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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 3 months

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Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 86

Part 1 Part 85

Eddie’s going to come out of this whole thing with a bald patch. He can’t stop pulling at the ends of his hair, feeling the sharp tug on his roots, the snap of the few hairs that can’t withstand the onslaught.

They’re all just sitting here, resting on their laurels like Steve isn’t slipping further away with every wasted second.

There’s enough frenetic energy running through Eddie to make him want to get out of the van, pace the length of the Byers driveway like a tiger in a cage. But Steve’s bound and blindfolded in the van, and the thought of taking his eyes off what little he can see of Steve’s face makes bile rise in his throat.

There’s not much else for his stomach to dredge up. He can’t remember the last time any of them ate.

So, he sits on his heels. And he waits, feet going numb beneath the weight of his thighs.

This is all becoming horribly familiar. They’re even at the Byers house again, Eddie losing his mind by inches, Steve gone.

It’s not fair. Even through all of this, no one’s priority is ever Steve, first. Steve, only. Even when it should be. No one except Eddie.

Will’s still curled into his side, looking up at Steve with that same desperate need, though. So maybe it’s not just him. They’re an island of three, always.

Eddie can live with that, will gladly subsist only to give these two his devout devotions. If Steve will just come back to them.

Eddie’s ready to scoop up Baby Byers in one arm, Steve in the other, and flee state lines if it means he gets to keep them.

Mama Byers likes him too much to let the kidnapping charges stick.

But Steve’s still gone, even as he sits placidly in front of them. So, he waits like a good boy.

For Carol fucking Perkins of all people. It’s like the Upside-Down is determined to scoop up all his sworn enemies and drag them into the clusterfuck right alongside him. First Nancy, now Carol. What’s next? Billy fucking Hargrove? Where does it all end?

Eddie yanks his hair again, feels a few more hairs snap. He drops them on the floor of the van, mind spinning off into DNA, and fingerprints, and all the things the shady government spooks could pin on him with those few loose hairs.

He pulls out a few more.

Barb’s usually an annoyingly safe and slow driver, but she must have hauled ass because her tires are skidding into the driveway well before he would have expected her to be. She stops abruptly enough that gravel kicks up around her car, tires digging grooves into the dirt beneath it.

The kids tumble out of the backseat, dirty but intact. Eddie can’t help the way his eyes stray from Mike, to Lucas, to Max, to Dustin, cataloging each of the rips and smudges along their bodies, looking for scrapes and injuries underneath.

The knee of Mike’s jeans is suspiciously ripped and bloody, like he’d taken a tumble on cement, but everyone else looks fine.

When Carol slides out, she looks decidedly less fine. Her preppy outfit’s streaked with dirt and grim, her usual blow-out hair-do caked with something suspiciously dark and viscus. Most damningly, she’s got a baseball bat clutched in her manicured hand, ready to take a swing, and are those nails? Is that blood on them?

Whatever it is, it’s not human. It’s so dark, it’s almost black, even in the overcast light of the afternoon.

Barb’s less disheveled, but there’s a smudge of the black liquid on her glasses, like it’d splattered across her face, and she’d only partially cleaned it up.

It’s seeing it there, that makes it click. It’s the same color as the Demogorgon’s blood had been when it had been painted across Steve’s face that time they’d thought it was a good idea to trap one.

Will jumps out, running up to Mike, and Dustin, and Lucus. It’s another reenactment of last year, the reunion just as fierce and life-affirming. Even if this time it’s only been a couple days since they last saw each other. Near death experiences will do that to a kid. Even Max gets pulled into the mess, arms around backs, heads tucked into shoulders.

Eddie barely sees it, too focused on Barb’s glasses, brain making connections between black blood, and Demogorgon’s and Demo-dogs, and the way the soldiers had screamed beneath the earth as they’d left them to die.

Eddie follows Will out of the van. He’s pulled into his own hug, Barb’s arms warm and shaking as they wrap around him. His hands hang down awkwardly, trapped by his sides by her hold. She drops him but stays huddled close.

“I’m never going to get used to this,” she sighs, eyes trained on the kids all surrounded together, all talking at the same time, clearly trying to fill in Will whose bemusement only grows on his face.

Eddie laughs, sharp and unhinged before he clamps his lips together to cut it off. “You don’t know the half of it,” he says. He can feel Steve in the van, still, wants to turn back and get him in his sights again.

Perkins steps in his path before he can. “Monsters, Munson?” she demands. Up close, Eddie can see the way her fingers are white around the baseball bat, the way the blood’s congealing around the rusted nails. Even at five foot nothing, she paints an imposing figure with that clutched in her hand. “You were all hiding fucking monsters?”

Eddie grimaces. “You told her?” he murmurs out of the corner of his mouth to Barb.

Perkins rolls her eyes, clearly having heard him. “She kind of had to when those fucking things cornered us!”

He’s getting really tired of so many of the things in his life having to be classified as ‘things.’ Still, he can picture their gaping maws, the way they’d open up like flowers in bloom just from the horror peeking out behind the indignation in Perkins face. This is going to upset Steve when he gets back.

“Why the hell were you even there?” Eddie demands, pointing a finger in her face. He drops it when the hand holding the bat shakes, bringing it closer to his hand.

“Blame that one!” she snarls, pointing at Dustin like he’s gum on the bottom of her shoe. “I could’ve gone my whole life without seeing one of those fucking whatever-dogs!”

“Same,” Barb murmurs, shriveling up with disgust.

Perkins doesn’t even look her way, but she still stands shoulder to shoulder, somehow made into a united front within a day. Eddie shouldn’t be surprised: the Upside-Down makes for surprising bedfellows.

He’d done the same thing, trapped in a hell dimension with Steve Harrington of all people. Steve Harrington who’d made him laugh, and shared his bed, and saved his life. Steve Harrington who’s bleeding out of himself to make room for something else.

“Where is Steve anyway?” Perkins asks, like she could hear his train of thought. “He’s got a lot of explaining to do.”

Eddie can’t help the way his gaze darts toward Steve. It’s like asking someone not to look at a shooting star darting across the sky, or a lighthouse in a storm, or a compass pointing your way home. He can’t help it, and maybe Perkins can’t help the way she storms over to the van, either.

“What the fuck?” she says, less a question than an exclamation of shock as she takes in Steve’s state.

Eddie knows what she’s seeing – her friend’s washed-out face, obscured by Wayne’s flannel, and Will’s headphones, tied tightly by every seatbelt Wayne could reach without moving Steve. He knows what conclusions she’s drawing in her twisted little head as she rushes into the van and knee walks over to her reported best friend.

Eddie’s “wait, no!” is drowned out by similar sentiments from Will and Wayne and Mama Byers. None of it makes a difference. It’s too late.

“Steve?” Perkins says, and there’s the sound of her bat thunking into the ground, and then an ominous rustling. Eddie doesn’t wait to see what happens next. He bolts to the van, Wayne right behind him. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

She sounds desperate enough that Eddie can’t even blame her for what she’s done. But that doesn’t change the fact that Steve’s dull eyes are uncovered, and he’s looking past all of them, through the open door and out onto the street. The flannel and headphones are both discarded on the floor as Perkins clutches on Steve’s shoulders, shaking him like that will get him to meet her eyes.

Steve’s been here dozens of times, sitting passenger side in Eddie’s van and drumming his fingers on the dashboard

“Code fucking red!” Eddie calls, head shaking at the force of his yell. “They know where we are!”

Wayne sighs, long and heavy the way he does when he’s sinking into his armchair after a long shift. All the kids are shouting over each other, demanding answers to questions Eddie can’t even hear. Perkins is staring at him like he’s insane, but Barb’s drooping where she stands. She’s been in this long enough to know what a code red means, even if she’s lacking all the necessary context.

Wayne straightens, back cracking as he claps once to get everyone to shut up. “Kids in the house!” he calls, talking louder when the inevitable protests come from that corner of the driveway. “Now!”

Wayne doesn’t yell, ever. Hearing his voice raise, angry and loud, makes Eddie flinch back, shoulder hitting Perkins where she’s kneeling. It does the job, though. The kids scurry into the house while Wayne surveys the remaining group of four, eyes skipping over Steve’s blinking eyes.

“You any good with that bat?” Wayne asks.

Perkins eyebrow is furrowed, but she opens her mouth to answer. Barb beats her to it. “I’m better.”

Wayne picks it up from the ground and hands it over to her. They all know by now that she knows better than to mislead them at a time like this. Barb clutches it between her hands, straight-backed and feet planted, like she’s ready to swing.

“Joyce, go stay with the kids.”

Mama Byers shuffles her feet, looking back at her house, but doesn’t leave. “Shouldn’t we stay together?”

“We can’t untie Harrington here,” Wayne replies. “And there’s no time to go somewhere else.”

As if to punctuate his point, there’s a familiar hungry growl, pettering off into a howl. The howl echoes off the walls of the sky, cutting in and out. Static. Reverb. The Upside-Down is calling and Eddie doesn’t want to pick up the phone.

Mama Byers runs, full tilt toward the house. Eddie hopes she makes it, can’t see her past the lip of the open door of the van. He hopes she’s got a gun in there, hopes she hands out butcher knives to too-small fingers and they all stand back-to-back-to-back. He hopes None of those things make it past Barb’s bat.

Wayne rushes to the glove compartment, limping on his bad hip with his haste as he digs around. He comes out with a gun, polished and sleek, and clearly one of the dead soldiers. Eddie hopes it’s loaded.

He stands behind Barb, blocking the open door with his body, gun raised and pointing toward the staticky sound of dogs growling.

“Close the door, Ed.” He doesn’t turn away from the threat, even as he says, “Love you.”

Eddie hiccups, something wretched and sharp boiling out of him. He wants to stand at his Uncle’s side, but his hands are fleshy and empty. Perkins is hyperventilating behind him and Steve’s not saying anything at all.

He closes the door.

He crouches in front of them both, blocking the closed door, ready to play a fleshy, second door should the first one fail.

There’s the sound of a gunshot, the wet thwack of a nail-covered bat meeting malleable flesh, then glass shattering all around him.

He raises his hand and closes his eyes reflexively as it rains down onto his face, into his hair. Something cold and meaty lands on his lap.

He opens his eyes.

It’s just like he imagined: paws and tail and hairless body. A petaled mouth that droops open, razor-sharp teeth glinting threateningly even in death.

He pushes it off, scrambling back and away from the dead thing that still somehow looks like it wants to kill him, heedless of the broken glass making mincemeat of his palms.

Eddie backs into Perkins, tries to keep crawling away until she grabs his shoulder, squeezes hard as she peers over his shoulder into the silence of the day.

He can see Wayne, still standing, Barb at his side, gorey bat raised. Had they won? A bat and a gun, and they’d won?

But, then there’s a new face, peering up through the broken window. Her eyes are solemn, but she smiles when she meets his eyes, short curls atop her head bobbing as she waves at him.

“Supergirl?”

Part 87

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#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie upsidedown au #will byers #my fic

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moonchildstyles · 1 year

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jealous vamp h bestie?

wordcount: 3.5k+

—————

(Y/N) couldn't help the sigh she let out from where she stood on the terrace of Harry's Parisian penthouse. Her hands were hooked around the railing, keeping her from toppling over as she leant forward in a dreamy haze with her gaze attached to the Eiffel Tower bathed in morning light. Maybe she was trapped in her daydream, influenced by the ambiance of the city, but she swore she could smell the butter melting as croissants were baking in the shops below, sparkling water spritzing with sweet scents, and fresh baguettes being spread over with fancy cheeses and swirls of honey.

"Not tired of this place, yet?" Harry asked with a gentle tone as he wrapped his cool arms around her waist from behind. The point of his chin settled into the curve of her neck, sighing into her scent.

"Never," she smiled, settling her hands on his own as they folded over her middle. "What time is the showing?"

The whole point of the trip out here instead of their usual time in Italy, had been so Harry could show her a chateau he was planning on potentially purchasing. He hadn't shown her too much of the listing online as he had declared he wanted it to be a surprise when he finally took her, but he had promised it was beautiful. Smaller than what he was used to, but he said it reminded him of her. Delicate and cozy, he'd described it as. A home.

"Not until noon. We have time." Harry's murmured tone floated between them, joining the buttery warmth (Y/N) swore was wafting up to the terrace.

"We have time for what?" She bit down on her bottom lip to stifle the grin that wanted to stretch wider on her lips. She knew exactly what he had in mind, exactly what he had made time for this morning.

"Come back inside, and I'll show you, puppy."

Spinning her in his arms, (Y/N) was greeted by the sight of Harry, bare-chested and warm after cuddling her through the night. Faint beams of sunlight dared to broach their daydream on the balcony, tracing the lines of his muscles in fans of a golden glaze. Having bit from her the night before after a decadent dinner at one of (Y/N)'s new favorite spots in the city, his cheeks were warm with a rosy color, skin tan, and eyes bright with curling strands of hair falling over his forehead. She could have melted under his gaze alone, the caress of his hands on her hips being the cherry on top.

"Can we keep the balcony doors open?" she whispered, allowing him to lead her back into the mussed bedroom.

"Y'sure y'want everyone to hear you, puppy?" Harry dropped his head to press into the soft of her throat, the blooming bruise on the curve welcoming him as he remembered sinking his teeth in to the delicate skin.

"I'll try to be quiet," she got out, voice soft between them.

Sucking in a deep breath of her scent, Harry could have swore his heart warmed and fluffed up just like the croissants he was trying to perfect for her.

"Don't."

—————

Harry couldn't keep the smug smile from spreading across his face as he caught his petal's reaction from the corner of his eye. When he started correspondence over getting a showing for this Parisian chateau, and seeing every photo of the estate, he had hoped her reaction would be something like this. The wonder in her gaze was something he would never grow tired of.

"What do you think, m'petal?" he asked, pulling into the gravel drive of the home.

"It—I—Harry," she floundered, her voice a sigh.

"'S beautiful, isn't it? I thought you'd like the ivy," he murmured, finding a space to park beside the realtor's own car.

While the chateau was gorgeous by anyone's standards, it was small to Harry. He'd grown very comfortable with sprawling estates full of rooms that he had no idea what to do with, multiples of every amenity, and more than enough space between himself and anyone who wiggled their way into his house. But, since (Y/N) entered his life and his heart, he felt no need for all of the cold space. There was no reason for him to be anywhere else other than close to her. This cottage was perfect for the existence he wanted with her.

Even with the clouded sky, the charm of the chateau was not lost on him as Harry rounded the front of the car to help (Y/N) out of the passenger seat. Her warm palm in his was enough to get his smug smile melting into something genuine, the grin only stretching when she tucked herself into his side.

"Harry, look!" she bubbled, bouncing in her spot, "There's roses!"

Following the point of her finger, he saw the same rose bush that had been described in the listing that was emailed to him. Bright blooms stuck out against the forest green of the bush, thorns prickling down the stems, tipped in and inky black. The sight bordered on gothic compared to the hazy filter the sun left on the romantic view. "I know. They're gorgeous."

"Do you know what kind they are?" she asked, floating closer to the rose studded bush with Harry in tow.

He lent over her, peering around her shoulder to gauge the blooms with his own eyes instead of through the lens of photos. Noting the deep color of the blooms alongside how large the unfurled petals stretched, it didn't take him long to decipher the flora growing beside (Y/N)'s potential new home. He watched as she reached out to seemingly grab for one of the stems to bring the flower to her nose. Grabbing her just before she could cut herself on a thorn, Harry threaded his fingers between hers in a distracting squeeze. "I think 's a Lady In Red, my love."

"How do you know?" she prodded, looking up at him with sparkling eyes as he lead her towards the front doors.

Harry shrugged with a lopsided smile on his lips, reluctantly letting her hand go so he could twist the knob on the unlocked door. "I've had a lot of time to learn," he told her, looking down at where she stood at his side. His own little rose.

Before (Y/N) could offer any response, he pushed the door open with a flourish. His relator, Charlana, should be around here somewhere, but he was sure she wouldn't mind if he allowed his love to take a look around the space before seeking her out. "After you, m'love."

A twist panged in the pit of his stomach as got to watch the way she swept through the room. Even vacant from the sunny rays that filled every photograph on the listing, (Y/N) looked like a dream twirling through the space. She gazed around with those glittery eyes, taking in the small room filled with bouquets of flowers that had been pruned from the garden bordering the grounds, and cozy furniture that Harry would purchase alongside the chateau if she so wanted.

He stayed back as she bubbled about the space, keeping an affectionate eye on her as she bounced into the kitchen and down the halls, exploring the place he would hopefully get to make her home. Harry listened in on the ramblings she let out, babbling about one thing before getting distracted with another. He knew she had been excited about being taken along to this showing, but he hadn't anticipated this level of enthusiasm.

Allowing her to have her space and not feel like she needed to like the place just because he was there, Harry lingered in the staged living space, awaiting Charlana's presence. He could hear her heartbeat in the upper level, surely she'd heard them enter along with (Y/N)'s twirling.

Soon enough a pair of feet started down the stairs, though the pattern sounded much heavier than what he recognized of Charlana's. With his arms folded across his chest, Harry leaned heavily against one of the walls, eyes fixed on the landing to the stairs.

Just as he expected, someone who was not his relator appeared on the landing. Shiny blonde hair, navy suit, and a too big of a smile to be something of a natural expression was the first impression of this newcomer. While Harry was much harder to impress now that he'd become so accustomed to (Y/N)'s scent, he held a particular distain for this man's stink.

As soon as the structure of his features could be seen around the megawatt smile on his lips, Harry had to put effort into keeping his features neutral. He was not expecting to be working with this realtor. He was someone Harry begrudgingly recognized, being apart of the same company as Charlana, but there was a reason he stuck to his typical contact. She never looked too hard at the paperwork and didn't ask questions that Harry wouldn't want to answer, and was decidedly less annoying that this man already was without saying a word.

Bright blue eyes widened at the sight of his client, the man quickly schooling his features while Harry stayed stoney. "Mr. Styles! I'm so sorry, I didn't hear you come in," he beamed, striding through the space with a power that didn't match his presence, "I think we've met before, but I'm Rhys."

"Nice to meet you," Harry grumbled out, aware of the way his petal was wanting him to lessen on how bitter he was to anyone but her. It wasn't fun to be grumpy, she'd said, but it was hard to keep the distaste off his face at the touch of someone other than (Y/N) on his skin.

Though he tried to keep his expression in that neutral pleasantry, Harry was still able to catch the small wince he gave—from the temperature of his skin or depth of his grip, he didn't know. "Charlana wasn't able to make it out today—a last minute family emergency, she told me," he started after the small recovery, his hand going directly to his pocket, "but I will be forwarding her any decisions we make today and she'll be back to taking care of you after this."

While he was sure he was overreacting only because of the change of plans he wasn't aware about, Harry still had to unclench his jaw to speak. "Okay. Thank you for coming to help."

Before any response could be offered, (Y/N) came twirling through the hallway, a bright smile on her face. "Harry, did you see the bathroom? There's an—Oh, sorry I didn't know anyone else was here."

She deflated once she saw Rhys, looking nonchalant as if he were the one this space called around and not Harry himself. Rhys's eyes seemingly lit up the second he took in the sight of Harry's beloved, something in his grin angling differently in the light. He liked what he saw, that much Harry could tell. And, he hated it.

Taking large strides towards her, Rhys offered her his tanned palm out for a shake. "It's alright, I wasn't aware we would be having a guest, either," he tried to soothe in a tone too strong, Harry watching the way his fingers wrapped too smoothly around (Y/N)'s. "I'm Rhys, filling in for Mr. Styles' regular realtor."

He watched as she gingerly gave her hand, a polite smile on her face as she gave her own name only to be cut off when her hand was swept up by the tanned palm and brought up to Rhys's mouth for a kiss.

For a split second, Harry saw red. If not for the fact he knew he wasn't in complete control, he would have lunged forward and shoved him out of her space, protecting her behind the broad of his back. But, with the way his mind went white blank, he knew that if he even attempted that, Rhys would most likely end up dead. His petal wouldn't like that.

Instead, he focused on his beloved, gauging her reactions while he tempered himself down. She took the odd gesture with grace, offering a demure smile before slipping her hand out of his grip before much more contact could be made. He saw the way she peered over the man's shoulder, making eye contact with Harry with the smallest widening of her eyes. She tried to flit around Rhys blocking her, but before she could get much further, she was stopping by an offending hand on her bicep.

"You were talking about the master bath?" Rhys prompted, megawatt smile pasted to his face, "I can show you some of the extra amenities. Come with me."

"I'm sorry—um—" Another glance over his shoulder had Harry striding towards them, decidedly forgoing his control in favor of pulling her away from this man, even if he left some broken bones in the wake.

Rhys gave a dismissive wave over his shoulder, "Mr. Styles can come too, but he's already seen the listing. I want to show you some of the renovated features."

Using that grip on her arm, Rhys twirled (Y/N) around, hand landing on the small of her back to lead her where he wanted. That had Harry reaching out to grab the offending arm, hopefully to break the bones underneath, but he was stopped by the look his bonded gave him.

It was the curl of her brows and soft set of her mouth that told him he needed to calm down. As much as she would love to not have this man's hands on her, there was no reason for Harry to hurt someone so detrimentally. His hands fell into fists at his side, fuming as he fell into stride behind them, just barely realizing Rhys had been chattering away about what kind of tiles lined the shower.

Taking a deep and unnecessary breath, Harry condemned himself to lean into the threshold as he saw (Y/N) being led into the bathroom, having successfully shook her arm out of Rhys's grip and out of his reach without him making it obvious he was trying to put his hands on her. She hummed and acknowledged whatever was coming out of the realtor's mouth while Harry made sure to gauge every minute detail of her reactions. More than anything, she looked bored. If for even a second he saw a tinge of panic or her comfort being taken, he was going to step in. He'd pay for whatever damage he made to the chateau.

"What do you think? It's a little small than I'm used to working with, but it's very Parisian without dealing with the city," Rhys tried to sell to her, leaning a little too close into her space than Harry would have liked.

"I—It's really nice," she told him, looking to Harry, "What do you th—"

"Mr. Styles usually likes much bigger estates," Rhys interrupted, as if (Y/N) wouldn't know, "Besides, he's a very nice friend for gifting you the chateau, but its up to you and what you think."

Maybe Harry should have stepped away for a moment. (Y/N) was more than capable of taking care of herself and putting a stop to this stupid conversation, but in that moment he could have sworn his feet were rooted to the floor. While Rhys's prodding could have been deemed innocent naivety, Harry knew better. He was prodding for information, wanting to know where he could wedge in next to (Y/N).

"Oh, he's—uh—he's actually my—"

"She's my wife."

Harry's deadpan voice broke through the bathroom, causing Rhys to swivel around as if he didn't know there was a third in the room. Knowing he was caught, a flush rose to his skin, arms folding behind his back. Rhys shied away from Harry's eye contact, especially so as he stepped over the tiles towards (Y/N).

"Oh, I didn't know. She's not wearing any ring, my—"

"Does it matter?" Harry didn't have time to listen to floundering excuses. Of course, she wasn't wearing a ring, she was bonded to him by the soul. The technicality of a human marriage wasn't needed to make it clear they were entwined. A silly ring wasn't needed. (Unless she wanted one, of course, then he'd take her to his jeweler immediately).

Rhys flicked his eyes between the two of them, finally acknowledging the way (Y/N) fit herself effortlessly into Harry's side once she could flit herself away from the space he'd wedged her into by the wall. Harry's arm fit perfectly around her waist, a gentle squeeze being given to the curve—a touch that reassured him more than her in the moment.

Harry looked right into the pale blue eyes he decided he hated, feeling a little too smug seeing the way the man squirmed. ((Y/N) would have to wear that pastel hue again to get him to forgive it, but until then he vowed to hate it). "We've seen enough. Tell Charlana I would like another showing, and if she's not able to make it, to reschedule until she can. I would also like it to be very clear that this is the one and only time you will attempt to do business with us."

With that, Harry led her out of the space with a flourish, reveling in the way (Y/N) cuddled into his side with ease.

"Are you alright?" he asked once they were in the safety of his car, the gravel driveway crunching under the tires as he tore out of there.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I didn't like how he was touching me, but he was just more annoying than anything." Her voice was quiet as she settled into the leather seat, a sigh pushing out her chest before she deflated into the folds of her sweater.

"I didn't like how he was touching you either," Harry grumbled, reaching across the center console and fitting his hand in hers. A delicate squeeze was given along with the brush of his thumb over the back, just where Rhys had dared to kiss.

"Are you okay, H?" she peeped, twisting in her seat to give him the full of her glittery eyes, "I'm sorry I let him bother us—"

"No, do not apologize," he grumbled, "You were only being kind, do not tell me you are sorry. I am alright, I just think I hate him."

That had a peal of laughter falling from (Y/N)'s lips. "I can tell," she smiled, pulsing her hand around his, "I still really liked the chateau, though. I was hoping we could just explore it ourselves."

"I know," he softened, relaxing into the fine leather of his seat with the distraction of driving easing him along with the touch of his love, "I am going to tell Charlana we want it."

"Really?!" The way she bounced in her seat was well worth the annoyance he went through.

"Yes," he said, reciprocating her smile, "And while what he said bothered me, he is right that this is your space. This is for you more than it is for me. I will only accompany you if you so invite me."

"Wait," she sighed, sinking down with her mouth dropped into a small gape. Her heart had skipped a beat at his words. "Harry, you don't have to do that."

"I want to, my petal," he cemented, "We have Italy and the manor together, but I realized you do not have a space all to your own. I want to give that to you."

The soft of her lips pillowed against one another as she tried to find the words, a couple of moments passing as she opened her mouth only to close it once she didn't realize where she was going.

"I'll always want you to come with me, though," she whispered, voice a small murmur between them and the hum of the engine.

"You promise that?" he asked, a lopsided smile touching his features as he teased her. The more he heart the melody of her voice and concentrated on the baseline of her heartbeat, he lightened up.

"Of course," she smiled, leaning closer to him as her own teasing smile bunched at her lips, "I'm your wife, aren't I?"

He should have known she wasn't going to let that one go, even if she was attempting to feign it as a tease instead of something he could hear making her heart skip a beat. "And, I'm your husband. Formal ceremony or not, I believe our commitment warrants the title."

"Me too," she agreed with a honey sweet smile, the bloom of her eyes warming him more than any bit of her neck could ever give. She softened some as she traced her gaze over his profile, feeling her linger over the angle of his nose. "Really, though. I don't want to be here if you're not with me. Thank you for wanting me to have my own space, but I want this to be our home. Wherever I go, I want you there, too."

If his heart could squeeze and stutter, this would be the moment it would have pounded out of his chest in search of its lover. "Thank you, petal."

As much as Harry was easily bothered by days like this, there was nothing that could soothe him like she did. All he needed was a quick glance in his passenger seat to see her gazing at him with adoration in her eyes, her hand in his, and his bite on her neck.

He'd go wherever she wanted him.

—————

idk if hes all that jealous in this and its also significantly shorter than most of my stuff but I hope its alright!!! thank you sm for reading and to whoever requested this, sorry for any mistakes and if you have any ideas or requests of your own please send them in!

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kieran-granola · 7 months

Note

for post-kinktober prompts—how do you feel about jaytim & a predator/prey dynamic? the particulars of that are in your hands, especially since you’ve yet to write a fic i didn’t enjoy <3

The sweat dripping from Tim’s hair stings his eyes with salt.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been running, but it’s been a while since he gave up on presentability. His lungs are burning. The ambient noise of the city has been swallowed by the beating of his heart in his ears. Every step he takes turns his body heavier and heavier, and he can tell that it won’t be long before it fails him altogether. He leaps from one building to the next on shaky legs, the taste of iron rich in his mouth—

A hard body collides into him mid-air.

His assailant plucks him out of the sky with an easy strength that reminds him of Kon. Tim tries to use their momentum to roll away when they land — to escape, not to fight, not this time, not when he's so obviously outmatched — but he fails. His head spins as he finds himself pinned to the rooftop on his belly, panting into the gravel with his arms twisted behind his back.

“Gotcha,” the Red Hood hums into his ear, the modulated voice coldly steady.

Tim’s heart quickens impossibly. Fuck. He’s been caught. There’s no way for him to free himself, not without breaking something. He should have left his pride behind and called Batman and Robin for help. He should have run for Cass's patrol route instead of trying to reach his Nest. He should have done anything but try to outrun the Hood on his home turf.

He hears a click and a hiss behind him, then the sound of Jason's helmet hitting the ground. He scrunches his eyes shut on instinct as Jason leans down to lick his cheek. His tongue is warm and wet. By contrast, the air feels freezing when it hits the trail of saliva on Tim's skin.

“You gave me a good chase, little bird," Jason praises. His luminescent eyes give the night an unsettling green glow. "It's going to make taking you all the more enjoyable."

"You can't do this," Tim tries. "You won't get away with it."

Jason laughs. "Yeah? Who's going to stop me?"

"Batman knows where I am. You know that."

Jason ties Tim's wrists together with the ease of practice. He finds the closure of Tim's suit without a hint of hesitation and pulls the zipper down far enough to expose his throat and the curve of one shoulder.

"And where are you? On your territory. Two blocks away from your own bed. Do you think he'll be worried when he sees that your tracker has stopped moving here?"

"There are cameras everywhere."

"Not in the Alley, there aren't."

Jason straddles Tim's thighs, his weight heavy and foreboding. Leather whispers behind Tim's back, then Jason's hands find his throat. They don't linger, but the threat of suffocation is enough for his pulse to spike… right before humiliation blooms in his stomach as he realizes that Jason is collaring him.

"You can't just—You can't just claim me like this. Let me go."

"Birdie, I caught you. I'll do whatever I damn well please."

The collar falls into place, its buckle burningly cool against Tim's nape. Tim's body goes pliant as a wave of submission crashes into him.

So this is it, then.

He lost.

Oh, of course, he could hurt himself. Thrash, bite, fight like a trapped wolf gnawing its own paw off. He could spit and scream, and hope for anyone to stumble on them. But he's so tired. His head goes fuzzy as the last dredges of adrenaline fail him, and he lets the buzz fill him from head to toe.

Jason hums in approval. Then, with a possessive growl, he sinks his teeth into Tim's exposed shoulder.

———

(Later, when they're done, the collar will come off. Jason will help Tim clean himself up, and massage his sore arms. He'll carry him to their shared bed and compensate for chasing him and fucking him to exhaustion by feeding him and holding him safe and sound.

He'll be kind, considerate, and tame. Nothing like the ruthless predator Tim asked him to be.

But Tim will remember the chase. He'll remember the fear, the exhilaration, and the rush of submission. He'll remember being owned, and helpless in all the ways he never dared to want.

And somewhere, deep down, he'll hope that his skin will hold the shape of Jason's teeth and remember it too.)

#jason todd #tim drake #jaytim #predator/prey #or some attempt at it? maybe i should have made it kemonomimi #i don't go here I don't KNOW #kieran writes

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theresa-of-liechtenstein · 10 months

Text

looking through my notes for every point a pressure point and i found the 1.6k word mini-scenes i had to cut out of chapter 13 to get it down to 7.1k—since i don't really have any need anymore for this deleted scene in particular, i might as well put it up here.

it's douglas and theresa arguing after douglas gives her the ultimatum (if you've read rivalfic then you know what i'm referring to. if not... i suppose that gives you incentive to read the rivalfic.)

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Theresa snapped—but as the words left her mouth, her stomach fell; she knew she had said the wrong thing. “I mean…” she tried to rectify, feeling her face grow uncomfortably hot, but it was too late.

“You probably will not want to explain yourself. You say I don’t know what I’m talking about?” Douglas’ voice was ominously calm, and somehow it was infinitely worse than if he had lost his temper and shouted. Theresa almost—no, she definitely wished he had shouted at her instead. Never mind the embarrassment of being heard among the driver motorhomes: if he were shouting at her, she could take it better than what he was doing now. She’d been shouted at enough times her whole life, she was used to it; now, Douglas’s voice was low, his tone hushed and swaying, and oh my God, her heart was actually trying to break out of her chest, the way it was throwing itself against her breastbone to escape Douglas’s terrifying tranquility.

Theresa fumbled behind her for something to hold, found the edge of the table that was mounted into her motorhome’s floor, and gripped it hard to keep herself from shaking all over. “I didn’t mean…”

“Theresa,” Douglas interrupted coldly, and his use of the name she had been given, where he had always, always used the name she had chosen—that hurt like a bitch. “You do not have the privilege to lie to me.”

Theresa glued her mouth shut; her eyes were blown wide and tearless as she stared at her engineer in utter silence. The urge to cry was overwhelmingly smothered by the sheer fear running through her veins, the very same feeling she got after a spin, or skidding through a gravel trap, or ending in a wall.

A million things racing through her head—impulses jumping along her nerves, making the hair on her arms stand on end.

How much she wished she hadn’t said what she had about him.

How irrational this all was, for Douglas to see her fix one of the biggest mistakes of her life, and then have the nerve to scold her for doing so.

How paranoid Douglas was, to believe the whole world was out to get him; how unfair it was, for him to try to impose that belief on her.

But surpassing all of these was the biggest, most crushing fear of all—that for whatever reason that she didn’t even understand, what she had said warranted Douglas’s loss of respect for her:

How far they had to fall, from something that had been so incredibly good.

And then her eyes began to smart, and of course, someone chose that exact moment to rap once on the motorhome door and swing it open without being admitted; Martin stood at the doorway, his exuberant smile quickly sliding off his face once he took in what was happening inside.

“Tes—” he started, then saw Douglas, then saw Theresa crowded up against the table, then looked quickly between the both of them again, then momentarily thought to step outside, then immediately thought better of it and fully admitted himself into the room.

“Tessa,” he said, totally ignoring Douglas, who had averted his gaze from either of them. “You’re needed in the team motorhome. For the dinner,” he finished lamely.

Right. The team dinner.

It felt very hollow now.

Some birthday this was.

#em writes #every point a pressure point

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 4 years

Text

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

Pairings: Arvin Russel x Fem!Christian!Reader

Summary: Arvin knew he shouldn’t have left you alone with that new preacher...

Warnings: Sexual assault, physical assault, cursing, Teagarden being a perv, really nothing out of the ordinary for this movie.

Word Count: 5250

_________________________

“Arvin! Stop!” You giggled, pushing your boyfriend off of you as he nibbled up and down your neck. There wasn’t anything sexual about it, he just loved to hear you laugh and he knew how much the action tickled your skin. “You’re so annoyin’!” You laughed, cheeks flushed red as you gently pressed on his head to try and move it.

He pressed himself up, looking down at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever lay his eyes on. Arvin was straddling you, his knees trapping your hips beneath him. A hand was placed on either side of your head and he looked down at you, “But you’re so pretty when you laugh.”

“Oh? And I’m ugly all the rest of the time?” You asked jokingly, hands reaching up stroke up and down his arms.

Arvin leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before pulling away ever so slightly, hovering just above your lips. Both of your guys’ eyes were still closed as if it were a romantic moment until he whispered, “Ugly as a mule.”

You both busted up laughing and you shoved him, his body rolling onto the blanket beside you, “I’m breaking up with you.” You teasingly told him.

“Ah, c’mon. You know you love me.” He looked over at you, loving how the autumn sun lit up your features.

“I tolerate you. Don’t get it mixed up.” You rolled your head over to see him already admiring you. Your smile got bigger when you locked eyes with him.

“Well I love you.” Arvin admitted sweetly, bringing a gentle hand to your cheek and kissing you one more time.

Arvin made you feel beautiful and special and safe, all those things that no boy had ever made you feel. He always had. Even when you were children back in middle school and neither of you really talked to each other, when you saw him around the halls, a peace just settled over you that made you feel like you were on top of the world. When the two of you began dating ten months ago, that never changed.

“I love you too.”

The two of you laid back against the yellow blanket with little orange flowers on it, the one that you’d taken from the linen closet back home. This was yours and Arvin’s favorite place, a little clearing in the woods. The grass was tall enough to be soft but not so tall that it hid critters. Flowers lined the edge of the woods in the spring. It wasn’t springtime now but that only meant that instead of a display of white and yellow flower buds, the pair of you had a beautiful show of brilliant reds and oranges from the falling leaves.

Everyone in town knew you were together. Word spread fast around Coal Creek and it was nearly impossible to hide anything. Your families were both supportive of the relationship. Emma loved that you were involved with the church and put effort into the community when you could, often participating in bake sales around town. She liked to tease that you won Arvin over with your “man catching apple cobbler” as she now called it, since he officially asked you to be his girlfriend over a slice of the delicious dessert after a Sunday service.

Your parents liked Arvin as well. Even after Fred Dinwoodie had told your dad about what Arvin had done to Gene, it surprisingly made him like Arvin more. “You got yourself a good man who knows right from wrong and ain’t afraid to stand up for the people he loves.” Was what he’d said, which had surprised you. You knew that Arvin had beaten all the boys right after he’d done it, since he came to you to help him calm down and ice his knuckles. You were terrified for your parents to find out, though, sure that they’d tell you to break up with him for fear of violent tendencies. Thankfully, that day never came.

It was nice out there, bundled up in a warm brown coat, laying on Arvin’s chest, and watching the leaves fly across the crisp sky in the breeze.

“We should probably get headin’ back.” You said reluctantly, pushing yourself up to sitting.

“Why’s that?” Arvin perched on his elbow to watch you tighten the jacket around your frame, a cool breeze hitting just right.

“The new preacher asked me to come by this afternoon. Said he needed help planning a fundraiser to raise money for the less fortunate families in town.” You traced a finger over his knuckles gingerly, small pink marks littering his knuckles from his attack on Dinwoodie and his boys still healing over.

“Ain’t you one o’ them less fortunate families in town?” He asked, trying to find a way to talk you out of this. Ever since Preston Teagarden had humiliated Emma on his first day, Arvin had it out for the man.

You scoffed with a chuckle, “Yeah, but you are too and your grandma is still always bringin’ stuff to church. Just cause I’m broke as shit doesn’t mean I can’t try to help other people who are broke as shit.”

Arvin stood up with you and helped you fold up the blanket, “I just don’t like that new preacher. Somethin’s off about ‘im.”

“I agree that he was totally out of line callin’ your grandma out like that two weeks ago but I’d like to think that maybe I can talk to him about it.” The two of you began to walk back to Arvin’s car, grass swishing under your steps.

Arvin’s face twisted, “I just don’t trust the man. He’s always up there on that damn stage actin’ all high ‘n mighty every Sunday like he ain’t done nothin’ wrong.” He reached forward and opened your door for you, closing it after you slid onto the seat. He walked around the car and got into the driver’s seat.

“He’s a sinner like the rest of us. It’s just about doing what you can to make yourself better.” You responded, looking over at Arvin sweetly. He gave you a skeptic look and sighed deeply as he turned his attention back to look towards the road. With one hand on the steering wheel, he slid his free hand over to hold yours gently. The rest of the drive was in comfortable silence, with the exception of the radio quietly playing in the background.

Arvin loved you. He really really loved you. You generally had your wits about you, a heck of a lot more than most of the girls in Coal Creek, not allowing your religion to totally cloud your vision. You were a good girl, good enough to make his grandma happy and not cause too much trouble around town, always helping those in need, but not so pious that you made everyone else around you feel like a sinner. You were still fun, you still made mistakes. Arvin felt like you were something between ethereal and real, somehow elevating him as a person but also showing him just how good life could be.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but feel like you were making a mistake with this preacher. Of course, with your caring nature, you would help him, especially knowing it was for the poor folks in town. But something about Teagarden just made Arvin’s skin crawl. He just couldn’t put his finger on it…

The tires rolled to a crunching halt on the gravel outside of the church. The graveyard to the side looked dark and gloomy as always, the cloud of loss looming over almost everyone in this town in one way or another. The church, though, stood small and humble in the field, white paint chipping after years of weathering.

“Thank you for the ride.” You leaned over and pecked Arvin on the cheek.

He let out a heavy sigh, “You really sure you don’t just want me to take you home?”

You rolled your eyes at him with a sweet smile on your face, “Yes, I’m sure. It’ll be fine, Arv, but thank you for the concern.” Opening the door, you climbed out, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“What? No. I’m givin’ you a ride home.” Arvin looked offended that you even suggested such blasphemy.

“I don’t want you to have to drive all the way back here for me and I don’t know how long this’ll take. Besides, I don’t live too far from here.” You shook your head, leaning against the open door.

Arvin raised his eyebrows, “What kind of man would I be if I let you walk home alone at night? I’m givin’ you a ride home ‘n that’s final. I have to run to the market anyways to get some stuff for my grandma so I’ll just do that ‘n come back here for ya.”

With loving warmth welling up in your chest, you leaned into the car, holding onto the roof for balance, while you kissed him on the lips, “I’ll see you in a few then.”

Pulling yourself back out of the car, you closed the door and waved before spinning to walk towards the church. Looking behind you, you gave Arvin one final wave before disappearing through the door.

The church was empty, though you expected nothing less on a Saturday afternoon. The pews were empty so you wandered into the building curiously. You closed the door behind you as you walked further in. “Hello? Reverend?”

Preston Teagarden approached from the door off to the side of the main stage, where his office had been located, “Y/N! Forgive me, I expected you to be a little bit later.”

You stopped in your tracks, “Oh, I’m sorry! You didn’t say an exact time. Just afternoon…” You chuckled awkwardly, suddenly feeling bad for arriving early.

“No, no, it’s no problem at all,” He waved his hand dismissively. Teagarden made his way down the aisle a few rows before stopping, “So from what I’ve heard, you are the one to talk to about fundraising”

Flattered, your cheeks turned a light shade of pink, “Oh, well I don’t know about that… I’ve done a few fundraisers but I wouldn’t say I’m the one to go to.”

“Nonsense, girl! I’m sure you’ll help plan something amazing. Now, why don’t you come over here and we can start talking about it.” He gestured towards the pew he was leaning on and waited for you to sit down before sliding in next to you.

Your legs crossed when you sat down, “So, I was thinking about this for a few days and the high school has a harvest festival every November. If we set up a bake sale, we could easily raise a few hundred dollars, at least. Everybody loves Mrs. Lyle’s lemon bars and I’m sure those alone could rake in a small fortune.” You giggled a little at your small joke and the preacher did as well.

As he did so, his arm slid behind your shoulder so smoothly, you almost didn’t notice at first. Almost. Though the action took you off guard, you chose to write it off. People had done this before to you platonically so this probably didn’t mean anything. Just a show of interest in what you had to say.

“Mmm, you’re makin’ me crave some sweets,” Teagarden chuckled, looking over his shoulder and then back around the room.

“Well I can guarantee that you won’t be disappointed. Coal Creek ain’t got much but if we got one thing, it’s some mighty good bakers.” You dug around in your bag that you’d brought, searching for the journal that you’d been planning this event out on, “I actually did some math and I was thinking… we could charge a dime per cookie or a dollar a dozen, yeah? And then maybe a quarter for a slice of pie and then a dollar twenty five for-”

The preacher stopped you, placing his hand on the notebook, “You really thought this out, huh? You sure are one smart girl there, Y/N. You go to the high school?”

The older man had scooched closer to you sometime during your ramblings and suddenly, you began to feel suffocated by his presence. His body was nearly flush against yours and his arm around your shoulders were trapping.

He’s a preacher, he wouldn’t do nothin’, you tried to convince yourself but Arvin’s voice came ringing in your ears: I just don’t like that new preacher. Somethin’s off about ‘im. Trying not to be obvious, just in case you were misreading things, you slid away from him just slightly to put some distance between your bodies. As you did so, however, Teagarden’s hand closed around your left shoulder, rubbing it firmly but gently.

Your eyes widened when you looked over at his grip and your heart began to pick up pace. “Yeah.” Your voice was shakier than you thought it would be.

“What are ya? Junior, senior? You look young… but definitely not a little girl.” His eyes raked tactically over your body. Your legs were shaped out well in your cuffed denim jeans and your white and pink striped boat neck long sleeve shirt was far from revealing but Preston was well aware of the way the stripes curved out of place over your breasts.

“Senior. I’ll be graduating this June.” Now your voice was solid and low, just teetering on threatening.

The preacher smiled, “Ah, ain’t that exciting. Such a smart pretty little thing going out into the real world. It’s good to see a nice Christian girl going out there but y’know, the real world is real bad. Believe you me. You gotta be real careful out there. Temptation and sin ‘round every corner. The devil hides himself, y’know? Wraps up all his evil and disguises it as everythin’ you ever wanted.”

“A wolf in sheep’s clothing.” You stated quietly but firmly, looking up to lock eyes with him. Arvin was right. Something was certainly off about this man and you were becoming more and more uncomfortable by the second.

Preston smiled proudly, “That’s right. Now, you gotta make sure you ain’t fallin’ into any o’ his traps.”

Your jaw clenched and your eyes darted around the room before landing in your lap, “I’d like to think I got a good ‘nough head on my shoulders to see Satan working in disguise.”

He tsked, “That’s a good start but you can’t go relyin’ on your own knowledge of the world. You need to let God tell you what’s right ‘n wrong. Trust in Him.” His hand on your shoulder shook you slightly for emphasis while his other pointed upwards towards Heaven.

There was a brief moment of silence in which you could have heard a pin drop before he spoke again, “How is your walk with God?”

You looked over at him with narrowed eyes, “It’s alright. Could be better but everyone’s could, I s’pose.”

“I agree,” Preston’s leg started bouncing and he looked towards the front of the church, where he typically stood preaching, “E’ryone could walk a little closer. Myself included.” He gestured to the front of the church, “Why don’t we pray? C’mon over here.”

He stood up and walked up to the head of the room, just below the cross. Cautiously, you followed him. “I like to think as a man of God, I can do some of His work. Or rather put the good word out there and try to save as many souls as possible. Why don’t you get on your knees? Lemme pray for ya.”

A shiver ran through your spine as you knelt down on shaky knees, eyes going up to the large black cross that hung on the wall. Please, Lord, get me out of this. You prayed silently.

Preston stood behind you, his hands coming to your shoulders as he began, “Lord, today we pray for Y/N and her excursions into the world as a young woman. Help her see through the devil’s delusions and guide her through this world. Lord, I pray that you see Y/N in everything that she is as she dedicates her whole self to you. Give her strength, amen.”

“Amen.” When your eyes slid open, your whole body was shaking.

“So you say you got some good judgement?” Preston asked as you stood up, “Say you walk in the light?”

“I try to but we all have our slip ups.” You answered humbly and honestly, avoiding his eye contact.

Preston hummed, “I seen you with that Russell boy. Y’all going steady?” Silently, you nodded in response. “There’s a lot of temptation in relationships like that.”

It was clear what he was insinuating and it actually made you mad. What right did he have to be poking around in your romantic and sexual life? “Has he ever touched you?”

The bluntness of his question hit you like a rock, “With all do respect, Reverend, that ain’t really none of your business.”

He put his hands up in surrender, “I don’t mean to pry. I’m just concerned ‘bout that boy dragging you down into temptation. Sullying your position with the good Lord, ‘n all.”

“Arvin is a perfectly respectful man. He ain’t draggin’ nothin’ or nobody down.” Your voice was getting more aggressive.

“So he hasn’t touched you? He hasn’t seen you…”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Like I said, that ain’t none of your business. Thank you for your concern for my soul but what Arvin and I do is between us and the Lord. I don’t need no middle man reverend to redeem me.”

He shrugged, “But you know, one of the best ways to get right with the Lord is to surrender yourself. Fully.” He took a few steps towards you and your breathing hitched. There was a sexual tension in the air that made your skin crawl.

“I’ve already given my life to the Lord.”

You weren’t giving in quite as easily as Preston had expected. Those other girls, Lenora and Jeanette Reaster, had been easily manipulated into giving Preston what he wanted. Just tell them they were unclean and needed to get right with the Lord and right into his trap they fell but you… you were different. Smart in the worldy kind of way. You were the first girl to give him a hard time but Preston would be lying if he said he didn’t like the chase.

You were staring daggers at him, your jaw clenched, and your body standing tall and strong. It was almost as if you were trying to prove a point. You could have run, could have darted out screaming about what had happened, but you didn’t. There was no proof and Preston knew it. This was how he got away with it all. No proof, all words and small touches that were just innocent enough to be misread. It wasn’t until he got them in the backseat of his car or in the office in the back of the church that he actually touched them but by then, it was consensual. Sure, for Lenora and Jeanette there was the issue that they were minors but that was the fun of these little towns like Coal Creek, The girl always took the fall. It was always her fault. Preston could get off scotch free and he knew it. He loved it.

Almost like something out of a movie, he reached down and gently settled one hand on your hip and the other on your cheek, pressing his lips against yours without giving you a chance to object. You yelled indignantly against lips but when he pulled away, the hand on your cheek moved to cover your mouth. Preston leaned in close to your ear and whispered, “I am an extension of the Lord’s work. Surrender yourself to me fully to surrender yourself to Him.”

Arvin watched as you walked into the church with a distrusting pang in his gut. There was just something about that reverend that didn’t sit right. It killed him to watch you leave, knowing that you were alone in there with him.

But he also knew you were a big girl. The logical part of his brain kept screaming at him that he was being irrational. The reverend was probably an okay enough guy. He’d never be number one or even number twenty on Arvin’s list of favorite people but that didn’t necessarily mean that the preacher would kill your something. Besides, Arvin really did need to run to the market. Lenora had requested some pecans for a pie she wanted to bake and his grandma needed more milk. It would be a quick trip as town was just a short drive down the street.

Reluctantly, Arvin backed out the driveway and sped off down the street.

The entire time that Arvin was at the market, there was an unsettling tingle all around his body. It got harder to ignore as more time passed. The longer he left you with Teagarden, the worse he felt.

“Just these.” Arvin threw a bag of pecans and a gallon of milk on the counter and paid for it quickly, rushing back to his car. He wouldn’t be having these feelings for no reason. Best case scenario, you were absolutely fine and Arvin was just being paranoid. Worst case scenario… Arvin couldn’t think about it because every time he thought of one, another worse one popped into his brain.

It had only been about twenty minutes since Arvin left you alone with the preacher. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how long planning a fundraiser would take. Church activities had never been his thing but he supported you as long as it made you happy.

He sat in the car in the church parking lot, lighting up a cigarette to calm his nerves. Arvin’s leg bounced anxiously as he watched yet another late autumn storm roll in. The clouds cast a dark gloominess, turning the minimal light left from the mostly set sun a shade of grey.. There Arvin sat for another five minutes, awaiting your exit from the building but it never came.

Fuck it. Arvin twisted his hat on straight and threw the door open, nearly stomping out. He couldn’t put his finger on it but something was wrong. He could feel it.

Sure enough, when he threw the door open, he was horrified. Preston Teagarden had you locked in a tight embrace, his hands running over your breasts. The two of you were standing in the middle of the aisle, right in the center of church. You had a furious look on your face, “I swear to God you touch me like that again and I’ll cut your damn dick off!” You gripped desperately at his hand that was groping you, trying to pry it away but to no avail.

The sound of the door swinging open was enough to draw both yours and Teagarden’s attention. “Get your fuckin’ hands off her!” Arvin wasted no time running into the conflict. Teagarden dropped you and your knees buckled from the unexpected action, landing you on the ground.

He put his hands up in surrender, “Hey, now, let’s talk about this like real men.”

Arvin threw one solid swing to his chin, sending his head flying sideways, “You ain’t no real man. Real men don’t gotta go around gropin’ girls to get off, you sick fuck!” Another punch landed on his opposite cheek and it sent Teagarden to the ground.

You scurried away from him and stood up just ahead of Arvin. Preston cowered, hiding his face, “Please, please, have mercy.” His pleading eyes went from Arvin to you and he lingered on your gaze, knowing that he had a better chance with the mercy approach with you.

He found none. Even with his blood smeared face, his teeth stained crimson, and the way his body shook, you just scowled down at him, “I’m gonna tell e’ryone in this town what a disgustin’ man you are. You think you can get away with this, you’re dead wrong.” You sent a swift kick straight to his stomach, making him curl into the fetal position with a loud groan of pain.

But then he laughed. He actually laughed.

“What’s so damn funny?” You and Arvin both spat in unison, blood boiling.

Preston laid his head back and closed his eyes, an almost serene look of confidence contrasting the blood that covered him and the swelling of his lip, “Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to me. You came to visit the church after hours under the guise of helping me with a fundraiser. But then you used your womanly charms to try and seduce me, a married man of God.”

“That ain’t what happened!” Arvin yelled angrily, fists clenched by his side.

When the words left the preacher’s mouth though, your heart dropped. You knew the truth, Arvin knew the truth, the reverend knew the truth. But none of that mattered if the Reverend told everyone his concocted story because he was a man of God. Why would he lie?

A sadistic smile spread across his face, “It is if I say it is. Ain’t nobody gonna believe two teenagers over a preacher.”

“He’s right.” Your voice faltered as you spoke, nearly coming out as a shattered whisper. When Arvin looked over at you, your face had paled and you looked utterly broken.

It wasn’t so much that the assault itself was enough to break you, though, of course, it had definitely left you with the lingering ghosts of his filthy hands on your body. It was the fact that you knew he’d get away with it, that no matter what you or Arvin said, the town would believe Teagarden.

Arvin swallowed hard, trying to see through the blinding rage. As a boy, he never truly understood the bias that women faced when they were victims of sexual assault- how it was perceived as their faults in towns like this. It had never happened to anyone he knew so he never had much reason to think about it. Now, you were forced to live with knowing that you assailant was going to keep his position as a fucking preacher in town and that you couldn’t do anything about it.

Arvin wouldn’t let it stand.

He stomped forward yet again and knelt over Teagarden, sending blow after blow into his face. Bone crunched bone with a disgusting crack with every hit and you flinched every time.

Your eyes were wide with terror. Arvin’s violent past with Gene Dinwoodie and his boys was not unknown to you. You were the first person he’d gone to after the attack, in fact, and you’d actually supported him for the most part, only wishing that maybe he didn’t send them all to the hospital and only roughed them up a bit. Actually watching him beat someone to the brink of death though was something else entirely.

“Stop!” The word left your mouth before you even knew you’d thought it.

Arvin stopped and looked over his shoulder at you in surprise. He was doing this for you after all.

“Don’t kill ‘im. Please.” You begged, your voice heavy.

“What?” Arvin wasn’t actually sure what he’d intended on doing to the preacher. Sure, he wanted to kill him. That horrified, angry look in your eye as he touched you made a fire burn in him so bright, he didn’t know if it could be put out. But Arvin had never wanted to be a killer. He only wanted to prove a point and make sure that the message stuck. Now that he thought about it, though, he would have to finish the job or the preacher would tell him he’d attacked him.

Your eyes were almost brimming with tears, though none fell. This whole evening had been too much. First the assault and now watching the love of your life throw his good conscience away for you. You wanted the preacher to pay as much as he did but this just didn’t feel right.

“P-please… I don’t want you takin’ the fall for none o’ this. He don’t deserve to die but I think a good beatin’ will give him some time to reevaluate ‘imself.” You’d walked towards Arvin and placed a warm hand on his shoulder.

Arvin couldn’t fathom why you’d be protecting this monster. The question was clear all over his face. Why?

“I’m not asking you to stop for him. I’m asking you to stop for you. I don’t want you to have blood on your hands for me. Not for this.” His heart broke seeing you look the way you did, your eyes shining with tears, and your hand a little shaky. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you more.

Arvin grabbed the preacher off the ground by the collar and pulled him up almost a foot, leaning down to get in his disfigured face, “If I ever hear that you went near Y/N or any other girl again, I will find you and kill you. If you so much as look at her again, I will kill you. And if you tell anyone what happened here tonight, I will fucking kill you. You understand? Consider it that mercy you kept beggin’ for.”

He dropped the preacher gracelessly with a thud and wrapped an arm comfortingly around you. For a moment, he was scared that you’d flinch away. You’d never seen him when he let his anger get the best of him and he preferred to keep it that way. He didn’t want you to think that he was a violent man because he really wasn’t. Arvin just cared for a special few so much that he’d do anything for them. He’d never hurt someone he loved though and needed you to know that.

Thankfully, you leaned into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder as he walked you back to his car, leaving the preacher an unconscious mess in the middle of the church. When you exited the building, night had fallen upon Coal Creek, casting a fitting darkness over the town.

“Thank you.” You said simply and quietly, looking over at Arvin sincerely on the drive home.

“For what?”

“For everything. Just bein’ who you are.” You paused with a heavy sigh, “But promise me something?”

Arvin looked over at you, taking his eyes off the road for just a second to show you he was listening.

“Promise me you won’t go gettin’ yourself in trouble for me.”

He shook his head, “He deserved-”

“I know what he deserved,” You interrupted, “And I am so grateful that you stepped in to help. But I don’t want you gettin’ yourself thrown in jail or killed for me.”

There was short silence before Arvin looked over with the most sincere look you think he’d ever given you, “I can’t promise that. ‘M sorry, Y/N, but if I ever see you in danger, I’m gonna do what I need to do.”

It wasn’t the response you’d been hoping for but this boy had the ability to make you feel more loved than anyone else you knew. You only wished he understood that you only wanted what was best for him, just like he did for you. “I love you, Arvin.” You admitted, sliding across the seat to lay your head against his shoulder while he drove.

“I love you too.”

#arvin #Arvin Russell #arvin rus #arvin russel imagines #arvin russel x reader #arvin russel x you #arvin russel x y/n #arvin russel imagine #tom holland #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tdatt #tdatt fics #tdatt imagine

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thewritteninferno · 2 years

Text

Mechanical Hearts

Genres: Romance/Angst

This writing is inspired off of a prompt by @ghostly-prompts . You can find the prompt here. Thank you, @ghostly-writer, for this fantastic prompt. It inspired me as soon as I read it.

________Starting of prompt

Mechanical butterflies

Fluttering and spinning

Trapped Within

Her Stomach.

________Ending of prompt

It was supposed to be easy.

Taking her away, cursing her, making her love him against her will. Enchanting her to love him was supposed to be easy. It was supposed to make him feel whole because, no matter what, he had her love.

Her fingers intertwined in his as they sat on the luxurious dark couch. She leaned in close to him, pressing her delicate lips against the cold skin of his cheek. She was warm.

"I love you."

It was fake.

He felt fucking sick.

A rush. A run to the bathroom. And then he was throwing up. Vomit flooding the sink, the stench burned his eyes. His stomach gutted up and coiled in disgust.

His hands wrapped around her waist. She held into his shoulders tight as they danced and moved and turned and moved and turned. And then stopped and bowed. And then turned away, all too artificially.

His movements were always cold, calculated. But before, hers had always been fluid like water. She was unpredictable and spontaneous.

Now, she moved just like him. Robotically.

With a swish of his hand, the mess at the sink disappeared. He turned on the faucet with shaky hands and splashed icy water against his face. He didn't dare look at the mirror in front of him.

If he did, he was sure he would see a monster.

"Do you love me?"

She looked up at him from where she was crouched, watering the flowers in front of his house. She used to never water his flowers, chastising him for not watering them and then forcing him to water them with his own hands. She never used to do it for him.

She flashed a dazzling, happy, fabricated smile. "Of course I do. Why would you ask that?"

He stripped himself of his button-down shirt and black trousers and got in the shower, turning the water on freezing cold in until his whole body went numb.

He wouldn't have any complaints if he froze to death right then.

He shoved her against the wall, hands tangled in her hair, lips on lips, movements hot and rushed and passionate. Her hands gently hung onto his shirt, her warm lips moving gently against his bruising movements, pulling away to kiss his cheek, his neck, and then his lips again, even gentler that she did before.

He pulled away, leaning down to her ear, his warm breath ghosting her cheek.

"I fucking love you. And it kills me that you won't let me fucking have you."

It was real and it was rare and it was raw when she really loved him and she really kissed him. It was the only time he knew she truly loved him. There was nothing robotic or predictable about that kiss.

It was the only real kiss he ever had with her.

Every kiss after that was a curse, a punishment for killing the girl that truly loved him and replacing her with a lovesick robotic carbon copy that clung to his every word.

He leaned against the shower wall, letting the water run down his back. At times like this, he wonders why he ever cursed her to love him in the first place. And then he remembered.

A warm blush flooded her cheeks and her breaths were soft and solemn. If he didn't know her better, he'd think she were crying.

"I can't be with you. I can't and I never will."

"Fuck." His fist violently collided with the tile wall of the bathroom, knuckled flinching and bruising under the impact.

"You're evil. You're everything I hate."

He pulled her in closer, kissed her harder and harder without realizing that he was suffocating her.

His affections were choking her.

She pulled back, heart thudding and pounding. He pressed his forehead against hers, pushing her further against the wall. "You can't be with me, huh? Are you sure about that?" His voice was velvet yet gravel. Cold yet burning. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, stuttering her breath.

Her voice was pleading. Almost begging. "You're too much for me. You'll never change for me, and I can't ever change for you. We're doomed and you know it --"

"You don't need anyone else but me." He shoved her gently but firmly against the wall, hands on her shoulders as if shaking her from a trance. "Fuck the people you work for, fuck the good guy act, fuck the whole Hero/Villain dynamic!" Her face reddened in anger.

"I can't just fuck them! They matter --"

"You're a bloody human being. You will have wants and desires that aren't going to be right. But who decides where it's right or not? Who says that you and I, that we, are wrong? Your Hero Agency?"

"Stop. Just -- just stop." She pushed him off of her forcefully, letting him stagger back a little. She pointed to herself.

"I am calling this wrong. I cannot be with someone that embodies everything I stand against. This passion we have doesn't matter to me more than my own morals.

We're wrong. I can't have you."

He took in deep breaths, in and out, letting the icy chill wash over him one more time before shutting off the shower.

"I love you.

I can't have you."

He dried himself with a tower, wrapping it around his lower body before leaving the bathroom and getting dressed again before exiting the — their — bedroom, moving to the kitchen and —

"I missed you." He felt arms wrap around from behind him and froze, flinching at the contact. His robotic lover didn't notice. After all, why would she? She was basically enchanted to adore him, programmed to love him, wasn't she?

He untwined her arms from his waist, turning around to face her. He stared at her with solemn, dark eyes. She couldn't see a difference in his gaze, only beaming at him brightly. "I'm sorry I'm late. I brought cake?"

He couldn't look at her the same, not as he looked at the real her.

He took her face in his palms and she leaned into the touch, butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

He could feel it.

Mechanical butterfiles fluttering in her stomach, programmed to make her heart race, make her face flush, make her hands jittery.

She leaned onto her tip-toes and placed a quick kiss against his cheek. "Come on. Time for some dessert."

He watched as she walked away from him, setting her bag down and opening up Red Velvet cake. His favorite.

It was all artifical, robotic. Mechanical.

But if he could have her long, just a little longer, it wouldn't matter, would it? Who cares if it's fake or real? She still loved him.

A mechanical heart still beats.

________

NOT A PROMPT.

#hero x villain #enemies to lovers #romance #angst #romance writing #dark hair #oneshot #brunette #response to prompt #forbidden love #enchantments #hate love #manipulation #dark

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anakinisvaderisanakin · 3 years

Text

Grudge; aka a young Jedi tries to drop a bridge on Vader’s head, and it goes about as well you’d expect (for the people out there who want to see Vader being the insanely powerful murder machine he is)

“This oughta buy me some time,” the young Jedi muttered to himself in relief, while he watched the reinforced foundations of the giant suspension bridge stretching across the gouge of which he found himself at the bottom begin to give way.

He strained every muscle in his body, sweat pouring in thick globs down his forehead as the sandstone structure rumbled and whined in protest, cracks appearing in intricate patterns as they traveled and expanded rapidly along the eroded sides. The suspension cables stabilizing the viewpoints that had been carved into the natural overhang of the rock at either side of the bridge’s anchor points had already snapped under pressure. Picking up tremendous speed, the man-made platforms came hurtling down both sides of the canyon - and with them gushed an abundance of loose boulders, rocks, pebbles and sand knocked free by the sheer power of impact. A cloud of golden brown dust rushed past the young Jedi, who fought to keep his eyes open and ignore the grains blurring his vision with tears and mud.

A tiny but sharp rock struck the side of the Jedi’s cheek hard enough to draw blood, and he winced, faltering momentarily but quick to regain his bearings. His gaze remained fixed upon the top of the bridge, and the supporting pillars shouldering its ornate design against the bedrock lining the sides of this artificial crevice mined in the sandstone. Once, this canyon had functioned as a floodgate system, the only reminders of its glorious past now being the saltwater dam waiting several miles downhill. That, and the dry, dusty and cracked salt lake desert resting beneath the young man’s feet. This had been yet another attempt by the Empire to exploit and deploit a new, untouched system for its natural resources. The flood delta upstream was all but dried out, its ancient trackways drained, abandoned and littered with wildlife carcasses. Yet another ecosystem destroyed by Imperial greed.

But Jedi Knight Jarl Oda hadn’t come to Jansenn to become an environmental activist, although he had been tempted to at the very least severely cripple the Imperial machinery ruling the system more than once. No, Oda had come to seek refuge. Like any other survivor of the temple massacre - if there were any left, and he’d like to prefer he was not alone when compared to the alternative - he had seen the message recorded by master Obi-Wan Kenobi. He’d narrowly escaped unseen, lingering clone troopers discussing their plan to execute all Jedi on sight aloud. Following a direct order, gunning down their own generals. Their own friends.

It was shocking, but Oda had never taken to blindly trusting the clones - master Krell had seen to that. In his formative years, and during the war, that had been considered a fatal flaw by the council. He had often butted heads with fellow Jedi Knights like Aayla Secura or Anakin Skywalker over his unwillingness to rely upon his troops. Now, he was beginning to think himself lucky for his suspicions. His master may have been punished, unjustly Oda would like to believe, for refusing to humanize expendable soldiers. He had survived only because of that inherent doubt in their reliability.

Finally, as Oda twisted both palms upwards; he took a wide stance for maximal leverage, closed both fists, and tugged. Hard. With unwavering determination and with everything he had in him, narrowed eyes still focused on the looming, black clad figure atop the bridge. The ominous shadow of a man didn’t move, even as the structure beneath his feet came undone in slow motion. He didn't seem particularly concerned by imminent death, not even when the final fortification shattered and the bridge came crashing down.

Oda was prepared for the shockwave when tonnes upon tonnes of solid rock collided with the manufactured flood bed; salt crystals propelled like projectiles in every direction. What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was just how powerful the impact would be. The Jedi had no time to steady or brace himself as the first shockwave set him off balance, and the second sent him flying. The cloud of debri whirled past him in a flurry, dragging his helpless body with it and Oda instinctively covered his face with both arms for protection.

The sound came a millisecond later. Earsplitting. A deafening explosive crack, like the roar of a thunderstorm and the detonation of a thousand bombs combined. The Jedi covered his ears with a whimper when pain pierced his ear drums. An ominous, distinct pop followed closely by a shrill, high pitched ringing settled in his temples and muted any further noises like a swab of cotton. Panting, the young man found himself feeling quite a bit less confident even as he groggily managed to get up on his knees. The dust cloud kicked up by the bridge’s collapse disoriented him, both sight and sound reduced by the blast. His body ached, and his arms trembled from the sheer extersion of bringing down such a large structure. Oda had never attempted a similar feat before, and had never even imagined he might need to.

Taking a couple of deep breaths, Oda at least figured he had time to recover. No one could have survived a two hundred foot drop into a durasteel reinforced salt lake canyon, with a fifty foot overpass crashing down on top of them. Not even this menace, whoever he was.

He had hunted Oda through the vacant landscape of Jansenn for 48 hours without yielding. The hunt had begun as a creeping suspicion, as a foreboding sensation of being watched. The Jedi had no clue who his assailant was, but rumours spoke of Imperial Force wielders trained specifically to trap and dispose of any remaining Jedi stragglers. Oda had made several good friends in the underbelly of the Galaxy these past couple of years since the fall of the Republic. Perhaps he had become careless, or perhaps the vigor with which the Empire pursued Jedi had grown exponentially. Either way, Oda had a target on his back and a price on his head that not even his friends could erase. It had been a matter of time, but he hadn’t expected these assassins to be so relentless in their pursuit.

Coughing, Oda spit up a garbled mix of salt crystals, saliva and blood. His head was spinning, and he staggered backwards when he stubbornly got up on his feet. The moment felt like it had lasted an eternity but it couldn’t have been more than half a minute. Even in his disoriented state, the Jedi noticed that the topmost sheen of debris was already fading, carried away by the dry acrid winds overhead. But that wasn’t what bothered Oda and drew his attention. As he wiped his nose, attempting to stall the gush of blood trickling from the left nostril, the colour was left drained from the man’s bruised face.

The entire midsection of the expansive, collapsed walkway appeared to be hovering. Oda blinked rapidly, not believing his eyes and with a growing dread setting in, he tried to write it off as a hallucination caused by sudden head trauma. As if whatever external force that was manipulating the levitating wreckage had read his mind; the thick fog of obliterated gravel, sand and salt perforating the air seemed to settle in an instant. There was nothing natural about the way in which every single airborne particle of dust laid down as neatly as if someone had smoothed it out with their hands. In an instant the air was crisp and clear. The sun’s blinding light spilled into the canyon, reflected by billions of salt lake crystals. With one, single synchronized swipe, a serene peace settled as the rubble littering the bottom of the complex was brushed aside to create a perfect pathway. Oda didn’t want to look, but he already knew the culprit behind the inexplicable bending of physics.

Where only a collapsed bridge should have been resting, crushing its passenger under its weight - stood the man Oda had hoped to destroy. One of his large hands was aimed in Oda’s direction, palm open facing him. The other was raised to about eye level in a tightly clamped fist. There was a slight tremble to that one balled hand, but in its Force grip, the man had successfully both blocked and abruptly stopped the remains of the falling bridge mid air before they could even touch the bottom of the canyon. Around his imposing figure laid the shattered marble pillars, the stone railings that had lined the walkway in pieces. Suspension cables hung from the carved sandstone that had supported the viewing platforms. In the midst of the chaos, the majority of the demolished structure remained suspended just a few feet above the mysterious man’s domed black helmet.

Oda could only stare, mouth wide open in horror. His feet seemed nailed to the ground. His eardrums still burnt, but the ringing had begun to subside and the uncanny, eerie silence of the scene was tense and overbearing, suffocating. Shifting slightly, the large, imposing figure of a man on a mission that stood before the young Jedi began to approach. His strides were slow and meticulous, but he didn’t falter. Oda’s gaze remained transfixed by the large chunk of stone still floating freely; its vast shadow blocking out the sunlight.

“Did you believe dropping a bridge on me would be a sufficient way of stalling my advances? I am afraid I must disappoint you. Now, shall we see how you enjoy a similar treatment?” the man rumbled, his voice sharp and its bark was a sinister warning.

Oda instantly realized what it meant, and he did his best to flee on wobbly, unsteady legs as the strange assassin crouched. The man brought his arm back to take perfect aim and in one flawless heave - he hurled the remains of the bridge at the boy full force. The distance was enough to allow Oda to dodge the majority of the formation heading for him, even as it broke apart along the way - but it was not enough to completely escape the explosion that sent shattered rock and gravel raining down on him when its proponent collided with the lake bed. Tumbling, the enormous limestones that had decorated the walkway seemed to chase the Jedi with unfathomable speed for something so substantial.

Oda glanced back, confident he was in the clear when he noted that he was gaining. He thought he might get away despite the burning in his lungs and the taste of iron and copper welling up in his throat - the salt he had inhaled scraping his airways from the inside. He even dared to smile - only to stumble on an unexpected depletion in the ground ahead. With a yelp, the Jedi lost his footing and tumbled forwards onto his palms and knees. Unable to break his fall, he rolled around; the sharp salt tearing holes in his clothes, digging deep into his flesh. A sickening pop and a snap was followed by a wet crack, and Oda came to a sudden stop.

Pain shot up the young man’s spine as he was unceremoniously pinned in place. Adrenaline pumping, Oda twisted halfway around and through the agony he soon realized that his right leg was locked in a vice between reinforced canyon floor and a chunk of the bridge’s support pillars.

The Jedi gulped down the urge to throw up, blood gushing from the multiple spots on his body the salt lake’s unforgiving bed had ripped up and rubbed raw. Nausea struck full on, as he attempted to push the remnants of what was once a craving appropriating the planet’s local population’s cultural, decorative art off of his mangled limb. To no avail, Oda’s hands shook and refused to stay still, blood painting the palms a deep crimson. He was trapped, backed into a corner, tears welling up in his eyes as the monster responsible for his suffering appeared over the crest of this brand new ridge of fallen rock he had created.

The man was impossibly tall, broad shouldered and carried himself with a dark pride. All black, his cape billowed behind him like a pair of giant wings as he crossed the distance between them with one leap. The grace behind it was jarring when linked to the man who had performed the feat. The man appeared to be regarding his handiwork, and there were no signs of strain or struggle within him. It appeared as if the immense power that fuelled the impressive Force wielding he had just performed didn’t so much as phase him.

“Let - let me go… I don’t h-have anything! I’ll disappear, just p-please,” Oda heard himself brokenly sniveling in between sobs and sniffles - put face to face with his own mortality, he found himself pathetic.

“You are as cowardly as every other Jedi. Tell me, how does it feel to look death in the eye?”

There was no malice or direct spite in the man’s deep voice, his wheezing respirator serving as an unwelcome third part invited to witness this mocking display. It triggered some kind of memory, but Oda couldn’t say what it was. Instead, the Jedi focused on the monster’s stoic face plate and how it seemed to emulate something akin to disgust, or distaste despite its perpetual aloofness.

Oda realized he was being treated if he wasn’t human, as if he was just a pest or a vermin this sinister man was looking to exterminate before continuing going about his day. The Jedi could picture this menace of a man going home as soon as he’d been dealt with, and never again think of him. Never again deliberate on his fate, never regret his death. Tears poured down the young man’s bruised, cut up cheeks, and he shook his head vehemently.

“Please, I - I’ll do anything…” he begged in vain, voice cracking mid sentence.

“You have nothing to offer me. I have no use for you, and even if I did, you would be the last person I would consider worthy of making an exception for.”

The man’s montone, almost bothered delivery changed with an uncanny ease. Suddenly, there was a tangible sense of contempt seeping through his mechanical, synthesized vocals.

“I… do I know you? I don’t understand.”

Oda had never sensed such unhinged, unadulterated hatred spilling from another human being. It was enough to taint the monster’s entire Force signature; infecting it like a virus, and the Jedi realized he had never in his life come across someone so deeply connected to the Dark Side. Still, as the tidal wires of agonizing pain continued to send his nervous system into shock and meltdown - the anguish only serving to heighten his awareness of this man’s loathing - the young man found himself perplexed through his terror. Something told him this was a personal vendetta.

A Sith Lord, master Krell had said once. When you meet one, you’ll know. That’s what this nameless, faceless menace was. A Sith Lord.

“No. You do not know me, and you never will. But I know you.”

The Sith Lord drew closer, with a superhuman speed to his calculated, menacing approach. Oda tried to rear back, but with his leg crushed, he could do nothing but whine as agony washed over him and kept him incapacitated. The Sith seized the young man’s temporary weakness as an opportunity, placing one large, heavy booted sole over the Jedi’s heaving ribcage. As the assassin applied pressure little by little, Oda gasped - finding himself nearly unable to draw breath and the panic that had been threatening to overtake his senses broke through.

“I don’t - no - I---” he tried to reason and plead, but his executioner-to-be would have none of it.

“Master Yoda would not have taught you this, but I happen to believe in an eye for an eye. And while it would be decent of me to play fair, I have good reason not to. You owe me an arm, but I believe I will take… your life.”

Oda’s eyes widened as he stared right into crimson red lenses of the face plate covering the Sith Lord’s face. It all came rushing back to him. The lectures in the temple halls, the relentless bullying he had spearheaded. He’d just been a kid himself, he hadn’t enjoyed the new kid’s natural talent with the Force. He hadn’t enjoyed the attention the kid had received, he had been driven by a childish jealousy. He had thought the boy had gotten over it, as they grew up.

Yes, Oda might have accidentally broken the kid’s arm in a wrestling match. Yes, he might not have meant it when he’d said sorry and apologized at the time. Yes, they had gone on missions together when they had both been knighted. Yes, they had shared some sort of friendly connection on Ilum. Still, the kid had always been prone to holding grudges til the end.

Heart dropping into the pit of his belly, the Jedi instantly realized the identity of this Sith Lord. He didn’t doubt he would have died even without the personal connection, and it all made sense. Of course it was that kid who had turned on the Jedi council and their teachings. Of course it was that kid who had slaughtered the younglings in cold blood, who had brought about the Empire’s rise to power. Of course it was that kid, whomst master Kenobi would never sell out by name. That kid, who was excused and forgiven again and again.

Of course it was Anakin Skywalker.

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kawaiijohn · 3 years

Text

DP Angst Week Day One: Birth/Creation

Ao3: here!!

Wc: 1463

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The Abyss

Waking up without any idea where you are is a pretty prevalent fear for many, and for others it's nothing more than the aftermath of a baller pub crawl.

However, most don't find themselves surrounded by a vast swirling void of lime highlighter green when they wake.

The first thing they noticed was the barren hunk of rock they'd woken up on. Grey and deep violet, yet still surrounded by the swirling neon green skies.

'Either there's a storm comin' or I'm not 'in Kansas' anymore...'

They tried to think about how the hell they ended up here, wracking their brain for any small detail, but they realized they couldn't remember anything. Not their name, nor their age- nothing was coming to them. They knew 'they' was right and so was 'he'; the words felt right, even if there was no name to match.

The more he thought, however, the more his head began to swim. There was nothing before they'd opened their eyes this morning. Or was it night? Evening??

Time didn't seem to matter here.

The toxic sky made it impossible to tell what time it was, and the purple and grey soil they were standing on made them assume they were possibly on a different planet.

What kinds of things might even live here? If anything does live here, that is. Alien life had to exist, right? We hadn't contacted them yet due to both distance and technological incompatibilities... Something clicked, filling in a blank.

'I believe that's referred to as 'The Fermi Paradox'.

He blinked, not knowing where the phrase came from. How could he recall a niche scientific theory but couldn't even recall what he'd been doing the night before??

He was panicked- trying to remember anything; his age, birthday, zodiac sign... was he a Scorpio or a Gemini? Maybe he was a cusp or something interesting...

He had to know something else... Maybe he could try and recall his Myers's Briggs personality test- then he'd find more information from inference... But not everyone fit into neat little boxes even if they were wonderful starting points...

His chest buzzed pleasantly with the train of thought, but he was no closer to an answer.

He could be in space for all he knew.

Or maybe an alternate realm...

'What, did I get hit by a truck and transported to another world?!? Is this, an Isekai or something?? ...Why do I know that word, but have no clue what my name is????'

Irritated, they looked to the horizon, spotting a floating island. He was going to dismiss it but felt something calling to them from beyond.

The feeling brought them to their knees.

They shook their head, trying to ignore the call, knowing the jump was impossible to make. It would be suicidal to take that leap...

Right?

They exhaled harshly, a strange hiss passing their lips as something vast and empty in their chest demanded they take the leap. No matter how unsafe their mind knew it was, their chest was still singing for something the horizon; calling out to that something with such pulling force it felt like a black hole would devour their common sense.

Time marched on, but they did not move.

They knelt, refusing to listen to the call until their head stopped spinning. Their knees crunched hard into the sharp gravel, digging trenches to stay grounded.

Why didn't their knees hurt from this? They've always had bad joints, especially after the- after...

After what?

They clawed the dirt, shaking in fear at what could be beyond their small respite in the lime abyss. Their mind was blank, torn between urge and indecision. They could sit here alone and think more. Or. They could follow the call.

It could be a trap.

But.

Something deep within told them they'd always felt comfort in nothing, even before this. They'd always felt comforted by the void. They didn't know what all it meant, but it was better than sitting there any longer.

So they followed their heart.

It was better to die trying than to remain a sitting duck in exile.

'Geronimo.'

They expected to die, to perish as they fell into the endless (and somehow comforting) vast sea of lime; to spend eternity gazing into long nothingness until they passed the event horizon and became one with the universe.

Instead, they floated.

They managed to fall about three or so feet before righting themself, head whipping erratically- up, down, left, right. This shouldn't be possible but...

He tested the waters (so to speak) and found he could pretty much fly. They grinned, mouth splitting farther than they remembered it being able to, but that was a mystery for later.

They sighed, relenting, and followed the siren's song.

-----

Some things seemed to be very out of place. Wrong, even.

Firstly, his hands were completely black. Not just the black of cloth, but black as the void of space- small pricks of light shone when he smiled and constellations vibrated when he grew frustrated with his amnesia. Obsidian talons (he couldn't even begin to call them hands, not with how they seemed to grow in response to his emotions) replaced what he thought for sure would be bitten nails with torn cuticles. He didn't know why he expected chipped blue nail polish.

They'd just painted their nails a few days ago and with their job it always...

'Wait... what was my job?'

Why did that confuse them? They had a job. They knew they did... It was... They brought a hand to their head, thoughts turning into radio static

'My job was...'

Faces and colors they couldn't place assaulted their mind. Names came and went, leaving nothing but lingering feelings- like a song cut off by a garbled PA announcement, the clouded memories were interrupted by crackling interference.

Claws brushed his face as black droplets rushed from his eyes.

That wasn't right either...

Nothing was right but they kept flying.

-----

Green seas shifted into a black expanse, the lime color swirling faintly in the distance instead of consuming the skies. Purple doors hovered every which way they could.

Relieved that the skies became less eye-burning, they spoke for the first time. "Thank gods!! That neon hellscape was giving me a headache..."

A pause.

That wasn't right. It didn't sound right at all.

That wasn't their voice.

Their voice was nasally, high pitched and awful. Nothing like the deeper growl they just heard... Though they were slowly panicking, the deeper voice felt right. It was something they didn't know they wanted, but it clicked as if it were natural.

But it didn't matter how pleasant it sounded, they needed to keep moving.

-----

Was it days? Hours?? Were they flying for weeks?

They didn't know, had absolutely no fuckin clue. But what did know was that they'd reached their destination.

It didn't stand out much, but for reasons unknown he felt comfortable here- at peace. His heart led him to a small island. Strange, yet familiar flowers grew in patches around a worn, yet glowing path leading to a door- black wood door with silver embossment.

"Fancy..."

He looked around- well there wasn't anything else around...

They approached the strange structure and flinched when stylish street lights flickered on with a blue-green flame. The weird vibrating in their chest sang that they were here.

This was home.

He stepped back, looking high and low. He did not trust like that. The door wasn't even connected to anything! With more investigating he saw the path reacted to his footsteps but not much else.

"Great! I get led here by the power of friendship or somethin and can't even get a break??"

He grumbled, hissing under his breath as he felt his body elongate and warp in frustration. This was all the damn door's fault!

Stupid fuckin piece of driftwood!! He ran up and kicked the offending structure, noting that he felt no pain even with an all-out kick.

In his growling frustration, however, something metal and glimmering appeared on the door- a nameplate in somehow familiar handswriting.

The void in his chest sang, something finally clicked.

"Quizz, huh?" They laughed to themself. "Thought my name'd be somethin cooler! Like Maxwell... or Levi." They crossed their arms. Progress! "Well... guess beggars can't be choosers or whatever the hell that phrase was."

They found themself hesitating. That wasn't the way to go! They were certain they weren't a quitter, even with as little as they knew of themself. No, there was an apparently magical door with their name on it that called them from across the void.

No real reason to hesitate anymore. They reached for the handle with a wicked and determined grin.

"Alrighty then! Let's see what's behind door number one!!"

#dantes vibe corner #dp #danny phantom #dp oc #dp quizz #quizz #my fics #day One origin #going angst week 2021 #here take my BULLSHIT

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teamxdark · 3 years

Text

I still want to post anything at all so. Here's the first unedited chapter of SatCK.

Also, once it's done, would people rather it all be posted at once, or a chapter a day? Let me know!

The clouds loomed low, obscuring the sun and showering the world in gray as a lone raven landed on the bones of a long-dead animal. He tapped his beak to the skull, as though to test the hardiness of the material, his eyes flashing with what might have been a sense of superiority before he looked back at the empty dirt path that cut through the grass and took off into the air.

The path did not remain empty for long; a girl ran along it just a moment later, her long purple cloak drawn closely over herself and her boots kicking up dust as she ran. In her hands, she clutched a staff tightly to her chest, which heaved with exertion as the girl kept running, occasionally glancing over her shoulder to see if she was being followed.

At first, everything looked peaceful and devoid of life behind her, and her shoulders relaxed just a fraction.

Then, from the endless gray that covered the land, dark creatures spawned from the shadows, transforming from dark spots with glowing magenta eyes to massive beasts of all kinds, both landbound and flying, burly and nimble, and all clad in faded, heavy armor while wielding great blades that glinted dully, even with the lack of sunlight.

The girl stopped as she realized that she was trapped, while from a nearby tree, the raven watched calmly. As the monstrous warriors surrounded the girl from all sides, the bird took flight, swooping high up into air before dropping down, and in the blink of an eye, he transformed.

One minute, there was a raven in the air. The next moment, a pair of black metal boots touched the earth, and the imposing figure of a man in heavy armor stood at full height before the frightened girl. He approached her, drawing his blade, his eyes glowing through the slits in his helmet as he approached, promising death. In the air, thick with tension, his voice cut through, clear and full of malice.

“This is the end for you and your treason. I will see to that myself.”

The girl’s hands trembled as they fumbled with her staff, then steadied themselves with a great show of effort. The girl took a deep breath, forcing down her nerves, and struck the ground with the magical artifact, summoning forth its magical properties as she began to chant, summoning a blue light all around her that had the armored beasts recoiling and the man with the sword halting in his tracks.

That was all she needed to finish her spell.

“O brave knight, swift as the wind! Heed my call!” she implored, looking up at the sky as though the answer to her troubles would fall before her. From all around her, the cyan light glowed bright, until it exploded upwards, a column of magical might, piercing through the clouds and striking the heavens, leaving a sole spot of light in the otherwise gloomy sky.

And something did, indeed, fall down to her, and it fell with a scream that cut itself short as the being, a blue hedgehog, faceplanted in the dirt road.

This wasn’t what Sonic had been expecting out of today.

He lifted his face, shaking away the gravel, and scrambled to his feet, scampering forward until he caught one chilidog that, like him, fell from above, and then leapt in the other direction to catch the second one just before it hit the ground. Sonic sighed in relief, bringing himself back to his feet and taking a look around.

“Hey… where am I?”

The sound of footstep behind him prompted him to turn around, and he saw the girl approach him, her eyes widening and her lips parting as she looked upon him. For a second, no words came from her, but she appeared to find her tongue quickly. “Being from a distant world, forgive my abrupt summons!” She knelt beside him, still shaking from her run, and slid her hood down, revealing delicate features and long, pointed ears.

That’s not something you see every day on a human…

Movement from over her shoulder distracted Sonic from the girl’s unusual ears, prompting him to look over at the group of beasts in armor, which were beginning to encroach upon them. Sonic took a look behind him, beholding the armored man who stood stock-still, beholding him without a word, his shadowy aura growing thick around him.

Sonic let out a chuckle, quickly finishing off one of the chilidogs in his hands. It didn’t seem like he would be having lunch with Amy after all, but he couldn’t let such a delicacy go to waste. Making a mental note to apologize to his friend once this was over and maybe reschedule the whole thing, Sonic tossed the second chilidog to his other hand, spinning it idly around as he spoke to the girl. “Oh, I get it,” he reassured her. “No problem! I’m used to stuff like this!”

Enemies all around? Overwhelming sense of dread? Tension in the air so thick you could choke on it?

He was called in to fight and rescue this girl, he was sure of it.

With a grin, he threw his snack up high into the air and dashed off, leaving behind a gust of wind as powerful as a shockwave. He vaguely heard the girl gasp as he ran through the cluster of armored enemies, creating another shockwave that, to his surprise, made them evaporate without any more fuss. Sonic pushed the surprise away 一 there was bound to be a reason why, and it wasn’t like he had to know it now or anything 一 and refocused on returning to his spot, catching the chilidog before it was anywhere close to the ground.

He glanced back at the girl, who was staring at him with open astonishment, her hand in front of her mouth and her eyes wide. Sonic allowed himself a small, self-satisfied smirk at demonstrating his abilities so cleanly, then turned back toward the last enemy, the armored man, who still hadn’t moved from his spot and was still staring at him.

Sonic began spinning his snack around again. “Don’t forget to blink,” he taunted, and finally, the man moved, bringing his sword 一 a bright, golden blade that didn’t match his dark getup at all 一 up and before him. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a face like yours,” the man said, pointing the tip of the blade at Sonic.

“Yeah, I’m not surprised. You’ve got all that armor in front of your eyes! How about I knock it away and you can get a real good look--”

“No, you mustn’t!”

A hand grabbed tightly over his arm, stunning him enough that he fumbled with his free hand and sent his chilidog tumbling to the ground. Sonic looked from his ruined treat to the girl who stopped him as she swung her staff before them both, causing a vortex of dirt and wind to surround them. As Sonic felt himself begin to get pulled away, he reached out a hand to his fallen treat and the final enemy that he had yet to even try to defeat, but it was all in vain. The armored man charged forward, but his sword only struck empty air.

The man cursed under his breath, turning away from the vanishing point and walking a few paces away, crushing the chilidog underneath one of his boots without a second thought. “She’s slipped away from me again,” he growled, the dark aura around him growing stronger. “And now she has an ally of the worst kind…”

The man kicked at the ground, wiping some of the remains of meat and beans away as he did so, and wasted no more time in jumping into the air and transforming back into a raven, shedding a single feather as he soared away, over hills and valleys, clearing a town and swooping over the outer wall of a magnificent castle, landing before five people standing in wait, clad in polished, presentable armor. He transformed back into his true form, and all five knelt before him, bowing their heads without hesitation.

My knights...

For just a moment, the man’s gaze swept over the five before him, something akin to pride sparking deep within him, before the feeling extinguished itself as quickly as it came, leaving nothing but coldness in its wake.

“She’s escaped me again, but I shall continue to give chase,” he informed them, seeing a few ears perk up as he spoke. “At this point, I cannot stand another day knowing that she evades me. Spread out, and slay her on sight. I no longer care if it is by my hand or not.”

Five heads nodded, still bowed, and the man felt satisfied until he remembered the other important piece of information.

“She has recruited an ally, a magical warrior. You will know him when you see him. Do not fall for his tricks, and slay him as well. Mercy is not an option. We have no time to lose.”

With that, the man turned away and leapt into the air again, transforming back into a bird to continue his search, while behind him, the five lifted their heads and got to their feet.

“That was vague,” one spoke; a green hawk with two fanned blades.

“Hush, Brother,” another one said; a purple cat wielding a rapier. “Our king has much to handle and no time to spare. It is our duty to help shoulder his burdens as best as we can.”

“I apologize, Percival,” a third one piped up; a pale gray hedgehog with long spines, “but I must agree with Lamorak. We do not know what this ‘magical warrior’ of hers looks like!”

“More likely than not, he will be travelling with her,” yet another spat; a black hedgehog with red streaks in his fur. “If we find one, we will almost certainly find the other, and even if we don’t, our king has made it clear that we will know him when we see him. Now, let us depart.”

“But must we?” the final one asked; a red echidna with two axe-like swords. “She is the Royal Wizard, after all!”

The black hedgehog’s head snapped over, his voice taking a hard edge as he spoke. “She was the Royal Wizard, and in any case, the king’s orders are absolute, Gawain.”

“Yes, but--”

“We have been given our task,” the gray hedgehog said, walking up between them both. “If he demands that they be slain, then slain they shall be.”

This seemed to pacify the black hedgehog, who nodded once before racing off, with the gray hedgehog close behind. The one named Gawain heaved a sigh as the one named Percival approached him. “Without loyalty to the king, we are nothing,” she reminded him sternly, though the next second she looked off to the horizon, where the hedgehogs had become little more than specks. “Still, the king… he has changed,” she murmured, much softer and thoughtful. “And this kingdom…”

“That would be putting it lightly,” the one called Lamorak scoffed, nudging Percival with his shoulder, much to her annoyance. “I need no magical gifts to see that there are troubling times ahead of us. However, there is not much else for us to do.”

“Only our jobs, and to trust our king’s judgement,” Gawain finished the thought, looking at one of his blades with a resigned slump to his shoulders. “Very well. I shall not be the one to disappoint him.”

Yet even with those words, the unease did not leave the knights as they left the castle walls in search for their targets.

#Smash speaks.#Sonic and the Cursed King.

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southerneldritch · 3 years

Text

-A Year Later, Misha-

The smoke rose in a thick line from the burning embers of the tip of the cigarette, an off brand from the shop in town. Misha drew in a deep and long drag as he looked out across the night sky above the cold southern expanse of the Tronador valley. As he went further up the mountain, it was nice to look back towards the small lights of Puerto Varas, where he had received the intel that pointed him up this impressively cold mountain. Misha was no stranger to cold, but with how hot it was in the town this August he hadn’t expected the trek to plunge him into frigid temperatures. Nevertheless, with his collar lifted and another smoke lit, he marched forward.

The night was getting colder and the path, if you could call it one, was more than likely made entirely by wayward goats without intention or significance. Santino knew better than to give Misha bad intel, especially with something as important as this, but still there was a nagging at the back of Misha’s mind that this could be a trap.

He’d had a few difficult tussles since he left the comfort of the states to pursue what truth he had seen, what memories had been returned to him. Briefly, he considered the nightmare of New Orleans and what he’d had to do with the good Doctor. The sight of what that man had become, what that man committed to before slipping under the floodwaters of the ill-gotten city was still clear in his mind. Misha liked that his mind felt less like a mystery than before, but he was torn when he thought of the life he had built in Avenyork, the friends….friend he had made.

After another long drag of the cigarette, Misha found himself spotting the low light of a small cabin tucked into the mountainside. “Finally. I hope they have a fire going” he muttered to himself as he trudged on. Arriving at the small cabin, he could hear some music playing from inside. It sounded Russian. With a firm knock he stood out in the cold for a moment before the music fell silent and the door was cracked open. Dark brown eyes stared out from the warmth of the structure. “¿Sí, Qué quieres?”

“¿Oleg está aquí?” Misha responded. There was a slight look of confusion on the face of the man holding the door.

“Hablas español mejor que Oleg” He smiled and opened the door wider, gesturing for Misha to step inside.

“lo hago pero no lo prefiero.” Misha smirked as he stepped through the doorway, adding “¿Habla usted Inglés?”

“Si, but is not as good. But Oleg prefer it too.” The man, short in stature, shut the door behind Misha and led him to a chair at a table in the middle of the room. Misha could smell some sort of soup or stew being made on the fireplace and there was a small phonograph player on a small table to the side. “Oleg tried to make me learn Russian, HA” he laughed “Not happen”

“Russian is not easy language to master. Don’t worry my english is very good.” Misha sat down roughly, tired as he was. “Where is Oleg?” His eyes drifted around the room and saw a small bed tucked in the corner and a single door into the back room.

“He went to gather last few ingredients for stew” The man sat down across from Misha “Mi nombre es Mateo, ehhh” A pause “My name, Mateo. You?” His clothes were a bit large for his build and he seemed calm, despite a stranger banging on his door at this late hour in the mountains.

“Misha” Misha stated as he absorbed the room, gathering as much as he could. “And how did Oleg come to find you?”

“Oh as most. The people in town. They know my skills” He smiled and folded his fingers together. His nails were clean and bright yet something dark was under them. “And what is Oleg to you?”

Misha paused and considered the question. “Old friends,” adding, “How long do you think he’ll be?” He kept his eyes on swivel as he watched Mateo’s every move.

“He not be much longer” Mateo smiled wide, teeth looking wet. “Last ingredients are most important.” He gestured towards the pot next to the fireplace.

“Yes.” There was a pause in the room. The cold of the outdoors permeated everything despite the roaring fire. “The final touches are always important.” Before the pause could go on much longer, Misha asked, “So I heard music as I approached. Shall we put some on while we wait for Oleg?”

“YES!” Mateo exclaimed, his voice almost heavy with excitement. “Please go crank up the record” he half laughed “Oleg brought very good”. Misha stood and made his way towards the phonograph. It was an old thing that looked worse for the wear, and there on the pad was an old Russian record. The crank made an awful noise as he turned it. The creaking, clanking and the sound of the spring tightening was a mixture of bizzare and otherworldly sounds that caused the hairs on Misha’s neck to stand up on end.

As Mateo reached the last click of the player, Misha noticed an imperial Russian coat on the floor by the fireplace. Heavy outerwear that would work well in the growing cold outside the house. A coat Oleg would not have left without care. Misha’s stomach turned to sand and there were alarm bells going off as he felt his muscles tightened without thinking to do so.

“So Oleg?” Misha spoke as the record wurred to life with the sounds of a Russian folk tune, he turned back towards Mateo and regretted his decision immediately. Mateo with wide open eyes was looking directly at Misha, though he had not turned his body, only his head which was situated facing almost entirely the wrong direction. His mouth looked as if it had broken free and his head cocked backwards as a horrific guttural sound of nightmares filled the small cabin. Misha reached for his pistol as Mateo’s form folded and ripped and slid off of the large creature now flinging itself at him. His gun had only gotten out of the holster before the creature was on top of him. Slamming Misha down hard, the gun slipped from his hand. His head was spinning but his training kicked in harder than ever. The snarling maw of the grotesque thing was dripping down onto him as he kicked his heel back and slammed it hard into the beast. The creature folded back and shrieked. It grasped at its side that was bleeding a thick red ichor.

“Piece of Shit!” Misha exclaimed as he rolled over and tapped his heel again, the blood stained blade retracting into the side of his boot. Tumbling to his feet next to his revolver and snatching it up to look towards the creature writhing. Drawing a deep breath with a mixture of words under his breath Misha steadied his pistol on the shadowed and dripping beast. The upbeat tunes of the Russian folk music punctuated the snarl of the thing as it whipped around to face Misha.

“YOU ARE TOO LATE FOR FRIEND '' The voice spilled from various holes around the thing. With sounds of gravel being forced through flesh, the tone still somehow sounded like the small man of Mateo, even if the creature had very few traces of his flesh sticking to its dripping form. Within a second it lept towards Misha and without a second guess the gun belched fire. The small piece of metal tore through the creature, though it was not enough to stop its energy. Slamming down in front of him and bringing a thunderously hard slam into his side, the creature sent Misha hurling into the wall at the back of the shack. Wood splintered as the low light of the cabin was lost.

Misha woke, lying inside the small back room, “Uhhhghhh.” He let a moan escape before sitting up. The bodies of curious travellers and seekers of information alike were strung up and stored around the room. Likely as some sort of food source. “Oh Oleg,” he muttered as he eyed the opening now splintered through the wall into the main room of the cabin. “I guess you didn’t come as prepared as you should have.” Misha began to unload the revolver and slips his hand into an interior pocket of his jacket. He pulled out a few special looking cartridges with emblazoned symbols upon the shells. Before he was able to load them, the mass of the creature barges through, up, over and towards him.

“YOU SOON DEAD NEW RUSSIAN!” The creature gurgled forward with a sense of pained anger. While the previous strikes may not have been lethal, they certainly hurt. It clearly was angry now. Seeing it close the distance with its previous speed, Misha abandoned loading the gun and braced himself instead. No amount of training can steel one against the purely physical blows of a wretched beast. Misha found himself tumbling back out of the hole his body had just made in the wall. He managed to land on his feet and was able to load the special rounds.

“Not quite yet you piece of SHIT!” He called out mocking the creature as the last round click into the cylinder and he snapped the gun shut. The hammer set, he began to speak softly as the chamber emitted a soft glow, faint but there. “I’m not done with you!” He exclaimed as he saw the twisted gleam of the eyes of the creature peer over the hole in the wall.

Releasing a growling shriek the creature retorted, “YOU DIE NOW OTHERS ARE FOOD ENOUGH!!!” as it launched over the broken timbers and slammed foot after foot, hand after hand towards Misha. Its jaws unhinged as it lept but before it bit down into the flesh of this painful nuisance, Misha dropped down, dodging the thing and letting loose two shots directly point blank into its belly. Hellish green and blue fire erupted from the wounds as large bulbs exploded around the impact zones. The creature cried out and slammed into, then through, the outer wall out into the cold snow of the mountainside. It let out a weak chitter of pain and confusion.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here Oleg.” Misha slowly stepped over the rubble of the wall and towards the thing. It’s body convulsing and folding, bones twisting inside its loose skin. “But this thing won't hurt anyone else.” Misha stood over it and let loose a loud single shot through what could best be described as its ‘head’. A few moments of the bright burn of green and blue light and the echo of the shot through the mountains, and Misha was alone.

New snow began to fall silently. He flipped open his notebook to a page full of names. He crossed out the last name on the page, ‘Oleg Fedorov.’ The steam of his breath was thick as he let out a long long sigh. With a fresh cigarette in his lips, he glanced at the Verum Private Detective badge paper clipped into his notebook. He looked into the cold night.

Softly, to the silence, he says, “I think I miss home.”

(by J. Daily)

#paranornal #southern eldritch #microfiction #writing #eldritch #supernatural #creepy #spooky #action #monster

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vro0m · 2 years

Text

vro0m’s rewatch - 18/288

2008 Australian GP

Let’s goooo (believe me you’re not ready for some of these GIFs..........)

It’s the start of the 2008 season. Lewis is in pole. Alonso has left McLaren for Renault, with Nelson Piquet Jr. as his teammate. Ferrari’s line-up is unchanged.

There are technical rules changes though : electronic control unit, no traction control, no engine braking system, no spare cars. Sounds dangerous???? Also, no penalty for the first engine failure but gearboxes have to last 4 races or they get a 5-grid penalty for replacing them.

Who is Lewis’ teammate now then? I haven’t heard? Anyway, he’s deemed favourite for the WDC after winter testing, but Anthony says there’s a long way to go. Ah the teammate is Heikki Kovalainen. Okay.

Lewis is happy about his quali of course. He explains last season he just wanted to do a good job in his first race but this time he wanted pole. We’ve heard him talking a couple of times in this build-up and he sounds more confident to me than he did in 2007. He says the atmosphere in the team is better and more positive (yeah no shit). Also he’s glad for the no traction control rule because “it’s real racing”. Mmmmh.

Omg they’re talking about a “gruelling” 18 races 😭 it really makes you understand how unacceptable the 23-race 2022 calendar is.

Asjsdhajdh why is he looking at Kovalainen like this

KISS?!?!?!?!?!!!?!?!?

Lewis getting choked by Paul Stanley???????? I don’t know how to react so I’m just gonna move on.

Lewis tells Heikki he has to introduce him to soul music. Kovalainen answers “nah you listen to hiphop with guys with rings and chains it’s not my stuff” and Lewis answers “of course not you’re Finnish”. The vibe is extremely awkward overall.

Then they talk about racing and how sometimes it goes wrong and Lewis says yes but that’s racing we gotta make sure we enjoy it

“And I hope you’ll enjoy it.”

Anyway we’re on the grid and Kelly Osborne is today’s Star on Track. It’s extremely hot that day. Oh Danii Minogue is also there.

Formation lap.

And they’re racing!

Good start! Someone stalled at the back. And there’s a crash. And now dust, maybe another crash? Yellow flags and safety car out in the first lap.

Okay so what happened? Davidson, Button and Webber are seen driving but the cars are damaged. Seb and Fisichella are out of the GP. Massa gets a front wing change. Apparently there was contact with Kovalainen? And he almost hits Nakajima as they both leave the pits. God so much contact in the first few corners, it’s scary. Not very reassuring for the season to come with the new rules.

Lap 13, Lewis is driving 0.5 seconds quicker than anybody else. Nothing much to say lol. Kubica who’s 2nd is 11 seconds behind him. He seems untouchable. He pits on lap 17, comes back out 4th.

On lap 23, Lewis is back in the lead. I don’t quite know how many DNFs we have by now but it’s A LOT.

Oh my, as we’re on board with Massa, he makes serious contact with Coulthard who is now out of the race with two wheels fxcked up. It’s a second safety car. It doesn’t last long, we’re told lapped cars may now overtake (Yep, every time. I’ll say it every time.) SC in on lap 30.

Lewis is still leading, behind him is Kovalainen who’s protecting him from Raikkonen. Ohohoh Raikkonen tries to overtake Heikki but can’t make it and finishes in the gravel trap. Good job by Kovalainen. Raikkonen still manages to get back on track but he lost many places, especially given that it was just after a Safety Car and all the drivers were following each other close.

Yellow flags again as someone stopped. It’s Piquet Jr. It’s the 10th DNF if I hear correctly.

Raikkonen spins. Then on lap 42, Lewis goes in for his second pitstop. He comes out behind Barrichello in fourth.

Oh, big crash! It’s Glock. It’s definitely going to be a Safety Car there’s debris everywhere. Is he okay? He’s not getting out of the car. We can see him move but... The marshals are talking to him, he’s still in his car. Here’s the replay. He went wide at a corner and as he was sliding beside the track his car was thrown in the air by a bump in the ground and simply broke apart as it hit the ground. It then spun on a significant distance before stopping against the barriers. I can imagine the shock going up his spine compressing each vertebrae as he crashed back down on the ground after that jump. How the hell can it be that the terrain around the track is that dangerous? He’s now up and out of the car, walking slowly to safety with a marshal who’s holding him close by the waist. He’s clearly winded.

Omg and now a mechanic has been thrown to the ground as Barrichello’s leaving the ptis. It’s always the fuelmen poor guys. He seems in pain. Why is Barrichello in the pits to begin with, they’re supposed to be close during the first two laps of the safety car? There’s fuel everywhere on the ground of the garage.

Ah of course, it’s the same thing that happened last year : people have to pit even though the pits are closed because they’re running out of fuel. I already said it back then and I’ll say it again : the closed pitlane rule is stupid at a time when fuel is part of the strategy. It makes no sense. Now the pits are open and Kovalainen and Alonso go in. They’ll get back out at the back of the car train.

Barrichello gets a 10-second stop-and-go penalty. And the safety car is in this lap, there’s 10 to go. Oh-ho. Nakajima and Kubica are both in the pits with damage? Kubica gets a new front wing, but retires the car anyway. Sucks cause he was having a good race. Loads of work done on Nakajima’s car, but he goes back out.

In the meantime, Kovalainen overtook Raikkonen but Alonso overtook them both. Then we see a replay of Nakajima running wide and hitting some barriers which explains the damage but apparently it’s unrelated to whatever happened to Kubica. Lewis still chillin’ in the front. Second is Heidfeld and third is none other than Nico Rosberg. I also wanna stress the fact that there’s only 9 cars left on track at this point which is extremely fxcked up.

5 laps to go, Raikkonen has issues but his car stops down just as he gets in the pitlane. Another one bites the dust. Ah and now Bourdais is slowing down as his engine starts smoking. And another one gone, and another one gone, another one bites the dust. Ah lol, we’re told Raikkonen and Bourdais are both driving Ferrari engines even though they’re not part of the same team. Not good, eh? So that’s what, 7 cars left? My my.

Kovalainen overtakes Alonso! But Alonso gets his spot back! One lap left...

And it’s the end of the race!

Lewis wins! It’s then Heidfeld, Nico, Alonso, Kovalainen, Barrichello and Nakajima. Those are the only ones who made it to the finish line. But it’s believed Barrichello will be disqualified for leaving the pitlane under a red light (he was indeed).

AAAAAAAH LEWIS AND NICO CELEBRATING 😭 AM I GONNA GET EMO. I CAN’T WAIT TO FINALLY LEARN ABOUT THE BROCEDES ANGST AS I ACTUALLY HAVE NO IDEA WHAT REALLY HAPPENED OTHER THAN THE BIG LINES. THEY’RE SO CUTE FOR NOW.

Look at them.

Can’t believe some people think this is a straight boy sport.

Lewis explains that he basically just had to pace himself and look after the tyres which is a funny foretaste of what’s to come in his career lol. He draws parallel with his first win of the past season in Canada where there were no less than 4 Safety Cars. He thanks his team for the outstanding car.

They’re all so sweaty lol, poor them. It was apparently about 37°C in Melbourne that day so you can imagine what it was like in these cars. Oh God after Nico answers his questions, Lewis says they haven’t been on a podium together in 8 years and it’s great to be up there with him.

#f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #2008 #2008 australian gp #vro0m's race reviews

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aurora-the-kunoichi · 4 years

Text

For the Love of Shell - Chap 42

Next chappie for those who are reading this!

Here it is from the beginning for those who want to start! Filled with smut my loves

Chapter Forty Two – Betrayal of the Son

By now the palace was now overrun with guards searching for the Daimyo. The sound of the clanging metal of their armor was almost deafening. It had taken Ue-Sama far too long to order the palace searched for Aurora’s liking. Since she had shown up at the palace this morning Ue-Sama had been acting very bizarre. Particularly the kiss he forced onto her after the tournament. He was planning something, she could tell and now with the Daimyo’s disappearance it seemed to solidify her speculation. Now Mikey, Donnie and herself were slipping silently through the palace on their own mission, one being done under Ue-Sama’s nose.

There was no sign of Ue-Sama when they pasted the dining room on their way to the lower levels. It was still in disarray with a few servants trying to clean up the damage. There was a knot forming in her stomach, she did not like this one bit. With the door to the basement in sight Donnie hurried forward and brought his giggles down over his eyes. His hand shot up and waved back signaling them of guards coming up the stairs. The three disappeared easily into the shadows waiting for their opening. With a loud clamor five more guards barreled up the stairs heading to the main hallway. Slipping silently down the poorly lit staircase to the basement and the dungeons, she noticed Mikey and Donnie staying close to her keeping her between them as they descended. They stopped at the first level scattering to cover more ground faster.

“Be careful, yell for us if you find anything or need help.” Donnie gazed down at her with a worried look while his large three fingered hand rested on her lower back.

“Will do.” With a half hearted smile she nodded to the two turtle brothers and ran in the opposite direction in search of any clue of the disappearance of the Daimyo and Splinter.

~~~~~~~~~~

Master Splinter groaned in discomfort as he came too. His skull felt like someone had cracked it open with a sledgehammer. He needed to rub his temples to release some of the pressure but found his arms immobile. In fact when he finally opened his eyes he found he was hanging from a brick wall in a dimly lit room by his wrists that were stretched painfully tight on either side of him. Due to the lack of height he was hanging suspended off the ground. His weight was pulling at his old limbs making the predicament even more excruciating.

A soft cough next to him alerted the old rat he wasn’t alone in his dilemma and his mind went to his dinner companion and the series of events that lead them to this dark musty room. They had been enjoying each other’s company about to start dinner when he tasted something foreign in his soup, something that wasn’t supposed to be there. Dropping his spoon his hands thrust forward disengaging the spoon from his friend’s hand toppling the bowl of soup with it.

Before he would warn the Daimyo about the unknown substance in their food they were attacked. Dark shadowy figured came from everywhere and converged in on them showing no mercy. They fought them as best they could but in the end there was too many and were knocked unconscious. Now in the present they found themselves at the mercy yet again of their captors.

“Splinter?” the groggy voice of the Daimyo hit his fury ears.

“Yes, my old friend I am here with you. It looks like we have found ourselves in quiet a predicament. I wonder who our host is?”

As if on cue a large hooded figure emerged from the shadows with bright red eyes glowing under the heavy hood.

“Who are you? Why have you done this?” The Daimyo scowled yanking on his confines. “Release us at once!”

Rough as gravel, a deep twisted laugh rumbled from the mysterious cloaked figure. The movements so smooth it seemed their captor floated across the room on air, stopping a few inches from the old rat. Two large scaled hands emerged from the large sleeves pushing back the hood.

“Draco!” Splinter hissed through clenched teeth.

“Yes you sniveling rat! How long I’ve waited for my revenge against you and this old fool. Years of planning and now my patience will be rewarded. I will take from you what you love the most in this life and rip ripe apart your son’s bodies using their bloody hollow shells as foot rests. And then after I’ve shown you their mutilated carcasses I will end you!” the red dragon spat at Splinter, his face mere inches from his.

The usual gentle features of the old ninjutsu master hardened and an ominous growl rolled from his lips, “You will not touch my sons.”

“Oh on the contrary you old fool, as we speak they are scattered around the grounds looking for you, two with that little bitch the young daimyo has his sights set on and your two eldest heading to the falls and right into my trap. I have several of my shadow minions at my disposal all ready to attack and dismember each and every one of your sons.”

“What of the woman?” the Daimyo quickly cut in, trying to pry a little more information out of Draco. “And why do you call my son young Daimyo?”

The dragons head snapped to the old man hanging from the wall just next to the giant rat, “Your son seems to have plans for her. He talks about some sort of power that she possesses that could help him. He covets your throne old man hoping having her at his side will solidify his place upon it. Either way it doesn’t matter. I will have my revenge then that brat can have his kingdom.”

The Daimyo’s eyes widened in shock, letting the dragon’s words roll over him. Again his wrists pulled at the metal shackles holding him to the wall. “M-my son……. Is behind this? How can that be?” the sorrow apparent in the old man’s voice trying desperately to hold onto the hope Draco was lying.

“Your son is an idiot; he couldn’t orchestrate this by himself. He is an overgrown child throwing a tantrum that he can’t have the throne right now. The woman is something new though, he fell for her a year ago when she quiet literally fell into your laps. But there is no way she would be persuaded to go along with his plans; she’s too smart for his games and won’t do anything to hurt you. He just refuses to see it. So she will need to be eliminated as well. Which is a shame really, someone with powers would be convenient to have on my side. The idiot already tried wooing her by kissing her after the tournament today but she rejected him. He’s too blind to see she only has eyes for his son, the one in blue, Leonardo is it?” Draco’s red eyes shifted to Splinter. “But that is neither here nor there now and makes no difference. None of them will survive this. I need your son compliant so a strong headed woman is out of the picture.”

“They will find us and foil your plans. You will not succeed.” Splinter smiled; with Aurora at his son’s sides once again they would defeat Draco and Ue-Sama. He was sure of it.

“We will find out now won’t we, because the party is about to begin.”

~~~~~~~~~

Aurora turned down another hallway searching the final group of rooms coming up with nothing, yet again. Each room she had checked her fingers skimmed over every nook and cranny for any hint of a hidden door. Someplace someone could hide two unwilling victims. Finishing with the last room she headed back to the stairs to meet up with Mikey and Donnie.

With her mind spinning with worry she didn’t hear the shadow ninja creep up behind her. By the time she sensed it’s presences it was too late. A hand reached out grasping her long hair pulling her back and down to the ground. Her shriek of surprise echoed through the halls reaching the sensitive ears of Donnie and Mikey but unfortunately they too were in their own battle for their lives. Surrounded by several dark shadowy ninjas Donnie reached for his com calling for his older brothers.

“Don?” the familiar calm voice of their leader came over the speaker on his shoulder.

“Leo we’ve been ambushed in the bowels of the palace. We need back up.” Donnie called into his com anxiously blocking a blow with his bo staff. “They came out of nowhere and have no faces! They look like shadows!”

Knee deep in the falls high above the palace Leo and Raph stopped in their tracks listening to their genius brother in distress. They had come up empty, no tracks or any kind of clues to the whereabouts of Master Splinter and the Daimyo, when Donatello’s frantic call came over their coms.

“Donnie are you alright? Where is Mikey and Aurora? Are they with you?”

After a few seconds Donatello came back over the com, his labored breath telling them it was imperative they hurry. “Mikey is just outside in the hallway with his own party of ninjas. And I don’t know where Aurora is but we did hear her scream a few minutes ago. We can’t get to her! Mikey!!!” then the com went eerily silent.

“Don! Donnie! Are you there?! Donatello!!” Leo felt his heart jump into his throat and looked to Raph with terror in his eyes. They were in trouble and needed their help.

Raph heard the fear in his brother’s voice making the already burning rage inside him increase to an uncontainable inferno. The grips on his sai tightened and he caught his brother’s eyes that held the same wild fury. Someone had kidnapped their father and now were attacking their two younger brothers and Aurora. But then like a light switch Leo’s demeanor changed and lunged forward tackling his larger brother into the water.

Bursting from the surface Raph tried pushing Leo from him, “What the shell Le…..oh!” his eyes immediately narrowed in on the kunai now rooted deep into the top of Leonardo’s shell. Leo had just saved his life for the thousandth time. Reaching up he pulled the offending item from his brother’s shell and they both scrambled to their feet pulling their weapons out. Just like Donnie had described them, they looked on in shock at the weird shadow figures surrounding them. There had to be at least 40 of them closing in on them fast and it didn’t seem like they wanted to play nice.

“Shell, looks like they’re not getting the back they need.” Leo growled readying his katana.

Raphael readied himself as three of the figures launched themselves at him bringing down their weapons on his waiting sai. With a grunt he took the brunt of the force faltering on the slimy rocks below the surface of the water. “Looks like we might need that back up now.”

Reeling back Donnie swung his electrified bo staff forward connecting with two of the ninjas sending them flailing against the wall disintegrating like a puff of cigarette smoke in the wind. The last of his attackers were beside him but with expert balance his long leg shot up colliding with its head making it explode in a cloud of smoke. Without skipping a beat he headed out to help his little brother who was on the ground holding off three of the shadowy figures with his nunchaku.

“DONNIE?!” they both heard Aurora shriek from farther away then they’d like.

Mikey’s gaze snapped to Donnie and they both took action. With a swift kick of his legs Mikey sent the three assailants over his body crumbling to the ground. With the momentum of his legs coming down and his pelvis rolling up into the swing he was on his feet. Then Mikey and Donnie took care of the rest of the dark ninjas with a swift determination to get to their friend in trouble.

Taking off towards the sound of Aurora’s worried cry, they hurried through the halls in search of her. They could hear sounds of metal on metal and exasperated grunts from beyond the bend. Before they rounded the corner two of the shadowy ninjas came sailing out into view colliding with the wall. Taking the corner, they saw her pressed against the wall, eight figures on her ready to drive a tanto blade through her heart.

“A little help guys!” she cried out ripping a hand from one of the them punching it in the face.

They were on them in a second ripping Aurora’s attackers from her body one by one. Mikey lurched forward grabbing the blade poised for her heart and threw it down the empty hallway, the sound of the metal clanging across the ground echoed in the large halls.

Aurora took advantage of the distraction and placed her feet on the wall and pushed forward taking three of the ninjas with her. The back of their heads slammed into the hard surface of the wall behind them making them disappear beneath her momentum. She caught herself before she fell to the floor getting her feet under her. “They’re skilled but break easily. I’ve never seen anything like them; it was like I was fighting shadows of smoke. What the hell are these things?” Aurora groaned picking up her blades taking care of another ninja.

Donnie electrocuted the last one ending their current fight. Mikey went to Aurora making sure she was alright. His eyes moved over her body assessing damages, touching and pushing at her skin.

Her fingers found his quickly easing his overzealous attention to a halt. “I’m fine Mikey.” Aurora tried her best not to be too cold with the two brothers but didn’t want to act like them being together in this moment felt right. She couldn’t let herself get used to their presences; this was a temporary mission to save the Daimyo and Master Splinter. After this was over Leo would no doubt end this as well.

“They put up quite a fight, we must be getting close.” Donnie calmly stated using his goggles to scan for heat signatures on the level they were still on.

“Agreed, let’s move to the lower level.” Aurora moved around Mikey who was still looking at her hopeful. His baby blues tore at her soul, she wanted to tell him all would be alright but time was of the essence and they needed to move.

The three of them descended to the lowest level of the palace, this time sticking together. The silence that hung around the dungeon was a bit unsettling. No guards what so ever nor any prisoners. The uneasy feeling within each of them grew. This was too easy.

“Shell!” Donnie broke the eerie calm. “I called Leo for back up a while ago; he should have been here by now.” His fingers flew to his com calling for his older brother. No response came so Donnie called again this time for Raphael. Still nothing, a deafening silence that made the already chilly dungeon seem suddenly colder. “I don’t like this.”

~~~~~~~~~

Draco landed another blow to Splinters jaw continuing his unrelenting assault on the old rat. With each strike the metal chains moaned from the sudden movement of the body it held. Blood was running down the dark fur of the old sensei’s mouth but showed no sign of discomfort. The Daimyo beside him pleaded with the large dragon to stop his assault but if fell on deaf ears as another hit connected with Splinters gut.

Without warning several dark cloaked ninjas appeared behind the angry dragon. His attacks ended as one whispered in his ear. The smug smile slipped from his face into a frustrated scowl.

“They’re down here already?! They took out how many of you? SIMPILTONS!! Yes, send more to stop them! I can’t have them ending this plan just as it begins!” as quickly as they came the ninjas vanished into the shadows leaving the dragon with his two helpless prisoners. Reaching to the wall he grabbed the cloak he had removed when he started his assault on Master Splinter and swung it back around his shoulders lifting the hood to conceal his face once more. “You’re lucky I have other things to attend too you old fools, but I will be back to finish this. I have some turtle flesh to filet.” His wicked eyes flashed and retreated out the hidden door in the wall leaving them alone.

“My friend! Are you alright?” the daimyo immediately called to his battered friend. A soft cough alerted him to fact the old rat was still in fact breathing. The chains creaked when Splinter shifted uncomfortably spitting out a mouthful of blood.

“Am I my friend, a little worse for wear but I am alive. Do not worry my sons will free us, they will stop this madness.”

“They have too.” The daimyo started. “If they try and use the war staff without proper training they will bring upon destruction to this dimension and all who reside here.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The pull for air made his lungs burn as Leo fought the many hands that held his body submerged under the current of the river feeding the massive waterfall several feet down stream. There was far too many of these shadow ninjas for Raph and himself to defeat. They seemed to come out of nowhere like the never ending flow of water they fought in.

It had been almost an hour since Donnie had called them for help and they were ambushed on top of the waterfall. He hoped all three of them were alright. They had to be, he didn’t know what he would do if he lost his two younger brothers and Aurora. But the way things were looking they might lose him, there were so many on top of him keeping his head below the water drowning him. The strength was leaving him as the lack of oxygen to his brain began to affect his dexterity, he was losing this fight.

~~~~~~

Aurora could feel it, something was horribly wrong. More wrong then what was happening in the dungeon with Donnie, Mikey and herself fighting off an infinite flow of these damn ninja. Every cell in her body was on alert, something else was happening, something was happening to Leonardo and Raphael.

“Guys!” she screamed over the thunder of clanging metal and grunts. “We have to get to Leo and Raph! Something’s wrong!” Blocking another tirade of attacks Aurora flipped up landing just behind the shadows slicing through them with her katana.

As Donnie fought his goggles scanned the walls for false walls and air drafts. They had to be down here judging by the massive assault they were receiving. Then something flashed in his goggles when he turned to deliver a shock from his bo staff. Quickly turning back he saw two warm bodies behind the wall, a large form and a smaller one hanging midair.

“There!” Donnie screamed pointing to the small wall just a few feet from where Aurora was.

Immediately Aurora sprang for the wall feeling with her hands for anything to open the hidden door all the while keeping the growing mass of ninjas as bay. Out the corner of her eye she saw the blade gliding through the air aimed for her throat, determined to hit it’s mark with extreme prejudice. Before it could find its target the hilt of Mikey’s nunchaku stopped its momentum pushing back the assailant.

“I got your back angel cakes!” the orange banded turtle smiled at her while taking down anther ninja with his band hands.

The battle in the dingy basement was deafening, she couldn’t hear herself think. A shove behind her sent her sprawling against the cold brink of the wall she was searching. But with a stroke of luck the hit brought her fingers in contact for the latch for the door making the brick door shift open revealing the entrance to the hidden cell.

The heavy scrapping of the brick door opening brought the Daimyo’s and Spinsters eyes to the entrance of their confinement. Expecting the tall hooded dragon to appear they were surprised by two spinning blades followed by Aurora as she fought her way in.

Her eyes snapped to the old men hanging on the wall. The state Master Splinter was in sent her blood boiling. Battered and broke he was bleeding from several parts of his old furry body; someone had worked him over pretty good. Thankfully the Daimyo looked unharmed for the most part besides a busted lip and his white hair askew. “Donnie! Mikey!” she bellowed ending the five ninja currently before her. Whoever had hurt Master Splinter would pay, would pay dearly.

@imthegreenfairy88 @bluesakurablossom @ravn-87 @alonia143 @tmnt-bucklover

#tmnt #tmnt leonardo #tmnt donatello #tmnt raphael #tmnt michaelangelo #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fandom #tmnt fic #TMNT TMNT fanfiction #Fortheloveofshell #chapter 42 #aurora-the-kunoichi

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themotorsportblog · 4 years

Photo

F2 & F3 FEATURE RACE REPORTS - 2020 BELGIAN GRAND PRIX

Lirim Zendeli dominated his way to victory in the Formula 3 Feature Race, whilst Yuki Tsunoda got incredibly lucky, as Nikita Mazepin got a farcical penalty to cost him victory in Formula 2.

TSUNODA WINS AS MAZEPIN GETS ROBBED

Yuki Tsunoda took his second Formula 2 victory of the season at Spa-Francorchamps after Nikita Mazepin was handed a very harsh five-second time penalty having taken the chequered flag in P1.

Mazepin allegedly “forced” Tsunoda off the road at Le Combes, despite the Japanese driver going for a gap that was always going to close, behind the pair, Mick Schumacher finished on the podium again to continue his decent season.

Tsunoda started on pole and got away well and led into La Source, as Mazepin lost P2 to a fast starting Nobuharu Matsushita. Robert Shwartzman went backwards off the line, whilst Juri Vips was up to P16 having started from P21 at the end of the first lap.

In stark contrast, Guilherme Samaia stalled on the grid for Campos, he later got going but didn’t finish, whilst Jehan Daruvala struggled again, and had to pit at the end of the first lap thanks to a broken front wing.

Matsushita’s good start didn’t last long, and he lost P2 and P3 to Mazepin and Schumacher respectively on lap three, and then P4 and P5 to Louis Deletraz and Shwartzman on lap four, his race then ended when defending from his team mate Felipe Drugovich going into Blanchimont, moving over on the Brazilian and making contact, breaking Drugovich’s front wing and sending the Japanese driver spinning off into the barrier, deploying the Virtual Safety Car.

Thanks to the long lap, racing resumed again just at the end of lap six, and a lap later Guanyu Zhou started his charge up through the pack, taking P5 from Shwartzman on lap seven and P4 from Deletraz on lap eight, however his team mate, Callum Ilott, couldn’t find the same pace, dropping behind fellow Brit Dan Ticktum, down in to P9 at Le Combes.

The same lap saw Mazepin and Schumacher pit first, looking for the undercut, but a slow stop for Schumacher cost him time. The strategy paid off for Mazepin, as he jumped Tsunoda for the net lead when he came in just a lap later.

He took the actual lead back on lap 16, when Zhou finally came in having run the alternate strategy, and he struggled when he came back out, running wide at Le Combes, then being passed by Luca Ghiotto, Pedro Piquet, Ticktum and Ilott to fall all the way down to P9.

Piquet then attacked Ghiotto and initially got through for P6, but then got repassed by the Italian, and Ticktum to fall down to P8, and continued to drop backwards and out of the points, a real shame for the Brazilian after a decent opening stint.

Lap 19 saw all of the mechanics and members of the paddock, participate in a lap of applause in memory of Anthoine Hubert, who lost his life at this track after a crash at Radillon last year, this included Juan Manuel Correa, who is still recovering from his injuries.

Zhou then repassed Ilott for P8 and Ghiotto for P7 as his fresh rubber finally started to come to life, whilst Ilott lost P9 to Roy Nissany, who was putting in a surpisingly decent drive, he also passed Ghiotto for P8 and reverse grid pole with just a couple of laps to go.

However the final laps were dominated by the leaders, and it looked like Mazepin had done enough to see off Tsunoda’s charge, with the Red Bull junior only able to attack with the help of DRS on the Kemmel Straight every lap, however the stewards felt differently, and opted to Mazepin another harsh penalty for the second weekend in a row (having also lost a P3 finish in Barcelona) and the Russian was understandably fuming on the podium after the race.

RACE RESULT:

TSUNODA, MAZEPIN, SCHUMACHER DELETRAZ, SHWARTZMAN (FL), TICKTUM, ZHOU, NISSANY, GHIOTTO, ILOTT VIPS, PIQUET, ARMSTRONG, AITKEN, SATO, MARKELOV, LUNDGAARD, ALESI, DARUVALA, DRUGOVICH

SAMAIA & MATSUSHITA – DNF

ZENDELI DOMINATES TO TAKE MAIDEN VICTORY

Trident’s Lirim Zendeli took his first ever F3 victory, dominating from pole position in the Feature Race, as he held off the challenge from Theo Pourchaire, and his team mate and compatriot David Beckmann.

Jake Hughes had another miserable day, through no fault of his own again, unable to get away from the grid on the Formation Lap, meaning he had to start from the pits.

Once the race finally got away, Zendeli led well into La Source ahead of Pourchaire and Alex Smolyar as they held their positions off the line. However, it wasn’t long until the first yellow flags, with Clement Novalak sustaining a puncture and rookie Andreas Estner limping back without a front wing and a rear right puncture. Enzo Fittipaldi also sustained a puncture on lap two to ruin his race for HWA.

Alessio Deledda then brought out the yellow flags again on lap three, managing to spin off on the exit of the Fagnes chicane and beach his car in the gravel trap to end his anonymous race to compound Campos’ woeful morning.

Lap six saw Oscar Piastri put a brilliant move in on Richard Verschoor round the outside of the Bus Stop Chicane to take P7, and lap seven saw David Beckmann move into the podium positions, passing Smolyar down the Kemmel Straight.

Liam Lawson and Piastri made contact at Le Combes on lap 10 whilst battling for P6, with the Prema coming out on top on the run down through Malmedy, but he was forced to give the position back at the Bus Stop, and got through again at the same place on lap 11.

Piastri then passed his championship rival on lap 15, with Logan Sargeant struggling home with an engine issue, which cost him the chance to challenge Smolyar for P4 and saw him drop behind his main rival and then fellow team mate Vesti too.

Sargeant held on behind Olli Caldwell to take home some points and start from P3 in the Sprint Race, but his misfortune means Piastri becomes the new Championship leader.

Dennis Hauger starred from those who finished outside of the points, recovering from a poor qualifying session to climb 13 places to finish P15, whilst rookie Michael Belov also climbed 9 positions to finish P20 on his debut.

Whilst Jake Hughes was able to take solace from posting the Fastest Lap, but he was unable to take the points having finished outside the top 10, in another race in which he was left to wonder what could have been.

RACE RESULT:

ZENDELI, POURCHAIRE, BECKMANN SMOLYAR, PIASTRI, VESTI, CALDWELL, SARGEANT, LAWSON, VERSCHOOR FERNANDEZ, DOOHAN, NANNINI, PERONI, HAUGER, WILLIAMS, SCHUMACHER, MALVESTITI, FRAGA, BELOV DUNNER, CHOVET, VISCAAL, STANEK, DAS, FITTIPALDI ESTNER + 1 LAP NOVALAK + 3 LAPS HUGHES & DELEDDA - DNF

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savannahsdrabbles · 4 years

Text

Ocean Song - Part One

rating: PG summary: Marine biology student April O’Neil makes a startling discovery.

notes: An AU originally based off of the 2012 TMNT universe, but can be compatible with most versions of the characters. <3 2.7k words. A03 link can be found here. Also special thanks to @cloakedrabbit and @starfiretheninja for beta-reading!

Looking back on the past couple of days’ events, April should have realized that kidnapping an endangered creature was a bad idea.

Well, scratch that.

Maybe attempting to break into a high security laboratory was where she went wrong. Or –

“This is totally wicked!” Casey Jones hollered from the driver’s seat as they took another sharp turn, tires spinning and spitting gravel up into the windshield wipers that were already working overtime. The creature in the backseat squawked and flailed as he skidded across the torn upholstery, desperately trying to sink his claws into something to keep from being thrown about like a rag doll.

“Slow down – and calm down!” The red-head snapped first towards the driver, and then over her shoulder at their passenger as she rapidly typed away on her laptop. A large jolt suddenly rocked the Jeep to one side and then the other, and April threw her arms out as a scream escaped her mouth. “CASEY! BRIDGE!”

Okay. So there were a lot of things that went wrong.

***

“Here we are!” A voice called loudly, causing April to jerk her head up and nearly lose an earbud in the process. “Now I know you’ve told me before, but remind me – what class is this project for? I don’t recall having to do anything like this until I’d reached graduate school.”

April smiled as she rose from her seat and shouldered an air tank onto her back. She carefully pulled the earbuds from her ears and tucked them into the bag of dry clothes she’d brought, then paused to looked out across the ocean. The sky was overcast that afternoon, leaving glare so minimal that even as the boat chugged to a stop beneath them, she was almost certain she could spy movement in the water below. “It’s for a dual-credit course. My science instructor knows that Dad is stationed here and that I study under him, so he said that I could use some of my research work as a science credit.”

“My word,” The fourty-something Japanese man at the stern shook his head in amusement as he pulled a lever to lower the anchor. The ship responded with a groan, lurching slightly at the movement, and the air was soon filled with a steady clack-clack-clack as chains were steadily released into the depths. “I swear, April – you work more than most kids your age. It’s a wonder you even have time to consider college courses. And you’re only – what – sixteen?”

“Seventeen as of last month,” April shrugged lightly and fought back an amused eyeroll as she continued to adjust her gear and flippers. Once she was certain they were secure, the girl reached for her camera and looped the strap over her wrist. She’d known Miles for a few months at this point and was pretty sure that they’d had this exact conversation every time they spoke. Her dad joked that his memory retention was about as long as that of the goldfishthat he studied. “Thankfully most of the college stuff is online, so I don’t have to worry about dealing with all of the paperwork from moving between schools. So it’s not too bad.”

“Ah. Well then, I won’t keep you from your schoolwork any longer.” Miles tapped his wrist and jerked his chin towards the cloudy sky before moving towards the stairs that led below deck. Typically the rule was to never dive alone, but… “Remember, one hour tops, and then I have to check the boat back in for the evening – no exceptions.”

“I know, I know – see you in a bit!” Positioning herself on the side of the boat, April fitted the mouthpiece from her tank into place, flashed an okay sign, and then pushed herself backwards into the rolling waves.

***

No matter how many times she dove, April could never not be amazed by the sheer beauty of the sea.She often wondered if she’d feel the same had her dad chosen a different line of work, but she ultimately pushed those thoughts aside and chose to simply be grateful that she’d always had the opportunity to live near open water. It was, after all, one of the only consistent things in her life.

She couldn’t even begin to count the amount of times that she had moved in her short life. Once or twice a year, her dad was reassigned to a new zoo or university and that meant uprooting everything and moving to the next body of water. Everywhere from Florida to Quebec to now Osaka – a large port city in Japan – had served as a temporary place of residence to April, her father, and the rest of the research team.

“Don’t worry, Pumpkin,” Kirby O’Neil had smiled at April over his mug of hot chocolate – a relocation announcement tradition in the O’Neil household. April remembered scowling into her own mug in response. “I spoke to the Board, and they’re willing to keep us in Osaka at least until you’ve graduated from high school. That way you can finish out your diploma in one place!”.

Five months later and the Board – a maniacal creature seemingly dedicated to repositioning its prisoners at random – had remained true to its word. April had quickly settled into the Japanese immersion class at her high school and was actually doing quite well in the school environment – enough so that the headmaster had paired her with another immersion student to help tutor him in math.

Casey Jones was an up-and-coming hockey player, the oldest child of the English Foreign Language teacher, and a big pain in the butt. Even though he was scheduled to graduate later that year, Casey seemed bound and determined to fail all of his classes – meaning that he and April spent more than the intended amount of time studying and hanging out together.

“It’s just you and me against Japan, Red,” Casey often joked as he would flash her a gap-toothed grin. “Us immigrants gotta stick together.”

If not for his cocky attitude and constant flirting, April might have thought that he was cute.

Might.

April gave a few kicks as she allowed thoughts of school to drift away and happily rolled in the cool water. Several silver fish darted out of her way as she sank lazily past, raising her camera in time to capture a couple of photos. Her blue eyes widened in awe as a class of clownfish and several jellyfish followed, and she rapidly snapped several pictures before they could float out of range. The water grew rapidly colder and darker with every few feet, aided by the clouds that were constantly drifting in front of the sun. Minutes slowly ticked away as her distance from the bobbing boat lengthened until it was no more than a misshapen shadow on the surface of the water above.

Thick, twisted chunks of orange and pink coral and a forest of seaweed eventually began to rise up around her, and she paused in the shadow of a particularly large structure to glance at the time on her camera screen – only twenty minutes left before she had to head for the surface. Yikes – that didn’t leave very long to get more decent shots.

She furrowed her brow in thought – maybe she could convince Miles or another research assistant to bring her out again tomorrow -?

Suddenly, a burst of movement out of the corner of her eye grabbed April’s attention and sent her reeling backwards against the coral. Hundreds of tiny fish blew past her in a frantic, unorganized mass, the undertow tearing at the surrounding seaweed and adding to the chaos and confusion. Before she could right herself, a much larger form shot after the fish, closely followed by another of similar size. The masses cut through the water without a glance in her direction, clearly intent on their prey and unaware that they had been seen.

April gasped as she righted herself and stared at the large, rapidly moving shapes that were quickly disappearing into the distance – what the heck had she just seen? For a moment she wanted to brush it off as simply two seals hunting dinner, but something made her hesitate. Something was off.

Heart pounding, she slowly peeled herself off of the coral wall and ducked into the thick seaweed. Once she was sure that she wouldn’t be spotted, April raised her camera and aimed it at the creatures. By now they were far enough away that the camera wouldn’t focus, but this confirmed what she’d thought she’d seen. Those were not the usual side to side movements that most fish travelled by, or even an up and down motion like dolphins or seals would use – these things had arms and legs that they were kicking like human beings.

Still not acknowledging April’s presence, the two creatures suddenly split up and each silently moved to one side of the school of fish. They then began to duck and weave, almost dancing with each other as they continued to direct the fish into a tighter and more condensed mass.

The numbers on April’s camera screen blinked a warning, reminding her that she only had a few more minutes before she needed to head to the surface, but she shoved the thought aside. She had to get closer.

With one hand firmly clutching her camera, April pushed off of the coral and began to propel herself through the clinging seaweed. The creatures had already put several dozen yards between herself and them, but appeared to be slowing as they closed in on their prey.

Moving through the dense seaweed was more difficult than her targets had made it look, however. The girl grimaced as her limbs repeatedly got tangled in thick pieces of the plant, slowing her motion until she tore them loose. She was almost to the edge of the seaweed when the bigger of the two let out a sharp clicking noise, causing April to freeze in place.

Before she could determine what was happening, a net appeared between the two beings and they cast it across the fish. The smaller creature then reached for a long strand of seaweed that had been wrapped around his forearm and tied the bag shut, thoroughly trapping their dinner. He squealed and clicked in pride, sounding like a dolphin that had just performed a trick and was now expecting a treat. The larger creature chirped in response and reached out to pat the smaller one on the head.

April kicked forward, mind reeling as she struggled to comprehend what she was witnessing, when a thick piece of seaweed tangled itself around her thigh and brought her chase to a stop. The sudden change in momentum caught her off guard, and April flailed her arms around in surprise – only for her camera to slip from her grasp. The small device, now free of anything weighing it down, rocketed towards the surface as the girl let out an exasperated string of curses that were only just masked by her mouthpiece.

Eyes straining to not lose the creatures amidst the bubbles that had stirred up around her, April violently jerked her leg to snap the seaweed. When the clinging inhibitor only seemed to tighten in response, she let out a huff of frustration and reached down to quickly untangle her leg. What met her fingertips, however, was not part of the slimy plants that surrounded her.

The girl let out a muffled stream of bubbles as she twisted around and gasped sharply. The dark tentacle around her leg tightened in response, and several more shot out from the shifting forest to pull at her arms and hair. April instinctively reached for the emergency knife on her belt, but the massive squid let out a fierce grumble as its tentacles tightened around her arms and pinned them to her sides. April’s heart pounded loudly in her ears as she struggled fruitlessly and let out a garbled yell of panic.

Had she been diving with a team, the others would have stepped in at this moment to help her get away. But now here she was, alone and trapped with her only hope nearly twenty minutes away from even beginning to question where she was.

Am I going to die down here?

Just as another tentacle snaked forward to tug at her airline, the water around her erupted into bubbles and April felt herself being violently thrown back and forth. The tentacles remained firmly wrapped around her body, but she felt their grip slacken ever so slightly as two blurs rammed into the squid’s head with claws outstretched. Blood filled the water as the squid flailed beneath its attackers, scaly skin tearing underneath their claws.

April screamed again as one of the creatures suddenly turned on her, eyes wide and ghostly white, and then began to violently attack the limbs holding her tight.

Even as she was being tossed back and forth, April could tell that the creature fighting for her freedom was like nothing she had ever seen in her research. Shape-wise, the creature appeared to be a mix between a human and a turtle, roughly several inches shorter than she was. The terrapin was a pale olive color, covered from head to toe with splotches of purple scales. Thick claws protruded from large, rounded limbs and with each swipe it was clear that they were sharp enough to cut through flesh without much effort. A ramshackle string of lavender stones hung from one of the terrapin’s upper arms, somehow not getting cut or knocked off during the fight, and a quick glance told April that the other creature bore similar decorations on its own body.

When the thrashing tentacles finally began to loosen, the turtle nearest to her grabbed April beneath the armpits and quickly jerked her out of their confinement while the other continued to distract the squid. The turtle’s claws dug into her sides painfully as it held her to its plastron and began to swim awayupwards, causing April to cry out and kick her legs in panic. A series of sharp clicks echoed in April’s ears as she fought, and then several things happened all at once.

The water erupted with even more noise and movement – though April hardly believed it possible – and then the arms around her slackened and fell away, almost immediately to be replaced by several pairs of hands that she could recognize as being human. The next few minutes happened as a blur – she vaguely remembered several decompression stops as they ascended, each accompanied by hands gently patting her body and checking for injury – but before she knew it, they were breaking the surface of the water. There her world continued to move in a confusing blur of shapes and colors as more hands hooked under her arms and heaved her on deck, where her diving equipment was quickly stripped away and replaced with warm towels and gentle touches.

April blinked rapidly, her eyes stinging as they adjusted to the sudden brightness. “What – ”

“We’ve got you, Little One,” A female biologist that April recognized from her father’s crew came into view amongst the blur of movement and blankets being piled on her shoulders, her face creased in maternal concern. “Delta Team was out patrolling and pulled up right alongside Miles just as your camera surfaced – we were afraid something terrible had happened to you! And – oh, you’re bleeding!”

“I –”

Miles’ voice suddenly broke through the chaos. “Give us a hand – we’ve got something big!”

Rina’s head jerked around to look at something out of April’s line of sight, and then she wrapped her arms around the girl and turned her away from the ruckus occurring on the other boat. The woman muttered something softly in Japanese, her eyes widening as she pulled April tighter against her body. “Oh my word…”

“What’s going on?” April turned against the arms holding her right as a full net thudded onto the deck she’d been on less than an hour ago. The large mass inside of it was curled inward and bleeding slightly, but one limp arm was clearly visible, bearing a bracelet of string and lavender stones.

Next Chapter

#savannah drabbles #rottmnt #tmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt au #sea turtles au

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thetorturerwrites · 4 years

Text

Puer Deus: Liar

This amazing artwork was gifted to me by @faestae-writes. Please do not re-use or re-post it without permission from them and/or myself. Don’t be a dickbag.

***

Captured / Hurricane / Sustenance

Summary: Chaos. Balance.

A/N: 18+ only. Physical violence; sadism; references to abuse; smut; inappropriate use of lightsaber/force. Please take the content notes seriously, and thank you for coming with me on this ride.

Word Count: 8000+

Day Four

You’d awoken to darkness, which was an unusual change of pace since you’d been captured. It was quiet, cold, and it sounded as though the universe was at peace. Trying to internalize the soothing white noise, you lay in the spacious bed, wishing you were somewhere you could see stars, and stared at the dark ceiling for a long time contemplating the clash of balance and chaos in your life.

Because Kylo Ren was both chaos and balance. You had no idea what the torture would be, but you knew there would be torture. Each time you saw him, he combusted and consumed you; and you knew that each time you saw him, it would be the same.

Chaos. Balance.

Ren had left you wallowing in the bottom of the shower, discarded like sewer refuse, and you had stayed on that shower floor for quite some time arguing with yourself if drowning was an auspicious end to your stint in this world or just a coward’s way out.

You still weren’t sure if you made the right choice.

The door hissed opened, and your whole body clenched. When you didn’t hear the whir of the droid that had delivered food, your mouth dried out, and you chewed your lower lip. It could only be him. For the briefest moment, light pooled into the room from the crisp world outside, and you yearned for it suddenly. You’d been trapped in a room with the most dangerous man in the galaxy using you as his personal plaything for days. Ren stepped into the door frame, and the thought of the world beyond him tapered away.

There was only him. Wasn’t there?

A full-body shiver worked its way from your scalp to toes. You were naked, having been left nothing to cover your body save the bedding, and you felt incredibly small, vulnerable but also awash in sensation, tempted by the violence his presence promised, lured into his game by the utter rush of adrenaline he brought with him every visit. Your body responded to even the idea of him, nipples raising to tight peaks, thighs pressing together to quell the quake.

Your fingers fisted the gray sheets, but you were determined to remain calm, to not move. Flattening yourself into the mattress, you focused doubly hard on the ceiling, but you couldn’t stop your breath from quickening. You’d done the things he expected of you; you’d bathed and eaten, made sure you drank water so your body would begin to heal. You had even denied yourself the slippery feel of your own arousal after he’d abandoned you in the shower. Somehow, you reasoned, he would know.

It was futile, however, to assume that those things would placate him.

He was nothing more than a shadow slicing through darkness, and it felt as though he infected every atom in the room, dimming every bit of light in the universe until he was the center. Every single day, you existed behind the curve, lacking the ability to broadcast your thoughts and feelings the way so many others took for granted. In this lightless room, this black hole cell, you were even more deficient, able to see nothing as the boogeyman came to collect you.

You felt his weight upon the foot of the bed and jumped in response, surprising even yourself with the suddenness of movement. Ren caught your ankle in a harsh grasp, fingers digging into the bony process and turning the ankle out. He pulled your legs apart, nudging them further and further to accommodate his size, and crawled between them as if he owned the space between. With his weight settled upon you, you shook, eyes misting, emotions already spilling over.

Because part of you knew that he did own that space between your thighs, and you had to admit to yourself that you wanted him to own that space. You couldn’t decide if it was the man’s viciousness that drugged you so or if it was just the man himself, but you were quickly becoming addicted to the vortex of pleasure and pain he brought with him.

You were spinning, your brain fast whirring out of control. He was torturous even when you could see him. Your mind did not know how to react that this, too, was taken from you, and it leaped to scenes of dismemberment, decapitation, laced with the slight red tint of lust, the haze of titillation. You imagined that the way he smelled, like smoke clinging to trees, must certainly be the specter of death hovering nearby, waiting for you, and it curled into the roof of your mouth.

Ren’s hands brought you back from your macabre visions, drawing up along the length of your nude body wrapped tight in the dark fabric, and slithered into your hair, curling into a tight grip at your scalp. Wrenching back, he curved your spine, tipped your head out of the way, and dropped his nose against the thunder of your pulse. Feeling his mouth on your throat spurred it to obedience, and it shifted with a swallow. You rubbed your tongue into your teeth, trying to produce enough saliva to obey again. His voice, when it came, was little above a whisper, but it was smooth like velvet.

“Were you dreaming of me, trader?”

You were lost to the fog of him and trembled to feel his lips vibrate against your skin as he spoke, but you realized he was waiting for you to answer. Licking your lips, you inhaled as deep of a breath as you could and shook your head slightly. He grunted in response, and you winced, preparing yourself for him to sink his teeth into your throat, crush your windpipe, and listen to you wheeze your last breaths beneath him.

But rather than wrath, he wrapped both hands around your shoulders and arched your body further up towards his mouth, painting a long line from your rapid heartbeat to your chin with his tongue. Your head lolled, and you tried to suppress the shudder that rolled through you, but your body responded of its own accord, one leg lifting up to squeeze at him with your thigh. His dark chuckle resounded against you, condescending, and you angrily shoved your leg away, turning your face from him.

“A liar as well as a traitor, hm?”

Releasing one shoulder, Ren settled his palm over your breast and squeezed, his thumb grazing over your aching nipple, and you shook your head again. Whatever you may have accepted about his claim upon your body was not for him to know, and you bristled at the contact. As though he could hear your thoughts, he did it again, proving the point. You did crave his touch, your body was his to compel, and he knew that you knew it.

You felt branded by it.

Slithering his touch down along the length of you, he tugged one leg up around his hips, stretched those searing fingers around the ripe curve of your ass, and pulled the cradle of your body open to accept him. Slowly, he began to rock his hips into yours, his weight moving and dipping with each thrust. Your breath stuttered, toes curling as you felt him lengthening against your core. You twisted your fingers into fists so that you wouldn’t reach for him.

“What else have you lied about?”

You were so focused on not being aroused by his every arousing gesture that you didn’t notice his free fingers inching up your shoulder and around your throat. Panic shot across your face, but it was too late. You cursed yourself for letting down your guard, for being made the fool by your own treacherous body. His large digits were just beneath your jaw on either side, and he was squeezing dangerously tight, cutting off the flow of blood to your brain by damming up the vein.

In your terror, your body curled around him, fingers clutching at his shirt, thighs squeezing his body, cunt heating as lust and fear boiled your blood. In trying to get away, you were undulating beneath him, rolling with his own grinding hips, and he growled under his breath, hardening further against your pelvis. Shame flooded you, but your eyes still fluttered shut, your groan still came to rumble under his grip. You tried to shake your head, but his grip made movement impossible, and you began to see bright spots in the black room.

Just before you slipped away, he released the pressure of his thumb and began to rub circles into the skin, as though this was a soothing gesture. He was learning your body and how long it would take you to lose consciousness, and your head swam with the realization. Your lungs remembered to fill, and you gasped against the unforgiving wall of his chest. You shuddered, the length of your body recoiling as though he’d shot you to orbit on an orgasm, and he hissed, snatching you back to attention. Shaking your head wildly, you tried to telegraph to him that you hadn’t lied about anything.

Ren lifted himself, one knee planting under the curve of your ass to bear his weight, and pressed the moist heat of his palm against your chest. He was still rubbing circles against your jugular vein when fire shot up through your pussy and around your clit. On instinct, you cried out, the gravel gasp of it reverberating up into his hand, and his fingers curled down into your sternum as though he planned to pull your beating heart from its cavity.

The sensation at your cunt was warm and almost wet, and you squirmed beneath him. You wrapped one hand around his wrist, trying to lift the weight of his demand away; and one hand slithered up the hard, chiseled arm to grip the middle, at the elbow, trying to pull the weight of his demand further into your body. In your delirium, you couldn’t decide which you wanted more.

Your slit of a useless mouth quivered, whimpering soundlessly, as he used the Force to manipulate you in this new and wicked way. Your clit was pushed up and down, side to side, and your chest shot upwards, connecting with the strangle at your throat and the crush at your chest. Jaw clenched, you tried not to imagine it was his tongue buried deep between your swollen cunt lips, but the feeling was just as hot, just as fluid. Each time your chest oscillated where moans should be, his hips pushed into you, and you were fast a sticky mess beneath him.

“Do you know where the Resistance has gone?”

You were teetering just on the edge of bliss, wrapping yourself around him as though you, yourself, were the fabled monster from the deep, dragging him down into your abyss second by second. Your hips danced trying to find just the right angle or just the perfect spot for his cock between your labia. Dizzy, you arched and twisted, but he kept the pace of his hips deliberately slow, keeping the pleasure you ached for just out of reach.

You didn’t have any other way to communicate with him in the dark; and though you were certain he knew right where your mind was, you were terrified of the ramifications of that fact. Pleadingly, you clutched at his wrist with both hands, trying to lift his large hand up. You squeezed his sides with your legs, desperately trying to convey that you weren’t fighting, you weren’t trying to get away.

Astonishingly, his grip eased at your chest, and he let you have his hand. Relief flooded you, and you hugged his body tighter with your trembling thighs and tugged his hand up over your mouth. Shifting the palm so that it covered both of your lips and nearly all of one cheek, you tipped your face up into the volatile cover and brushed your mouth against the smooth center. This seemed to please him because his hips ground into you with a bit more weight and the hot suction between your legs increased. You groaned again, and you knew it vibrated through your lips against his palm. You had to fight to focus on what you were doing.

Sliding one hand over his where it covered your mouth, you again reached up to his elbow, hooking your fingers there and pulling, tempting him to again lean his weight into you, onto you. Pressing your lips up into his fiery skin, you opened your eyes and looked up into the darkness, straining to pick out his outline and hoping that he could see you better. When he did lean his weight onto your captive face, you forgot what was happening and lost yourself to gyrating beneath him, begging for something. Remembering his question, you shook your head purposefully. No, you did not know where they were.

Whether Ren believed you or not, he squeezed your face, fingers digging into the mottled cheek and chin until his fingernails dug curved trenches to mar your skin’s landscape. You were panting, lungs straining against ribs, nostrils flaring against foreign flesh, simultaneously frightened and aflame. His silence only prolonged your agony, but the Force sucking on your clit never faltered, and your eyes squeezed shut tight as a tremor rocked through you, bucking your hips up against it, against him.

You had been rendered a pathetic, mewling, wretched thing, and you pleaded with the unknown that he would believe you, that he would accept your offering because you were empty of anything else.

You had been foolish to hope for mercy, to hope that he would be satisfied with your display; and when his fingers tightened at both your nose and throat, you jerked against him violently, fists pounding into his arm. Thrashing your head from side to side, you wailed and cried, screamed and raged inside your head. The first time you saw him came flooding back, the feeling you had when you knew nothing you could say would satisfy him. He would chase every answer you ever provided with pain. It was the only thing he could believe.

Ren’s hand left your face, and you surged upwards into a painful arch, swallowing air desperately, just as something flew into his hand. Re-oxygenated, you were struggling against the grip at your throat when the lightsaber ignited furiously into the room. You blanched, terrified into momentary stillness. As suddenly as it flared against the dark, the hellfire was gone. The black that enveloped you was now tinted crimson, and you fought to focus on something concrete, only able to see little particles of red-and-white light and blinking rapidly to clear them away.

Knowing it was in his hands flooded you with adrenaline, and you clashed against him with a new vigor. Your heels found purchase against the mattress, and you threw the entire weight of your body into him, trying to upset his balance, impotently attempting to shake the immovable. You clawed at his chest and arms, tried to peel his tight grip away from your throat. Recognizing the futility, you implored the galaxy that he would slide the Force over your body, take away your will, your option to fight him, because it made bearing his torment easier.

Your useless gaze watered over, and tears spilled down into your hairline as you came to understand that he wanted to feel you fight him. He had stopped using the Force to hold you down because he wanted your struggle, your battle. He had never asked you to stop fighting him; he had simply told you he would win.

Kylo Ren had told you a simple truth; and in doing so, he had completely obliterated you.

The Force did abandon your clit, just as you’d begged, in favor of your mouth, and your jaw was cranked open wide. The lightsaber ignited again, and you watched it move nearer and nearer to your face. You screamed, chest seizing and rippling in fear; but at the last possible moment, the angry blaze cut off, and Ren lowered the weapon into your mouth until the hot cross hilt sizzled against the delicate corners. You could smell the burning, taste the char, and you wretched, but you dared not turn your head, close your mouth, or lift your tongue.

You could only sob beneath him, paralyzed, horrified, electrified.

Ren let you ride out your terror, pressing on your chest until you registered that he hadn’t yet blown a hole through your skull. He stayed silent and motionless while you fought your breath back into some semblance of normal. Focusing your brain, you tried to be still, to soothe him with your obedience, to quiet your desperate mind. You clutched at his shirt but stopped pushing him away, and you bent your legs up around his hips, hugging the wall of him in tight. Of their own mind, your hips rocked against him once, twice, because his had woefully ceased moving. The hard width of his cock was still tucked in between your labia, and you fixated on that until you were no longer quaking.

“Do you know where they are?”

The Force left your mouth, and you labored to hear him over the rush of blood in your ears. He’d taken away the method of communicating you’d offered him, and you could see less now than you could before he’d disrupted the dark with the lightsaber. You felt wholly plunged into an obsidian sea, lungs filling with Ren’s dark will. Mind flailing, struggling not to drown in this fear, you did the only thing you could think of and prayed you survived.

Peeling your lips back from chattering teeth, you bit down on the edge of the weapon, the very last ridge.

You heard his breath catch, indicating he could see you in this inky barrenness. You held your teeth there, hoping he wouldn’t lose patience and end your furious bid. You knew how to placate angry men, how to soothe wounded egos, but Kylo Ren was no ordinary man, and these were unprecedented circumstances. Releasing the bits of shirt you’d clung to, you splayed both hands against the chiseled expanse of his chest, trying to show him that you were compliant, honest, trustworthy in this moment.

Steeling yourself into composure, you used his body, his nearness, to ground yourself and commit to what you were about to do. You didn’t know if you would survive this moment, but you were a caged creature with no options left. Carefully, cautiously, you shook your head; the weapon jostled, moved side to side by the grip of your teeth. No, you didn’t know where they were.

Ren was feral now, his cock throbbing, pulsing against your concealed cunt, and his breathing was short and shallow. His fingernails scratched down your throat, leaving red, welted tracks, and the weight of the lightsaber increased as he released it to similarly claw at your chest. Your mind screamed at you to throw the treacherous thing away, but something slid over you, peaceful, powerful, and you left it there, protruding from your mouth. He growled and snarled, grinding himself against your burning core.

Was this acceptance? Submission? Why did you feel so powerful?

You hushed the instincts telling you this was madness and tipped your head back. In this liquid euphoria, you showed Ren your throat, swallowed for him, mimicking the path his cock would take if it were lodged there in place of his weapon, and he gnashed his teeth. The chaos in you silenced, and you curled suddenly assured fingers into his shirt, luring him down rather than fighting him away.

The hands that shook this time were not your own, and the grip that claimed your hips was brutally tight, as though to camouflage the tremble. You arched up, curving your spine in a delicious bow, and tried to press your throbbing breasts into his huffing rib cage. Ren rutted into you once more, and your twisting, pulsating pelvis cradled him, rolling with his thrusts.

You knew he was watching you, and you flushed, imagining how you looked to him. Eyes wet and wild. Skin hot and streaked with sweat and tears. Lips stretched apart, teeth holding his weapon, the extension of himself, upright. You wondered if he saw you as hungry as you saw yourself in this moment. You lifted your sex into his and whimpered at the drag of his length against you.

Somehow, you found yourself wishing that you weren’t separated from him by trousers and bedding, and you closed your eyes to focus on him grinding against you, his pace increasing. Emboldened, your tongue came up to trace the ridge of the saber’s portal, and he barked out a curse. You licked at it, the alloy taste a pitiable substitute for Ren’s skin, and felt your body deliver a surge of wet heat to perfume the room. There would be no denying that his violence awakened every part of you.

He was all but fucking you now, stabbing against your swollen, cloistered pussy, using your body to get off, and it provoked your lust, consuming you. You swam in the picture you created in your head of him looming over you, face red and sweaty as he drilled into you. You imagined the weapon in your mouth was his cock, and you poked your tongue up into the gaping hole, tentatively at first. It was warm, and it tasted of violence and death.

“Fuck. Again."

You reveled in his gaze, his debauched command. You were charged electric, teeming with obscene fantasies, a Child God’s harlot worshiping at the altar of his weapon.

His hips began to stutter as you worked your tongue in and out of the saber’s opening, losing yourself to the idea that he was coming undone for you, because of you. Circling the raised ridge again, you hummed at the taste of metal and slid the hungry muscle back into that channel, bathing the industrial black in shining spit.

Clamoring between your legs, Ren bore down on your chest to hold you in place, deflating your lungs with the shift of his weight. He tore away the sheet that was covering your naked body and knelt between your legs. Angrily, he forced your thighs apart wide, slapping at one viciously, a warning that you were to keep them there. Your hips never stopped moving for him, though, and you wrapped both hands around the wrist at your hammering heart, deciding that this was your favorite way for him to suffocate you. Continuing to fuck his weapon with your tongue, you wrapped the sinful sounds he made around you like a glove.

Ren’s beautiful mouth dripped with all manner of derogatory mutterings, and you contorted under each. Dirty. Filthy. Pathetic. Hungry. Greedy. You could hear him fisting his cock, the slap of it echoing out into the silent room, punctuated only by heavy breathing.

The two of you were locked in fantasy, bleeding desires into reality. He fucked his tight fist, picturing you swallowing his aching cock instead of his weapon, and you writhed beneath him as though he was actually fucking you, hips bucking, breasts quivering, cunt clenching.

He shot his orgasm up the length of your body with a deep growl, and you purred for it, arching, straining, to be the canvas for each hot drop, concentrating on the sticky feel of it puddling on your ribs. You rocked your hips against the empty air, languid and loose. You were slick and ready for him, even though you knew it wouldn’t come. He would deny you this, you were sure, but you were wholly satisfied, even through the painful throb that didn’t abate.

You had done that. You had wrung orgasm from insanity.

A moment passed where he just looked at you, saying nothing. Time distorted, and you followed the rustle of fabric as he righted himself. Reaching for his weapon, he dislodged it from your teeth with a clink, the metal clanging against enamel. Wisely, you remained exactly where you were, quaking into the darkness, until he left the room.

Hours passed. The exhilaration, the frenzy, crashed, and you slipped into mindless existence. After he’d left, you slept. When food was delivered, you ate. But all of your brain function was centered upon reliving the early morning hour with Ren. Even the memory of it blistered you, and you found yourself grimacing through the replay.

You had delighted in the depravity with hardly any prodding at all.

Your fingers still shook with the revelation, and you covered still flushed cheeks, nonono running on repeat as though refusing to admit the truth would make it go away. Violent men were not new to you, but you had never reacted to one the way you reacted to him. Rationalizing that Commander Kylo Ren was unlike any man you’d ever known did nothing to staunch your shame. You wanted to curl into a ball beneath the cover, to let your disgust force every muscle into contracture. You wanted to keen and cry, but you were fresh out of tears. Ren owned those, too, it seemed, because you could not produce a single one for yourself no matter how you languished.

Repulsed at the pathetic thing you’d become, you forced yourself up and into the bathroom. The automatic light startled you, and you lurched away from the mirror with a wince before realizing that the wounded creature there was you. Wrapping clammy fingers around the counter’s corners, you leaned forward and studied your opposite. She looked like you. She bore your scars. But she was a wholly different animal, hunger in dark eyes, riddled with new constellations of angry color. Ren’s bruises bloomed up under a canopy dotted with crimson stars, new galaxies of blue, green, purple.

That woman, you decided, was a raging, wanton savage.

What did it mean, then, that she was you? This cell, this man, was a crucible of destruction, but were you being remade into something capable of withstanding his onslaught? Or had you been this object, this receptacle for his whim all along? Only waiting for the right spark, the right strike to solidify your purpose?

Turning away from the uncomfortable answers, you stepped into the shower alcove and turned the cold water on full blast. The icy torrent choked air from your lungs, and you pushed your face into the pelting, trying to slide the lie back into place that you were horrified by your predicament. If Ren ignited you so, perhaps you could freeze yourself back into rationality. You were not this man’s plaything; you were his prisoner.

Heaving for breath, you crouched down and pressed palms into your face, enduring the numbing punishment until your lips blued and your fingertips were incapable of registering sensation, curling in on themselves to similarly useless fists. Your jaws, teeth, knocked together, the tick tick tick marking time. When you could handle no more, you reached for the knob, quaking and fumbling to turn off the excruciating reminder, having foolishly muted your dexterity.

Wrapping up in the towel, you stepped back into your dungeon and surveyed, your assessment sobering. You needed to forget the power you’d felt under Ren’s thumb this morning and concentrate on getting the fuck away from him. Drawing in a steadying breath, you resolved to get away from them all, every man who had ever laid false claim to you.

Examining your surroundings, you began a mental list. This was a room, not a cell, which meant you were in the proper living quarters of the ship and not the prisoner block. That also meant this room was connected to a different power grid, and the lights were automated to a stricter schedule. Prisoners didn’t need to know what time it was, but workers did. Blowing out a huff, you nodded once, feeling more like yourself with a task at hand, and you set to it.

Having spent your lifetime disassembling and reassembling things, you knew to start small. Sometimes, the guts of one thing built something else. You abandoned the towel because holding it in place hindered your movement, and your body was warming back up to an acceptable temperature, pink flooding back into lips and benumbed extremities. Starting at the nearest wall, you dragged palms and fingertips along every surface, every ridge, every corner in the room.

Everything in the galaxy could be taken apart.

Meticulously, you combed the room for errant screws, splinters of plastic, shards of tile you could coax free from plaster, and you collected everything onto the small desk in the corner. Making it around to the door, you drummed fingers against it, chewing the inside of one cheek. If this was a room, and not a cell, there should be a panel to operate the door from the inside, allowing the occupant to exit.

It had been replaced with a solid panel, but you found it, and your heart pounded with excitement. That meant the wiring, the important circuitry, was just beneath that blank face. They hadn’t removed it; they’d only thought to hide it. Idly, you wondered how many injuries would result if Ren knew corners were cut.

Turning back to the pile on the desk, you pushed through the detritus and wrapped fingers around the shard of poly-carbonate. A quick decision had you tearing a corner from the sheet, fashioning a makeshift handle to keep from gouging at your skin, and tucking the little shank into your palm.

Daringly, you hopped back over to the wall and broke into a grin, pleased with yourself. Even if you didn’t pop that panel, even if you didn’t get away, you had a weapon, paltry though it might be. You had something to use. Standing on your toes, you stuck the plastic tip in under the lip where it was closest and wiggled it all the way around the edges, slicing the concealing paint from the wall. Deciding that up and away was the best plan, you shoved the shiv in again and worked at prying the panel free.

Wiping sweat from your brow, you settled down onto flat feet, shaking out your legs. Standing on your toes that long was making them cramp, but you were too jittery to stop or take a break. The bottom of the panel was lifted out of its seat, and you were within striking distance of the electronic guts underneath. You breathed out a prayer, stepped back up onto your toes, and slid your tool home.

Just then, the door burst open, and all hope bled from your face.

Wide, terrified eyes lifted into the stark, too-bright hallway, and you winced, blinking and trying to focus. Days in half or full dark turned you vampiric, unable to withstand anything crisp and clean. Shying away from the very portal you were trying to jimmy open, you dropped the shank with a clink and lifted an arm up to cover your face, cowering away from the figure standing at the threshold. His gloved fist connected with your stomach, punching you back into the room and shocking the breath from you.

Doubling over, you coughed and wretched onto the floor from the force of his strike, reeling back into your cell. You shot a hand out at him, keeping your body an arm’s length apart, back further and further away from escape, into dread. This was death, you were certain. The devil had caught you trying to flee hell, and this was your end.

Ren stepped in, the door sealing behind him, and all the oxygen was sucked from the room. He dwarfed every single thing here, the sheer size of him casting everything in degrees of small, worthless, discardable. But it was his silence, the false patience and calm demeanor, that was your undoing. Your eyes, worthless to you earlier, could cry now, and they flooded your cheeks with hot tears.

“Escaping? Hm?”

His words were venom, spat at you accusingly as he dropped a black parcel on the desk, sending your array of bits and bobbles crashing to the floor. Crouching, he pushed gloved fingers through your collection and paused, hovering over the wrapped bit of plastic you’d fashioned. Paling, you withered, physically shrinking away from his judgment. The pride and sense of accomplishment you’d built back up in yourself were smashed away under the weight of his displeasure, though he said nothing.

As he rose to his full height, you were convinced you could feel the build-up of his rage. You’d withstood Kylo Ren’s furor once before. You weren’t sure you could do it again.

Marked by a mechanical hiss, Ren removed the dark helmet, and you were struck dumb by the sight. He was still the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, and his full lips quivered as he pondered whatever it is demons decide. He turned the covering over in his hands in contemplation; and then, his rage exploded, and he threw the helmet at the wall, aimed and connecting dead on at the panel you’d been attempting to scavenge. He gave you what you’d wanted; the panel dropped away, sparks flying and popping. You watched it dangle from an electrical cord mournfully.

In the next instant, he was on you, but this was different. You expected rage, a whipping, more drowning; but instead, he wrapped one granite arm around your waist and tucked one hand against your cheek. He tilted your face up and nudged the end of your nose with his. You shook in his embrace, fisting fingers into the collar of his cloak, shaking your head anxiously, but for what? He had caught you doing exactly what you intended to do. Gazing into his eyes, though, you could see the simmering indignation, the twitch of his eye socket indicating barely contained vehemence.

“Four days,” he said, “You’ve been here four days.”

Your brow knit, but you nodded, accepting what he was telling you. He hadn’t lied to you yet; so, you had no cause to think he would do so now. Sucking your lower lip in, you watched his mouth move, watched him speak, imagining how it would feel even in your terror.

Your eyes dried, consternation stopping the tears, as you pieced together that he was taunting you, forewarning that he was going to hurt you, punish you, and maneuvering you to agree that you deserved it. He told you he was going to keep you, hurt you, not kill you. Death would not feed his cruel desire.

Surrendering to the inevitable, four of something, you visibly slackened and let dark, wet lashes sweep down to cover the resignation.

You sagged into the arm at your middle, sniffling and refusing to meet his assessing gaze. Lifting his index finger to teeth, Ren tugged the glove free and tossed it away. His fingers danced, connecting with your bare shoulder and traveling the length of your arm; anticipation, you thought. He lifted your arm as though it was a fragile thing, turning it so that the soft, sensitive underside was raised to the sky. His dark torrent of curls lowered, that enticing mouth inching towards your skin, and you held your breath.

Four what, your brain suddenly supplied.

Comprehension broke over you a fraction of a second before Ren’s mouth stretched open wide over the vulnerable flesh, but you couldn’t jerk away. You could only watch, time slowing to an agonizing crawl, as his teeth bared on a snarl and sunk into the skin. You couldn’t breathe; your every thought was arrested, your body propelled into anxious quaking.

His bite was vicious, the mighty jaw locking down tight, and you feared the pressure would break straight through the bone. Once latched on, he turned his head right and left, teeth dug far in and nearly tearing the skin. He groaned long and loud, eliciting a fresh pool of heat in your belly. He drew in a tremulous breath and blew it out hot over the crook of your elbow.

Your arm numbed, veins compressed by his bite. When he finally let go, the leaden weight fell from his mouth with a wet shuck, pain jolting through to your shoulder as you listed to one side. You looked up at him dazed, the whole of the universe fuzzy and muted, and he hummed with satisfaction, the reverberation of it tickling your nipples where you were pressed tightly to him. He shifted you in his embrace, spurring you into action. You did press against his chest now, convinced you could not endure three more of those.

Ren’s vice grip never lessened, and he repeated the harrowing process, forcing your bent arm straight, turning the tender meat up for his ravenous intent, and sinking down onto it without mercy. Knowing what was coming made it worse, and you screamed, a raspy garble, and twisted in his grasp, trying desperately to tug your arm out of his mouth. He delighted in your suffering, growling hungrily, your ministrations only serving to spur him on. He opened his mouth wider, sucked the flesh of your arm deeper into the cavern, and bit down again to the very molars.

Breaking into sobs, you hit at his shoulder, loose fist bumping impotently against the padded cloak. Your face crumpled with misery, and you danced onto your toes. Leaning into him, you pressed your forehead into the back of his raven curls and begged for him to release by rubbing back and forth like a feline. Please let go. Please let go. Please let go.

The bull-dog grip he had on your arm released slowly this time, and he lapped at the indentations left dotting the terrain. Absent his gaze, you had a moment to recover, to contemplate the circumstance. You weren’t aware that you’d curled trembling fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck until his head lifted, stretching you. When his eyes lit down onto you, your head lolled back, and you slid into the embrace of your mantra.

In suffering, there is…

“Beauty.”

His voice finishing your prayer ricocheted you out of the bliss you’d been trying to escape into, and you pushed against him with throbbing arms. No, your mind screamed. That was for you, and you wouldn’t allow him to have it. No! Your face hardened, furious. Your mind was yours only; he had no claim to it. Bending and contorting inside his arms, you angrily stomped and kicked at his calves. A banging at the door drew his gaze over one shoulder, and he sneered in disgust or impatience, perhaps both.

Ren shoved you onto the bed, rolled you onto your stomach, and planted the sole of his boot upon your backside. Acrimony burned your tongue, and you tasted sulfurous bile at the back of your throat. Out of time, he stilled you with the Force and yanked you down the bed until your feet were hanging off the edge. You careened headlong into upheaval, yelling into the bedding in powerless rage.

“You will owe me two.”

Bending one leg up, he pressed his thumb harshly down into the very center of your foot arch, and you bucked in the Force’s hold, howling out every bit of air you had. The throb of it abated, though, when you felt something scoring the flesh, scratching and dragging down the length of your tender sole. Stinging diffused through the pad, and your brow clenched tight, trying to puzzle through why it felt like something was crawling on you. A hot, thick trail wound down, pulled by gravity.

Blood.

He’d cut the sole of your foot open. An apt punishment for a runner, you thought darkly and assumed he’d used your own fucking tool against you. Abandoning one foot for the other, the slice was repeated, and you shook your head, fuming and straining to not cry. Ren tossed the shank away with a clatter and stepped off of your ass. Wrapping unforgiving fingers around your ankle, he pulled you further down the bed and manhandled you into sitting at the bed’s edge. The Force departed from your body, and you glared at him, shooting daggers through damp lashes.

“Quickly.”

You vaguely recalled the parcel he’d entered the room with as it dropped into your lap. Untying the bundle, you freed your socks and boots, and heaved a tired sigh. Fucking perfect, you thought. You’d managed to flee on the very day you were due to be moved; and now, you were hobbled for your efforts. Indignantly, you shoved your bloody feet into socks and boots. No sooner than your second boot touched the ground, Ren hauled you up onto your feet and spun you to face away.

Fire shot up through your legs, and you choked yourself into angry compliance, pouring every bit of effort you had into not dancing, into simply standing and suffering this punishment. You schooled your face into passivity, calming your breathing. Your agitation earlier had opened the door for him to hear your mind, and that simply would not do. Eyes closed, you simply breathed and meditated as he manipulated your body.

Agile, Ren’s hands moved to pull your battered, burning arms behind your back. For a brief moment, his thumbs raked over the new bite-sized bruises rising to life before he rolled your shoulders back, punching your chest further forward and drawing your elbows closer together. Producing a long strip of leather, he tied your arms tight with knots at the wrists, elbows, and upper arms.

“We’re leaving.”

Your eyes shot wide open, and you leaned to one side, looking up at him over your shoulder. You weren’t shocked that you were leaving; that was painfully clear. You were shocked that you’d been given nothing to wear. Did he plan to parade you down the hallway like a common whore? Jerking out of his grip, you stepped closer to the bed and away from the door.

“Don’t be stupid,” he sneered.

Unclasping the cloak from his broad shoulders, he threw it around your naked form and hooked it back beneath your neck. It was going to flare out as you walked, but it was the best you were going to get. Capturing your chin, he lifted your incredulous face, looking down the length of his nose at you for a brief, quiet moment before turning to don helmet and gloves. It occurred to you, just now, that Ren spoke very little around you, and you wondered if he enjoyed the lack of obligation to do so.

Throwing you against the wall, Ren ignited his lightsaber and plunged it into the panel you’d been dissecting. Smoke wafted towards the ceiling just as the door struggled open. Hand at your neck, he forced you out into the hallway, bright and glossy, and you grimaced in the face of so much light, shrinking back as though you could escape it. Gloved fingers dug in and directed you to move, turn, walk forward. He was impatient and drilled you to step faster, but he caught you every time your injured feet faltered and sent you tripping to the side.

When the ship dock came into view, you stopped dead in your tracks. Your eyes lifted, awed, and you simply could not make yourself take another step. It wasn’t terror, though. You could see stars, and hope stilled your breath. After four days in a hole, here was the galaxy, still existing apart from Kylo Ren. There was still life out there, and here was your proof. Even the corners of your lips turned up slightly, gratefully.

You would survive this pit, you decided, and you would disappear into the stars forever.

The adversary at your shoulder shoved you into motion, through the hanger and onto the ramp of a craft. He marched you into it, barking orders to the pilot to get the ship in the air. It was small, cramped, and he walked you back into a corner, turning you to lean against the wall. You were grateful that Ren decided to keep the wreck of your body to himself, and you closed your eyes for a brief moment, shifting left and right, unable to find a comfortable way to stand in bloody socks.

The craft lifted from the hangar, and your weight shifted, bending your knees slightly to better balance. Your nose wrinkled, displeased at the pins and needles in your toes, but you leaned your head back against the wall and sighed. Your arms throbbed, each tooth-sized gauge pulsing to your heartbeat, and your tight shoulders ached. Every moment you spent in Ren’s captivity had you hyper aware of your body, it’s limitations and desires, and you just wanted to take a break.

You were nearly dozing, almost relaxed and lulled into tranquility by the ambient noise of the shuttle, when you felt Ren’s warm hand connect with your body, snuck into the folds of your cover. Brow ticking, you kept your eyes closed, not wanting to look upon the helmet, annoyed by its presence and how it kept his beautiful face from you. His wide palm cupped and squeezed your breast, and you shivered, lips parting on a sharp exhale. Slowly, he teased the nipple to hardness under his thumb, and you hunched to back your skin away.

As punishment, he stepped on your foot, pressing his weight into the pained stump until you nodded, understanding the consequence. He lifted the toe of his boot, and you righted your posture. Stroking your breast again, he tugged upon your lower lip with his free hand. Opening your mouth, as the gesture commanded you should, you fixed your hungering gaze upon the black visor, seeing a distorted reflection of yourself there. Ren slid the pad of his thumb into your mouth, against the flat of your tongue to moisten the calloused flesh. The now warm-and-wet tip returned to your puckering nipple, rubbing the moisture into the skin and building fire between your legs.

“Did you cum while I was away?”

You gasped on a particularly rough tug, and shook your head. You knew he would ask, knew that he would know if you lied about it. He pulled, tugged, and twisted on that nipple until you were dancing on your toes, the evidence of your desirous suffering being only the clutch of teeth at your lip. Your pussy throbbed, pumping out heat for him that laced the air, and your cheeks burned with humiliation. You strongly doubting either Ren or the pilot missed the tang of it in the tight cabin.

"But you wanted to."

He leaned in, crowding into your space, and dropped gloved fingers straight down to your cunt, sliding in between the folds with no drag whatsoever, so slick and ready were you for him. He nudged the side of his index finger up against your clit and slowly worked forward and back. His bare hand was back at your breast, cupping, pressing, holding you upright by the pillowy handle. Clenching your eyes shut tight to cut off the flash of lust you knew was there, you shook your head softly again. A traitor and, now, a liar, just as he predicted.

“Let me in, and I will allow it.”

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you shook your head a third time, forcing your chest into regulated breathing. Flexing your fingers behind you, you tilted your chin away, and willed yourself to think about something else, anything other than the wicked fingers rubbing at your pussy.

“You’re close to breaking, trader, and I’ll take what I want."

Your eyes darkened, eyebrows drawing down. Licking your teeth, you rolled your head back, sliding into a familiar mindset, detaching from your body. You had forgone orgasms before, controlled your responses and taught yourself to separate victimization from pleasure. You doubted you would be able to do it with this man, but you could try. Lifting your head, you leveled a cold stare at his helmet, features painted into passive compliance, absent any enthusiasm or affliction.

The mental ground you’d gained with your failed escape plan emboldened you, and you would be damned if you were going to give it back. Ren terrified you, but you were not going into the void a meek, cowering mess. If he wanted to feel you fight, you would fight.

As anticipated, his bare hand shot up to your throat and around, angry at your challenge and the wall you built so quickly. Squeezing tightly, he growled and forcefully shook you, using your throat as leverage. His gloved hand gripped your cunt so hard you were sure there would be bruises; but then, you were already riddled with evidence of Ren’s claim upon you. Baring your teeth on a muted snarl, you held your gaze steady, unblinking, defiant.

You felt gravity shift in the craft, jostling, and your lips tugged up into a smirk. Wherever here was, you’d arrived, and he would have to present himself to someone. You would pay for this insolence later, you had no doubt, but this whole fucking day was yours, victoriously yours, regardless of what came next.

“Sir, the Supremacy…”

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