark.”

“There were lots of caves on the maps, where bears hibernate.” Klaus said. “Hopefully there aren’t any bears right now. Nick, you remember where they are?”

Nick nodded, still hugging Soli very close.

Lilac looked up, and then said, “Um, guys? What’s that?”

They looked up, to see what looked like an ominous cloud of tiny, white buzzing objects heading towards them.

Klaus considered. “I remember reading about mountainous insect life, but I can’t quite remember.”

“Try to remember, please.” Violet said.

“Those are snow gnats.” Nick said. “They live in cold mountain areas and have been known to group themselves into well-defined shapes.”

“They seem to be heading this way.” Violet said. “Are they harmless?”

Klaus considered. “I’m trying to remember… oh! Yeah, they’re ill-tempered and enjoy stinging people for no reason whatso- ow!”

The snow gnats had reached the Baudelaires, and they all let out cries as they were swiftly stung. The children started to run, with everyone but Nick, who was still holding onto Soli, waving their arms to try and shoo them away.

“Are the stings poisonous?” Lilac asked.

“Mildly!” Klaus said. “We should be fine so long as we don’t get stung too much- OW!”

“How do we- SHIT!- get rid of them?” Lilac asked, as they quickened their pace considerably.

“They don’t like fire!” Nick said, clutching Solitude to his chest so that she could get as few stings as possible. “Even the smell of smoke drives them away!”

“Smoke?” Violet shouted. “How are we supposed to get smoke out here?”

Lilac grabbed the last coat, and said, “At least cover your faces! Don’t- ow!- let them sting- ow! Shit!”

The Baudelaires followed her instructions, covering their faces with their coats, and as Solitude slowly moved her head to peer around, she shouted, “There!”

Distantly, they could see a very thin cloud of smoke. Not enough to be worrying, but enough that the Baudelaires sighed with relief. “Thank fuck. Everyone move!” Violet said.

They ran towards the smoke, and as they got closer, the snow gnats began to dissipate, until the Baudelaires were standing outside the entrance to a small cave, and the insects had all fled.

“Let’s go in.” Lilac said. “Hopefully they won’t follow us.”

“Hopefully we don’t awaken a hibernating animal.” Klaus said.

They stepped inside, and as their eyes adjusted to the dark, they could see the distant shapes of several small figures around a campfire, flickering softly in the damp area. One of the figures approached, and as she did, the Baudelaires very much wished they had taken their chances with the snow gnats.

“Oh, fuck.” Nick said.

“Hello, cakesniffers!” said Carmelita Spats. “What are you doing here?”

Sunny sat on the ice, poking at it with a stick.

Thankfully, she’d figured out quite quickly how to pitch a tent; it was very similar to the blanket forts Lilac used to make for them. The adults had left her alone for quite some time, preferring to discuss how exactly they would burn down VFD Headquarters, so she wandered over to the frozen waterfall. She’d never seen one before, and she could tell that the river was frozen enough to stand on, because she’d thrown rocks to see if she could break the ice.

She wondered if she could break through the frozen water with her stick, and maybe wash up a little. She was still covered in dirt from the Carnival, and she was starting to feel like she’d rather look like herself than a wolf baby, as her disguise wasn’t useful anymore.

“Hey, baby!”

Sunny glanced over her shoulder to see the Hook-Handed Man approaching. He knelt in front of her, holding out a small, toddler-sized coat and outfit in his hooks.

“I made you this.” he said. “Count Olaf would be very displeased if you were to freeze to death before he could get your fortune.”

Sunny wasn’t entirely sure how to respond; true, she was very cold, but it wasn’t as if this man was her ally.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

In response, Sunny pounded the ice again.

The Hook-Handed Man watched her a moment, and then he handed her the outfit and slammed the ice with his hook. It broke open, and Sunny could see the cold water underneath.

He smiled over at her, and hesitantly, she smiled back.

“You’ve, uh, got something on your face.” he said, laughing slightly. “Chabo.”

Sunny giggled, and hugged the outfit to herself. It felt very warm and comfortable. “Tank you.” she said.

“Oh, don’t say that.” the Hook-Handed Man said, straightening up. “I’m your captor, and you’re my prisoner.”

Sunny giggled, and then repeated, “Tank you!”

“Don’t say that so loud!” the henchman glanced towards the tents. “I better go before the boss realizes I’m gone. Don’t drown out here, alright?”

“Inmergo.” Sunny said. “Of course not, I can’t die before my siblings find me.”

He gave her a skeptical look, and then left. Sunny sighed and dipped her hands into the water, shivering in the cold. She brought the water to her face, wiping off some of the dirt. She glanced at her reflection in the ice.

There. She looked a bit more like herself.

Now her parents would be able to recognize her.

That night, as Sunny slept in the casserole dish, shivering in the cold and pulling the coat the Hook-Handed Man had made for her tighter around her, she wondered how warm her siblings were.

I’m sure Violet and Lilac made something to save them. And Nick and Klaus know these mountains, and Solitude can use Babbitt to track me- can frogs track? Babbitt certainly seems very good at finding things.

Sunny wished she could see the stars; though she’d never been camping before, her Mother and Nick had told her once that the best part of sleeping outside was the unobstructed view of the stars. But then she’d be colder, and she didn’t want to freeze before her siblings could get to her.

She wondered what was going to happen. They’d be here soon, surely, but… she still worried. It’d taken them a while to find Nick- no, no, that was just because they had to stay with Mr Poe. Her siblings couldn’t be far behind. They’d find her. They always would.

She thought of Nick again, and how scared he’d been recently. She hoped that whatever had happened to him went away, and he could be brave again, brave enough to help his siblings find her, and find VFD. And she hoped that her siblings weren’t too worried about her. She could take care of herself fine.

What would her siblings say if they were with her now? Solitude would let her play with Babbitt, to calm her down. Klaus and Nick would tell her stories, or read to her a little. Violet would try to invent something to get them out, or to make them warmer. And Lilac… Lilac would hold her, and tell her everything would be alright. And then she’d sing to her.

Slowly, Sunny sat up and pushed the lid of the casserole dish aside. And even though the cold wind hit her, it was worth it.

“You were right.” Sunny whispered, looking up at the bright, shining stars.

And, quietly, she began to hum.

#asoue #asoue netflix #asoue movie #a series of unfortunate events #six baudelaires au #six baudelaires official fic #the slippery slope #mine #my fanfic

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ouijaban · 5 years

Text

a super super late vday exchange fic for ulquihime vday exchange!!! here you go @uenieri, i sincerely hope you like it!!!

The silence was deafening as Orihime stared out the window, pale hands curled around the bars obscuring her view of Hueco Mundo’s starless sky. She couldn’t tell whether it was morning or night –– she’d lost much of her sense of time over the past several months, and it hardly mattered anyways. Thus far, she’d only been permitted to leave her cell to meet with Aizen and take care of her basic hygiene needs.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she wished, inexplicably, that she could still follow the passage of time. As it were, the days bled into one another, dripping into endless nightfall that bit by bit wore away at the resolve deep in her heart. Orihime knew she had to stay strong –– for Kurosaki-kun, and everyone else waiting at home –– but looking into the depths of that empty desert, despair rocketed through her veins.

A knock sounded at the door. Orihime didn’t turn to look, but she knew who had come by the twist of the doorknob, by the tapping of his shoes against the floor.

“Ulquiorra-kun,” she said, fingers tightening against the cool metal. “Hello.”

He didn’t say anything, and Orihime suddenly feared that she had guessed incorrectly, that whoever was lurking behind her was not the familiar figure of her jailer. She looked over her shoulder, cautious, and strange relief pooled in her fingertips when she saw him standing there, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Woman,” he said tonelessly, dipping his head in acknowledgement. “Aizen-sama has ordered that I take you for a turn down the halls. He worries after your health and how it could potentially affect your capabilities.”

“That’s very kind of him,” said Orihime, a hint of sarcasm creeping into her voice as she turned back to the window. While she knew blatantly disrespecting Aizen in front of his loyal servant would inevitably invite punishment, she couldn’t help but wonder whether Ulquiorra actually cared enough to respond to her petty provocations.

“Yes,” said Ulquiorra, stepping forward to lay a hand on her shoulder. It wasn’t harsh, but his grip was firm, and the frigidity of his skin soaked through the fabric of her uniform.

Orihime shivered, and leaned back into the touch. She hadn’t felt such direct contact in what felt like an eternity, and the feel of his hand on her body was so comforting she pushed away all thoughts of betrayal festering in her mind.

Ulquiorra’s hold tightened slightly, squeezing, before he released her shoulder. “Aizen-sama’s orders were immediate,” he said as he strode towards the door. “I suggest you follow, or I will have to use force to ensure your cooperation.”

Orihime took a shuddering breath, head hanging, and let her hands fall to her sides. After a second’s pause, she took off after him, barely slipping through the heavy doors. They slammed shut behind them, the sound of the lock clicking shut reverberating in the still hallway.

Ulquiorra was a few paces ahead of her, and though Orihime knew he must have heard her, he didn’t stop to wait.

“Hold on, Ulquiorra-kun!” she cried as he turned a corner, heading off into parts of Las Noches she had never seen before. “I––I don’t know where to go!”

Scurrying forwards into the dark, she yelped when she bumped into something solid. She reached out to determine what she’d stumbled upon, and an embarrassed flush settled on her cheeks when she grasped cold hands with her own. Ulquiorra had obviously stopped to wait, and Orihime, like a moron, had run right into him.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, jerking her hands back. “I didn’t––I had no idea that you…”

Ulquiorra grabbed her wrist, and pulled her closer. “I believe there has been a malfunction,” he said green eyes bright even in the unlit corridor. “The lights should be on at this hour.”

“And, um… what hour would that be, exactly?” asked Orihime, heart racing at her proximity to Ulquiorra’s chest. They were so close now that if she took a single step towards him, she would be essentially wrapped in his arms.

Ulquiorra shot her a look, and Orihime thought she could see a flick of curiosity in his expression. “Five in the evening,” he said. “Do you not have a means of determining what time it is, woman?”

Orihime shook her head, embarrassed. “No,” she admitted, staring down at her long nails. “I have no clock in my room and outside it’s always nighttime, so… I’ve never had to.”

“I will ask Aizen-sama to put one in place, then,” said Ulquiorra with finality, relinquishing his hold on her wrist and sliding his hands back into his pockets. “Now come. I do not want to waste more of my time on this than is required.”

Orihime’s cheeks burned. Here she was, imposing her own desires and problems on Ulquiorra, who probably wanted nothing more than to see her dead and gone. There was something so upsetting about her helpless selfishness – she had to reach out and ask because Aizen didn’t give her anything, hardly let her do anything more than sit in her dingy cell and languish away until her friends swept in to rescue her. “Sorry, Ulquiorra-kun,” she said, wrapping her arms around her middle. “I’ll stop now.”

Ulquiorra, ignoring her apology, said, “Grab onto my sleeve, woman. Aizen-sama would be displeased were anything to happen to you, and prior experience shows that your coordination is lacking.”

Cheeks darkening even further, Orihime reached out to hold onto the fabric at his elbow. It was cold, but being near him wasn’t unpleasant –– it was comforting and exciting to be so close to someone again, even if that person was her captor.

They walked, Ulquiorra in front and Orihime trailing behind, until they happened upon an illuminated section of the castle. She could hear the faint rustlings of life (or, she wondered as they progressed, would it really be life if everyone was technically dead?) emanating from below, and dread crept through her. If there were really so many people there – if there were enemies lurking around every corner – how would Ichigo and everyone fare? Could they really single handedly defeat the force of Las Noches? “You seem discontent, woman,” said Ulquiorra, breaking the tense silence that had fallen between them. “Is our fortress displeasing? Would you like to voice your complaints to Aizen-sama?”

Orihime bit her lip, and dipped her head in opposition. “No, Ulquiorra-kun,” she began softly, running her fingers over the seam of the fabric at his elbow. “It’s just... All this fighting, the war always going on here. Doesn’t it bother you?”

Ulquiorra seemed to consider this for a few seconds, eyes drifting to the high, arched ceilings of Las Noches. “No,” he finally answered, taking a sharp turn around a corner to progress down the path Aizen had prescribed. “The other Espada and I were created with one sole aim: to defend Las Noches and follow the orders of its leader. I feel no longing for a different world as you do; this is the world I was intended to live in, and it is likely the world I will die in, too.”

Letting her eyes slide shut, Orihime squeezed the fabric of his uniform, pulling it taut towards her. “Would you change it, though?” she asked, splotches of color dancing in her field of vision as she closed her eyes tighter and tighter. “If you had the opportunity, I mean. Would you want to be… freed from that responsibility?”

There was a moment of silence, then: “Perhaps. But we have little time for hypotheticals, woman. Aizen-sama awaits our arrival.”

The walk to the jail cell was cold. Orihime shivered against the thin material of her school uniform, goosebumps spreading like wildfire down her exposed arms. She hadn’t anticipated that she would have to go so far. Mayuri’s directions had been vague at best and deliberately misleading at worst. Turn the right, he’d said with a wide, uncontained grin, and he’ll be straight ahead.

Straight ahead, as it turned out, had not even begun to cover the distance she’d travelled. It had been at least a mile since the last jail cell she’d passed, and three miles before then was the door to the isolated, high security containment centers hidden in the heart of Seireitei.

After a few more minutes of walking, the door Mayuri had described – red, plastered with signs warning visitors to stay away – came into view. Heart stuttering in her chest, Orihime took off running in its direction, ignoring the unpleasant squelch of her shoes against the damp floor.

Fingers closing around the doorknob, Orihime twisted open the imposing door and stepped into the room, greeted immediately by the sight of thick, grey bars. Beyond them, she thought she could see a figure in the darkness out of the corner of her eye. And that was all the hope she needed.

“Ulquiorra-kun?” called out Orihime into the mist, cupping her hands around her mouth to project her voice. “Are you here?”

There was a rustling and then, out of depths of the murky cell and into the light stepped Ulquiorra. He wasn’t wearing his uniform, not anymore. Clad in simple white robes tied with a belt around his slender waist, he looked like any other denizen of Soul Society. Or perhaps he could have, had he not been imprisoned.

“Woman,” he said, voice tinged with uncharacteristic surprise. “So you have come, after all.”

“Yes,” replied Orihime, stepping forwards to wrap her fingers around the cool metal bars. “Sorry it took so long. I meant to come earlier, but there were so many complications and rules surrounding the whole process that it took me weeks to get permission, let alone to actually make the journey. Please forgive me for the wait.”

“I had thought you would visit initially,” he said in lieu of response. “I was informed by many of your compatriots that it was you who brought me back to life, though I had assumed that your power was used without having been told.”

“I did,” admitted Orihime, lips curling into a disappointed frown. “It took me… some time, to come back. Kurosaki-kun was involved in fights and Kuchiki-san and the rest of them were too, so I couldn’t help you right away.”

Ulquiorra’s expression didn’t budge, and somehow Orihime felt that he understood that there had been more than scheduling problems behind the wait between his death and reconstruction. “No matter,” he said evenly. “I suspect your shinigami was not pleased by your decision, especially after the allegations of betrayal that Aizen-sama spread before your disappearance.”

The only sound permeating their bubble was dripping water, landing on the cement with a satisfying plink. They were so quiet Orihime thought that her companion might have heard her heart beating in her chest, racing as she considered what to say next.

“It doesn’t matter what Kurosaki-kun thought,” said Orihime, after a second’s pause. Her firsts were curled into tight balls at her sides, and she saw Ulquiorra’s eyes flicking to them right before she started to speak again. “I… I can make decisions for myself. I chose to heal you because it was my power and my responsibility, Ulquiorra-kun. No one –– not even my closest friends –– can take that away from me.”

“You’ve grown,” remarked Ulquiorra, coming closer to the line of bars between them. He didn’t reach out to touch as Orihime had done, but there was something exploratory in his eyes, something that indicated that he wanted to. “The woman I knew would not have made such a brazen statement. Why is it, exactly, that you’ve changed so much? Have you and the shinigami consummated your relationship?”

Though she was flushing to the tips of her ears, Orihime stayed firm. “It’s Inoue Orihime, not ‘woman,’” she corrected, anxiety pulling at her fingertips. “And… no. There is no relationship between Kurosaki-kun and I. Not like that.”

Stepping forwards again, hands curled around the bars so that his white knuckles faced Orihime, Ulquiorra said, “No? But I thought he was your first love, woman. Humans do tend to place emphasis on firsts.”

“He might have been my first love,” said Orihime, brushing the tip of her warm nose against his hand. “But, Ulquiorra-kun? He most certainly won’t be my last.”

#Ulquiorra Schiffer #Ulquihime #Orihime Inoue #bleach #fanfic #ulquihimevdayexchange #my fic

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themostcleverandwittyname · 6 years

Text

Curiosity Saved the Cat

CH1 CH2 CH3 CH4 CH5 CH6 CH7 CH8 CH9 CH10 CH11 CH12 CH13 CH14 CH15 CH16 CH17 CH18 CH19 CH20 CH21 CH22 CH23 CH24 CH25 CH26

(Jumin x MC)(Saeran x MC)

Summary:

MC is fairly happy after Jumin proposes to her, however, her curiosity leads her to contact the hacker that started it all.

Chapter 5: Truths

Chapter 5 on AO3

Everything was silent.

No one dared to speak and the silence fueled the surge of thoughts that swarmed Myung’s throbbing head. Realization crept into her mind and her world began to feel fake, falsified. None of this could be real, could it?

If this was real, then that would mean that the beloved Rika is a traitor. Who knew about this? V? Seven? What was happening here and why? Why would someone who was regarded as a dutiful, gracious person be in charge of a place like this? How could she break this to the RFA?

The brunette began to fill with anger. How dare Rika lie to the people who held her on such a high pedestal. How dare she lie to people who loved and trusted her without hesitance, who were so eager to carry on her golden legacy. Her inner turmoil must have shown on her face because with a frown, the golden lady motioned for her to come closer. She felt stuck in place and her legs wouldn’t move.

“You are displeased? Are you feeling conflicted because of your loyalties?” The lady spoke again, her voice dull and flat, contradicting her radiant beauty. The sun even longed to caress her, the warm light splashed across her features and giving the room a dreamy feel. Myung finally was able to take a few slow steps forward, fearing to look away from the lady in the chance that she was an apparition.

“She didn’t come willingly, my Savior. She is still disillusioned by the lies of the RFA and has many questions for you.” a voice behind her reported. She had forgotten that he was there and startled slightly. All she offered to her captor was a wary glance before she fixated back on the lady who rose from her throne. Her robe, Myung noticed, was longer than the ones that she had marked in the halls before. It elegantly drug the ground behind her as a wedding dress would. She kept her hands relaxed and together in front of her as she strode forward and looked to be about the same height as the brunette. Myung caught movement beside her and realized that the man beside her was kneeling to the figure that approached. Like hell she was going to do that! Myung crossed her arms as an indirect way to show that she was not kneeling. The soft sound of footsteps echoed around the high ceiling, grating on her nerves.

The radiant blonde stilled a meter away, not yet attempting to invade personal space. She gave an empty smile and she held no emotion that Myung could detect beneath her emerald eyes. Rika paid mind to the man who knelt and gave a hand gesture that accompanied her words.

“Rise. You have done well in bringing her to me, Saeran. Not a scratch on her. She must have complied more than you’re letting on.” What was that supposed to mean? Is she referring to past victims? Were they unwillingly brought here? She inwardly shuddered at the thought and tried to absorb every bit of knowledge she obtained while she was here. The brunette had not stopped to consider yet how lucky she was. She had not been straight up murdered by... Saeran yet and now she was going to discover something more than she had intended. She hoped she would get out of here and tell the RFA what had happened here. She could tell them about Rika.

Saeran stood, following her orders and adjusted his jacket sleeves, his dark eyes crinkled slightly as a grin spread across his features. Myung’s eyes darted from him to the blonde taking in as much as she could.

“She was far more cooperative than many others that I’ve had to bring here. It’s ironic, isn’t it Savior?” He chuckled darkly, earned a well-deserved glare from Myung. Rika laughed lightly before clasping her hands together.

“I’m proud of you Saeran, you did well despite your first failure .” Her bitter tone caused the mint eyed man to flinch visibly. Myung tried to figure out what this meant and failed. She simply didn’t know enough to come to any viable conclusion. She fiddled with her bottle of water, trying her best to ignore her fading headache. Rika turned her focus to the brunette and gave a look that could've been mistaken as sympathy.

“You poor thing, you must be so confused. Go ahead, you may ask your questions and I’ll guide you to the truth.” Her voice dripped with honey sweetness. Myung was almost convinced that she meant well, a hint of sincerity was caught in her green eyes. She gulped and struggled to find the most important question that lingered in her mind.

“Um… Where am I? Can I leave now, or…?” Myung’s voice came out small and awkward. The blonde held her palms up and gestured to the air around her as if the air was an obvious indication of where she was.

“You are in the Magenta of Hope and Dreams, a place where everyone is happy and can live in peace. It is paradise, as you’ll come to see.” she responded, stating her version of the obvious. Her tone resembled that of an excited tour guide for a beach resort; she was very happy to announce the existence of this place. Myung was entirely sure how to respond, so she did what she typically would despite the heavy atmosphere.

“Oh. This place is the Magenta? Darn, I guess it’s not an amusement park after all.” Bad Myung. Very bad. Why did she have to say that? She cringed at her own words and wished that humor wasn’t the way that she dealt with uncertainty.

“It’s way better than... that.” Saeran said beside her. The brunette cast him a glance and tried to forget her previous statement. She took a breath before continuing as the blonde had no response to her half hearted, anxiety driven joke.

“So my next question if I have to choose, is how ? How are you here when I was told that you committed suicide? How is this place here without anyone in the RFA knowing? How does V not know about this?” Myung asked, exasperated as the questions flowed from her mouth. The blonde was silent, carefully considering her words. The man beside her seemed to bristle at the name. The stillness in the ornate room began to unsettle the brunette. She fiddled again trying to gain comfort from the crinkling of the water bottle. The blonde chuckled darkly at her own knowledge, her eyes growing dark with thick hatred. It was enough to make Myung’s heart drop to her stomach and her breath catch in her throat.

“V has everyone in the RFA fooled. He lied because he is embarrassed of me. He hates me and has tried to destroy my dreams, my legacy. When he realized that he couldn’t kill my will, he betrayed me and told the members that I was gone and he has corrupted my foundation with his hypocrisy and lies.” her acidic voice bored into the brunette. “He lied to you too and just wanted you for the party. Everyone in the foundation is corrupt and need to be cleansed.”

Myung stared at her blankly, her blatant disbelief rendering her speechless. She had been right. Seven had been right… That thought was pushed to the back of her mind when she considered the last few statements that the blonde had uttered. Her brows knit together and her eyes narrowed.

“Did you just say that everyone in the RFA is corrupt? What the hell is wrong with you? How can you say that?” She inquired, her voice already shifting into her token angry tone. The tone she used when she called out people or was ready to lay down the facts. She dropped the bottle of water on the black tile and placed her hands on her sides, awaiting the answer.

“Oh, but they are. They all support V and ignore the true troubles of people. They claim to help people with charity parties, but they are really just in it for the fun. They don’t help anyone but themselves and they pretend to be so gracious and helpful. They are all pitiful and need to find paradise.” She replied matter of factly. Paradise? Cleansed? Myung shook her head in disagreement.

“It’s your foundation. It does help people. All of the money that is raised is given directly to the organizations that help. The expenses for the party are all paid for by Jumin from his own pocket. It’s a nonprofit organization! You should know this, you started it!” Her voice began to rise and a hand touched her shoulder, an attempt to silence or calm her. She shrugged the hand off and took a step closer to the founder.

“Besides, you know damn well all of the members are in it to help, not for publicity. What about Yoosung? He only wants to help and he idolizes you. He’s the nicest person I’ve ever met and he has no reason to help anyone. He’s a college student for crying out loud! Do you think he is “corrupt”?” Myung supplied air quotes around the word corrupt . She hoped this point would cause the blonde to take back her ridiculous claims. Rika didn’t even seem to consider her words. Myung could feel the man behind her grow agitated, but he said nothing.

“He is corrupt as long as he stays in the RFA. The lies of the other members are enough to render him evil.” Myung concluded that Rika was delusional for this statement.

“What lies? Besides from V, if you’re telling the truth about him, all of the other members are honest people. Zen, Jaehee, and Jumin are all humble workers and they care about the organization. They care about others.” She pointed out, hoping to sway the blonde who shook her head.

“Zen is an actor. What makes you think that he isn’t acting like he cares. You think he’s your friend? And Jaehee is just controlled by Jumin, who can’t care about anyone.” The voice behind her growled. She looked over her shoulder to glare at the man behind her who had quietly crept up on her. He was right behind her, close enough that she could feel his jacket brush against her back. He snaked his arm around her opposite shoulder and leaned down so that his hair brushed the back of her neck. She tried to shrink away but to no avail. He had her.

“Don’t touch me! Back off!” The brunette hissed over her shoulder, trying to decide whether or not to elbow him in the ribs.

“Did you know that you forgot someone? Some RFA member to defend? Tell me, who do you think that is?” What is he getting at? Myung gave a pleading look to the blonde, a call for help. Is she going to let this creep touch her like this? She reasoned that if she spoke up and answered his question, he’d move away.

“Seven is the other one. But you can’t tell me that he’s “corrupt”. He wants the best for everyone too, even though he’s secretive.” Myung said, defiantly defending the redhead too despite their previous quip. Her heart panged a bit at the memory their angry screaming match and a twinge of regret fell over her.

“I thought you were clever. Don’t worry, I’ll tell you plenty about him later. Things that will make you regret defending him.” He growled in her ear. She was not a fan of this and pulled away again, successful this time as he released her.

She glanced back at him, mustering a potent look of disgust at pointed it straight at him with her eyes and face. She brushed the lingering feeling of him away and tried to refocus, letting out a puff of air that she had been holding in.

“But Rika…” she began, meeting the icy green eyes that nonchalantly watched the spectacle that had just occurred, “If you’re so angry at V for lying… then why are you not in the RFA? Why are you here?” She shifted her weight on her feet to ground herself better after being slightly unbalanced from pulling away from the creep. The blonde brushed the fabric of her robe with her fingertips as if to prepare to speak.

“I wanted to fulfill my dream, my vision. The RFA was a good start to fixing this world, but it didn’t have a personal touch, a touch that would really make a difference. Yes, it gave money to those who could use it to help but money is still sin when you use it “in the name of good”. The RFA parties were nice, but donors and guests had to leave and go back into this unforgiving world. I was inspired to make an everlasting party, a place that lost and corrupted ones could gather and live happily forever. A cure for hate and sorrow. A place that no unworthy, deceitful people can enter. That place is here.” She finished, her pride of the place shown on her face again. Myung thought for a moment.

“So this is a diluted cult? You ran off to make a cult and I’m guessing your boyfriend or whatever didn’t approve so he lied to the RFA effectively tormenting all the people that care about you? Un-fucking-believable!” Her tone was flat and harsh as she blurted this out. She clenched her fist and took a deep breath, feeling her face grow hot with anger and her legs feeling like jello.

“And what about me? Why am I here? Why did he …” She pointed her hand in her captor’s general direction, “..bring me here? What did you need me for when you hate the RFA? What sense does that make?!” She huffed out, her voice thick with desperation and anger.

“That’s a great question that I’d like to answer if you’ll allow me, Savior.” The mint eyed man responded from behind her. The blonde nodded and the man excitedly put his hands together making a quiet clap. Myung reluctantly turned her focus to him.

“The apartment that I asked you to go to was full of secrets. Was being the key word here. The RFA members most likely told you not to rummage through the drawers because of secret information about party guests. Their personal addresses, emails, and phone numbers were hidden there and you were told about a special security system, right? It was supposed to keep you safe, right?” he asked, leading up to some unknown point. Myung nodded, agreeing that what he was saying was true.

“Did your friend, Luciel, tell you that he’d watch over you? That you were safe?” He went on, his voice raising in pitch as he began to get heated. “He didn’t you that the oh so safe security system was a bomb that is set to destruct anytime someone strange enters, did he?” He smiled darkly raising his chin with the knowledge that he definitely shocked her.

“A bomb!? Are you joking?” She blurted, her shock and disbelief evident. He has to be joking, right? There’s no way she would be put in a dangerous place like that for more than couple minutes! She let out a shaky breath as the man took a step towards her reaching to touch her arm.

“Do you wish I was joking?” he laughed darkly, “Sorry, but I don’t joke about your safety. I had control of the detonation the entire time you were in that apartment. His security algorithm was child’s play to hack into. If I were malicious, I could have blown you to pieces and he couldn’t have stopped me. But I’m not like him.” Myung stared at him wide eyed, trying to detect any indication that he may be lying.

“The plan succeeded and when you went to that pathetic party, I went to that apartment and stole all of that information. I’m surprised that he didn’t try to stop me even though he knew that I was after it.” He boasted, his bitter expression showed her how much he hated Seven. But why? She wondered what he did that was so bad to this guy.

Seven knew that this guy apparently was after the information… but how much did Seven know? He knew about the bomb. Did he know about this place? About Rika? What did he know that he would never tell?

“Why do you even need the information? What are you going to do with it?” She asked hesitantly. She was afraid to hear the answer because she had a feeling that it would be awful. Rika spoke up and answered the question before the white haired man could.

“We need it to invite the guests to paradise. To help them. I know they would be so grateful for the invitation and once they came her, they would never want to leave. I want more followers so that I can help solve the dilemma of happiness.” She spoke clearly and confidently. “And thanks to you distracting the attention of all of the RFA, we now have the necessary information. To reward you, I will invite you in without hesitation.”

It clicked then. She wasn’t going to be let out easily. They were going to force her to stay here and do god knows what. She couldn’t let this happen, she had to do something.

“Thanks… but no.” She announced, her answer hung in the air for a few moments. The blonde giggled to herself.

“You don’t want eternal paradise? You don’t want to have a worry free life?” The leader almost threatened, rocking on her heels.

“My paradise is back home with my job and Jumin. I couldn’t ask for more.” she responded, and noticed the man beside her shift uncomfortably.

“That’s really a shame.” The blonde said, feigning disappointment, “Saeran really wanted an assistant… but it seemed that you’re sick. You’ll have to take medicine to get better~” she taunted, her expression dark and sadistic. This can’t be happening. A hand grabbed her upper arm and she jerked away, freeing her arm.

“Come on princess, it’s time for induction. You’ll feel so much better, I promise. Just come with me like a nice girl~” He dragged out his words in a sing-song manner. He made a grab for her again and she dodged out of the way.

Myung had to make a decision fast. Should she go with him and hope to trick her way out or straight up fight him here? He was stronger than her, but maybe she was faster than him? If she could get in a good blow, a good enough blow to distract him, maybe she could run out the door. It wasn’t the best plan, but it would have to work.

She spun around to face him, bettering her balance by standing with her feet apart and readied herself to punch, kick, bite, or elbow her way away from him. If he gets a firm hold of her, it might be game over. He gave a mocking laugh as he saw her ready herself for combat.

“You’re not going to win, you know that? Just be good and come with me and I won’t hurt you.” He half heartedly pleaded. She shook her head and waited.

They both waited for the other to make a move, ready to make a counter to any attack. The tension was unbearable. Their gazes were locked and Myung wasn’t sure how many seconds had passed. It was as if a bolt of electricity hit them both at once, and neither knew who exactly had made the first twitch of movement, but they both flung themselves at each other.

He grabbed her arm and she grabbed his belted choker necklace. He yanked her towards him and she yanked him downwards, effectively restricting his breathing. He held his breath and jerked her arm down to try and get her on the ground, but that only worsened the pain and weight on his neck. The strain on her fingers was too much and she let go of the choker and was hurled at the ground. She landed painfully on her knees and palms but scrambled to get on her feet. She had not quite gotten her balance back when he grabbed a fistfull of her hair and spun her around to face him. This had reduced to proximity between them and she baited him with a moment of inaction instead of jerking away. He twisted her head to look him in the eyes and her gaze lingered on his enraged, fiery eyes. She drove her elbow as hard as she could manage into his jaw, the loud smack reverberated around the room. Adrenaline rushed in her ears and gave her a strength she didn’t know she had when she managed to yank her hair from his curled fingers, using the pain to fuel her on.

In the moment that her hair was free, she burst into a dash towards the door, lucky enough not to trip on the way. She rammed her shoulder into the heavy wood, using all of her body weight to propel it open. Unfortunately, it slowed her down and just as she got into the hall, her legs buckled as the man threw his arms around her waist and slammed her into the ground. The tile stung her chest and palms as she broke her fall, the breath had been knocked out of her completely.

He flipped her over and pinned her to the ground, laughing at his victory but she had not given up yet. She landed one hooked punch to the same spot that she had elbowed him before, invoking a more violent force to be brought down on her as he pressed his grip onto her shoulders. She couldn’t reach him if she tried so she did the next best thing. She kneed him hard between the legs. This didn’t make him loosen his grip on her shoulders, but he cried out and she used what leverage she had to attempt to squirm away. However, that didn’t work. He dropped his weight onto her, pinning her more effectively than before. He used one of his forearms to press down onto her chest as his now free hand reached for something in his jacket pocket. He had pulled out a pistol.

The cold metal of the barrel was forcibly into her temple. The presence of the gun glued her to the ground. She didn’t dare to move and her heart was beating painfully in her chest. Her throat felt tight with terror and she knew that her eyes were widened to their limit. She began to breathe erratically and she anticipated the man’s next action. His crazed eyes drunk in her appearance under him and she searched for mercy in the sea of green.

“Please don’t squirm. I would hate to blow your pretty little head onto the ground. You should have been a good girl, hmmm~?” She was frozen, unable to think or move. He dipped his head down and whispered something else, his hot and moist breath tickled her ear.

“I hope I don’t have to do this again, honey.”

She felt a sharp pain to the back of her skull and everything faded into black.

CH1 CH2 CH3 CH4 CH5 CH6 CH7 CH8 CH9 CH10 CH11 CH12 CH13 CH14 CH15 CH16 CH17 CH18 CH19 CH20 CH21 CH22 CH23 CH24 CH25 CH26

#mystic messenger fanfiction #mystic messenger #mysme fanfic #jumin han #saeran choi #jumin x mc #saeran x mc #ray choi #curiosity saved the cat #jumin route #jumin fanfic #saeran fanfic

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captaindrautos · 6 years

Note

“I’m here- I’m here, now” (um...oops?)

My muse had been kidnapped and tortured for the past week send “I’m here- I’m here, now” for your muse to save them.

He shouldn’t have gone to Lestallum.

The thought was the only clear thing that echoed in his mind. It had been a mistake, but with so many missing from Meldacio, so much pain and loss already coursing through the little town, how could Titus turn his back and refuse something as simple as a supply run? He’d thrown on the drabbest coat he had and had trusted that the darkness had weathered his appearance enough that he wouldn’t be noticed in a crowd.

He’d been wrong.

Running into Libertus had been a known risk, though Titus had hoped to avoid the man. In a city of thousands, what were the chances two people would cross paths? High enough, it had seemed, for he’d turned to find his ex-soldier glaring at him, demanding answers. While the experience hadn’t been pleasant, it certainly could have gone much worse. Libertus could have pulled a blade on him immediately, but he hadn’t. They might never be able to live on the same streets, but at the very least Titus hadn’t left feeling like he had a target on his back.

Maybe he’d read Libertus wrong, maybe Libertus had vented about Titus being very much alive, or maybe someone else entirely had recognized him in that crowded city. Titus didn’t know which, but he’d been locking up the back of the truck while the two other hunters he was with grabbed a quick bite in the local pub when something hard had hit his head and his vision had gone white. He felt the armor rise up in defense, too little too late, and then... that was where his memory ended.

Titus had woken up some time later-- always so impossible to tell time without the sun --in a concrete room, seemingly a part of some type of warehouse. Perhaps one of the abandoned Niflheim bases, or part of the old electric grid. His hands were chained above him, wrapped tight by rusted metal that chaffed at his skin, already feeling raw and tender. His arms ached from the suspension, but not so badly enough that he could have been left like this for more than a few hours. He’d been stripped of his coat, and of his shirt, shoes, and socks, and he’d been left hanging just high enough that he had to use his toes to relieve the pressure on his limbs.

Bright floodlights shined upon him from every angle, and when Titus forced his eyes open he could only manage a squint before having to turn his face back down. By doing so he could see his body, and the big black patch across his left shoulder and arm. It had nearly faded away in the weeks since the daemon attack at the dump, but now was back in full force thanks to the instinctual use of the armor when he’d been attacked. The floodlights made that portion of his skin feel like a burn, and no matter how he twisted he couldn’t find relief.

The movements drew attention from someone in the corner, and Titus heard muffled voices before steps, two-- no, three sets, approached him. “Yeah, he’s awake,” said a voice. “Hey, traitor, you hear me?” came another. Titus tried to look up, but in the bright shine of the lights all he could make out were vaguely human shapes. That was clearly enough for his captors, who branched out and surrounded him.

“Can’t believe this fucker survived.”

“Skinnier than I remember.”

“Everyone’s skinnier. Heard he’d holed himself up with the hunters. Probably lied about who he is. Hey, traitor, what did you tell them to make them let you in?”

Titus didn’t answer. He didn’t know who these people were, didn’t recognize their voices, and certainly wasn’t about to put Meldacio at any more risk. Heavy footfalls rapidly approached and someone grabbed his face, their nails digging roughly into his cheeks.

“Hey, asshole,” they growled, “I asked you a question.” Still Titus didn’t respond. It earned him a smack across the face that sent him swinging, grimacing as the chains scraped across his skin and fresh blood trickled down his arms. The armor whispered in his ears, begging to be used, but every time it tried to escape the floodlights pressed it back down. These people, whoever they were, knew what they were dealing with.

“Whatever,” one of the ones behind him said, “It doesn’t matter now, right? Not like anyone’s gonna come looking. Probably figure he’s run off with their gil.”

“Yeah,” the one in front of him said, spitting in his face, “Hear that, no one’s coming to save you, so we’re going to take our time. You got a lot to pay for, traitor. You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to this.”

When the footsteps had retreated, Titus thought he might have time to figure out how to get out of these binds. They’d returned before he’d been able to do much more than open up the sores on his wrists, and Titus had barely looked up when something hard had collided into his chest, knocking the air from his lungs and leaving him wheezing. Another hit him in the back, and then a third on the shoulder, accompanied with a cracking sound and a yell that Titus only distantly recognized as his own. He counted five more before his body went slack, trying to blot out the pain.

They must have gotten bored at some point, perhaps beating an unconscious man wasn’t as fun, because Titus came too to total silence. Everything ached, and he bit his cheek when he tried to move his hands and found them cramped and stiff beyond imagining. It took minutes before he could move his forefinger without pain jolting down his arm, and even then he could feel how the limb shook now matter how steady he tried to hold it. He was thirsty, but dehydration was common after torture-- a fact known from experience. He could feel the blood caked to his skin, not as bad as it could have been, not life-threatening. A small blessing. Each breath hurt to take, which suggested a broken rib- or worse.

This time his movements didn’t draw any attention, not that it did much good. He couldn’t loosen the restraints, and the more he tried the worse he hurt himself.

Someone will come for me, he thought to himself. They’ll come looking when I don’t show up. They’ll know something happened.

Would they, though? There were already so many lost, people missed far more than he would ever be. Dave might be concerned, sure, but when push came to shove how much manpower would he be willing to exhaust on Titus Drautos, the man who had tried to kill his lover?

Haven’t finished the schoolhouse, came the next distant thought, and he almost laughed at how ridiculous it was to be worrying about that now. The project was almost complete, the first level of it anyways, but still needed final touches. Sorry Celene, guess you’ll have to learn to use a hammer after all.

That had been day one.

They’d beaten him again the next day, then let enough slack on his chains that he’d been able to collapse to the ground, shaking and trying to work the blood back into his purple hands. “Don’t want you dying right away,” had been the explanation he’d been offered, as water had been forced down his throat-- not that he wasn’t eager for it --and stale bread had been tossed onto the ground beside his head. He’d eaten it all without complaint. This wasn’t the first time he’d had to live a prisoner, but even Niflheim’s beatings hadn’t been quite this bad.

Niflheim hadn’t been trying to kill him, the armor whispered into his ear, these people were. The only chance he had was if he killed them first. A great idea, not so easy in execution. He had no weapon, and couldn’t use the armor under the lights. Need to get rid of the light first, growled the voice. No hands, fine, use something else. You’re a soldier, you’re trained to think on your feet. Prove all those years weren’t useless.

Eventually he was pulled back to his feet, the chains returning to their previous slack. The steps approached again, and when Titus heard the whizz of a bat through the air he acted on instinct, lifting both feet and kicking out towards the place he thought their source was. His aim was true, his feet hitting something heavy and earning a satisfying shout of surprise as the attacker stumbled back-- into one of the floodlights. They took it down with them, and for just that moment, Titus could see again.

His captor was dressed in dark clothes and wore eye-wear to protect them from the bright light. They had shaggy black hair and dusty skin.

Titus didn’t recognize them.

Instead of focusing on that, he focused on the reduced light, willing the armor to seep from his skin. It writhed inside him, displeased, but eventually obeyed, leaking from the pores along his spine and moving around to the front where the light no longer shone as brightly, making its way up his body towards the chains. If he could just get it to his hands he could break through the chains and--

He heard the crack of the whip, but didn’t feel its sting. He didn’t have to feel it, his body tensed, arching with the lash that quickly opened along his back, the armor retreating inside himself immediately as vivid memories flashed through Titus’ head on fast-forward.

Tied to the post in the work camp, they made him count the lashings as they came down. If he missed a number they’d start over.

1, 2, 3, 4, 6-- no, again, 1, 2, 3, 4, nomoreplease-- again, 1,2-- reduced to mumbled whimpers, Titus could only look at the other prisoners of war-- his countrymen, civilians young and old --for help. None of them came to his aid, they would not risk the whip themselves. Titus didn’t begrudge them-- he wouldn’t have come for them either.

The overseer had liked the way Titus look when he cried out in pain. It hadn’t been the only way he’d liked how Titus looked. Sometimes swallowing your pride and pretending interest was better than facing the beatings. That had been where he’d first learned how to really lie. It was a skill he’d honed into his greatest weapon.

An old woman had broken one of the gun parts they were tasked with putting together for the army. Such an offense was punished with ten lashes.

She wouldn’t have survived ten lashings.

Titus had switched his work for hers. The torturer had been feeling generous that day-- Titus only got nine. He hated himself for being grateful to them. The other prisoners had called him a hero. He didn’t feel like a hero, he felt like a slave.

He awoke again on the ground, his back aflame with pain.

That had been day two.

After his little stunt, his captors didn’t dare come close to him again. They stuck to the whip until he was too exhausted to move, then beat him with the clubs. After three days, they didn’t even need the whip, though it didn’t stop them from using it. When five days had passed Titus no longer could move his hands, and he was pretty sure his shoulders were both dislocated. On the sixth day, he considered asking them to just end it, but determined they’d only drag it out longer out of spite.

On the seventh, he was rescued.

He didn’t know how. He didn’t even hear the hunters enter. He felt himself lowered to the ground but was too weak to move or open his eyes. Someone was shouting, he caught the word ‘potion’ and ‘doctor,’ but nothing else.

He looked more like a corpse than a man. Riddled with wounds, his skin was black, blue, yellow, and red. His hands and forearms were nearly purple, the wounds around his wrists deeply infected. His wrists were broken, one shoulder was dislocated, the other broken, ribs cracked. He was covered in open wounds along his back and chest from the whip. The scourge was clear along his shoulder-- and it had grown another half inch.

Soft hands caressed his face and Titus managed to open his eyes just enough to catch a flash of golden hair. “--lene...?” he croaked out.

He must have imagined it, but he could have sword he heard her speak. “I’m here- I’m here, now.” What a nice thought.

Then everything went black.

#;hunter verse #hooly shit this is so long lmfao #sorry I had to torture my boy #:))))))))#<3 #regret your decisions (I love you)#nifscientist

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indigomasquerade97 · 7 years

Text

A Shift In Perspective pt1

So... I wrote a thing for the contest @arc852 is running... Hope you like it!

Mark and Jack were having a fight. Later, neither of them would even remember what had started the disagreement, but both could recall the heated tension between the two friends.

'Look, I understand if-'

'No!' Jack yelled, 'No, you don't. You'll never understand what it's like to live in a world that's too big for you!'

Mark groaned, rubbing at his face in exasperation. They had been yelling at each other for half an hour, and nothing seemed to be getting better. He turned away and strolled towards the front door.

'Where the fook are you going?!' Jack demanded, jogging across the counter to keep the human in his sights.

'Out!' Mark briskly replied, snatching his jacket as he stepped out of the house. He had to get away before he did something he'd regret.

So, he casually walked down the dark street, venting quietly. He'd been out for about an hour, despite the biting cold. He sighed, staring up at the stars above. The street was deserted of life, and it gave him time to think. Jack's words had stung. He knew that, as a human, he'd never truly understand what it was like for his small friend. And he wished he could relate.

Sometimes he wondered just what Jack saw when he looked at him. They were best friends, and they trusted each other. But Jack wasn't as good at hiding his emotions as he thought he was. Mark had noticed how Jack would flinch or freeze when the human moved too quickly, or spoke too loudly. Despite their friendship, Jack still feared him. And Mark just couldn't understand that. The entire time they'd been roommates, he'd never hurt his little friend. He'd been so careful. Had he still not earned any trust? Had he not proven himself trustworthy?

He sighed, kicking a stone into the darkness. Guess I'll never know, he thought. Maybe it was just a Tiny thing; they were skittish by nature, after all.

SNAP!

Mark froze, whipping around towards the noise. There was no one in sight. He suddenly felt exposed under the streetlight, unable to see far into the darkness. He shivered as he began imagining what could be lurking in the darkness. Then the lights began to flicker. The whole scene was reminiscent of a horror movie scene. The lights then switched off completely, leaving the entire world in darkness. Maybe there's just a power malfunction, he reasoned with himself, but it did nothing to ease his beating heart.

Mark whimpered, blinking rapidly to try and adjust to the sudden lack of light. And he could hear a noise in the dark, one he couldn't quite place.

Thoom! Thoom!

What the fuck wazzat?

He didn't get a chance to ponder over the rhythmic sound, as suddenly a sack was thrown over him. He cried out, thrashing about to hit his attacker. But something nudged his legs and he toppled over, laying in the bottom of the rough bag. I'm being kidnapped! He went to struggle, but then the bag was rising. He froze, feeling nauseous at the fast movements.

'L-let me out!' He yelled, squirming in discomfort.

Then something surrounded him, squeezing him. Mark gasped in pain, bones creaking at the strong pressure across his whole body.

'I'd suggest you shut up, human,' A voice boomed threateningly, 'I'd rather not cause damage trying to keep you quiet.'

What is going on? Mark wondered, still squirming some. His captor didn't like that though, and the pressure increased. Mark's vision swam and his chest hurt, then he lost all senses as he passed out.

Mark slowly became aware of a pounding rumble echoing in his head. He groaned, his whole body aching, and the hard, cold surface he was laying on did nothing to help. He blinked a few times, trying to make sense of this strange place he found himself in. He tried to sit up, but his arms wobbled uncertainly.

'Hey, he's waking up!' A woman's voice said. A gentle hand took his own, easing him into a more comfortable sitting position.

'Ugh... where am I?' He asked, rubbing at his caked closed eyes.

'I'd like to know myself!'

Mark blinked, looking up at the voice. There were five other people with him, two of them being girls. He blinked in shock when he recognised the grumpy sounding man who'd spoken. For a moment he couldn't believe it, but he was in the same room as the new President, Marshal Creek. He was an effective man of office, and was well liked by the population, but he was also known for his particularly low opinion of Tiny's. Mark didn't like him as a result.

Ignoring the man, he looked around the room. He blinked confusedly. Four metal bars rose up above their heads, with thinner rods between them. They were in a cage. The bars were too close together to squeeze through, but one of the younger boys was making a valiant effort to do so.

'H-how did we get here?' Mark asked, trying to sit up and look out though the bars. His grimaced, placing his hand over his aching ribs. The entire room was dark, though he could faintly see the outline of large boxes in the distance.

'We don't know,' Said the girl who'd helped him up, 'We just woke up here after getting attacked.'

Right, an attack, Mark thought, rubbing at his pounding head. But there was something strange about that scenario. He just couldn't figure out what.

'Did... did anyone actually see their attacker?' Mark finally asked. The others were quiet, trying to think back to it, but they couldn't recall.

Thoom! Thoom! Thoom!

Mark froze, glancing around at the echoing sound. The others had tensed as well, some of them drawing closer to the others for security.

'What is that?' Marshal demanded. But no one had an answer.

Ffwoosh!

Light erupted, causing the captives to temporarily go blind. They groaned, rubbing at their eyes to banish the bright spots that clouded their vision.

'Are the products in good condition?' A voice rumbled loudly.

'The products were uncooperative at first, but they didn't fight too much,' A second voice answered, sounding quite pleased, 'They will break quickly enough, captain.'

Mark was able to blink away the spots and froze at what he saw. Two beings stood before the cage, looking unmoved by their obvious cowering. The shorter one was a man in casual clothing, holding a pad that he occasionally wrote on. The second man wore a dark suit, skin as cold as the marble it imitated. Dark hair and eyes, he may have been attractive had it not been for the malicious gleam and hard stare he gave off.

Oh, and they both stood over a hundred feet tall!

The darker man leaned forward, glancing at each captive in turn. Those intense dark eyes grew closer and in sharper focus. The girls flinched away at the hard stare, and Mark barely repressed a shiver. The giant man gave a displeased hum.

'This is all you got?' He asked, turning to glance at the shorter giant, 'Our contractors won't be pleased with this.'

'This is merely a sample for the clients, captain,' The man said quickly, 'Once they have instigated a contract, we can begin collecting on a much broader scale.'

'What are you talking about?' Marshal demanded, bashing a fist against a bar to get their attention, 'What do you want with us?'

The two giants regarded him for a moment, then chuckled darkly.

'What else does a bigger, more advanced species do to another that's so small and easy to conquer?'

The others stared at him in confusion, uncomprehending. Then it clicked in Mark's mind.

'Your taking us as pets.' He breathed disbelievingly. The giant raised an eyebrow, cocking his head almost considerately. Almost like he was surprised he had enough sense to deduce the answer himself.

'Precisely.' He said, ignoring the indignant protests from the other humans.

'You can't do that!' Marshal was saying, standing up to glare at the giant, 'That is cruel and inhuman!' The giant's eyes flashed red, and he grinned deviously.

'It's a good thing we're not human then, isn't it, shrimp?' He said darkly.

To prove his point, his hand reached out to open the small door in the cage. The other humans began panicking, trying to get away from the approaching hand. But it wasn't after them. It was instead heading towards Marshal, who was scrambling back to avoid the hand. But he was cornered against the bars, and there was nowhere for him to go.

Then Mark stepped in front of the hand, holding his arms out as a barricade. He didn't really like the guy, but he couldn't stand back and watch him get grabbed like that. Who knew what the somewhat irritated giant would do to him? The hand paused, and the giant cocked his head again.

'Oh? Do we have a hero here?' He purred, an eyebrow raised in interest. Mark gulped, feeling sweat trickle down his neck. But he didn't falter in his stance.

'Don't touch him,' He said, trying to sound calm and confident, 'He hasn't done anything to need to be punished. Just leave him alone... Please.'

The giant looked him over, then the hand shot out. Mark yelped as fingers wrapped around him, dragging him out of the cage. His stomach did flips at the rapid pace, and the tight grip made it hard to breath. Or maybe it was because of his fast breathing. Probably both, really. He gasped, keeping his eyes shut as he was lifted up to the giant's face. He timidly looked up when the movement stopped, meeting those dark eyes. The giant was looking him over almost appraisingly. His other hand came up and traced along Mark's head, down his shoulder, and repeated. Mark shivered at the strange act. The giant tilted his head to the side, and he grinned.

'Raerk,' He cooed, and the other giant straightened, 'The others can go to the clients. But this one is mine... understood?'

Mark was unceremoniously dumped back into the cage, and the giant slammed the door shut behind him before strolling out of the room. The other giant quickly noted the command down as he followed his superior. They didn't bother turning off the lights as they left.

Mark lay sprawled on the ground for a few long moments, trying to re-grasp his bearings. What...? It took a moment for Mark to realise what had actualy happened. He'd been claimed. Like a common animal.

Or, like a Tiny, he thought suddenly.

'T-they can't do this!' One of the girls was sobbing, shaking her head as if she could banish away their predicament.

'We need to find a way out of here!' Marshal was saying, still looking quite pale from almost getting grabbed.

Mark just sat where he was dumped, staring off at nothing as the others began hacking and kicking at the bars to no avail. He felt a thick rush of dread sweep over him, lined with a hint of hopelessness and insignificance he hadn't ever experienced before. Was this how Jack felt when he was at the store, he found himself wondering. He shivered, drawing his legs in close. Oh god... no wonder Jack was so weary around him. That thing had been so large, and so quick. And the mere presence of it was enough to make him feel small and helpless. Vulnerable.

It was not a feeling he appreciated.

To be continued...

#giant/tiny #contest #contest entry #gtjsefanclub #markiplier #jacksepticeye #tiny!verse

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megabadbunny · 7 years

Text

No Place Like Hohm (4/8)

“This is bollocks,” Rose announced to the room, staring at each and every one of the captives in turn. “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Isn’t anyone going to stand up to them? Won't any of you fight back?”

***

(Aka the obligatory post-GitF fic, for anyone else who ever wondered what might have taken place between a trip to France and an adventure in a parallel universe. Ten/Rose, all ages, full of angst, fluff, a pinch of romantic bickering, a dash of mutual pining, and a dollop of swashbuckling adventure!)

Note: This chapter contains a brief allusion to a past experience with a spiked drink; see notes at the end for more information.

***

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Chapter 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8

“Some of us get to go offworld, at least,” was the first thing Rose heard as consciousness slowly flooded back in.

Her eyelids fluttered, but did not open; they kept her eyeballs trapped beneath, moving without seeing. Rose was not certain exactly what had happened to her, or where she was, but she was certain that she didn’t want her captors to know she was awake yet—maybe they would talk more if they thought she was still asleep.

“Anyone can go offplanet,” another voice responded; it sounded like two young women talking, Rose thought. “It’s all about whether or not you’ve got the money,” the second voice added.

“D’you happen to know the state of his finances?” a third voice asked—male, this time.

The first woman sighed. “Well, it’s not like I could ask, is it? Didn’t exactly have the time!”

Her companions hummed morosely.

“What about her, though?” the second woman asked, her voice so hushed and low that Rose almost couldn’t hear it—but if the burning in her ears was anything to go by, it felt an awful lot like the woman was talking about her. “An offworlder, by the looks of her.”

“That’s what I thought,” the man agreed. “Wonder who’s her Champion?”

“Saw her flirting with that Geoffrynn bloke from the third quarter,” was the reply, and a sudden flash of memory lanced through Rose’s vision, filling her mind’s eye with Geoffrynn’s handsome face, his charming smile, the way his eyes crinkled when he handed over her last drink—

Her drugged drink, Rose realized. That poncy horse-git had bloody drugged her!

Fists clenching by her side, Rose swore that when she got out of this mess, she was going to hunt that pretty bastard down and throttle the living daylights out of him.

“It’s all right,” a new voice spoke up, low and velvety-sweet and only for Rose to hear. The surface beneath Rose rippled—a cushion? That’s what it felt like—and Rose could only guess the newcomer was sitting next to her, the better to whisper in her ear. “You don’t have to pretend to be asleep,” the new voice said.

Rose bit her lip. “How could you tell?”

She imagined she could hear the other young woman smile. “You stopped snoring.”

Rose’s eyes snapped open, her mouth fully poised and ready to let this person know that oi, she most certainly does not snore, thanks, but upon seeing the speaker, her words escaped her.

She was one of the loveliest women Rose had ever laid eyes on.

Of course, Rose had noticed quite a few pretty faces on the planet—it was hard not to, what with the bodies attached to them launching themselves at Mickey at every available opportunity—but this young woman was simply breathtaking. Delicate smatterings of ivory-white freckles shone out against her brown skin, dotting the landscape of her nose and shoulders. The freckles were even further drawn out by the brightness of her short, densely-curled platinum hair. Many a woman from Earth would have envied her arched brow and high cheekbones, and her eyes were so green, Rose couldn’t help but recall the polished jade treasures she’d seen in fourteenth-century Kyoto.

“Oh my god,” Rose blurted out. “You’re gorgeous!”

The young woman laughed, ducking her head. “Well, at least you’re honest,” she chuckled. “You’re not so bad yourself, but I guess that doesn’t make us any different from anyone else here.”

“Really?” Rose asked, pushing herself up on her elbows to see what she could discern about the mysterious here.

The first thing she took note of was, strangely, the floor. While the Temple of Dance (that she’d been so rudely abducted from, she remembered with a grimace) had an earthen floor, much like every other establishment she, Mickey, and the Doctor had visited, the floor beneath her cushion was smooth and white, almost like marble. It met four stark-white walls, which trapped perhaps two dozen other people inside, most of them women, all of them lounging about or awakening on cushions like Rose had, or isolated into groups chattering nervously, or eating from a long table absolutely covered in fruits and breads and sweets. Rose had clearly been brought to some kind of upscale place, she thought, because while everything else she had seen on Hohm was all wood and straw and white stone and hand-woven cloth, here she saw silken tapestries on the walls, fine rich rugs on the floor, golden goblets and glass sculptures adorning the table between tureensful of food. Even the heavy wooden doors were gilded with gold.

Everything in the room was quite lovely—and that went for the people, too, Rose noticed. Tall, short, middling; slender, curvaceous, athletic; fair, dark, freckled, tattooed; short hair, long hair, curly hair, no hair; horse-person, humanoid; each person in the chamber was quite different, and quite visually striking, for that matter, showcasing an impressively large spectrum of beauty.

It sort of made Rose wonder where she fit in.

Silently, she chided herself. That line of thought was unhelpful, not to mention ridiculous. Her looks had given her a decided advantage many times in the past, she knew, and besides—she had bigger things to worry about than insecurities involving certain flighty Time Lords.

“Right,” Rose said, scanning the room for any additional clues about where she might be, and why. “So…where exactly are we?”

The woman frowned. “You don’t know?”

“Nope,” Rose replied with a grin. “Sort of why I asked.”

The young woman rolled her eyes, and Rose realized that she was probably going to like her.

“Guess I shouldn’t be so surprised, in a way,” the woman said. “You’ve practically got offworlder written all over you. Still, sort of shocking you’d come here right now, if you didn’t come for this—seems like someone should have warned you.”

Sitting up straight, the woman held out her hand for Rose to shake, and she gratefully accepted. At least this was something she recognized. “I’m Dyana, by the way,” the woman—Dyana—said, with a strong and firm handshake in accompaniment.

“Nice to meet you, Dyana,” replied Rose. “I’m Rose. Now, can you tell me where I am? Not to be rude or anything, only I haven’t got the faintest clue what’s going on.”

“You know about the Championship Tour, don’t you?”

Rose thought back and recalled the posters strung up about town, the pictures of dragon and sportspeople and spears. She remembered Mickey’s eagerness to watch the event, and the Doctor’s dismissal. “Yeah?” she said uneasily.

“Well,” Dyana said, unable to quite meet Rose’s eyes as she scratched the back of her neck, “…we’re sort of the prizes.”

Rose blinked a few times. Her mouth fell open.

“We’re what?” she demanded.

***

“So what, the blokes on this planet just find girls they like, drug ‘em, and then compete for ‘em in some bizarro alien Olympics?” Mickey asked in bewilderment, struggling to keep up with the Doctor as he darted about the console, flipping switches and pulling levers and jamming his fingers into various buttons as if they had offended him personally. Ever since the Doctor had returned from his search—and by returned, what Mickey really meant was tossed into the TARDIS on his arse—his mood had taken a sharp turn for the manic.

“I don’t get it,” Mickey continued, speaking mostly to himself. “This planet can’t possibly be that backward!”

“Not just the blokes, and not the whole planet,” the Doctor shot back as he surveyed the figures zipping by on a viewscreen. “It’s a local custom, albeit an archaic one. Why would you have arranged marriages, uncertain alliances, or shaky betrothals when you can compete for your mate in the ultimate gladiatorial-style spectacle? It’s fun for the whole family!

“Only,” the Doctor went on, slapping the side of the viewscreen when its readout displeased him, “A lot of people didn’t like it. Turns out many would-be spouses or breeders didn’t enjoy being fought-over like so much farmland—go figure. Citizens would try to conscript unknowing or unwilling targets into the competition only to be met with some rather violent resistance—plenty of Hohmish are well-known for their fighting skills, did I mention that?—ergo, the city council eventually introduced the allowance of…”

The Doctor paused for a moment, thinking, one hand pinwheeling as he searched for the right words. When he found them, he spoke them with great distaste. “…pharmaceutical persuasion,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “The whole rotten business died out a few centuries ago for obvious reasons, but it looks like someone must’ve decided to revive the tradition.”

“So they drugged her,” Mickey said, his blood starting to boil. “They were gonna drug me—and they just got to Rose first.”

“Well, that’s what you get when you accept a drink from a stranger, isn’t it?” the Doctor replied. “Rose should have known better, shouldn’t she?”

After a few moments of silence, the Doctor glanced Mickey’s way, and Mickey realized that the Doctor expected him to agree. But Mickey was too preoccupied with the searing-hot anger seeping into his face, his hands clenching so tightly they shook with the force of it. He was sure to find little half-moon marks dug in his palms later.

“No,” he said, his voice quiet.

The Doctor arched an eyebrow at him. “Come on now, Mickey. You’ve got to admit—”

“No,” said Mickey again, louder this time.

“—sort of seems like she’s traveled enough by now, got to be smarter about that sort of thing—”

“How’s she supposed to be smart about something she had no way of knowing?” Mickey half-snapped, half-shouted. “You’re the one who knows everything, and you’re the one who brought us here—why the hell didn’t you tell us anything about this place, why the hell didn’t you warn us?”

“Honestly, have I got to do all of your thinking for you?” the Doctor asked, unimpressed. “It’s basic common sense: don’t accept drinks from a stranger.”

Mickey’s cheeks burned hotter and hotter. “And you’ve never done that, have you? Never accepted a gift from someone you didn’t know?”

The Doctor hesitated, rolling his eyes. “Of course I’ve—”

“It’s not something you’d ever have to worry about, is it? Someone doing something like that to you, trying to take advantage of you.”

“That’s not—”

“I mean, are you genuinely this thick, or is it just because you’re being jealous and petty? It had better be the second one, cos I don’t think Rose would want to stay with you if you’re the kind of person who really thinks like that,” Mickey spat.

The Doctor fell quiet, then, dangerously silent, his jaw tense and rigid, his eyes boring into Mickey. But Mickey gathered up his courage and continued.

“Was it her fault the first time it happened, too?” Mickey asked. “When she was sixteen, and some bloke down the pub slipped something into her drink? Someone she thought she could trust?”

Something in the Doctor’s face shifted, then, his anger growing darker—deadlier. “Who?” he asked, in a voice that made Mickey shudder.

Mickey crossed his arms stubbornly. “Does it really matter, if it was all Rose’s fault?”

The Doctor’s eyes flashed, and for a brief moment, the air between them was charged, thick and heavy like the atmosphere before a storm; the hair on the back of Mickey’s neck stood up on end, the way it does before lightning strikes.

He wondered if he should start running while he had the chance.

Swallowing, the Doctor looked away, letting his gaze drill into something else for a little while. The tension dissipated, and Mickey could breathe again.

“What happened?” the Doctor asked quietly.

“Rose should really be the one telling you all this,” Mickey said, to himself just as much as the Doctor. “If she wants you to know at all.”

He drew in a deep breath. “All I really know for sure is that her drink got spiked, and I only even know that cos Shireen told me. She’s the one who called me from the pub. Asked me to pick her and Rose up. Gave me the details of the story later, all the bits she knew. But Rose has never mentioned it since, and I’ve never asked.”

The Doctor’s gaze hardened, and unbelievably, Mickey almost felt sorry for the bloke, for whatever the Doctor might do to him, if he found him. (And Mickey was absolutely certain the Doctor could find him, if he wanted.) But then the Doctor just scrubbed a hand over his face, wiping it like he was wiping the anger away.

“You’re right,” the Doctor said, and at least he had the decency to look suitably ashamed. “My anger was…misplaced. Rose had no control over whether or not someone else tried to hurt her. It wasn’t her fault at all.” Then, quieter, “Of course it wasn’t.”

Slapping on a cheerful smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, the Doctor began his journey around the console again, entering coordinates onto a number pad on the far side. “You’re a decent human being, Mickey Smith,” he said, flashing his grin Mickey’s way.

Surprised at the words even more than the emotional whiplash carrying them, Mickey laughed uncertainly. “Er…thanks, I guess?”

“And you’re a good friend.”

Mickey relaxed a little. “Thank you,” he said, in earnest.

After a few moments of awkward quiet, punctuated only by the clackity-clack of keyboard keys and the TARDIS’ ever-present hum, Mickey decided it was safe to speak again.

“So what’s the plan?” he ventured.

“Wellllll,” said the Doctor, and he was doing quite a bang-up job of acting almost completely like his normal self, “The competitors fight against a number of different elements on their quest to claim a partner. They make this whole great quest out of it. Champions will fight off anything and everything from wild animals, physical obstacles, harsh terrain, even other competitors, in the effort to win someone. You make it to the end of the course with a person in hand, they’re legally yours.”

The Doctor pulled one last lever on the console and the TARDIS whirred into gear, its lights flashing and central column grinding as it prepared for takeoff. “So the plan, Mickey-my-lad,” the Doctor said with a grin, “is to go win Rose.”

He pushed the lever back down and the TARDIS shot into the Vortex.

***

This Rose girl was…interesting.

Dyana wondered how often she’d been trapped in situations like this—surely there was no other explanation for her calm but constant alertness, the very specific questions she asked (What are these walls made of? Are we above-ground, or below?), or how she charted every detail in the room, lips moving almost imperceptibly as she cataloged what Dyana could only assume were points of interest.

Interesting, indeed…she wondered if Rose had picked up on any of the same things she had.

When one of the heavy gilded doors groaned open, the Golden Guard marching inside, Dyana noticed that Rose’s muscles tensed and her focus narrowed. Several of the captives blocked her view as they crowded about, hesitantly inspecting the Guards’ offerings; each wheeled in a cartload of silks and jewels and baubles, all of them glittering in the candlelight. But Rose didn’t move any closer. Instead she hung back on her cushion, glancing at the door, watching the Guards in front of it. Dyana, in turn, watched her.

“What’s all that, then?” Rose asked, nodding toward the carts and their treasure.

“Adult dress-up,” replied Dyana. When Rose shot her a questioning look, Dyana sighed. “Well, you want to look your best, don’t you? Make sure you look good so you get a good Champion.”

She barely resisted wrinkling her nose in disgust. “You want to look like you’re worth fighting for.”

“Gross,” said Rose, pulling a face. “No, ta.”

Standing, Rose marched right up to one of the Guards and planted herself firmly in front of him. “Right,” she said, drawing up to her full (if unimpressive) height. “I don’t want to be in your Championship-thing. I’m not from Hohm, I didn’t know about any of this, and I certainly didn’t agree to it. This has all been a big misunderstanding. So let me go.”

She paused for a moment, considering. “Please,” she added.

When the Guards did not respond, Rose frowned. “Did you hear me?” she asked. “This is all a big mistake. I’m not supposed to be here. Let me go.”

The Guards did not reply, but continued their stony-faced silence, staring at the wall opposite them as if their eyes were fixed and immobile. Dyana looked on as Rose waved a hand in front of their faces. When neither of the Guards reacted, Rose stepped back, determination wrinkling her brow. Her eyes flickered from the Guards to the open door behind them, and Dyana could practically see the plan formulating in her mind.

Unable to suppress a smirk, Dyana propped her elbows on her knees and rested her chin in her hand, ready to enjoy the show.

Rose tried to slip by the Guards first, starting out with a slow and unassuming pace, then sprinting for the door. The toe of one shoe had just crossed the threshold when one of the Guards whirled around and seized her by the arm. With a shout, Rose dug her heels in and tried to break away, but the Guard simply yanked her back, handling her as easily as if she were a doll. He threw her bodily to one of the cushions on the floor.

Several of the captives tittered and gaped at the spectacle, but not Dyana. Her smirk faded away, to be replaced by something else altogether. She watched as Rose sprang up again, desperation etched in her face.

“Rose—” Dyana said in halfhearted protest, but Rose ignored her. She ran full-pelt at the Guards but this time they merely stepped back out of the room, throwing the doors shut behind them so that Rose slammed against the doors with a sickening thump. She staggered back, cursing under her breath.

“Let me out!” she yelled, punching and kicking at the doors. “Let us all out!”

“Sorry sweetheart, but that’s not going to happen,” said one of the other young women, a pretty blush-haired horse-girl Dyana knew from school as Vareem. She pulled a pink silk dress from one of the casks and held it up against her creamy-pale skin, admiring the play of gentle color even as she sighed in resignation. “No one gets out unless they’re claimed at the Championship, so you might as well make the best of it.”

No one replied, but that didn’t surprise Dyana. She agreed with Rose, of course, but still—Rose wasn’t from Hohm. She didn’t completely understand. She couldn’t.

“You can’t honestly be okay with this!” Rose said, exasperated.

Vareem shrugged defensively. “It’s going to happen whether we want it to or not. So what does it matter if we’re okay with it?”

Glancing between Vareem and Dyana and all the other captives, Rose shook her head, her mouth hanging open in wordless disbelief. One by one, the captives turned away, returning to their task of sorting through dresses and gems, pulling pieces and examining with an efficiency like they had prepared for this day their entire lives—which, Dyana knew, many of them had.

“Doesn’t it bother you, though?” Rose pleaded with Dyana.

Dyana examined Rose closely, looking her face up and down. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to trust Rose—she did want to, very, very much. She and her allies could use every scrap, every crumb of help they could get, no matter how small.

(But probably her sister had trusted someone too—and look how that turned out.)

“Why did you come to Hohm?” Dyana asked suspiciously. “If not for the Championship, why?”

Rose’s face darkened. “I was tricked.”

“By a Champion?”

“By an idiot. An idiot who had better bail me the hell out of this if he knows what’s good for him.”

Dyana scoured Rose’s face once more, seeking out any indicators that Rose might be lying to her, but she saw none—her eyes didn’t dart away, she never played with her hair, her cheeks never flushed nor did her pupils dilate. If anything, all she saw painted across Rose’s face was fear, tempered with a healthy amount of anger.

Ah, what the hell, Dyana thought. The plan was probably doomed from the start anyway.

“Hypothetically,” Dyana said slowly, “—all theoretical, nothing practical, you understand—someone might be planning something. It might possibly be an escape. Possibly. Perhaps.”

Rose’s eyes widened, brightening with hope.

“If that were to happen,” Dyana continued, keeping her voice carefully casual, “would such a thing interest you?”

Rose nodded. “How can I help?”

Head held high, Dyana stood up from her cushion, smoothing the wrinkles out of her dress.

“How do you feel about going out in style?” she asked.

***

“There!” Mickey yelled, pointing at the vidscreen. He swiveled it round so the Doctor could see. “Looks like some sort of stadium—that’s got to be what we’re looking for, right?”

The Doctor glanced up from the console. The image was too fuzzy for him to make out much—unfortunate, but only to be expected in the Vortex—but he could see a vast Colosseum-like structure, filled with what appeared to be terraformed mountainous terrain, if he were to hazard a guess. But with the TARDIS trembling and groaning all around him, his mind was admittedly a bit elsewhere.

“Let’s hope you’re right!” the Doctor shouted. He pulled a lever on the console and the entire ship pitched forward violently, throwing Mickey against the railing.

“Oi!” Mickey protested. “Watch your driving!”

“And watch your footing,” said the Doctor with a grin, “cos it’s about to get worse!”

***

“Honored Champions, treasured guests, ladies and gentlemen and variations thereupon!” the announcer’s voice boomed throughout the stadium; “Welcome to the pre-games for the fortieth anniversary of our glorious restored Championship Tour!”

The crowd erupted in a wave of noise, the massive stadium echoing endlessly with the roar of an audience ready and eager to see treasures claimed and blood spilled. Each of the thousands of people shouted and cheered, clapped hands and stomped feet. Each of the thousands, that was, but a small scattered few.

“But before the pre-games begin, we have something special to share with you,” the announcer continued, his voice as jovial and slimy as the worst sort of used-car salesperson. “In light of recent events, our Esteemed Protectorates of the City Council have decided that this year’s celebration will mark a true return to our core values—a return to our prestigious roots—”

The crowd cheered.

“—a return to our glory days—”

The crowd yelled even louder.

“—a return to tradition!”

The crowd shouted its assent, people leaping out of their seats and pumping their fists into the air.

“And now,” the announcer shouted gleefully, “Let the games begin!”

The crowd screamed out a cacophony of indiscernible pandemonium, bellows and chants and cheers all competing viciously to be heard over each other in a wave of sound as heavy and dense as the planet itself.

Unnoticed amongst the chaos, several crowdgoers snuck between the stadium-bleachers, each of them drawing hoods over their heads.

***

Previous | Next

***

Author’s Note: For anyone worried about Rose's earlier encounter with a spiked drink: she has always had a good friend in Shireen, who, despite having one of the best flirts of her life that night, noticed pretty quickly that something was wrong with Rose when a bloke--a friend from school--brought her over, claiming that she was pretty far-gone, so he "was going to make sure she made it home safely." But Shireen and Rose had gotten sloshed together enough for Shireen to know that Rose was at least a four-drinks gal on a bad day, so at one drink in, there was no way Rose should have been stumbling like that, no way she would have needed the support of the bloke's arm around her, no reason for her eyes to be cloudy and unfocused like they were. So Shireen struck up a fuss, the other patrons of the pub riled around her, and the nasty bloke was tossed out on his arse on the street like the nasty piece of garbage he was. And Shireen (see above, re: good friend), after calling Mickey, spent their entire time waiting making sure that Rose was all right, keeping her supplied with glasses of water, wrapping an arm around her protectively, and wiping her smudged makeup away. Fortunately Rose experienced no harm beyond imbibing a spiked drink, but she felt such an overwhelming mixture of (incredibly undeserved) stupidity and shame that she avoided talking about the whole thing in the hopes that it would all go away. And by the time the Doctor came into her life, she had all but forgotten about that night. (And a few rounds of Torchwood-mandated therapy, in another universe, just before her and the metacrisis Doctor's happy ending, will settle her mind about the whole thing once and for all. <3 <3 <3)

#ficandchips #doctorrose #tenrose #ten/rose #ten x rose #post-gitf #post-gitf fixit #rose x ten #otp of legend #mbb fic #dear god if the person next to me doesn't stop making these disgusting noises with their mouth i swear i'm going to lose my shit #like she's super suuuuper nice and i like her a lot #but god #freaking #damn #a;sdlkfj;sdlfkj #OH MY GOD IT'S GETTING WORSE #SAVE ME XENU

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anodyne-sunflower · 7 years

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Love me like you do (Part 5)-Balem series

A/N: I recycled a character from another Balem fic I did haha I’m too lazy to make another….goddamn you Balem and your charming ways. Making Reader not give in is so hardddd. Also, I feel like this chapter sucked but…well eh. lol it’ll get better. ❤️

****

Slowly, people began to walk into the banquet hall, each one dressed in fine clothing that spoke volumes of their status. You had no clue as to who any of them were, but they looked important. In fact, you’d imagine if you were invited to dine with Balem you had to be someone special. Though, you ventured a guess this was strictly business not for pleasure.

“Here.”

You looked up to see another girl handing you the pitcher you left on the table, and with a smile she walked off to gather some food. Being Balem’s personal waitress was hardly a gift, but when you thought deep on it, the choices before you weren’t plentiful. So, with all the pride you could swallow, you sighed and walked over to the stern looking man, standing beside him as he glanced at everyone entering the room.

“Wine.”

Balem held his chalice up, not meeting your gaze but directing his demand at you. There was something degrading about it all, and as much as you wanted to throw the wine over his head you didn’t. You lifted the pitcher, pouring him half a glass and backing off just enough to give him some space. He eyed the chalice for a moment, before taking a sip and placing it on the table.

“I’m expecting good news.”

His smooth voice rang through the hall, and just like that the entire room went silent, and alert as they all turned to their host. Balem tapped his nail along the arm of the throne he was in, eyes set straight ahead at the businessmen. He looked displeased already and no one had even spoken up.

“My Lord, we-”

Balem held his hand up, gesturing towards another man who sat near him. This man looked a bit older, his hair white, and beard a peppery color. He was clad in gray and silver, gold rings adorning his fingers as he stood up to address the room.

“As you’re all quite aware by now, the proposition that was placed before me was the allowance of towers to be built upon my land.”

As he spoke his eyes trailed over to the First Primary, an amused glint in his eye as he explained the reasoning behind his visit.

“Lord Balem, our most gracious host, has offered me a generous sum to do this. While I was against this before, I believe this may actually increase all of our lives in a very positive way.”

He smirked, clearly pleased with his own words and reached for the tablet in the middle of the table. He tapped across it, waving his hand over it as he fixed a hologram of charts and numbers in the center of the room.

To say you were in awe of the technology would be an understatement, but you stood silently next to Balem, trying not to look like you just found out other life existed. It was hard not to stand out though, and you shifted awkwardly on your heels as you waited for your captor’s next demand. But, he was far too preoccupied with the holograms in front of him, and he squinted at them as if he was trying to find any errors in the numbers.

“You’ve done your research, Mr. Salik.”

The First Primary rested his cheek upon his hand, calculating the business profits in his head as he looked upon the graphs. He seemed content with it, but there was something nagging at you. Like the room itself was slowly building a tension that was ready to implode on itself.

“Profits would increase by 10% within the month, my lord.”

This Mr. Salik person smiled widely, proud of his research, and you couldn’t help but feel like there was some ulterior motive behind it. But, business wasn’t something you were great at, especially when it came to intergalactic meetings. However, you always had a great intuition, and something told you this wasn’t right.

Balem leaned back into his throne, fingers settled over his lips in deep thought. He clearly wanted more explanation behind all this, and he looked over at Mr. Salik as he spoke.

“And you’re certain of this?”

“Yes, my lord. We’ve done all the research, extending your refinery to my land will in fact increase everyone’s stocks, including your own. As of now the house of Abrasax is the head of all families in business, with this business plan it would be almost untouchable.”

He lost you at that point, and your head almost started hurting at the mention of all the numbers and every individual family. It wasn’t something you understood even a little, so you just set your mind elsewhere. You thought of your small apartment back home, and your odd yet somehow charming neighbors. It was strange though, how even though it was something you were accustomed to, you couldn’t quite say you missed it much. Maybe because there wasn’t much to go back to. However, being there was more appealing than some palace filled with aliens hell bent on destroying planets.

“Wine.”

Balem lifted his chalice once more, holding it out towards you as he continued his conversation with the men at the table. The arrogant ass, you thought. But, you still filled his cup, frowning the entire time and as you pulled away you caught his gaze. You both seemed to stare at each other for a minute, not moving, just observing as if that would help you better understand one another. Except, as he looked at you his mind seemed to be elsewhere and his green eyes slowly descended on your chest, admiring the perfect view of your cleavage. The low cut dress you wore clung to every curve of your upper body, and you could practically feel him undressing you with his stare alone. It was uncomfortable, especially in front of all these other men who were basically doing the same thing, just not as obvious as he was. Though, judging by their initial stares you guessed they realized you ‘belonged’ to this lord and him alone. No doubt no one attempted to take what was his.

You moved the pitcher closer to your body, covering your exposed skin and blushing softly as you straightened up to your full height. You looked away from him, gnawing on your lower lip as he chuckled slightly. Thankfully, no one appeared to care for the exchange between you two, and they continued on with their business conversations.

“So, can we expect your payment soon, Lord Balem?”

Salik smirked over at him, one arm behind his back as waved at the First Primary in question. Balem merely hummed back in response, holding his chalice up in acknowledgment as he took a quick sip.

“And when can I build these towers?”

The pitcher began to grow empty, and you took that as your chance to get away for a bit. You turned on your heel, rolling your eyes when you were out of sight and headed towards the large table just outside.

“Assholes, the lot of them.”

You flipped the tap of the barrel that hung on the side, filling the pitcher back up to the rim with wine. It still felt too overwhelming to return to him, so you risked the small moment of freedom to just stand idly by around the food. Nothing on the platters looked remotely familiar, and you made a face at most of it. You weren’t even sure any of this was meat, let alone vegetables or fruit. But, your stomach was in need of sustenance, so with a hesitant hand you reached towards the small glowing orbs on the silver plate, scrunching your nose at how slimy they felt. It was like a smooth gelatinous type of morsel, that held its shape really well even when you squished it down between your fingers. It wasn’t something you’d normally go for, but hunger can make people try crazy things. You popped it into your mouth, squealing as soon as the strong bitter flavor hit your tongue.

You made mumbling noises, waving your hands around as you tried to figure out where to spit it. Biting down wasn’t even an option right now, and you glanced around desperately only to find two royals walking by with odd stares. They both looked you over in disgust, as if they’d expect better of Balem’s servants, but when they got a closer look at your face they smiled.

The well dressed woman leaned over to the man giggling as she fed him lies.

“That’s Lord Balem’s new play thing. Picked her right off earth they say.”

They both laughed at her words, and you narrowed your eyes at the both of them, wanting to speak up and defend your honor only to realize you had more important matters to deal with. Like where to spit out glowing alien food and not be punished for it.

“Girl!”

You looked up to see Mr. Night glaring at you, his rat like features twisted in annoyance as he waved you back into the hall. “Hurry up! Lord Balem is not the most patient of men and he’s out of wine.”

“Mmhm.”

It was all you could manage to say, and he gave you a weird look before scoffing and heading back inside leaving you to figure out your issue for yourself. It took forever, but with whatever willpower you had you bit down on the treat, gagging at how awful it tasted before swallowing quickly.

“Oh god…”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, shaking off your disgust and grabbing the pitcher before Balem himself came sauntering out to find you. As you entered the room again you could feel the stares on you, and as much as you tried to ignore their lecherous gazes it was becoming increasingly difficult to put up with. You passed Salik on your way to Balem’s side, gasping when you felt his hand brush against your behind. You swiftly turned, face a bright red and before you could even say anything the older man laughed.

“And where did you find this one, Lord Balem?”

The room was heavy with silence, and you stood, mouth agape, as Salik just looked you over with desire written on his features.

“She’s quite charming…”

Salik reached his hand towards you, and you felt your anger slowly rising. The pitcher shook a bit in your hand, your rage getting the best of you but before you could pour the wine over his ugly face a hand gripped yours and you looked down to see Balem pulling you towards him.

“Take the wine.”

He waved over another servant, and you watched as a young boy quickly grabbed the container from you. In the heat of the moment you hadn’t realized how close you were to possibly offending his guests, but frankly they deserved it.

Balem’s hand remained over your own, and with a rough tug he pulled you down into his throne and onto his lap. You gripped his clothing in shock, looking up at him as he curled you into his chest. His eyes scanned over you for a moment, but he just as quickly glanced over to the man who would dare touch his property. You expected him to yell, to scream and threaten death to all in the room, instead he smirked. It was an odd reaction to you, but there was an anger in his eyes that only you seemed to be privy to.

“Mr. Salik…”

His voice was even, almost eerily calm as he lifted your hand in his. He pulled it towards his mouth, smirk still upon his lips as he dragged them across your knuckles in a possessive yet somehow charming manner. “She is rather captivating, isn’t she?”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, making you stiffen under his intimate touch. You never expected him to be this…kind to you right now, at least not in this way. Sure, he was obviously attracted to you, but this hardly seemed the reaction he’d normally have. Maybe it was all the wine he had consumed, but you believed he was the type of man who held his drink well.

“Yes, quite.”

Salik, unaware of the rage glowing behind Balem’s green eyes, smiled even wider, licking his lips in a manner that made you shrink back in disgust. However, Balem didn’t let up on his show of ownership, he just pulled you flush against him, your breasts almost against his cheek as he led his lips up your sternum. You froze in his hold, face no doubt a brilliant shade of red as he pressed his lips into your heated skin. Normally, if any man touched you like this without a warning you’d of slapped them hard on the cheek. Yet, with him, all your senses seemed to stop and your thoughts became a jumbled mess of panicked screams.

“Then let me make this perfectly clear, Mr. Salik…”

Balem stopped his hot trail of kisses at your collarbone, his eyes coming up to meet yours as he said the last part of his sentence.

“Touch her again, and I will have your head decorating my walls.”

With every word his tone began to rise, the anger now very clear to all in the room. You could almost feel the dread that ran along all their spines, and as Salik made to open his mouth and speak Balem held his finger up and screamed.

“SILENCE!”

He turned his rage filled gaze towards the older man, corner of his lip twitching as he tried to stop himself from being rash. You flinched a bit at his yelling, hand clutching his shoulder tighter to maintain some balance in his lap. It was all too clear that he didn’t take kindly to those who touched his things, and his mood swing was proof enough of that.

He gritted his teeth, jaw tightening as he leaned back into his throne. His eyes didn’t leave Salik’s and he took one last sip of wine before tossing his cup on the table unceremoniously.

“Leave us. NOW!”

All the other businessmen scrambled out of their chairs, heading out of the banquet hall as Balem kept his gaze fixed on the old man. You could tell Salik was frightened, yet you had to give him some credit for sticking around and attempting to meet Balem’s gaze with equal fervor.

“Balem, I will not stand to be humiliated-”

“Understand this, Mr. Salik. I will build my towers on your miserable planet tomorrow. With your consent.”

“And what makes you think I’ll give you it now? I rescind my offer, and all the others will know that you’re the reason they lost profit.”

Salik stood from the table, throwing his napkin to the table and turning to storm out the room. Before he could make it to the doors the guards shut them, holding their weapons in front of him.

“What is the meaning of this?!”

Balem looked over his shoulder, gesturing for a servant to come get you. “Take her to my chambers.”

“Yes, my lord.”

They bowed, and gently removed you from his lap as they rushed you out the room.

****

“How disappointing. I’d of admired your spirit more if you put up a fight.”

Balem paced around the throne room, eyeing the tablet he held with a pleased look on his face. The contract was set, and the rights to all of Salik’s holdings were now in his possession with no one to contest it.

“Balem! Do not do this!”

The First Primary looked down at the floor, the marbled tiling becoming transparent as the harvesting docks became visible beneath. Mr. Salik was laid inside one, squirming around in a panic as the needles and saws drew near his body. His screaming was muffled by the thick walls, and Greeghan stood above him, awaiting his Lord’s command.

“You promised!!! I gave you what you wanted now release me! I beg of you!”

Balem ignored his cries, and instead walked up the steps towards his hovering throne as he turned dramatically and sat upon it. He crossed his legs, looking down at the pathetic man with an amused expression.

With one wave of his hand, Greeghan growled darkly and pulled down on the lever, and the only sound in the room was that of Salik’s pained screams.

****

A/N: If there was mistakes…well, oops. I never proofread because I’m lazy. Haha. Feedback welcomed!

#balem x reader #balem abrasax x reader #balem #balem abrasax #Balem x you #jupiter ascending

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lovedaisy02 · 7 years

Text

Of Cocktails and Vampires

Alex was going to kill her.

Supergirl circled the sky that night considering her options. The hunger gnawed at her--a deep ache, suffocating. She cursed silently to herself wondering if she would make it home. Forget it.. She thought as the strength began to leave her. She stopped her flight and hovered above the street, she spotted a crowded building near by, and figures drifting in and out. Gently she drifted down into a back alley and kept an eye on the main road, waiting. Soon a figure broke away from the crowd and kaira seized her chance.

Just one bite.

-----------

Lena was having a stressful night. Mountains of paperwork, countless meetings and a cocktail party. She had only just been able to politely escape when her assistant, Jess, went missing. Lena ventured down the street in the direction she last saw the woman go--tightening her coat around herself. Home and a bath, she thought sighing wistfully, when a noise caught her attention. Curiously she stepped towards an alley, squinting to see in the dim lighting. As her eyes adjusted she was able to make out two figures: one taller, hunched over the other.Normally, Lena would have the good sense to move on and certainly would not continue to edge closer--but something beckoned her forwards,. She felt drawn to the scene, as if an invisible force pulled her closer, unable to tear her eyes away or stop her advancement. When she was just ten paces away, the clouds shifted allowing the moon’s light to shine through, and Lena couldn’t help the strangled gasp that escaped her throat. Illuminated were the two figures, one was Jess, who lay limp in non other than Supergirl’s arms. The Super had a firm grip on one of Jess’s wrists, lips firmly pressed to the vein. Slowly, the hero pulled away, Lena watched hypnotized as the woman’s blue eyes shone red--the same color as the blood now dripping down her mouth--before reverting back to their normal cobalt. Suddenly, as if becoming aware of herself, Supergirl’s eyes snapped over to Lena before widening.

They both had the same thought.

Oh shit.

--------

Oh Rao, Rao, Rao! Kara panicked internally as she flew holding onto none other than Lena Luthor.

“I can’t believe this.”

Kara needed to replenish her powers, just a quick feed, that’s all she stopped for. She had even avoided the throat, just like Alex told her, wrist gashes were easier to explain. She thought she’d been careful--but she was spotted. THe moment Kara had com back to herself and noticed Lena standing there, she immediately attempted to hypnotize the woman, in hopes of altering her image perception, but to her dismay it didn’t work. In a moment of panic Kara willed lena to sleep briefly and took her back with her.

Alex is so going to kill me.

She had sent off an SOS message to Alex right away, and wasn’t surprised to see her sister waiting as Kara landed in the apartment.

“Hey, I was already on my way here when y--” Her adoptive sister froze and her eyes grew wide, “is that Lena Luthor?” She hissed.

“I have a problem.” Kara said breathlessly as she deposited Lena on her couch.

“Kara, your teeth are showing.” Alex absently mentioned, Kara quickly retracted her fangs until they were only just noticeable.

“I was drained from the fight and I stopped on the way--”

“--Kara you didn’t.”

“--I had to, and well,” She fiddled nervously, “Lena, um, might have seen me.”

“What! Kara.”

“I know, I know!”

“So why did you bring her here?” Alex asked exasperated.

“I don’t know, I panicked!”

“You--ugh, well didn’t you alter her memory?”

Kara huffed, “that’s not exactly how it works,” Alex gave a sigh, Kara continued, “I tried Alex, it didn’t work!”

“What does that even mean? How can it not work!”

The two continued to argue as Kara grew anxious and Alex annoyed. They suddenly fell silent as a groan came from the coach.

“Oh shit.” Alex whispered. The sisters stood still as they watched Lena rouse from her induced sleep. The Luthor blinked, appearing slightly dazed; she sat for a moment in confusion before her eyes widened and her mouth opened.

“Holy--Supergirl and feeding--Supergirl is a vampire!” She exclaimed to herself.

“Well, I wouldn’t use that term myself…”

Lena gasped and whirled around, staring at them in alarm. Kara gave a half smile and an awkward wave.

“Um..” Alex cleared her throat, “Sorry, Miss Luthor we had to deal with the situation in such a…” Alex glanced to her sister, “rushed manner...but this is about public security and we needed to brief you as soon as possible, we don’t want to alarm you” She explained in her FBI tone, attempting to keep the woman calm. “I work personally with Supergirl here--I’m an agent.” She slowly flashed Lena her badge. Lena relaxed slightly but her gaze remained wary.

Seeing as Kara seemed to lack the ability to speak, Alex continued with her best explanation, trying to show confidence.

“Supergirl’s, situation, is a well guarded secret, the people are already uncomfortable with extraterrestrials, for safety reasons, it would be best for only a few--if any--were to know. Now that you have knowledge to that, we need to make sure you won’t tell anyone else.”

The Luthor’s eyes darted back and forth between them but lingered more on Kara.

She straightened her back and tried to soothe her fluttering heart, “I suppose you won’t just take my word for it.”

“No, unfortunately not. You’re going to have to stay here until we get the right paperwork sorted out.”

“I see, and I’m guessing I don’t have much of a choice?” Lena asked, eyebrow lifting in a perfect arch.

“No.” Alex replied simply, staying guarded. Lena held her Luthor persona together as she asked one last question:

“How long will you keep me here?”

Alex looked again at her sister who still chose to stay silent. She sighed and answered. “Indefinitely.”

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

It had been two weeks.

Two weeks since Lena was, well quite literally, abducted. Although she held little fear towards her captors (who were inclined to abundant amounts of pizza and movies), it was tedious to be kept (mostly) against her will for so long. But, it gave her ample opportunity to observe Supergirl, and keep notes. As a scientist, she had no reason to deny the proof being presented to her, and she wasn’t cemented in her world views so much that she wouldn’t be able to change her mindset. Obviously, vampires exist--or vampiric beings anyway. She would not give up the opportunity to learn as much as possible about them. It was hard without her lab and the little contact she had with the outside world, (limited to a monitored call she to a very concerned Jess, informing her that she decided to take a vacation), Lena wasn’t too worried about her job, as Head Researcher of LuthorCorp, she made sure each of her employees could function independently, and with little need of direction from her--no, what she really missed was her various projects. She sighed again and curled up on the couch she had grown familiar with.The first few days had been a jumbled mess of paperwork, questioning, and a conversation with a displeased looking man.

Who had just entered the apartment. Lena turned her head in the direction of the door as it swung open immediately on guard.

“Miss Luthor,” J’onn tilted his head in her direction; she returned with a strained smile, and a carefully raised eyebrow. Agent Danvers followed in after, along with a sheepish looking Supergirl. “We thought about your suggestion, and we all believe it would be the best course of action.”

Lena felt her heart pick up in excitement. Over the past few days during the agreements, Lena had offered a solution. In return for her continued silence, she would be allowed to, within reason, to observe Supergirl and her behaviors.

“But,” Alex interjected, “you won’t be allowed to leave the apartment for a while longer, and you must stay under our surveillance.” Lena half expected that outcome, after experiencing how protective Alex is.

“Very well.” She agreed easily with a brief glance to the blond superhero in question. The others seemed equally relieved and confused to her easy agreement.

“Good. Agent Danvers, Supergirl, I’ll trust you to handle the rest.” J’onn nodded to Lena before turning and leaving.

Alex sighed after the door closed, “I have to get going,” she said as she took out her phone. “Remember,” she directed at Lena, “I have my eye on you,” then she turned to Supergirl, “and you be careful.” The Agent threw one last look to Lena before grabbing her jacket and leaving.

After the two departures Supergirl and Lena sat in comfortable silence. Well, comfortable for Lena, Supergirl looked unsure; she twirled her fingers and bounced on her feet every so often, the sight was odd to see, it made her look, for a lack of a better word, human. Though, Lena was content to let her suffer, and reached for the remote.

A few moments later and Supergirl came to hover above the couch.

“So…” she began.

“So…” Lena replied amused.

The hero bit her lip in thought, and opened her mouth only to close it again. She cleared her throat, “um, what are we watching?”

Lena smiled to herself.

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

“Leeeeeenaaaa.” Kara whined. The heiress gave her an unimpressed look. Kara pouted at her, “I want to watch the Lion King!”

Lena sighed, “just a few more tests, now sit still,” she murmured back. Kara sighed but obeyed.

“Why are you so interested anyway?” Kara asked the Luthor.

Lena stayed silent as she worked, and Kara almost thought she wouldn’t reply, finally she replied, “well, Supergirl--”

“Kara.”

Lena’s gaze shot up in surprise. Kara opened her mouth shocked at herself, but she knew she could trust Lena.

“M-My name, is Kara.” She said softly, turning slightly away as she felt her cheeks warm. Lena nodded slowly.

“Well Kara,” Lena began voice softer, “I suppose, I’m interested because I simply want to know. You’re existence breaks all the laws of science, and as a scientist, I find that fascinating, and I have this desire to just know, to search, and learn.”

Kara watched enraptured as Lena’s usually tense features began to relax, and her green eyes lightened in excitement. The hero observed how she talked with her hands, and sometimes went off on tangents about various theories--and, not for the first time, Kara realized how beautiful Lena is.

“--and...what?”

“Hmm?”

Lena smiled baffled at her, “you’re staring at me with this...this look.”

“Oh..” Kara said softly, “I don’t know I was just thinking that you look so relaxed talking like this, and it’s…” exciting, beautiful, pure “..nice.”

“Well, I’m sorry for being such boring company until now,” Lena said lightly.

“No!” Kara yelled, then back tracked, “uh I mean, you were great--good, good company, perfect company I just um…” Kara looked down at her hands embarrassed, before the sound of laughter grabbed her attention.

“I’m sorry, I’m only teasing Kara.” Lena laughed.

“Right..” Kara said softly smiling back. The hero contemplated on this woman’s ability to leave her in a babbling mess, and she wished to get a hold of herself. After all, Lena wasn’t her friend.

Lena wasn’t going to stay.

None of it would last for ever.

One day she would end up alone.

“What are you thinking so intently about?”

Kara snapped herself out of her trance, trying to shake her dark feelings.

“Oh, nothing, it’s stupid.” She laughed running a hand through her hair, but she had trouble shaking the heavy feeling.

Lena didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t pry. “OK. Why don’t we move on to basic questions.”

“OK, what else do you want to know?”

They already had covered questions on Kara’s various abilities, followed by demonstrations, and Lena furiously writing, it felt like they had covered most of it.

“I want to move on to the more intricate details, for example origin and such.”

Kara nodded hesitantly.

“For starters, does Superman share your same need for blood?”

“Well, Kal--uh Superman, doesn’t need blood because he grew up on earth, although he has the teeth and abilities, he doesn’t...need, as much, so we’re a bit different because of that.”

“Different how?” Lena asked.

“Well…” Kara twiddled her thumbs, “life span wise, and stuff.” She said softly.

Lena paused in her writing for a moment, “you have an extended life span then?”

“Um,” Kara swallowed, “I’ll out live a normal human, definitely, but I’m not sure...I don’t know about Kal, only time will tell, we just speculate.” She shrugged, the dark feeling creeping up on her.

“That…” Lena hesitated, “that must be hard.”

“Sometimes.”

Lena looked at her intently, and seemed to debate on something, “I think that should be enough for today, you wanted to watch a movie?”

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

“I told you I would be fine.”

“I know, I just want to keep you company.”

Lena sighed as she took out her keys, their relationship had turned into a deep friendship, and Lena was now allowed to return to her own apartment. Kara had insisted on going with her.

She removed her key and began to push the door open.“Fine but I--” Soon she was cut off when Kara pulled her away from the door and against herself. Lena would have been highly aware of how close they were if not for the sounds of gun shots. She felt more than heard Kara cursing, the blond gently took Lena and guided her away from the opening.

“Wait here.”

Lena nodded and swallowed trying to calm her shaking hands. Grunts and smacks sounded and Lena closed her eyes, her heart was too loud, her breathing too out of control. A moment later she felt a presence at her side and started.

“Hey, it’s me it’s just me.” Kara whispered crouching down beside her, blue eyes still alight from her fight. “I’m going to call Alex to take a look at the place, for now let’s just go back.”

Lena nodded still trying to calm her racing heart, beginning to feel light headed. Kara looked at her worried before seeming to make some type of decision. Suddenly Lena was picked up, held strong in Kara’s arms.

“Ah--Hey! I can walk.” Lena said embarrassed.

“I know.”

“I...I don’t really like flying.”

“I know.” Kara replied, smiling softly at her, “don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Lena believed her.

----------

“Are you sure--yes...yes I know… of course I trust you..” Kara glanced behind her, phone to her ear checking on Lena, “it’s just--...yeah...OK, I’ll keep you updated. Bye.” She sighed and her stomach churned. With slight hesitation she made her way over to Lena.

“Hey, that was Alex.” She said softly. The brunette glanced up at her briefly. “She--we, know more about your attackers, um…” She fiddled nervously with her hands. “Oh Lena...I don’t know how to say this.”

Lena looked at her intently feeling dread sinking into her.

“Lex hired those men.” Kara whispered, as if any louder and the words would physically hurt Lena.

It was like a hole had opened up in her chest. Lex, her brother Lex, wanted her dead. All she could think is why?

“I shouldn’t be surprised--normal siblings argue, Luthors attempt to get each other killed.” Lena joked, ‘what am I even saying right now?’

“Lena...I’m so sorry.” Kara said.

“Don’t be. It doesn’t really matter.” ‘It hurts so much.’

“Don’t say that. Don’t play this off. Not with me.”

Lena didn’t reply, she felt like her throat was closing up.

Lena began to cry.

Kara surged forward and pulled her into a tight embrace.

“I’m just so tired of being alone.” Lena gasped in between sobs, “I have no one left, Lex was the only one--the only one there for me. The only one who cared.”

“You have me. You’ll always have me.” Kara reassured her. “I’ll never leave you alone, I know exactly how it feels.”

Lena remembered suddenly how Kara lost her family, and how with her long life, she could easily out live her loved ones. “I’m sorry you have to live like this.” Lena whispered to her lifting her head to look into cobalt eyes.

It might have been Kara’s hidden desires, or the way Lena’s green eyes sparkled with unshed tears, but for some reason Kara offered the unthinkable. “What if...what if there was a way for both of us to never be lonely again?”

Lena looked at her in confusion, “what do you mean?”

Kara suddenly felt sheepish; “well, there’s a way to...to well, turn, people to be like me.”

Lena gave a breathless laugh, “I guess you really are a vampire.”

Kara wrinkled her nose in response.

Lena smiled softly before turning back to the subject at hand, “would you...would you do that for me?”

“Yes.” Kara replied breathless, glancing down at Lena’s lips. “Yes I would.”

“OK,” Lena nodded gaze flickering, “OK.”

Kara leaned forward and captured her lips.

----

It wasn’t until a few weeks later Lena made her decision. If she were being honest with herself she had decided on that night, but she always gave her decisions time before finalizing.

“Are you sure?” Kara asked anxiously, excitement in her eyes.

“Yes.” Lena replied. “I want to spend all my life with you Kara Zor El.”

After that every motion was a blur, lost in heat. Lena felt herself being gently lowered to the couch, then Kara was kissing her again, her lips then trailing down her neck, giving extra attention to her pulse point. When her teeth sunk into her flesh it felt like fire, suddenly her blood was alight, and she wanted more. More of something, of that feeling. A strangled sound escaped her throat and she pulled Kara to her tighter. The blond licked at her neck, her movements gentle but sure. She eased herself out of Lena’s grip momentarily, to free her wrist. Lena watched as Kara bit into her own wrist taking a small mouthful of blood. Then the blond lowered and connected their mouths. The taste was sharp and metallic but changed to sweet, like a dessert wine, and Lena drank it. The feeling coursing through her could only be described as euphoric. Lena could barely contain herself, it was as if her soul had been touched. All through the change Kara whispered sweet words to her. Her mind went blank and she wrapped herself into Kara.

“It’s okay, I’ll protect you.” Kara whispered.

“I know.” Lena managed back.

The rest of the night they spent in bed together, exploring, taking their time, knowing they had close to an eternity together.

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

“Here we are.” Kara said hovering in the air.

Lena floated next to her, a little apprehensive, still not used to her new abilities. “Hmm, we first met in an alley like this you know? Pretty full circle.”

Kara laughed, “yeah I guess it is.” She smiled and stretched her hand out, “you ready?”

Lena smiled back. “Yes. I’m starving.”

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