#i was either a fun little plaything they could torture or someone so bad and disgusting they wouldn't have cared if i'd killed myself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yanderecandystore · 3 years

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Hello, this is the first time I’ve come here and I’d like, if possible, you could place my order, I don’t remember if I already placed that ask or something, so if yes, sorry to bother you...

I can order something with Yandere! Vampire with a Vampire Slayer! Reader, please...

Welcome in!

Well yes boo, you did make a very similar request, and I'm sorry if it took me like a long time to answer you (at least to me it feels like a whole month has passed, time has been so slow and so fast somehow-) it's just that I'm dealing with a lot of stuff outside of Tumblr and although I try to not think about it, it does affect my performance in writing. Also you're not bothering me at all boo!

Also I just realized something, normally when I write I put really mean remarks about the reader but it's not supposed to be taken seriously by you guys, as it's mostly either an look into the perspective of the ocs (normally the bullies who are very mean and cruel-) or even an exaggeration on the reader's current mind state (if the reader feels dumb about a certain action they have chosen, I try to make them sound very exaggerated since I don't want any of you to take it personally, y'all are beautiful okay? Don't worry about the snarky comments and rude remarks that I may write).

I'll try to make it more obvious that it's mostly a character's exaggerated perspective next time, or maybe put trigger warnings about degrading language/mean comments.

TW/Tags: mentions of addiction (to blood) // male x male // male reader // vampy vamp // monster(vampire) x (human)reader // mentions of death // unofficial OC/just a random character I decided to create for this specific piece // captivity/kidnaping // mentions of torture/infliction of pain // mind control/gaslighting/manipulation and stockholm syndrome // being drugged/poisoned // kinda sadistic but not so much so cause I like giving y'all some softness.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

True love is found in small bites [Yandere!M!Vampire x M!Vampire Hunter!Reader - Headcanon]:

Who doesn't like a little one on one with an immortal creature in a fight filled with sexual tension? Who wouldn't want to prove their worth to their dad who is a lonely vampire hunter?

Your dad had hunted vampires all by himself for years now and he won't stop until the day he drops dead, or at least that's what he told you.

He taught you everything that you needed to know, and honestly- You probably know a lot more than some of the guys who are paid to do this every month, Hell, your dad hunts them basically every week! That's kinda the reason why he won't accompany you this time, too busy dealing with vampires in a neighboring village, some rumours of some high profiled vampires coming into your hometown… He was very concerned for your safety before deciding that whenever these rumours were true or not, he needed to check them for himself regardless.

You decided to go on a hunt on your own, hunt one down and prove to your man that you'll do just fine all by yourself.

However, you have the knowledge from the books you read and from what your father taught you, but you don't have personal experiences in fighting vampires. So that's why you're finally going to take down a vampire all by yourself.

It took you some time to find the right target, but after hearing complaints about some odd things happening in the less wealthy part of town, you thought you had a pretty clear picture of what happened. You thought that maybe some vampires have been attacking the poorest people in town to not cause a bigger panic in the population, and sadly enough, you were right.

Apparently the vampirism started to spread uncontrollably as the newly transformed vampires weren't accustomed with the new malevolent power. Some would get addicted to blood and to the power they hold against humans, and start to bite more than what they can chew on.

You found someone who was acting suspiciously, a commoner who was acting more aggressively towards his neighbors and family, he had created a lot of enemies in only a couple of days after being transformed, as he was now acting like "royalty" surrounded by peasants. The poor bastard was out of his mind, and sadly you needed to take care of him before he would hurt more people.

The work of a vampire slayer (or at least, one who works on their own accord) isn't as glamorous or "pleasant" as most may think, it involves you constantly questioning yourself and your morals, the guy you're hunting has a family but from what you heard and from what you have seen as you observed him from afar- He is clearly gone, consumed by the addiction of human blood, he would end up hurting his own family if you didn't intervene.

You had to stalk him for basically the whole day, collecting information and waiting for a good opportunity to strike him- Sadly enough, you didn't know that someone else was also interested in killing him.

It was pretty quick now that you think about it- You were about to tackle him when someone else got to do it before you. You didn't know about vampire society's inner relationships but you are aware that there is some form of hierarchy, and that those who were transformed into vampires were considered to be closer to the bottom than those who were born into it. The bottom of their social structure being those who they could all feed on, so in other words humans.

As you have already prepared yourself to attack the blood addictic, this guy who seemed to have come out of nowhere has already noticed that he wasn't alone, you wouldn't be able to hide yourself at this point and running wouldn't be an option considering how fast he moved.

The only option was left was to fight this vampire who was clearly way too powerful for your newbie ass. It was a pretty tough fight, and even if you have lost- You did manage to prove that you weren't just a random human who found themselves in the wrong place, in the wrong time.

You were very well prepared- Idris was pretty impressed by your resistance, but from his eyes, you were lacking a lot in the intelligence department. You were a good brawler, but not a decent vampire slayer by far- He would question you about your level of skill constantly, even mocking the idea of you being an "newbie" at this job.

Idris had won in the end, making you his prisoner who he would bring back to his clan to be used as an easy food source while also giving them info about other vampire slayers. Of course you wouldn't give them anything, no matter how bad your situation was you would still fight to the very end.

Idris had used one of his abilities to bring you two to his clan's hideout in a blink of an eye, you weren't expecting it to be so quick. You were tied up and inside an "abandoned" mansion filled with vampires, you were sure you wouldn't survive this at all- Yet you had promised yourself to not give them any information about other vampires slayers, especially your father.

You have met them, all of them- All of the Nox clan of pure vampires (or at least the last of them), in one single place. They were all so eager to jump in and start the "fun" with you. To torture you, drink from you, control your mind so you would spill all that you know, they tried to but you wouldn't stop squirming and fighting their touch- However, your attitude has only helped to aggravate them.

Idris was in charge of taking care of you- And by that they meant he was the one who would be screwing with you the most. He would keep you alive with your bare necessities but would also be the one to punish and torture you to speak up.

Interestingly enough, Idris wasn't interested in violently taking the truth out of you- Oh no, boo- He was much more sadistic than that.

He saw you as a plaything, like a cat he would see you as something he should toy with before devouring- He would try to push you to your limits verbally, trying to trigger some sort of wound you may have. You were stronger than he assumed, he should have known you weren't so dumb to give in to his insults and threats.

He would still bite you though, hey, a man needs some blood before continuing his private interrogation, right? It's not his fault you're both his snack and the one being interrogated.

You were strong minded, you weren't feeling too awful about being taken as a prisoner, since you felt as if deep down you could still escape this- So the effects of the poison that he would inject on you weren't showing up at first, but after sometime of being under this terrible living condition with only him to talk with, you started to feel some type of weird way around him.

It could be the poison finally taking over, but you have started to notice some… Particular choices that Idris took when interacting with you. Again- It could be all some magic shit in your mind, but you could swear that the lingering touches from him weren't rough or painful as his threats.

Idris was never physically harmful towards you, even to his peers dismay as they would constantly scold him for being too soft. He was indeed very off putting and sadistic- But could he be hiding something deep inside his literally cold exterior? You started to think so… Well, you started to hope so.

See, although the poison is already making your mind dizzy and making you feel some kind of weird attraction towards Iris- It wasn't completely just your mind playing tricks on you, Idris has been trying a new tactic with you and it was working.

Maybe you haven't noticed yet, but for the last few weeks he has started to flirt with you more, touch you more and whisper less concerning things into your ears, and you were eating it all up due to your isolation and his poisonous bite.

The more he sucked your blood, the more enamoured you were with his softer "side", the poison becoming stronger with each bite. But everyday you two spend time together, Idris can't help but feel just as interested in you as you are to him. He may play it off as a sadistic manipulative (which he kinda is-) vampire who is above you and his own feelings- But whenever it's just you and him, he just feels like there is a bigger connection being formed.

The more you two get to know each other the more he'll start falling for you, to the point he doesn't know if he is faking empathy and care or if he actually likes you in a weird way. He has started to feel very satisfied whenever you start acting clingy, desperate even for his attention (again- He is the only one willing to even talk with you before biting you and sucking your blood), the sensation of power he feels is a little bit overwhelming- But very much appreciated.

You have started to feel some side effects from losing so much blood everyday, which has made Idris concerned and incapable of drinking from you for at least some time while you recover from it. But since you need some time to rest without being injected with more venom from fangs, which will cause you to start waking up from your brainwashed state and remember that A: It has been months since you were gone, your dad is out there looking for you and it's possibly thinking you're dead; B: You're trapped in a mansion filled with the last vampires of a powerful clan which has been massacred by vampire slayers like you; and C: You were starting to catch feelings for the one who brought you here- Regardless of manipulation and freaky vampire shit- You were indeed falling for his charm.

Whenever that happens, it will be obvious that you'll start trying to fight them and escape again, even if you're very, very weak from all these months without proper training and healthy eating habits.

You may try your hardest dear, but you'll need a better plan than just going feral on Idris. He is a lot stronger than you, especially since you can't even stand up on your own, and even hurting him makes you feel oddly awful- You had relied on him for so long, that it feels like you would be betraying him if you actually do hurt him, it seems like some of the effects of so much time under his manipulation are still present.

You can't hurt him, but you can still try to sneak out. You should still try to escape!

You would eventually come up with a plan to run away while it was still morning, even if it was a very flawed plan considering that the only place you knew in this entire mansion was Idris's room and bathroom. For some miracle reason, you would find a way to sneak out, it was pretty hard considering you have no strength in your legs, yet luckily no one seemed to be aware of your sudden movement around the corridors- Apparently the whole clan is composed of heavy sleepers.

Your escape was successful, but you wouldn't be able to reach safety anytime soon in your condition- And you knew that eventually they would wake up again and Idris would find you soon. Yet as you had promised yourself and your father, you weren't going down without a fight.

Idris is responsible for you, so whenever he notices that you were gone- He would first assume one of his kind has took you, but considering how everyone else in the clan considers him to be a nuisance and incompetent, he couldn't possibly ask around where were you. If he did, they would end up yelling at him and take you as their personal blood bag- He couldn't let them know that you have escaped.

He would search for you and be honest to god thankful that you weren't dead yet- He would be pissed but more concerned about your current state, after all you were supposed to be resting from losing so much blood and yet here you are: Trying to survive the wild nature around the mansion in a stupid attempt of escaping the vampires.

Idris would have to bite you more often while also giving some days off so you could rest, but doing in a way that you never lose the effects of the poison- He can't stand to see you fighting him so much.

I mean- He thinks that it's pretty attractive how fiesty you are, but he needs you to stay still in his bedroom and to start giving him those confused yet passionate eyes again- Idris doesn't know whether or not you're in love with him or is just acting in instinct considering your current position, and he soon will find himself begging for you to truly give in to this weird fantasy he has built around you two- But for now, all that he wants is the smallest affection that may come from you, even if it's not as true and morally correct as true love is supposed to be.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

#yandere #sheep's stuff #yandere oc #yandere vampire #yandere x reader #yandere vampire x reader #yandere male x male reader #yandere male #male reader #yandere male x reader #yandere monster #yandere headcanon #yandere oc headcanon #special delivery headcanons #special delivery request

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the-slasher-files · 3 years

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ANDREI - PLAYTHINGS

Yandere Alphabet - Now, Andrei is a slasher that loves to hold his ‘playthings’ and have fun with them but they are different from his actual partners if he has one so keep that in mind. He has two sides to him; The man who is Andrei and then there is The Wolf... Hope you enjoy 🔪💕

MASTERLIST

affection: how do they show their love and affection? how intense would it get?

With his playthings affection levels are heightened, almost to the level of his s/o but never that far. Andrei needs to lure his victims into a false sense of security, he wants them to think that he will take care of you after this is all done, but there is no end.

Andrei whispers sweet Russian in your ear, wrap you up in his clothes, gently kiss you, stroke your hair and rest his forehead against yours, however that is only after sex.

If you last longer than 24 hours you might get to go to his house, a right, a privilege. You won’t get much affection other than being on his lap, him stroking your cheek or getting kisses to the neck.

blood: how messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Andrei is a messy, messy boy in all forms and doesn’t care. Blood, spit, cum and tears, he loves it all. In terms of getting messy for a plaything Andrei has the motto “What is mine is mine and only mine.” Now, usually a plaything doesn’t last more than a week and you are stuck in the abandoned town but if someone somehow gets to what is his, he will maim, torture, or instantly kill depending on the mood.

cruelty: how would they treat their darling once abducted? would they mock them?

Once he has you Andrei is a cold and cruel man, you have to learn that he is in charge and the only one that will ever be in charge, if you aren’t understanding that or do something he doesn’t like he doesn’t give warnings with playthings, it is instant pain or punishments. This can include cutting you or stabbing if he gets annoyed, handcuffing you with barely any clothes on and leaving you in the apartment basements to almost get hypothermia, choking you until you pass out and kicking you while you are down, but the strange thing about Andrei is that he will degrade you for a very long time but he will never hamulate you, it is a fine line but that is the one thing he will not do. Long story short is quick to snap and you are constantly on edge but he has rare soft moments which put you at ease on until you make the wrong move.

darling: aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Yes and no. With Andrei he mixes harsh and soft like an art to always leaving you wanting more but when its happening you are begging him to stop. The sex is pretty much constant, he will force you to play in his hunt with you as the prey of course, if you make it far enough he wants his house cleaned and his meals made but honestly, other than that, you have quite a bit of freedom to do as you please, but that just depends on how long you last, not many make it more than a week.

exposed: how much of their heart do they bare to their darling? how vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

As I said before he mixes soft and harsh perfectly, he almost wants you to feel a little bad for him so in a way he feels as if his actions are justified. If he plans on having you just for 24 hours you get no softness except after sex, but if you somehow manage to stay longer with him he will open up his backstory to you just a small bit, like how he was pretty much raised to be a killing machine or share some of the things he has been forced to do but you will never get to hear about his sister or parents, that one is a touchy subject and even his s/o doesn’t know about that stuff for a long time.

fight: how would they feel if their darling fought back?

Loves it! Andrei adores a challenge and a good fight in a plaything. He doesn’t want just some weak and obedient little thing, where is the fun in that? However before he picks you up Andrei does little tests before he takes you home, he will talk with you and ask you questions about yourself to gather more intel, but he also relies of great instincts and can usually tell who is a fighter and who is not.

Go ahead and spit on him, hit him, run away and say terrible things about him, Andrei has heard it all before and it doesn’t phase him. A strong person is to be desired to Andrei and he finds it to be a turn on.

game: is this a game to them? how much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

It is absolutely a game and you are his prey. Andrei has designed the whole abandoned town to be a maze of traps and confusing layouts just so he can have fun and watch the person panic. He loves fear and what it does to a person. Like a wolf, the hunt is an instinct he cannot live without so be a good little lamb and run for him.

hell: what would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Getting murdered by him, I guess, or maybe that is the best scenario so you are free from the pain, Andrei has no issue killing his plaything, as long as he was grateful for his hunt that is all that matters. Not being killed and doing something he doesn’t like or getting something wrong is another bad one because you won’t know what is you did wrong, you will just suddenly have a knife in your thigh and he will not tell you what happened, just be better, ok?

ideals: what kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Andrei doesn’t plan futures with his playthings. He doesn’t want a partner with these people and most certainly does not want kids so you are there just for his entertainment and needs, also he just wants a clean house and good meals for like week before you die.

jealousy: do they get jealous? do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Of course Andrei gets jealous, it is just who he is. Now, most likely when you are his plaything you will never, ever leave his little town and go somewhere with other people but if there is the rare moment he does take you somewhere populated you are right beside him at all times, at least one arm on you and his ice blue eyes glaring at anyone that dare breathes in your direction.

If somehow, some way a person touches you or flirts with you, god cannot help that person from the wolf’s wrath. Most likely that person will not be breathing for longer than 24 hours.

kisses: how do they act around or with their darling?

This completely switches through the day. Like I said before, Andrei is a master of mixing sweet and rough. One minute he could be stroking your hair and the next he could be choking you against a wall, it all depends of what he wants and if he feels like he needs to praise you and show you security or if you need to learn a lesson and have some rough sex.

love letters: how would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Andrei is an attractive man and he knows it and uses it to his advantage. For a plaything a lot of the time he picks you up at a bar, often times it is in a town or city a few hours away from his home so Andrei doesn’t draw attention to himself and it’s easier for people to go missing in larger cities.

Andrei will notice you either as soon as he walks in or you walk in, this man has incredible instincts and uses them. He will pick a far away table and just watch you for hours if he could, enjoying his vodka and cigarettes in peace, taking every note of your body and feeling out if you will be his perfect little plaything for the for the week. Once Andrei has fully decided he will saunter up to you and lean on the bar beside you, one look and he can hook most women, then once he speaks Andrei will make you weak in the knees.

As for courting, there is no courting, you are being fucked, knocked out, taken back to his home and staying their forever, end of story.

mask: are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Andrei doesn’t really interact with others because he is supposed to never show his face around most of Russia, also in the army, loyalty is all you have and when he betrayed that there was no going back, people wanted to murder him and still do. Andrei has a few connections here and there but he acts cold, harsh, truth be told, he hates other people and just wants to be alone, so there is really not a big divide in his personality. He is just a cold man through and through.

naughty: how would they punish their darling?

Number one punishment is rough sex and I mean rough. Knives, blood, spanking, choking, bondage with cold metal chains and cuffs, edging you for his own satisfaction then overstimulating you because that’s just Andrei.

Another is leaving you in little to no clothes chained up in the abandoned apartment basement and leaving you with the fear of dying from the harsh Siberian cold, it is a mind game for him and you need to beg him and plead for him to save you. When he does come back for you, like he always will, usually, Andrei will wrap you in his clothes and whisper sweet nothings to you and saying he will never hurt you and taking you home for a hot bath.... but the bastard will do it again.

Andrei will also make threats to you and wave his blade in front of you if you are getting too cocky with him, this is a warning and there is only one.

oppression: how many rights would they take away from their darling?

All of your rights are pretty much gone as a plaything. The only way you gain some rights back is if somehow you manage to captivate him and survive longer than a week. If you do, you are free do to as you please just make sure the house is clean, he has a meal at the table and his tea is always hot. You cannot contact anyone (obviously), can’t leave the home without him, mostly for your own safety he says, Andrei has traps everywhere and doesn’t want you hurt. However, you are free to your own time and you might be able to ask him for books or art supplies or certain cooking ingredients to keep yourself busy through the day, Andrei likes someone with their own hobbies and admissions... even though he controls you. Double edged sword with him constantly.

patience: how patient are they with their darling?

If you are a plaything, little to none. He is quick tempered and hot bloodied. You might get stabbed for making him repeat himself or be choked for talking back, there is maybe one warning but that is it.

quit: if their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Oh yeah, easily. However, if you somehow escape you might only be alive for a few days, Andrei is a professional mercenary skilled in tracking, so goodluck with that. Also he kills his playthings all the time, most don't last longer than 3 days.

regret: would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? would they ever let their darling go?

Andrei will never ever let someone go but he does feel huge amounts of guilt once his plaything is dead, more so if it is a small woman, it brings him back to when he killed his mom and fought with his sister. Honestly Andrei doesn’t love to kill and loves the hunt but at the same time it is the one thing major thing he hates about himself and will never get over. He loses himself in the desire and sick pleasure and when it is over and comes down from the ‘feral’ state he almost goes into a depression and self medicates with vodka or even pain medication to make him sleep.

stigma: what brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

CHILDHOOD! His father Dimitri was an abusive man but no where near what Andrei went through under the care of his uncle when they moved in with him at around age 5. Viktor, his uncle, was massively paranoid and abusive, taking out most of his abuse on Andrei and his mother Eva.

He began the abuse immediately making Andrei almost like a super solider and teaching him everything about killing and praising his dangerous thoughts and urges, teaching him it was ok, using Andrei’s pain as weapon and the rage within the young boy he made Andrei kill his own mother. Once his mother was out of the way Viktor could do as he pleased with the kids, making them fight each other, and raising them like soldiers. (TW: SA, RAPE) One thing Viktor used to do with Andrei was find prostitutes or wanderers and make him rape or sexually assault people as he killed them, starting as young as 12, twisting his desires for sex into killing and vice versa.

It was so far implanted in his brain that even when Viktor killed himself when Andrei was 16 he continued to this and began to really hone his skills with killing and introduced ‘the hunt’. Also being in the army just made him better and gave him a reason to kill.

tears: how do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He honestly loves it. It is a primal urge to hear you scream and thrash, he just wants to hear all your pretty noises. As for tears that one can be 50/50 if you are a woman, if you’re a man he literally will not care. Most times he will wipe your tears and coo “You look so pretty when you cry.” but if you are a woman and crying after the rough sex and crouched in a corner, this is when soft Andrei comes out, especially if you are small, it will remind him of his sister and it hurts his heart. What Andrei will do then is sit in front of you, give you time and he will coo soft words at you until you reach for him and he will carry you to bed. As i said, the master of soft and hard.

unique: would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Nope, not really. He is the poster boy for yandere’s

vice: what weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

So you will never escape but you can definitely live longer if you are a small woman that has a fiery personality. Go ahead and fight him and put him in his place, he loves it. For Andrei he needs a perfect mix of obedience and independence in a perfect plaything. Also if you show genuine interest in his life beyond the wolf façade and bonus if you can cook.

wit’s end: would they ever hurt their darling?

If you have read this far you should know the answer.

xoanon: how much would they revere or worship their darling? to what length would they go to win their darling over?

Andrei will not worship you in anyway, he does care for you but this man will never worship anyone unless you are his soulmate, but we are talking about his plaything here, you are probably gonna die.

For Andrei to try and win someone over is like spotting a unicorn, it is not gonna happen. If he is trying to pick you up at like a bar or something he has a weird thing where he will not push himself on a woman if she doesn’t want him, it’s rare but has happened to him. Andrei has interesting feelings toward women, he respects the hell out of them which can seem hypocritical to keeping them as his toys but that’s why he feels so much guilt after. Also if he sees a woman that is being bugged by another man he jump in and tell him to fuck off, he is halfway to being a nice guy.

yearn: how long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

A day... maybe, if that.

zenith: would they ever break their darling?

Yup. It’s all mental control, he needs you to be his and only his.

#my writing #yandere #horror #slasher #Andrei Kulokova #oc #slasher oc

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

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Whumptober 19: Survivor’s Guilt

TIMELINE: Takes place in the Iris Michaelson, Teen Badass AU of the Fillis Angst Parade AU - look, @whump-tr0pes and I make our own fun, and by “fun”, I mean we make “Isaac and Finn suffer”.

Basic Plot: Fourteen years ago, Finn Dunham and Ellis Price were taken captive. The team has never been able to rescue them, and knows only that Finn lives life as Patrick Michaelson’s plaything and Ellis teaches at a Syndicate dayschool and tutors the Michaelson’s adopted teenage daughter. When Iris Michaelson sends a message to the famous rebel Isaac Moore, he can’t help but answer it.

CW: Referenced noncon/dubcon, referenced torture

“If this is a trap, I’m going to owe Gavin fifty bucks.” Vera checked and rechecked her handgun, as though it would suddenly be less loaded than it was just a few minutes before. Her jaw was set in a grim line, eyes flashing a kind of damped-down fire, embers ready to spark. Her thick black hair, showing growing hints of gray, was pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, and she wore a pair of black pants and a tucked-in t-shirt, ready for the fight she was definitely expecting. “I don’t want to owe Gavin money, Isaac.”

“It’s not a trap,” Isaac replied, making his own nervous check and recheck of the table and chairs. “I don’t think it is, anyway. My instincts are saying it isn’t.”

“Your instincts-”

“My instincts have been spot-on for a decade, Vera. Just trust me on this. She let us pick the day, the time, the location… she let us give her the location with less than four hours’ notice, even. If this is a trap, she’s piss-poor at setting it.”

“Hm.” Vera snorted, and checked the second gun, the rifle they had leaning up, hidden on the other side of a doorframe, where Vera could pick it up and keep shooting if she had to.

If they needed the second gun, it would be because she was buying time for an exit, not because they had a shot in hell of getting a win.

“She wouldn’t have let me pick the spot with such short notice if she was planning on killing us,” Isaac said, but he felt less certain than his voice sounded.

“She’s a teenager, isn’t she? Who the fuck knows why teenagers do anything?”

It was Isaac’s turn to snort, then.

Their scheduled meeting space was a busted-out house an hour outside of the Michaelson Syndicate's largest stronghold city, a hidden place they had used, in the past, to run dissidents out of the city north, always north. A few years ago it’d been compromised, the house was half-burned down in the attack, but there was a room at the back that was still standing… more or less.

The girl had agreed readily to meet here - which Vera didn’t like, such a quick agreement made her think the youngest Michaelson child had some kind of plan, but it was a cleared space and Isaac had put his people all around. If the girl was bringing weapons, well, so were they.

Isaac had sentries watching for miles around, covering every road. It paid to have his reputation, and have so many people willing to sign on to help him out with this. It didn’t hurt that his reputation meant he’d managed to scrape together enough money to pay them.

Not in money, no - Isaac had traded pallets of flour with boxes' worth of packets of yeast, a couple of beat-up cars that could at least be broken down for scrap, and cough syrup from their carefully hoarded medical supplies. But it had been enough to draw in some people willing to take the risk.

Sentries had reported by radio - one car, following the directions Isaac had given it. No escort cars, no one caught sneaking through the scrubby woods around the house. Just one, single, shining black Michaelson Syndicate vehicle, clearly marked, making no effort to hide.

She was following every rule she’d been given, right down to the tiniest detail.

Still, his nerves were on edge. What the youngest Michaelson child could possibly want with them - what had made her reach out to schedule a face-to-face - had had him up at night ever since the first message had come in, sent via dissidents who didn’t even understand what they were carrying in the envelope that no one dared open until it got to him.

My name is Iris Michaelson and I need your help. I know Finn Dunham and Ellis Price. Please call me. Then a number, everything written in a childish looping cursive, and the sight of Finn and Ellis’s names had meant Isaac could never have stopped himself from calling.

“I wonder-”

“If she wants a way out, I’m not doing it,” Vera snapped, interrupting Isaac’s thoughts, her fraying nerves given away by the edge in her voice. “We can’t handle that kind of heat, Isaac.”

“I can find her someone to go to for that,” Isaac said, not quite in agreement. “We’re not in the business of hiding Syndicate kids.”

“Oh, are we not?” Vera’s dry humor edged on sarcasm. “Because I’m wondering what exactly you think we did with Gavin, then-”

“Anymore. We’re not in the business of hiding Syndicate kids anymore. That was fifteen years ago, are you-”

“Ever going to let it go? Nope. I’m too old to escort a spoiled rotten rich kid into the real world again, and you’re sure as fuck too old to fall in love with another one.”

Isaac felt a smile pull at the corners of his mouth, and shook his head. “Calm, Vera.”

“Isaac, so far you’ve turned Gavin into your goddamn life partner and tried to give Danny fucking Michaelson a place-”

“All I did was give him my name to help him get as far as he and Nate could get, when he was ready.” Isaac ignored the twist of bitterness inside him. “And he never was, was he? He’s still there.”

Some part of Isaac would always wonder why - when given the chance to get out - Danny had chosen to stay.

He sighed, and kept talking. “In any case, that’s not going to happen here. I’m not going to give her safe harbor with us. I’ve already spoken to some other communities, just laying groundwork. If she needs a place to run, she can have it - but she’ll have to give up a tremendous amount of intel to earn her sanctuary.”

“What kind of intel does a fucking fourteen-year-old girl have?”

“Don’t know, but she might have enough. She didn’t drop Danny’s name to meet with me, did you notice? She dropped Finn’s and Ellis’s names instead.” He shifted the chair on the other side, the one she’d sit in, this way and that until he had it just right. His own weapons - he carried two, one under his left arm and one on his right hip, plus another hidden taped under the table on his side - were fully loaded, too. All this to take on a single teenage girl.

Granted, it wasn’t just a teenage girl. Iris Michaelson happened to be the daughter of Patrick and Corrine Michaelson. Danny’s parents, and she was the beloved youngest child of the fucking assholes that had stolen his family, and kept them. The last Isaac had directly seen of Finn and Ellis was them being surrounded by Patrick’s men fourteen years ago as the car with him inside spit gravel and sped away.

Isaac swallowed, tightly, wondering if it was a good sign or a bad one that he rarely teared up when he remembered the moment, now. He’d cried too much for them already, and Iris Michaelson would be here soon.

“Would you have met her if she’d namechecked Danny?”

Isaac shook his head, jaw set firmly. “No.”

“But you will if-”

“Listen, maybe it’s about Finn, or Ellis,” Isaac said, softly. He barely dared hope. “Maybe she’s willing to trade intel on them. We know they’re still alive. We know Finn is-... that Finn has-”

“Yeah,” Vera said heavily. “Maybe. Hell, maybe the daughter has a heart. Anything’s fuckin’ possible, right?”

“Right.” Isaac took a deep breath. He heard the sound of car tires on gravel and raised his head, jaw setting into a determined line. “Here they are.”

“Showtime,” Vera said, voice low. She shifted back until she was mostly hidden in a doorway, covered enough in shadow that she wouldn’t be immediately visible unless she wanted to be. “I’ve got you covered, Isaac, but if it looks like it’s going south-”

“I’ll drop so you can start shooting and cover me until I can fire, too.”

“Right. Again, just for the record-”

“You won’t owe Gavin money. I promise.” Isaac took a seat on his side of the table. He knew his own people littered the woods around the clearing, weapons at the ready. He’d brought a full fucking team to meet with a teenage girl. But as far as Isaac was concerned, Iris Michaelson might as well be more dangerous than just about anyone else he might meet with.

Isaac knew enough, from his short time with the Michaelson family going on fifteen years ago, to know that their Syndicate wasn’t entirely human.

Crunch of footsteps - Isaac counted. The girl’s steps - lighter, but firm. Projecting a false confidence, Isaac thought. She was trying to sound stronger than she felt. He knew the feeling. A large… man, he guessed, from the time between heavy footsteps. Bodyguard, probably as armed to the teeth as Vera was. He waited to count more but… heard no one.

Isaac’s eyebrows furrowed, frowning. “Vera-” He turned to look back over his shoulder.

“I heard,” Vera whispered. “Eyes straight ahead, Isaac. I heard it. She’s only bringing one inside with her. Gavin might just owe me money.” Vera’s smile flashed white in the darkness. “Now that idea I like.”

She melted back into the shadows, and when Iris Michaelson entered the room, Isaac would seem entirely alone.

Iris moved into the room with the unconscious certainty of power that every Syndicate son or daughter carried, although her steps were a little hesitant and her breathing tightly nervous, but that wasn’t what caught Isaac’s eyes. Her head was slightly down, auburn hair catching the dim light, a thick braid down her back with two smaller braids that ran on either side along her head to join the larger on. She also had a small, almost delicate-looking handgun on a small holster on her hip.

He froze watching the lanky, gawky, all-elbows-and-knees girl in her soft black off-the-shoulder sweater, jeans, and combat boots that cost more than the gun on Isaac’s hip enter the room. He hadn’t seen hair quite that color since…

“Iris Michaelson.” His voice somehow came out even, but he heard himself speak as if from some far away place. His heart had started to race. “You requested a meeting with me?”

She raised her head to meet his eyes, and Isaac’s world broke apart.

The shape of her face was unmistakable, as was the color of her hair. Her eyes were wide and a strangely startlingly clear hazel leaning towards brown, but…

Isaac heard Vera’s soft gasp behind him and knew she saw it, too.

Iris Michaelson was the perfect spitting image of Ellis Price - except for the fact that she had Finn Dunham’s hair and eyes.

Iris came to a stop, warily, the hulking bodyguard - a brute of a man who seemed to carry himself with an absurd gentleness, with cropped dark hair and dark eyes in a pale face - that followed close on her heels putting his hand to his gun. Isaac automatically raised both his hands, empty and open-palmed, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

My God, I know who you fucking are, now.

Finn and Ellis had been captured during their flight from the Michaelson stronghold nearly fifteen years ago. They had disappeared into the depths of the Michaelson’s mansion, and every attempt the team made to understand what might have happened had dead-ended into the common knowledge that anyone who went into the Michaelson mansion never came back out of it alive. Isaac had refused to believe they were dead at first, and when no one hunted them down - no one found the safehouses Ellis and Finn knew about, no attacks were made on places the two of them might have given up under torture… he had refused to believe they were broken, either.

The team had never been able to go back for them, it had been too dangerous a risk even though Isaac had tried and failed and tried and failed again. They’d been… gone.

Not dead - there’d have been some closure then.

Just… disappeared.

The Michaelsons had adopted a baby girl - philanthropic move, adopting the orphaned child of their employees, a couple killed in an attack by rebels. They'd named her Iris, and she'd been raised as just as much a part of the family as Ryan or Danny.

Then, shortly after the public announcement of Iris joining the Michaelson family, Finn popped back up. They were kept at Patrick Michaelson’s side, his willing, branded plaything, photographed sitting in his lap at parties, glass of champagne tipped to their lips, eyes dead and empty above a gorgeous smile, head tilted to the side as Patrick's lips pressed into the brand on the left side of their neck.

Isaac had been shown photos of Finn - with Patrick’s mouth on theirs or their neck or his hand between their legs, Finn with their back pressed up against Patrick’s car like Finn was just an object, even right out in public, even in plain sight. Finn wearing perfectly tailored suits, Finn half-wearing those suits, Finn wearing nothing but a harness of knotted navy blue rope with their legs wrapped around Patrick Michaelson’s waist, smiling and begging for more, harder, deeper…

Broken and leaning into Patrick’s touch, over and over with that same dead-eyed smile. Standing with Patrick’s arm around their waist, leaning into him, a carefully crafted expression of adoration there. Isaac had shed bitter tears over being too late to save them. Whatever had broken Finn was something Isaac could never have brought them back from.

Ellis… Ellis had been gone for more than four years. The team had eventually assumed Ellis was dead - Isaac had grieved their fucking death. He’d thought losing them must have been what broke Finn, made them give up and resign themself to life in Patrick Michaelson’s bed.

Then… an envelope, and a set of photos Isaac had never expected to see. Ellis, nearly five years after Isaac had last seen them, teaching children at a Syndicate school, heavily guarded but still clearly themself. Smiling for children but expression set in a furious grim line the second no one was looking. Photos snuck out of the city by secret dissidents, Isaac had spent so much of what little money he had on every bit of information he could get about the two of them.

They were miserable, captives held behind enemy lines for more than a decade. But they never tried to run, never tried to contact anyone. Never took the chance. Isaac had managed to leverage people who owed him favors, new and old contacts, but every attempt to get Finn alone at a party had ended in their soft refusal - an insistence that I'm happy living this way, thank you or I love Patrick Michaelson, who could want to escape from living like this? or please, I can’t talk about it, I have to love him - and they’d move back to Patrick’s side - and Ellis was never fucking alone at all.

They weren’t trying to be alone, though, and Isaac just didn’t understand it.

Isaac hadn’t been able to grasp why Ellis could look so unbowed and so… utterly Ellis, and still be there. Still go day by day to the school, teaching children their ABCs, spending their nights and weekends tutoring the Michaelsons’ youngest child like it was nothing. Like it was a life they wanted, evenings and weekends helping raise a fucking Syndicate daughter, a pampered little princess.

It should have been something Ellis would rather die than do.

Isaac had wondered, again and again, what could possibly keep Ellis from trying to escape. Now, staring as Iris Michaelson crossed the room and settled herself in a chair across from him, Isaac understood.

He understood, and he would have made exactly the same choices they had made, for this.

Ellis had been tutoring their own daughter, grasping for time with her. Doing anything it took not to lose her. And so, in their own way, had Finn. Ellis wouldn’t try to escape because they wouldn’t leave their daughter - Finn was at Patrick’s side to stay as close to Iris as they could get. The two of them had spent fourteen years like this.

Corrine Michaelson hadn’t taken Iris from a dead employee to raise as her own.

She’d taken Iris from Ellis.

The two of them had managed to leverage their captivity to stay close to her, no matter what they had to give up, no matter how much of themselves they had had to give away. Isaac had to blink away tears that blurred his vision, wanting to stare at Iris for as long as he could.

Was this why Danny had stopped contacting Isaac about possibly leaving himself? Had he gone radio silent and stayed here because he didn’t want to leave Iris, either?

She looked up at him uncomfortably, rubbing at one arm with her other hand. It was… strange, to see the child’s roundness in Ellis’s face with Finn’s brown eyes, the hint of nervous shyness that he’d never seen in his friend, his family. But… he couldn’t look away. “What? What are you staring at? I’m adopted.”

Isaac just blinked, until Vera cleared her throat behind him and Isaac jumped a little, startled out of his thoughts. The world felt like it had just tipped sideways, all of it made sense now, all at once. Puzzle pieces falling to the floor and magically into place. “I-I’m sorry, I just-... I know. I’ve met your brothers-”

“I know.” Iris’s voice was low, but held a sharp edge. “They told me.”

“They did?” Isaac almost asked her what exactly Danny and Ryan had had to say about him, but he could feel Vera’s eyes on his back, and he cleared his throat again. “My apologies. You wanted to meet with m-me?”

His voice was trembling. If he wasn’t careful, he’d cry right here in front of her. How are they? How broken? Is anything left? How much did they lose just to keep you?

“Yes. I, um. I thank you for-... meeting with me today. For agreeing to meet.” Iris’s voice was carefully even, but it shook, too, giving away that Syndicate daughter or not, she was nervous. Probably scared - she didn’t have any good reason to believe Isaac wouldn't just kill her or take her hostage. She’d shown a lot of trust, having just the one bodyguard and probably a driver come with her. She’d shown a lot of courage.

That’s Finn and Ellis for you, Isaac thought, and his throat nearly closed again.

“I-I’m not here for my own sake,” Iris said, quietly, looking slightly down, as if reciting something from memory. Her face was red, and Isaac decided this might be as close to seeing Ellis blush as he was ever going to get. “I don’t-... I don’t. Um. I’m sorry, this is just. Wait, I was supposed to start with-... shit.”

Isaac’s lips quirked in the slightest smile - he heard Vera huff a laugh from her hiding spot. There’s Ellis’s daughter, through and through.

Iris’s bodyguard leaned over, putting a hand on her shoulder, whispering in her ear. He looked up at Isaac, then, without the instinctive loathing or derision that Isaac usually expected from the Syndicate guards he’d gotten into fights with in the past.

“Right. Right, thanks, David.” Iris put a hand up over the bodyguard’s, looking back at Isaac, sitting up straight again. Her black sweater fell just lightly off one bony shoulder. Loyal to her, Isaac thought, watching the bodyguard. Not Patrick and Corrine. We can use that. He’s not a Syndicate bodyguard - he’s Iris Michaelson’s bodyguard. There’s something there, if I can just figure it out.

Jesus, what had Ryan and Danny said years ago? Not everyone in the Syndicate was human. Was this David human? Or something else?

His heart was pounding. He had to make it through this meeting and then he was going to let himself be crushed under the weight of what he could see only in hindsight, only with Iris sitting here in front of him. Now that he understood that his attempts to save them had been fruitless because they didn’t want to be saved - not if… not if it would take them from their daughter.

He understood, now. He got it, all at once. Finn wouldn’t leave Ellis. Ellis wouldn’t leave Finn. And they wouldn’t leave Iris.

God, he could feel fourteen years crushing him, all at once. Freedom he’d had and they hadn’t, could never get back. And they’d only been caught because Isaac had been running from being turned into Danny’s unwilling plaything, against both his and Danny’s will.

If he hadn’t let himself be rescued, he could have stayed with Danny and Nate. Danny would have… would have tried to make it feel as close to normal as he could.

Stop it. You couldn’t have known. You could never have known. This isn’t your fault. This isn’t-... this isn’t your fault.

Felt like it, though. If he’d just… belonged to the Michaelsons - spent his days with Danny - then Finn never would have, would they? They’d be a rebel medic still, probably, not a plaything who spent their time being felt up or worse by the Michaelson patriarch-

Stop it. She’s fucking talking, listen to her, Isaac.

“Ellis,” Iris was saying softly, “is my real mother. And they told me to tell you, um, something that proves-... that proves that I’m here for them. They said… it’s been a while, motherfucker. Is-.. is bitchboy behaving?”

Isaac closed his eyes, briefly, wanting to laugh and cry and do both at once. Vera huffed a laugh from her position behind him and Iris jumped, glancing back at David, who had a gun up, out, and pointed right at Isaac in less time than it took for Iris to flinch back when she realized Vera was there.

“Hands where I can see them,” David said, voice deep, low, and flat.

Vera stepped out into plain view, holding her gun pointed upwards with the safety on and her finger off the trigger. “Here I am,” She said, carefully. “I’m going to lay this down on that side table. No shooting. Yeah?”

David held steady. “No shooting. I don’t put this down until yours is down.”

Isaac’s hands slipped down, as if lying in his lap, the get a grip on the gun under the table, ready to pull it free and aim. “She’s with me. I promise we’re not planning on hurting anyone today, if you’re not.”

“So have her put her gun down,” Iris said, lifting her chin.

Isaac felt a stab of surreal pride that this near-stranger made her voice so strong, that she seemed so brave. It fit, that Ellis’s daughter would be good at hiding her fears.

“Vera,” Isaac said softly.

“I’m doing it.” Vera laid her handgun down on the side table and then backed slowly away, hands still up, until she was leaning against the wall. When David’s gun lowered, so did her hands. He reholstered his weapon and everyone let out a breath they hadn’t realized they were holding simultaneously. There was a round of nervous laughter from them all.

Isaac tried to remind himself to just keep breathing. "So... they're still Ellis, definitely. Angry?”

Iris smiled, and you couldn’t mistake that smile for anything but someone who was talking about her mother. “Angry all the time. They’re good with the dayschool, though. I go see them every day, mostly.”

“And… and Finn?"

There was a pause, and Iris’s eyes dropped. She picked at a loose thread on her sweater. "They're, um." Iris paused, and Isaac heard her shift in her chair. "They're… very sad. All the time. With my father-”

Isaac winced. “He’s not your-”

“I know. But he is my father, too. Please don’t-... please let me talk.” Her voice did tremble, then, and Isaac went quiet. “With my father, and around everyone who works with us, they seem mostly happy, I guess. I know my fathers love each other-”

“Bullshit,” Vera said, her voice flat. “They don’t love him.”

Iris didn’t look up. “They do,” She insisted. “They do love each other, but… but when I’m alone with Finn, they’re… they’re very sad. And they don’t love him any longer. Did you… do you know them? They told me stories, but they didn't-... there were always other people around, so-"

"So they didn't tell you everything."

"No. But… but I-... I want to get them - Ellis and Finn - away from my, um. My family."

Isaac wasn't thinking about self-protection. If Iris had wanted to, she could have had her bodyguard kill him, in that moment, his eyes closed and his guard down. He leaned slowly forward and put his head in his hands, the silence drawing out. No one drew a weapon. No one fired.

Isaac felt the punch of pain, anyway, the tears running down his face.

That's not your family, Iris. We are. Or we were supposed to be.

“Do they know-”

“Ellis knows. I mean, my mother knows.” Iris laughed, airily, and Isaac looked up through his hands to see the piercing sadness in her features, the blend of her mother and father so deeply written in every single gesture, each expressed emotions. “I’m not allowed to call them that, so, so I hope you don’t mind if I just do it all the time, for right now? My mother knows. But-”

“Finn doesn’t know?”

Iris swallowed, and glanced back at David, who looked impassively down at her, but he kept his hand on her shoulder. “No, Daddy doesn’t know.”

Isaac’s breath hitched. Daddy-

“I can-... I’m sometimes allowed to call them that. I call, um, my father is just… Father. Or Da, sometimes, he likes Da. But Finn isn’t-... Finn doesn’t know that we’re meeting today. They know I want to, and they know I’m doing something, but we can’t tell them what or when or any details.”

“Why not?” That was Vera - but there was a set to her jaw, and a tension to her words, that suggested she knew the answer before Iris ever spoke it out loud.

“Because… if Father asks them, they’ll tell him anything. Everything. Anything they know.”

Isaac breathed out. Slowly, slowly, trying to control the despair threatening to well up inside of him. “They’re tortured?”

“Um. Not… not exactly. They just… will. Father will ask, and he’ll… kiss them, or something-” Iris’s nose wrinkled in something like disgust. “Which, watching your fathers kiss is pretty weird, for the record-”

“No doubt,” Vera murmured, “When one of them doesn’t want to.”

“Um. Sort of.” Iris’s expression shifted - something Isaac couldn’t read there - and she shrugged. “In any case. He’ll ask, and they’ll tell, sooner or later. So Ellis - my mother, God, it’s so nice to say that out loud just like that - says they can’t know, it has to be a surprise for them. So we, um, we kind of have to abduct Finn, but-... but they’ll go, we just-... have to make it a surprise abduction.”

“As opposed to the usual kind, where you send a note they can RSVP to,” David rumbled behind Iris, and she shot him a brilliant smile over one shoulder, bumping her shoulder into his side.

“Anyway… my uncles Nate and Danny know. Nate and Ellis trade books a lot, they’ve been hiding messages in them.”

“Nate Vandrum,” Vera said. “Loyal to Danny Michaelson, not his last name. Which means…”

“Which means Danny wants in on this, wants to get them out.” Isaac ignored the odd little thrill of nostalgia. One week, fourteen years ago, and it had ended in disaster. And still part of him leapt at the idea of seeing Daniel Michaelson again. “Why now?”

“Because…” Iris took a breath, closed her eyes. Opened them again, and Isaac was caught all over again by how thoroughly Finn those eyes were, but full of all the sparkling life and light that was missing from Finn’s in every photograph taken since their disappearance, since they’d been turned into a plaything, but something worse and more than that.

Playthings are discarded. They die or get paid off to disappear.

But Finn… Finn had been at Patrick Michaelson’s side for fourteen years. They were far more than a plaything. Patrick introduced them, Isaac had been told, as his consort. Like a fucking monarchy.

What were Syndicates, really, but petty fucking kings and queens with little kingdoms where their word was law? Why wouldn’t Patrick style himself king, and style Finn something like consort, or concubine, or-

Or royal fucking whore-

His hands had closed into fists, palms aching where his nails were digging in. Isaac forced himself to slowly, carefully relax them.

“Because what, Iris?” Vera had moved closer up behind Isaac, and he felt her hand settle warmly onto his right shoulder. A comfort - and Vera could reach down and take a gun from Isaac’s underarm holster in less time than it took to catch a breath.

“Because, um.” Iris picked at her manicured fingernails, then looked up from under her lashes at them both. “Because I want to go with them, with you. I want-...” She swallowed, again and again. “Because I don’t want them to hurt anymore. Because Daddy’s so fucking sad, for me, and-”

“It’s not your fault,” Isaac said, his voice strangled, caught in his throat.

It’s mine, for taking the opportunity to run and never seeing that my freedom would be paid for with theirs.

“They’re ready because I’m ready. I want to be with my family, just the three of us. I want-... I want them to be my family. And Ellis said Isaac Moore was the only person they could think of who could ever get all three of us out alive.”

“No pressure, though,” Vera said softly.

“None at all,” Isaac said. He was floating. He was a thousand miles away. He was barely tethered to earth. “Well… fuck.”

“Fuck indeed.” Vera’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “We’re doing this, right?”

“Of course we are.” Isaac watched Iris from across the table, and then did his best to smile for her. “Okay, Iris Michaelson-”

“Iris Dunham-Price,” She countered, and Isaac nearly choked on a mix of pride and grief. “I mean. I hope to be. Once we’re out.”

“Iris Dunham-Price, then. You have yourself a deal. You want to help your family escape, and escape with them. I’ve-... I’ve been waiting to bring my family home for fourteen fucking years. So let’s both get what we want, okay?”

“Okay.”

Isaac held out his hand, and Iris held out hers. Her fingers were thin, but she shook his hand with a firm grip.

“Deal,” Iris said, nodding once.

“Ellis teach you to shake hands that way? Thought you’d crush all my bones for a second.”

Iris laughed, really laughed, for the first time she’d entered.

Her laughter sounded exactly like Finn’s.

---

@astrobly @slaintetowhump @finder-of-rings @orchidscript @burtlederp @whumpiary @sableflynn @moose-teeth

#whumptober2020 #no. 19 #survivor's guilt #honor bound au #fillis angst parade #iris michaelson: a 14 year old who will fuck you up #ash whumps athena #referenced noncon #referenced dubcon #referenced torture #captivity #long-term captivity #whump

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dixbolik-lovers · 4 years

Text

“Another ask for the human-canon in between... What would their reactions be if reader had them tied up (in a bed, kneeling in the floor, etc), alone, holding their chin while she slowly and gently explained that she took the throne and took them as prizes and sacrificial brides, and that they were her playthings now, slowly caressing from their knees up to their thighs, suggesting that biting wasn't the only thing she planned to do to them?“

---

Thank you for the fun question~ :3c Oh how I love the boys getting the tables turned on them...

. . .

Shuu:

-He has some snarky, irritated comment to throw right back at you. Even though there’s a sense of fear starting to settle in his chest, he can’t bring himself to submit so easily. Holding his chin will only get you insulted, and the touching will get you called a pervert... but deep down, he’s desperately trying to think of a way out of this before it gets any worse.

Reiji:

-He keeps up a stern, unaffected facade, informing you with a polite, yet scathing tone that you won’t be able to make him cave to you so easily. If it’s pain that you intend to cause, well, he’s more than accustomed to that. An implication of sexual torture scares him more, though, and no matter what the threat, he’s scrambling to find some method of outsmarting you.

Ayato:

-All he can think to do is swear and struggle and spit insults at you. He hates being tied down and at your mercy, especially when he knows that this is far from the end. A part of him is terrified, but on the outside, he’s going to bluff until it kills him. Or at least, until you do something cruel and surprising enough that the “tough guy” act he’s holding onto fails.

Kanato:

-First, he tries tears, hoping that you’ll be stupid enough to give in to his pity-party. When that fails, though, he quickly switches to screaming death threats at you, swearing that he’ll burn you alive. And then, when that does him no good either, and your hand reaches his inner thigh, it’s straight to the fear. Of course, he’ll do everything possible to hide it.

Laito:

-He plays along as much as he can, moaning and leaning into your touches like the perfect pervert he wants you to think he is. So long as you underestimate him, he’ll have an edge against you, no matter how small. Even though he hates the feeling of your unwanted hands on him, he keeps up the act of loving every moment of it, all while planning how to turn the tables.

Subaru:

-He’s another one who would struggle viciously and swear up a storm. His strength should be enough to get him out of a situation like this, so when that fails, he gets nervous very quickly. The sexual touches have him lashing out at you with harsh words and yet another attempt to break free, fighting with everything he has not to show you any form of fear.

Ruki:

-He keeps his cool outstandingly at first, making smooth comebacks that trip up your words. Of course, this only makes you want to hurt him more, and by the time you get your fingers digging into his back, Ruki is suddenly a lot more aware of how compliant he needs to be. He’ll tell himself that he’s just going along with what he has to to keep everyone safe.

Kou:

-If he fails to charm his way out of it, he starts getting panicky. Reading your emotions only shows lust and sadism, and that’s far, far too much like a time he never wants to go back to. Running a hand up his thigh gets a snappy response that’s obviously barely-concealed fear. He’s terrified, but doing everything possible to keep up the act that he couldn’t care less.

Yuuma:

-The thing that disturbs him the most is that his strength is utterly failing him. Being tied down is a new, unpleasant feeling, especially when the situation surrounding it is being some crazy vampire’s new pet. He’ll snap at you and strain against his restraints, acting like he wants to break free and destroy you then and there. He’s oblivious to what you’re implying, too.

Azusa:

-To him, it’s a promising situation. You act like you’re going to hurt him, which is a good thing, so there’s no reason for him to be upset. He all but begs you to be mean to him, leaning into your touches and nuzzling at your hand like a pet. Of course, he wants to return the favor, but being someone’s personal plaything doesn’t sound like a bad deal in the slightest.

Carla:

-He keeps up a downright stony impression, leveling a glare at you for the duration of your little speech. He’s determined not to cave to anything you can do to him, even if his weakened body does give out. He refuses to dignify you with any sort of response... in part because he doesn’t know if he could get out words without sounding far more nervous than he wants to.

Shin:

-Oh, he’s furious. He can barely believe that you have a First Blood in such a situation in the first place, and he’s not happy about it. Expect swearing, insults, frantic struggling, and a loud “fuck you” in response to everything you say. His pride is quickly being crushed, and the implication of what you’re really wanting only drives his desire to get away even higher.

Kino:

-He starts out arrogant and snarky, insisting that there’s nothing you can do to hurt him. However, the longer the situation drags on, the more visibly nervous he gets, right up until the touch to his thigh makes him crack. From there, it’s a lot of outwardly anxious behavior, flinching, and desperate, yet hopeless, insistence that Yuuri will come to save him.

#Diabolik Lovers #Dialovers #Sakamaki Shuu #Sakamaki Reiji #Sakamaki Ayato #Sakamaki Kanato #Sakamaki Laito #Sakamaki Subaru #Mukami Ruki #Mukami Kou #Mukami Yuuma #Mukami Azusa #Tsukinami Carla #Tsukinami Shin #Kino #Headcanon #Sacrifice Au #Reader

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rootbeergoddess · 4 years

Text

Don’t Mess with Oli

@omg-whydidimakethisaccount asked for another fan fic and this time, it featured her really cute OC Oli defending Mammon from some shitty witches.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Mammon stared at the necklace inside the case before it closed it and sighed. He felt a bit pathetic. All he had to do was give Oliva the necklace and explain his feelings. That wasn’t too hard. If it was such a simple task, Mammon didn’t understand why he felt like it was moving a mountain. He sighed again, looking at the closed box. He was the Great Mammon; how come he couldn’t do this?

Mammon wanted to ask his brothers for help, but he didn’t want to endure their ridicule. The only person who would offer up useful advice was most likely Asmo, but that wasn’t saying much. Asmo had been in so many relationships, he probably had lost track of them all. The others were more interested in their own lives, so asking them would be no use. He had considered asking Simeon, but he didn’t even know if angels dated. He didn’t even consider Diavolo or Barbatos.

He felt like he was on his own for now. He didn’t know how he was going to tell Oliva that he liked her.

Oliva was pretty cool for a human. In fact, she was the coolest human Mammon had ever met. When she had come to the Devildom, Mammon never thought she’d end up being so cool. He thought she’d be this mousy, scared little girl who was afraid of her shadow. Instead, Oli was the most confident person he had ever met. Yes, she had even more confidence than Asmo. She wore her huge, black witch hat with pride and ignored any comments about it.

Oli also had a good head on her shoulders. While she joined in on the shenanigans brothers got themselves into, she was able to figure out solutions and get them out of trouble. Lucifer liked that there was another level head beside him, but Oli wasn’t all serious like he was. Her wit was sharp, she had a great sense of humor, and she had a smart mouth. The best thing about her was that she enjoyed spending time with Mammon.

Being considered the scummy secondborn got real boring fast. Yeah, Mammon didn’t have the best reputation, but it was nice to be with someone who wasn’t going to tear him down constantly. Oli teased him, but it was all in good fun. He never felt like she was being cruel or actually hated him. In fact, she was one of the few people Mammon trusted. He told her secrets, and Oli never spilled any of them. Mammon couldn’t remember the last time he had someone he could trust so well.

“I can do this, “Mammon told himself. “I know I can. I just need to find Oli, and everything will be fine.”

Mammon pocketed the necklace and started to head back to the House of Lamentation. He whistled to himself, trying to think of the perfect words to say to Oli when he saw her. Maybe he should have asked Asmo for some advice.

“Did you see her? Belladonna Blackwood is here at RAD!” A nearby demon said.

The name sent shivers up Mammon’s spine and caused him to stop walking. Belladonna Blackwood was a woman he didn’t want to see today. She and her witchy companions were not his favorite people. The last thing he wanted to do was run into her today. What were they doing at RAD anyway? How did they get on campus?

“I saw Eglantine and Clotilda with her too,” One of the other demons whispered. “They looked angry.”

“I saw them talking to Oli. They seemed annoyed with her.”

Mammon felt his blood go cold. God no. Please, anything but this. He stopped and turned to the group of demons who had been talking.

“Where? Where did you see them?” He demanded.

“I---um----” The demon stammered.

“Spit it out! Where did you see them go?” Mammon said, getting in the lesser demon’s face.

“I saw them head to the pool,” The demon finally managed to speak.

Mammon tossed the stranger aside and started running towards the pool. He had no idea why the three witches were here, and he didn’t know why Oli was spending time with them. But he did know that those three women were dangerous, and if anything happened to Oli, he didn’t know what he’d do. Oli had learned many things from being a witch. Learning magic had helped her become less reckless, and in a way, she felt like it had helped her mature. She also realized that many witches didn’t outgrow that highschool clique nature. Hell, Belladona could have been Regina George. Eglantine and Clotilda did everything she said, just like George’s cronies in the movie.

Oli still couldn’t believe Belladonna had agreed to meet her. She had jumped through so many hoops to get her phone number. Then, Oli had to go through her secretary. What kind of witch was so busy she needed a secretary? Either way, Oli was happy she had finally gotten the famous Belladonna in front of her. She was hoping that this meeting would go well.

“What do you want, Oliva?” Belladonna asked arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

“It’s Oli,” Oliva smiled. “First, can I conjure anything up for you ladies? A snack? Maybe a drink.”

“Cut to chase deary, we don’t have all day,” Belladonna sighed. “We’re very important witches, you know.”

Who the hell calls people deary in this day and age? No, Oli focus on what is important.

“Right, right, right,” Oliva’s smile cracked slightly. “Down to business. First, a gift.”

Oli reached into her pocket and pulled out a thick envelope. She handed it to Belladonna, who eyed it suspiciously. Eglantine and Clotilda joined her as she opened it up. Inside was a large amount of Grimm. The three witches stared at the money before Belladonna looked back at Oli. Oli tried to keep her smile, wanting to appear friendly.

“What is this?” Belladonna asked.

“Grimm. Fifty thousand grimm, all counted for,” Oli replied. “I know Mammon owed you, so I decided to pay off his debt.”

“Seriously?” It was Eglantine’s turn to be suspicious of Oli. “How did you manage to earn all this?”

“A professional never reveals her secrets,” Oli shrugged. “So I want you to take this money and stop hounding Mammon to pay you back.”

Belladonna put the money into her purse.

“Accepted,” Belladonna said. “Is there something else?”

“Yes, there is, actually,” Oli said. “I would like you ladies to stop harassing Mammon, completely. With his debit paid, there is no reason for the three of you to pester him.”

There was a pause before Belladonna started laughing. Eglantine and Clotilda followed suit, their laughs haughty. Oli twitched, her hands forming fists.

“Why should we?” Clotilda asked. “Mammon was our plaything first. You wait your turn.”

“Excuse me?” Oli asked, twitching again.

“If you want a toy, find someone else,” Eglantine said. “You can torture Levi if you’d like.”

“Are you kidding me?” Oli shouted. “Who the hell do you think bimbos think you are?”

Oli’s brown eyes turned dark pink. The three witches stopped laughing as Oli started to float. Belladonna looked amused while her cliche looked a bit worried. Oli’s long, pink braids became darker as electrically sparked from her fingers. Unimpressed, Belladonna rolled her eyes and raised her hands. She muttered a spell under her breath, and fire sprouted from her fingertips. Oli brought her hands up, catching the fireball. Belladonna’s smile disappeared.

“How did you----”

Oli pushed the fireball towards the three women. They screamed and jumped out of the way. Using her electricity, Oli created three large snakes that wrapped around Belladonna and her crew. Their sizzling skin burned the witches, making them scream out in pain.

“I came here, being polite and offering you a gift,” Oli glared at the three of them. “Then, I made a request. A simple one. I made the request very politely too. And you laugh in my face?”

Eglantine whimpered as the snake squeezed her tighter, the electricity burning her skin.

“Not only do you laugh in my face,” Oli continued. “But you proceed, you talk about Mammon like he’s an object, a toy! Who in the hell does that?”

The three snakes barred their fangs as they hissed. Clotilda cried out, trying to get free. Oli eyed her and had the snake released her. Clotilda collapsed to the ground and scrambled to get up. The snake that had held her morphed into a large scorpion and plopped down in front of her. She screamed as it snapped its claws at her.

“And you know what? I felt bad for you, Clotilda,” Oli continued. “You and Eglantine just do whatever Belladonna says, I used to think you two were just brainwashed, but I see you’re just as bad as her. You suggested I use Levi. Are you kidding me?”

“Please, I hate scorpions!” Clotilda got on her knees.

“That’s right. You hate scorpions,” Oli looked at Eglantine. “And Eglantine hates----”

Eglantine started to squirm, but it was no use. Oli snapped her fingers, and the snake let her go. Eglantine watched as wings sprouted out of the snake’s back and saw its tail became sharp. She screamed when she realized the snake was turning into a massive, angry wasp. Once it was done changing, it flew towards her.

“No, no, no, no! Not a wasp, anything but a wasp!” She babbled.

“Wasps for Eglantine and scorpions for Clotilda,” Oli glared at Belladonna. “Now, that leaves you.”

Oli cracked her knuckles before she started muttering an incantation. The snake began to change, becoming blocky and thick. Belladonna screamed as the snake became a coffin, locking her inside. Oli grinned as Belladonna started hitting on the inside of the box, her screams muffled. But Belladonna was the ringleader. Playing on her claustrophobia wasn’t enough. Oli shot electricity out of her fingers, and six large bolts of lightning appeared before her. They morphed into large, black rats that crawled to the coffin and squirmed their way into the coffin.

“Please, you’ve done enough,” Clotilda was holding onto Eglantine.

“We won’t come back, we promise,” Eglantine whimpered.

“You two can leave,” Oli didn’t look at them. “I’m not done with your queen bitch.”

The two witches didn’t have to be told twice. They ran away, leaving Belladonna to be tortured. They passed Mammon on their way but didn’t stop to say anything. Mammon stared at them, shocked; he had never seen the two of them look so scared before. Wait, where was Belladonna? Mammon turned the corner and saw Oli, floating in the air, magic gathering around her. He spotted the coffin and instantly realized where Belladonna was.

“Oli!” He ran towards her. “Oli, what are you doing?”

Mammon shook her gently, and Oli’s eyes went back to brown. The coffin she had created burst, and the rats dispersed. Belladonna sat on the ground, rocking back and forth. Mammon stared at the once-powerful, classy witch. This was a woman he had been terrified of, and she looked so pathetic now. Oli winced as she held her head.

“Hey, are you okay?” Mammon made Oli look at him.

“I think so,” Oli replied. “But I may have overdone it on the magic. Ow.”

“Jeez, are you stupid or what?” Mammon said. “What kind of idiot goes against three witches? Do you have any idea how worried I was? What if I hadn’t got here in time?”

“What? I can handle myself!” Oli said. “What makes you think---”

“That doesn’t matter. What if I didn’t get a chance to say---” Mammon faltered. “I---damnit, I’m bad at this. I heard what was going on, and I felt like my blood went cold. If those witches had done anything to you, I never would forgive myself. They can hurt me, but they better not lay a single finger on you. Anyone who hurts you has to answer to me.”

Oli stared at Mammon, her cheeks feeling warm.

“Mammon?”

Mammon couldn’t take this anymore. He grabbed Oli and kissed her. Oli froze, but she soon closed her eyes and kissed him back. Belladonna crawled away, not wanting to interrupt the two and afraid of what else Oli would do to her. Mammon pulled back and pressed his forehead against Oli’s.

“Don’t do that again,” Mammon begged. “Why would you do that?”

“I wanted them to leave you alone,” Oli said, caressing his cheek. “I paid off your debt too.”

“What? You didn’t need to do that,” Mammon reached into his pocket and took out the box. “Now I feel like I should have gotten a nicer necklace. This doesn’t feel classy enough.”

“Necklace?” Oli looked at the box. “Let me see!”

Mammon was going to protest, but Oli grabbed the box and opened it. She gasped when she saw it; a glittering silver necklace with a pink jewel sat before her in velvet. Oli tackled Mammon and kissed him again, shocking the demon. They ended on the ground.

“Hey, careful!”

“I love it!” Oli said. “I’ve never owned something so gorgeous.”

“You don’t think it’s cheap? It was only 20,000 grimm.”

“You spent that much on me?”

“I would have spent more,” Mammon blushed a bit. “I mean, you deserve it. Do you really like it?”

“No, I love it,” Oli kissed him again. “There is a difference. This is the prettiest thing I’ve ever owned. No one has ever gotten me such a gorgeous necklace. I want to wear it now. Help me put it on.”

Oli got up and pulled Mammon to his feet. Mammon clipped the necklace on, and Oli turned to face him, a proud smile on her face.

“How do I look?” She asked, posing.

“Perfect,” Mammon answered, pulling Oli close. “But seriously, please don’t mess with those witches again.”

“I don’t think they’ll come back,” Oli wrapped her arms around his neck. “I made it clear that they’re not welcome back here. Not now, not ever.”

“You’re the coolest woman in the world, do you know that?” Mammon smiled at her. “I can’t believe you did that for me.”

“Why not?” Oli asked. “Mammon, I don’t like it when people use others. I know you owned Belladonna money, but there was no reason for her to treat you the way she did. I protect my own.” “And I’ll protect you,” Mammon said. “I love you. I know I’m scum, and I’m bad at money, but I can’t change how I feel about you. I’ll do my best to be worthy of you.”

“You’re already worthy of me,” Oli smiled at him. “Come on, I’m a bit tired after using all that power, and I could use something to eat.”

“Whatever you want, I’ll get for you,” Mammon scooped Oli up into his arms.

“I can walk, you know,” Oli giggled. “Although I could get used to this. Now give me another kiss.”

Mammon obliged.

#Rootbeer Writes #Obey Me #Shall We Date: Obey Me #Obey Me: Shall We Date #Mammon #OC

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pomegranate-belle · 5 years

Note

Fic or treat Murderdock and DA!Foggy sexytimes (if ur ok w writing that) if not the first time they meet please

So this is actually straight out of my Spider-Verse AU (bless you for forcing me to write it instead of just mindlessly daydream about it, lol) but I’m defs not posting explicit stuff on this blog so please have how these Slightly Bruised Avocados met!

The first thought through Matt Murdock’s head upon meeting Franklin Nelson was, how can I use him? This was not noteworthy. Indeed, it was the same thought he always had upon meeting someone new. And at their first meeting, there didn’t seem to actually be much use to Franklin. Oh, he might make for an amusing plaything, something for Matt to take out his irritation on — like an ant under a magnifying glass. But little more.

“Nice to meet you!” Franklin greeted with enough sweetness and sincerity to make Matt ill. “I’m Franklin Nelson. And you’re Matt Murdock, right?”

Matt made sure to smile his most disarming smile – to keep his fangs hidden, as it were, even though his instinct was to give his most menacing grin, just to see if Franklin’s heart would skip a beat in fear. But then Franklin’s heart skipped a beat for an entirely different reason, and Matt thought to himself – no might about it, Franklin would definitely make for an interesting plaything if Matt played his cards right.

“That’s right,” he said very gently, and held out a hand to save Franklin the irritating dithering that often preceded people trying to decide whether they should narrate their own offered hand or not.

They shook hands and chatted a little as Matt settled his belongings on his side of the dorm room. It was a little stifling, finding himself back in an environment where he had to play at being a normal, mild-mannered blind man. But it was good practice, he supposed. The Hand had dumped him in New York, and he needed to build up an unimpeachable persona if he wanted to keep suspicion off himself when he began dabbling in less-than-aboveboard work. And maybe it would be fun, he considered. An excuse to indulge in things the Hand generally disapproved of, without the risk of getting in too deep and going soft. It was ok to break rank as long as it was to keep your cover, after all.

“So, uh, so you said you lived in Japan for a while?” Franklin asked, tapping at something on his laptop. “What was that like?”

“It was… Interesting,” said Matt, trying on the bland little smile again. “I learned a lot over there. It was very structured; I think that was good for me.”

“Oh, man, I could never,” Franklin laughed, loud and unselfconscious in a way Matt just knew people tended to find either absolutely charming or wildly irritating. “I’ll try to keep my things out of your way, obviously, but I’m probably the messiest person you’ll ever meet.”

Matt tapped the frames of his glasses.

“Well, I suppose you won’t have to worry about me seeing your disorganization.”

There was a long pause. Much longer than the quip called for.

“Wait,” Franklin said. “Wait, you… Are you from New York originally?”

“Why do you ask?”

Caught off guard, Matt resorted to answering a question with a question. But. It was just… They couldn’t have known one another. They couldn’t have. Matt would have recognized Franklin, surely.

“It is you, isn’t it? I mean, I hadn’t thought about it in ages, but when I was a kid there was a story in the paper about a boy who went blind trying to tackle his mother out of the way of a truck. Matt Murdock. That was you.”

Matt hadn’t thought about that in years. So many of his memories eclipsed it in pain, so much of his life made that mundane, childish act of bravery feel like little more than a dream. Some days Matt forgot he had ever been anything but a soldier of the Hand. Forgot, mercifully, about Stick and his mother and his father and the orphanage. Forgot a time when he had dreams.

There was a strange tightness in his throat, Matt noticed idly. He had to take a few seconds to swallow past it, taking stock of the rest of his body to make sure he wasn’t experiencing a bizarre and unprecedented allergy attack.

“Yes,” he answered. “Yes, that was me.”

“Shit.” The word was muffled, by Franklin’s hands if the sound was any indication; but he removed them to continue speaking, to Matt rather than himself. “I… I’m sorry, man, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories. I just made the connection and. Ugh. Me and my big mouth.”

Matt laughed, though not as loud as he wanted to.

“It’s fine, really. It was a long time ago. You just surprised me, that’s all,” he told Franklin, amused despite himself. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Really…? You’re not just saying that?”

“Of course not,” Matt consoled him – it was annoying, but he supposed he needed the practice. “I meanit, it’s totally fine.”

“Thanks, buddy,” Franklin said warmly. “You know, I can tell already – you really are a good guy.” Matt had to work hard to hold back a scoff. “And you’re really, really good-looking, too, so you’re like basically the whole package.”

“Pardon?” Matt asked after a long pause, certain he’d heard wrong.

“I. I mean, I’m sure you’ll get a lot of, um, girls asking you out because of that.”

Franklin’s heartbeat stuttered and skipped as he backpedaled awkwardly, and Matt slipped. Just for a second, just the slightest bit, let his grin go sharp and predatory – but it wasn’t a complete misstep, if the whiff of arousal and the way Franklin’s heart sped up further was any indication. He would be an easy mark. No challenge at all, but definitely entertaining.

Franklin Nelson snored. Like a foghorn. Matt tried to put himself back in mind of his training – he’d been kept awake by constant harsh noise for days at a time to inoculate him against torture attempts. And yet somehow the chainsaw-like buzzing of his new roommate’s nasal passages, rising and falling unpredictably in pitch and intensity, made Matt look back on even that as a fond memory.

He contemplated once, twice, ten times just strangling Franklin and being done with it. But his own stubbornness wouldn’t let him. Bested, completely on accident, by a civilian with no formal training? The very thought was disgraceful.

More than that, Franklin was disgustingly nice about it. He insisted, without an ounce of hesitation, that Matt could smack him awake with a pillow if needed. He even took to ‘Foggy’ – the rude moniker Matt had thrown out one night two weeks in when his dedication to his demure persona wavered with sleep deprivation – gleefully, as though it were a fond and charming nickname and not the last spiteful words of sanity from a man mere inches from murder. He insisted on going by nothing else afterwards, and confessed to Matt that he had always hated his name because his abusive biological mother had given it to him. Again, Franklin – Foggy’s –affability turned Matt’s misstep into a positive. Which made Matt’s life infinitely easier, but he still hated it. The fact that he had slipped at all, that he kept losing control and letting his impulses rule him. It was like Foggy’s earnestness was rubbing off on him. Matt would have to distance himself, he decided at last. As entertaining as Foggy was, as much fun as Matt would have pushing him, it wasn’t worth it. And anyway, it wasn’t like Foggy was anything special, not really.

Foggy had a way of proving Matt wrong without even realizing he was doing it. It was a handful of days shy of a month after they first met that Matt and Foggy were assigned to debate one another in class. Matt had been all but certain of his victory. Foggy was too nice, too relaxed, too… Foggy. Matt breezed through his arguments, confident in an easy win and the inevitability of consoling his soft-hearted roommate after class. He’d need physical comforting, too – squeezing of hands and shoulders, a pat on the knee – Foggy was a very tactile person, and while most touching made Matt’s skin crawl, smelling someone else on Foggy made it crawl worse. Besides, Foggy never asked for more than Matt was willing to give him; in fact, he never asked for touch from Matt at all, though receiving it clearly comforted him. Matt was already planning it out in his head as he stepped back to let Foggy make his rebuttal.

Except as soon as he stepped up in front of the class, the niceness stopped. The softness stopped. Foggy rolled his shoulders once or twice like a warm-up, and then calmly and effortlessly dove into the most vicious rebuttal Matt had ever heard in his life. It was like he was picking up each of Matt’s points as he might an interesting rock, studying them, and then shredding them like tissue paper. There was even the tiniest hint of disdain in his voice. It wasn’t just impressive, it was thorough, merciless destruction.

Matt was almost glad there hadn’t been time for a counter-rebuttal. He couldn’t have spoken a word. His mouth had gone dry barely a minute in, and his heart pounded in his chest like a caged animal. He had to excuse himself immediately after class, brushing Foggy off as calmly as he could manage with some excuse about needing to use the restroom.

“Ok, buddy,” Foggy said, the bright cheerfulness back in his voice, no hint of the quiet malice of before. “I’ll see you back at the room, then? We’ve still gotta study for York’s quiz and I need all the help I can get.”

Do you, Matt thought a little hysterically, but he bottled that reaction like he did everything else. Just nodded, smiled, and made a beeline for the nearest empty bathroom. He stayed in there for almost ten minutes, letting cold water run down the sink drain and taking deep breaths between bouts of nearly-giddy laughter.

Foggy. Who would have thought? Suddenly, magnificently, Matt had found an intellectual equal. Foggy was brilliant. A hypnotic speaker with a memory like nothing Matt had ever witnessed before. And the truth was… The truth was, the more Matt thought about it, the more sense it made. Sure, he had layers of saccharine, earnest sweetness, but there had always been shards of something harder underneath. The way Foggy spoke about his biological mother, the way he calculated exactly how much effort to use for the grade he wanted and his refusal to expend anything more? Matt had discarded those things before as one-offs, but combined with Foggy’s performance in the debate, it pointed to someone with enough of a pragmatic streak that it would take only the barest effort to nudge him over into the darkness. To bring him onto Matt’s side, to make him more like Matt rather than the other way around. Better yet, Foggy was a man who desperately craved validation and companionship. A man that desperately wanted to be Matt’s friend. Someone easy to manipulate for all his intelligence. It would be ok, then, to get closer to him, because he was both exceedingly more useful than Matt had first realized and still controllable. Even the Hand wouldn’t be able to object to that. Matt would be able to keep Foggy. The thought was peculiarly thrilling.

What was less ideal was the hunger it inspired in his gut. The desire to possess, to own. For the most part, he slaked that urge well enough just by quietly exerting his control over Foggy, both privately and professionally, but it did little to quell his more... Subconscious appetites. But indulging that sort of thing, Matt knew, could only be a mistake. What he had with Foggy was beneficial without being a potential weak point, and he wanted to keep it that way.

#fic or treat #mattfoggy #matt murderdock #spider verse 2 daredevil boogaloo #god i love this fucking messed up idiot #get a clue dumbass you're in love with him already #Anonymous

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youngjaelook · 6 years

Text

Regret It — Bodyguard!Wu Yifan

author's note — i had gotten requests to do yifan angst and jakwnaowme im so so so sorry it took this long for me to deliver! also this is lowkey abt junmyeon and reader idk im sorryygaiwnajw hope u guys enjoy this anyways <33 #UNEDITED

request from anon — Can I get a request with Kris Wu? Bodyguard AU! Angst.

request from @biathinks — I heard requests were open so can you write an angsty yifan drabble lol thanks

summary — You eventually fall for the man you can't have, your bodyguard. And in the end, it might just get you both killed.

warnings — character death, angst & strong language.

word count — 2.4K

"You're supposed to be protecting the boss' sister, not fucking her brains out." Hui was worried for his hyung. The end result of his reckless behavior and raging hormones would probably be him swallowing led. "Hyung, are you even paying attention to what I'm saying?"

Yifan had heard it all before. The warnings, the scoldings, nothing about it was new to him. He knew the consequences of his actions, but he didn't really bother to quote, "give a flying fuck about it."

Yifan simply smiled at the younger boy and chuckled. "Don't worry about me, Hui-ah. I won't die, at least not yet." Hui visibly cringed at the last part. He cared about Yifan immensely. I mean, how could he not? Yifan had practically raised him ever since he had first joined the mafia and the mere thought of the older man being shot dead, or worse, tortured, made his heart clench in pain.

"What if they hurt her too? Just to spite you."

Yifan hadn't thought of it that way. He swallowed thickly and shook his head. "That won't happen."

Hui fiddled the ends of his jacket and sighed. "Who are you trying to convince here? Me or yourself?"

The images came in a blinding white. You were splayed on the floor, crimson pooling around your limp body. The maniacal laugh of your brother ringing in his ears. Yifan blinked them away. "Just drink your beer and let's get the hell out of here already."

The conversation ended there. There was no more talk after that, not even when they piled inside the car and drove off.

It was nearly half past ten and you were buried underneath layers of soft, silk sheets, asleep and at peace, until had felt the familiar touch of Yifan lingering on the exposed skin of your cheek. You stirred in your sleep and unbeknownst to you, you smiled out of instinct.

Yifan did this often. He would come into your room when the manor fell quiet and asleep, admiring the image of yourself in deep, tranquil slumber. He thought you looked prettiest like this; eyes closed, lips parted and mind at rest. He knew you also felt better when you were asleep because then you wouldn't have to face your demons, or your brother, which who could also amount to the title of the devil's associate himself.

When his touch could no longer be felt on your skin, you whined involuntarily and called for him.

Yifan couldn't resist you, even from the start when you were just merely the boss' sister, whom he'd have to guard and protect at all costs. "Sleep well now, baby." His voice coaxes you back to sleep.

Morning comes and you're now alone in your bed, much to your dismay. You ran a finger along your cheek, reminiscing the way Yifan's touch had lingered there. You smiled to yourself at the thought of him.

And speaking of the devil, he comes through the door, hair slightly unkempt and lips set in a frown. "Get ready, your brother is coming to visit."

"Brother," the word tastes bitter in your mouth and for one reason only; Junmyeon could never call himself your brother. The man, although sweet and kind towards you, was anything but towards those who worked, or rather slaved, for him and to those who had wronged him or your family.

Yifan sighed. "Please just ready," with that, he leaves and you get out of bed with a roll of your eyes, and a slump of your shoulders.

You always dreaded visits from your brother. Talking to him was like talking to a ticking time bomb. At any given moment, he could explode and the damage was far beyond repair. You've been there many times before, but unlike the rest, you're probably the only one who makes it out alive each time. Being his sister had it's perks, I guess you could say.

You're dressed in white when he comes through the manor's doors. He looks dashing and handsome as per usual; hair slicked back, suit pressed and crisp, and designer shoes shiny and pristine as he takes long strides towards you. You don't bother to hide the displeasure in your face when he stops in front of you. You didn't like your brother, that much was obvious, so why bother hiding it?

Junmyeon tried to give you a smile.

"Y/N," he greets you. "how uhm, how have you been?"

Your gaze hardens and you peer behind his shoulder to catch a glimpse of the pretty plaything he managed to drag along. Poor girl, is all you can think of for her. "I've been better. What about yourself? I see you've brought someone along with you today? She's pretty."

Junmyeon glances behind his shoulder and nods. "She's just a friend —"

"Oh I'm sure she is." Junmyeon narrows his eyes at you as if to tell you to cut it out, but you enjoyed to poke fun at him. It's refreshing to see him all flustered and red. It makes you feel better.

"Ah Yifan, so good to see you." You don't miss the shift in your brother's tone. It sends a chill down your spine. And judging by the sinister glint in his eyes, you figure Junmyeon knows something you don't. "Now that you're here, I'd like to speak to both of you in the dining hall. Perhaps, in private?" You glance over at Yifan for a brief moment, panic evident in your eyes.

Yifan, on the other hand, remains calm and stoic. Not flinching once when your brother sends him and yourself a mischievous stare.

Junmyeon situates himself at the the head of the table because growing up, he's been taught that whoever sat at the head of the table had the most power and Junmyeon knew he had power, a lot of it actually.

He pulls out his gun from it's holster and twirls it around in his hand.

"You both know, especially you Yifan, that I hate it when people deceive me." He starts and you already know where this is going and where this will end. "So imagine my surprise when a little birdy tells me that one of my best men goes behind my back and starts fucking around with my sister." You were caught red handed.

Yifan doesn't even flinch when Junmyeon cocks his pistol and aims it at him.

"I need to hear you both admit it right now. Tell me right now, or I swear to god I will shoot you in the fucking head —"

"Why do you even care, Junmyeon?"

Junmyeon can't contain his shock at your informal addressing towards him. You usually called him oppa, or Junmyeon-oppa. He glared at you. "Why do I even — What do you even mean by that? Of course I care! I'm your brother for god's sake!"

You step in front of Yifan, arms crossed and eyes turned into slits. This was your tipping point.

You scoffed. "You don't act like one, that's for sure."

Junmyeon's eyes widen. "Excuse me?"

"You know what I don't get? How can you claim to care for me yet you hurt the people I love, leave me to wither away in this god forsaken mansion? You don't care for me, you don't even love me." Junmyeon had never felt this overwhelmed by hurt in a long time. The last time he felt this way was when your parents had been massacred along with a few of your uncles and close family friends.

"You push me away, locked me in here, and killed our Shownu-oppa and yet demand that I respect and treat you like you're my brother?" Your voice rises with each word your utter and by the end of your sentence, you're screaming your lungs out and crying pathetically.

Yifan has his hands on either side of your waist and this seems to set Junmyeon off. The bullet misses Yifan by millimeters and he cripples to the ground, clutching his ringing ear.

"What the fuck!" You yell at Junmyeon, who looks absolutely livid with his wild, bloodshot eyes.

He stands up from his seat and storms over to where you stood. "Get out of the fucking way." But you stood your ground, shielding Yifan's body with your own.

"Move or I will shoot you." He threatened.

You mocked him. "I dare you."

Junmyeon, blinded by rage, slaps you across the cheek so hard it sends you flying to the floor. Yifan sees this and is quick to tackle Junmyeon to the ground with a yell. "You don't fucking put your hands on her!" He growls in between his jabs.

Yifan is aware that he's a dead man after this whole situation. You don't beat your boss to a pulp and expect to come out alive in the end. Again, there are always consequences to your actions. But for you, Yifan is willing to risk it all.

Hui watches with wide eyes as Yifan lands a particularly hard blow, and a loud crunch could be heard throughout the room. He practically drags Yifan off their boss and rushes to aid Junmyeon, who, by the looks of it, is in pretty bad shape. "Jesus Christ! Yifan, you nearly killed him!" The other men in the room back him into a corner with their guns raised at him.

"Yifan!"

All eyes fall on you and the evident gash on your cheek. There's blood that runs down your face. Junmyeon's ring, the ring that all of the mafia wore, Yifan included, had broke the skin of your face, which resulted in you bleeding profusely. He hit you pretty damn hard.

The pretty girl Junmyeon had brought with him earlier was by his side, wiping away the blood that dripped from the wound on his eyebrow with the sleeves of the blazer she had on and glared at you.

"Get off me, I'm alright!" Junmyeon struggled to get on his feet, but managed anyways. He walked slowly towards Yifan. "You're a fucking dead man, you know that? First, you screw my sister, and now you try to kill me? You have a fucking death wish!" Yifan grins smugly at him. "I should have hit you harder." The first shot was made and the bullet went straight into Yifan's thigh.

You screamed and ran towards Yifan, but you were pulled back by Hui, who looked absolutely mortified in that moment. He didn't want you to get caught in the cross fire.

"Junmyeon stop! Stop it!" But your pleas fell on deaf ears as the second shot echoed in your ears. This time, the bullet dug itself into his arm. "The next bullet is going straight through your fucking head."

You pounded against Hui's chest as you screamed desperately for your brother to stop. "You think killing him will make you a better brother? You think I'd ever forgive you after this? I hate you and I will always hate you no matter what!" That seemed to struck a nerve in Junmyeon as his gun was now aimed at you.

"Shut the fuck up!" He sneered.

Hui's grip seemed to loosen around you, and you took this opportunity to march right up to your brother. "What, you're going to shoot me now? Just like you shot Shownu-oppa? You think you're capable of killing another one of your siblings, huh?"

Tears spilled from the brim of his slightly swollen eyes and it's the first time in a long time you've seen him like this; so vulnerable and hurt.

"Let's face it, Junmyeon. We can never go back to the way we once were, you had decided that the moment you killed our brother."

Junmyeon was practically breathing in your face as he stepped closer. "He killed our parents. He killed aeomma and appa, even Heechul-hyung. You remember Heechul, don't you? He was a kind man, extremely warm and loving. But he's dead and it's all because of Shownu."

You swallowed bitterly. "Our parents weren't good people, nor was Heechul-oppa and you know that. You and I can both attest to their wrong doings. I remember we were kids and you told me, you fucking promised me that you were going to be nothing like them. But here you are now, a monster. Just like our parents. Just like the person you promised you'd never become."

Junmyeon wails and for a moment, you think he'd change his mind, that he'd finally come to his senses. But the gun goes off for the third time and your white dress is tainted in crimson. Your cripple to your knees and you hear Yifan scream in the background.

Junmyeon doesn't even look at you as you bled out on the floor.

"You are a bastard! I'll fucking kill you!" Yifan is red in the face, tears streaming down his cheeks as he watches as you struggle to breathe and cope with the burning sensation in your side. "I'll kill you."

Junmyeon smiles at him. "I'll see you in hell."

Four gun shots and Yifan falls limp to the floor.

Junmyeon sighs. "Get her to Doctor Choi, so he can stitch her up or something."

Everything just happens in a blur and on occasion, you fall in and out of an inviting darkness that wraps itself around you like a warm, cashmere blanket. You had never felt so at peace.

You were half-awake when you hear your brother's soft voice talking to you. "I'm trying. I really am. I don't want you to go down the path I went, or the path Shownu-hyung went. I want you to be different, to be better."

"I'm just scared for you," he admits in a low voice. "All I want is the best for you. Yifan, that man was just going to get you killed. Hell, even being my sister could get you killed. But I just, I don't want to risk it any further." When his lips press against the back of your hand, your heart cries out and you suddenly want to be nine, playing with paper airplanes with Junmyeon and making promises you can't keep.

"I did this for you." He gets up and starts to walk to the exit.

Your eyes flutter open. "You killed the man I love, you could never justify that." Junmyeon spins around and stares at you wide-eyed. "Sometimes, I wish it was you that died and not Shownu-oppa." When the words roll of your tongue, a strange feeling of relief fills your chest along with the bitter taste of regret lingering in your mouth.

Junmyeon nods and smiles softly at you. "Me too, me too."

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whump-tr0pes · 4 years

Text

Honor Bound 2 - 27

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel series for Honor Bound.

AO3

Cw: whumper POV, past torture, past death, past consensual sex

Gavin lay on his stomach in bed. Every fucking moment, agony shot through his back, gripping him with every breath. He felt sweat bead on his skin as he shivered against the pain. Even now, days after he’d been beaten, he hurt. Finn had seen to him every day. They had checked his bandages, examined the wounds for signs of infection. They had even applied a salve that made the marks feel a little cooler for a few hours.

What the fuck am I doing here? He’d asked himself the same question over and over and over, ever since he’d shown up on the team’s doorstep and Isaac had lost his shit.

He guessed he couldn’t really blame Isaac. After Isaac had nearly bashed his face in, Gavin had had nightmares for months about Isaac coming after him with hands made of steel to break him and break him until there was nothing left. The nightmares had faded, as the scars did. The pit of hunger that had opened in him as he recovered pushed away all fear of Isaac. For months, he’d hungered for Isaac’s blood, for his pain. He’d lain in bed, just imagining Isaac’s screams. How his throat sounded raw near the end. How no matter what Gavin did to him, no matter how badly he hurt him, Isaac just… wouldn’t… break. Even now, when Gavin couldn’t even think of someone else’s pain without feeling faintly ill, the thought of Isaac’s strength made him feel something else entirely.

And after Vera had slaughtered his father… He couldn’t deny that he was scared of Vera, too. The nightmares about her were so much worse than the ones he had had about Isaac. In those nightmares, a demon with razor teeth and Vera’s face chased him through his childhood home, over and over and over, shrieking for his blood at the top of her lungs. He could never run fast enough. He could never escape her teeth.

So he understood why Isaac was scared of him.

He didn’t want him to be, though.

After being caned, Gavin understood the pain a beating could cause, even days later. He’d always known it was painful, but… for some reason, he had never actually connected the two things in his mind that the pain was bad. For him, for his whole life, from his first memories of other people’s pain, pain was good. It had always made him feel good. And then when his parents found out about the strange feelings in him, instead of punishing him, they had rewarded him. They took him downstairs to watch his father hurt people. Then he’d been taken downstairs to hurt them himself. And it had never been bad. Never been wrong. The feelings inside him, the buzzing in his stomach, the shivering waves of pleasure that always moved over him when he drew someone’s blood and drew out tears and pain… they had never been wrong. His parents had showered him with love and affection whenever he followed those feelings to their end. How could he have known it was wrong?

Why would he have ever questioned it, when that was when his parents loved him most?

When Isaac had beaten him nearly to death, Gavin had been furious, but he understood. He had felt nearly overcome with a dark, inescapable desire to drag Isaac back to his home in chains, put him on his knees, put him under his knife again, hurt him and hurt him and hurt him until he broke open like he never had before… but he had understood. He liked that Isaac fought. It was why he –

Nevermind.

When Isaac fought back, when he sacrificed his body to help Sam, it made things so much better. Isaac was strong. Isaac had gone willingly. And then he’d broken under Gavin’s pain, too.

Gavin had been bored of Sam when he’d first started into them. They were a young, sniveling, crying mess and there was no drama in that. But the moment they opened their mouth and told him about Isaac, about the brave protector that would come for them… Oh. Oh. Hurting Sam had a purpose then. Hurt Sam, hurt this mysterious protector. Hurt Sam, and watch them try to be brave for their beloved Isaac. Hurt Sam, and figure out how to hurt the others more.

Sam had been fun, in the end. Sometimes Gavin just needed to break someone. It was always a puzzle, finding his way into other people’s minds. And Sam was so easy. Sam, the youngest, the weakest, the least skilled, enamored with Isaac, wanting to help the others and not being able to contribute like the others did. Sam, the baby of the family. Coddled and protected. Sam, too weak to protect the family that guarded them over all else. Christ, it had been easy. Find the weakness. Worm his way in until he found what would shatter them. Pry them open on the fulcrum of pain.

It was easy. So easy. Always had been. He’d never been nearly so good at anything else.

Isaac was easy, too. Fuck, Gavin had his number from the moment Isaac said “take me instead.” So that’s the type of idiot Isaac was.

And Isaac had more cracks than Sam. So many more. Gavin had seen them, but he always needed to explore a little, at least in the beginning. Isaac needed to protect Sam, but why? He needed to give his life for his family, but why? He thought he was nothing, but why? Those were the pieces that made up Isaac Moore. Stab him in any one wound, and watch him break.

And yet… he hadn’t. He hadn’t broken. Not until the very end. And that was just making him beg: a small victory, if any. Isaac never gave away an iota of information that was useful about his family. He never agreed to help Gavin hurt them just to spare himself pain. He never renounced his devotion to them, even when Gavin had him tied to a table and moments away from his death. He never cracked. Not even once. He had broken, but that hardly counted at all. He begged for the pain to stop. It was a moment in time when he begged for the pain to stop. That was hardly worth anything. He hadn’t given of himself, not in the slightest. Gavin had never had anyone so strong.

He had no idea what he felt about that.

What was he supposed to do with that? What was there to do with Isaac’s strength? Or Vera’s, for that matter? Yes, Vera had folded when he’d slapped her, but… that was cheating. She was already broken. His father had broken her. And, he now knew, he had helped. What fun was it to break an already broken plaything? There was no challenge in that. No fun.

He knew now that Vera was a creature beyond ferocity. Vera was a monster of blood and rage trapped in a body seared with scars. What he felt for Vera was something between fear and fascination and longing to understand her. To get close to her. Her cracks were easy. They had been manufactured into her. What was she like beneath those? Between them?

As for what he felt for Isaac? He couldn’t answer that. There was something about Isaac, something about his strength and devotion… something about how his eyes darkened when he was afraid, how his hands moved to protect before they ever moved to destroy. There was something about the shift of his body when he saw someone that needed his kindness or courage. There was something that filled him up in that moment when he found someone who needed protecting, like a golden light that shone through his eyes and his scars. Isaac fell into protection like he was born to do it. Like he was made for it. Isaac protected his family. Isaac protected Vera. He protected Sam most of all.

And they loved him for it. The devotion in their eyes, when they looked at Isaac, was so much stronger than all the fear Gavin had ever seen when people looked at him. He’d never seen something so powerful in his life.

He wanted to be a part of it.

There was a part of Gavin that was tainted, he knew. The person he was when he hurt people was someone he could never be again. That part was gone. Poisoned by his father’s blood.

Another piece of himself was growing now. A piece that longed to be filled up with something… else. He wasn’t sure what it was. He just knew that when he looked at how Isaac was with his family, he got a little closer to the answer.

It was something like…

He moved his awareness through his own memories like a hand through still water, stirring them up. There was something like what he felt now, buried deep inside him. Soft fingers on his forehead when he was sick. Warm arms holding him when he was very, very small. His best friend from childhood, the one that had held his hand as they played, before either of them knew why grownups did that. Ezekiel. He felt it when he thought of the people he’d slept with. He’d never done it much, and admitted he probably wasn’t very good at it for that reason. It never mattered before now. The feeling he got when someone shuddered and died under his knife had never, never been as good as the one that came with someone else’s ecstasy. But somewhere in the mess of hands and mouths and breath, sounds, feelings inside him and moving around him when he was close to someone like that – Somewhere in there glimmered something like what he was longing for now. Much as it frustrated him, he couldn’t put words to what it was.

He’d never not known himself so much.

He couldn’t explain it, no matter how hard he tried. If he couldn’t hurt people anymore, what would fill that gaping hole in him? His mind flitted through images of the others. Finn and Ellis, and how sweet they were to each other. Endlessly attentive. Ellis was guarded with every single other person in this world, but with Finn, they were open. They were free. Maybe that was a part of what he was looking for.

Tori and Vera, and their love. They were both so broken. I did that. And yet they were unwaveringly devoted to each other, even when they were each in the throes of the past creeping up and into their bodies without warning or relief.

Tori and Gray. Maybe if Gavin had had a parent like Gray— He cut himself off from that thought at the unexpected wave of grief that rose over them at that thought. When he watched Gray and Tori together, he sometimes couldn’t help but think, what if I had that?

He watched Sam and Isaac together. How they seemed like they were made for each other, their movements mirroring each other, their bodies constantly aware of where the other was. Constantly ready to protect the other. Sam was small, almost ridiculously so, but something told Gavin that if he raised a hand to Isaac ever again, not that he ever wanted to… Sam might be the one to take him down. And when Isaac looked at Sam… there was always such raw and ardent connection there that it made Gavin sad to think about. Sad that he didn’t have that, and sad that he had almost been the one to take that away from them. He never imagined he could ever feel anything other than joy at causing others pain.

Gavin was looking for something, longing for it. The desire felt… clean, somehow. Pure. Not like when he wanted someone else’s pain. This felt… singularly his. He couldn’t name it.

Love. Maybe that was what he was looking for. He rolled the word around in his mind, feeling out the edges of it, pressing into it to see what it felt like if he tried to imagine it in his bones.

No. That was stupid. He was going to have to keep looking.

Continued here

@untilthepainstarts, @womping-grounds, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @insomniacscoprio, @cursedscribbles, @whumpywhumper, @stxck-fxck, @omega-em-z-02, @whumps-the-word, @slaintetowhump, @finder-of-rings, @neutralcinnamon, @thatsthewhump, @im-just-here-for-the-whump, @orchidscript

#honor bound 2 #whump #whumper POV #caning #isaac's PTSD #the thing #Gavin's crushes #gavin is my bisexual disaster child #past torture #past death #past consensual sex #recovery arc #angst #my oc: Gavin

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